Simon considered their options. Then the cabin door sprung open.
“Simon Ashcroft?” came a man’s voice over a loudspeaker. “Peri Keser and Casey Irvine, and everyone else on board. Step out now with your hands raised.”
When no one responded the police officer added, “You have ten seconds, otherwise armed officers will board the craft, and if you resist, they will shoot you.”
CHAPTER 43
Darwin, Northern Territory, Australia
“What do we do?” Conner asked wiping sweat off his brow.
“We have to surrender,” Peri answered. She ejected the magazine from her pistol ready to hand herself in. “What other choice do we have?”
“No choice,” Simon said as he stood. He looked to Peri, Conner, Clementine and Casey, and the pilot and copilot already exiting the cabin. “We need to pick our battles. This isn’t a fight we can win, but I have a plan.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew his burner cell phone, refitted the battery and SIM card then dialed Roger Gridley-Brook’s number. When the line connected, he spoke, “Team apprehended.” Without waiting for an answer and with the call transmitting, he dropped the cell phone under a seat. “Let’s go.” he said while the rest of the team watched, wondering what he was up to.
“We let them take us?” Casey said defeated.
“For the moment, yes.” Simon nodded to the hidden cell phone. “GhostKnife will help us now it knows where we are, like it did in Kenya and India.”
Peri said, “Shatterhand will also now know our location.”
“It already does, hence our arrest,” Simon answered. “GhostKnife wants us to succeed. The AI will help us.”
Casey nodded, and so did the others.
One by one they stepped out into the warm humid night with their arms raised high. The pilots were nowhere.
The Special Response Group officers restrained and secured them, then pressed them face down on the taxiway. Once cuffed and searched, the officers led them to unmarked vans. Separate vehicles for each of them.
We had been doing so well, Simon considered. Now we’re separated again.
Five Special Response Group officers joined Simon in his van, silent and unmoving as they drove from the airfield.
A few minutes later they stopped again. The officers betrayed their surprise with darting glances. They had not expected such a short journey. Simon hoped this was GhostKnife’s doing, and not Shatterhand’s.
“Delta One,” said the lead officer into his lapel mic. “Advise change of plan?”
“Roger that Alfa One. Plan has changed. Take suspects to Terminal Customs Building for their interviews.”
The officer frowned and gritted his teeth. Simon knew the request was against all protocols. The officers should have taken them to the local Australia Federal Police station for processing.
“Confirm your order, Alfa One?” came the crackling voice.
The Special Response Group leader growled, “Received and understood.” He turned to the officer seated next to him. “I don’t like this. Hood the perp before we disembark.”
They shoved a black bag over Simon’s head. The door opened, and they led Simon outside, marched him across more tarmac before they took him inside a building. He couldn’t see but sensed they passed through many doors. They pushed him into a chair and cuffed him to a table. Simon tested his constraints. As suspected, bolts secured the table and chair to the floor.
Someone ripped the hood from his head.
Standing in the place of the absent Special Response Group personnel were two plain-clothed police officers. Australian Federal Police judging by their civilian clothing, police badges and Glock 9x19mm pistols displayed in belt holsters. Each looked to be in their mid-thirties and wore open-neck shirts and jeans. She was short but slim. He was a man of layered muscles and thick bones.
“I’m Federal Agent Meenaz Lodhi,” said the female officer. “This is Federal Agent Michael Nungala.”
Simon grinned but his eyes were cold. They would expect him to talk, but he wouldn’t. He knew he could endure their interrogation as long as they could.
“I’ve just seen your charge sheet,” Agent Lodhi spoke again. “Cyberterrorism. Multiple counts of murder. Fraud. Embezzlement. Treason. You are going down, Ashcroft. You will spend the rest of your miserable life inside a maximum-security prison. Sharing cells with our worst murders, terrorists and rapists.”
Simon kept his face neutral. He stared at Lodhi saying nothing. Unless GhostKnife had a plan, he knew the police officer was correct. This was his bleak future. Perhaps Shatterhand had found them first. Once again, the enemy AI acted to stop them at all costs and this was how it would achieve it.
Lodhi sighed. “Refusing to answer our questions will not help you.”
Simon wasn’t the only silent participant in this conversation. Nungala had not said a word either. Simon suspected that when he did, he would be far more brutal.
Lodhi walked around to Simon’s side of the desk. Came up close in his personal space, and said in a soft tone, “Katie and Rebecca? Shall we talk about their futures instead?”
The mention of Simon’s daughters, while not a surprise, left him nervous.
Lodhi must have seen the concern in his eyes. “You are worried about them?”
She had guessed right, but Simon would not confirm her suspicions. GhostKnife had promised to keep his family out of everything, but something must have changed. Shatterhand must now know about his family and was ready to use them against Simon. His fears they could already be dead or in pain haunted him again.
“You care about them, don’t you Ashcroft? You haven’t seen them for a long while.”
Simon stared at her through murderous eyes.
“Depending on how this conversation goes, Ashcroft, will determine if you ever see them again.”
Nungala walked on heavy feet and stopped behind Simon out of sight. His big thick hands massaged Simon’s shoulder, pinching the muscles and the nerves. Sharp stabbing pains roared through Simon’s upper body. Nungala spoke in a deep, gravelly voice, “What if I said I have authorization to make Katie and Rebecca, and their mother Melissa, persons non-grata?” He paused, waiting for Simon to react. “I could have them deported? Wouldn’t be hard to fabricate Syrian citizenship and send them to Aleppo. You know Islamic State is back in control over there?”
This time Simon reacted. He leaped from his chair to strangle Nungala, but the chain binding him to the table stopped him.
Nungala’s reactions were just as fast as Simon’s. The agent pushed Simon head forward smashing his face on the table. Simon felt the cartilage in his nose crack. Blood gushed from his nostrils.
Before Simon could respond, Nungala pulled Simon’s head back lifting him upright. He leaned in close and hissed in his ear, “I’ll enjoy this approach more, Ashcroft, if this is how you insist on playing it?”
Simon’s ASIS instructors had trained him to resist physical interrogation for days if he had to, but the Australian Federal Police would never steep to such barbarity for long. Simon could hold out for weeks if this was the best they could throw at him. The problem was they knew his weak spot. His children. Simon could not guess how long he could hold out against the threat of harm to the people he loved most in the world.
“What do you want to know?” he asked in a conciliatory tone, changing tact. He would talk for hours and not say anything. Another technique imparted by his ASIS instructors. He had to bluff only long enough for GhostKnife to orchestrate a distraction allowing him to escape.
Lodhi grinned. “That’s better.”
Simon looked to her and smiled back. It was time to make them uncomfortable. “You need to release me, if you value your careers.”
Lodhi stared dumbfounded.
Nungala laughed.
“You’ve stumbled into an active ASIS operation. It will be you answering the questions soon.”
Lodhi stopped for a moment to consider her next words, and sa
id, “This is not an ASIS operation. You resigned from the Intelligence Services two years ago.”
That was what Simon had done, but intelligence organizations everywhere were always playing games of deception. These agents couldn’t know the truth of his employment status. “I can see why you think so. We wanted it to look that way. Release me now, and I’ll see you’re not involved further.”
“You saying you’ve been undercover for two years?”
Simon grinned. “Sometimes to catch a terrorist, you must pretend to be one.”
Nungala stepped into view. He exchanged a concerned glance with Lodhi.
“Lodhi? Nungala?” Simon raised his voice. “Do you know how much trouble you’re both in? I’d have expected someone to have shut down this interrogation before it started, but a hothead in your organization thinks they know better. I hope that hothead isn’t one of you. You need to release me now, and the people who came with me on the plane. The longer we’re here, the greater the risk someone in your organization will blow our cover.”
Lodhi couldn’t hide her shock. “You’re saying they are all in on it?”
“This is bullshit,” Nungala made a snorting noise. “If what Ashcroft says is true, he’ll have an alphanumeric code he should have given us by now. We use it to call ASIS and ask for confirmation.”
Simon shook his head. “This is too deep. There is no code. They won’t confirm.”
“Then you are lying.” Nungala snapped.
“This is a deep, and I mean a really deep cover. I can’t even tell you who in ASIS sanctioned this operation.”
“That’s convenient,” Lodhi said with a sly smile.
“I shouldn’t even be telling you, but I’m on the clock and it seems you’ve already blown my cover. You could have compromised my whole operation already. In fact, both your lives could be in danger.”
“I still don’t believe it,” Nungala shook his head and crossed his arms, “but we should check, anyway. You do the honors, Lodhi. I’ll keep Ashcroft company until you return.”
Lodhi nodded then exited the interrogation room.
Nungala sat opposite Simon, became still like a statue and wouldn’t look at him. His eyes took on a distant glaze like he was entering a trance. A new interrogation technique to unsettled him? Simon wasn’t sure.
Now that Simon had a moment to think and plan his next move, he wiped away the blood trickling down his aching nose and considered where they were. The Gulfstream had brought them to a private airport associated with the LNG plant. Since international flights were semi-regular occurrences, this had to be a customs’ building for the Australian Border Force. Hence the interrogation room. His handcuffs were standard police issue and the chains securing him were too strong to break with brute force. Nungala remained beyond Simon’s reach. There was no breaking out of here unless circumstances changed.
It didn’t take long for Simon to sense a distraction was on its way.
A noise came first, distant and muffled. Reminiscent of a building collapsing.
Then a distant explosion.
Then klaxons and the sounds of another building collapsing. Closer this time. Close enough to feel the reverberations under the soles of their shoes.
Nungala was up on his feet, Glock drawn and looking to the only door.
He had just made his first mistake.
Simon swung out his legs hooking Nungala around the shins and twisted, fast enough to send Nungala face down into the concrete floor. The gun flew from the man’s grip and bounced to the far corner.
“Fucking hell, brother,” Nungala called out as he clambered to his feet.
Simon was ready. He hooked his legs again around Nungala and twisted his own body with his foe locked in, spinning the man so his head cracked against the concrete a second time.
The noises of disintegrating buildings grew louder.
Nungala meanwhile staggered to his feet. Despite his beating the man seemed unaffected by his injuries. He curled his fists into two tight balls and came at Simon.
Simon tried to dodge the impending attack, but his handcuffs pinned him to the desk and chair. He turned his head just in time to absorb the worst of a fist plant in his face, but it still hurt like crazy. His jaw rattled against his skull.
He smelled gas. Was it methane?
Nungala swung again, but before his fist made contact half the wall disintegrated around them.
The desk and chair tore from the concrete. The ground erupted under Nungala’s feet knocking him over.
A large metal hull now slid through the space where the concrete wall had been.
With the table still attached to his handcuffs, Simon grunted and swung it with all his strength.
Nungala stood at just the right moment for the table leg hit him hard on the head and he went down fast.
The walls and ceiling kept collapsing around them.
The metal hull kept sliding past.
Simon couldn’t think about that right now. He grabbed Nungala’s limp body and fumbled for the keys in the man’s pocket. He uncuffed himself the same moment the roof came free and disappeared into the night.
Simon looked up, not believing what he saw.
An LNG tanker over three hundred meters long transporting millions of liters of liquefied methane and ethane chilled to near absolute zero temperatures had breached the port.
It was careening like some nightmarish avalanche through the onshore facility.
CHAPTER 44
Simon heard the reverberations of yet another explosion some distance behind the tanker. The sky lit up in a brilliant spectacle of reds, oranges and yellows as fuel storage tanks deeper inside the terminal detonated as consuming fireballs.
If the supertanker exploded the same way, they were all done for.
Simon wondered why it hadn’t. Then he considered it was arriving at port empty. The onboard tanks were flammable but with only miniscule volumes of ignitable fuel.
As the supertanker careened past, Simon dragged Nungala to the exit, found a second key in the man’s pocket and used it to unlock the security door. He dragged them both through just as the remaining walls of the interrogation room collapsed into rubble.
With Nungala in a fireman’s lift, Simon marched through the corridors until he found a path outside. Once at a safe distance from the building, he looked back. The tanker had hit the port at full speed and had kept going unaware it was not designed for ground action. People in their confusion and fear ran in every direction to escape its murderous path. Most of the tanker was out of the water now and grinding to a slow halt.
Knowing he was a safe distance from the carnage, Simon lay Nungala on the ground. The Federal Police officer was regaining consciousness and moaned. Before they could have words again, Simon took the man’s Glock sidearm and cell phone, disabled the battery and SIM card and sprinted back inside the Border Force building.
“Casey?” he cried out as he plowed through the few still standing corridors. “Peri? Clementine?”
He found an information board, noted where the cell block was and the armory, then headed for his friends.
“Casey?” he yelled desperate for an answer.
The few people still inside with orange hard hats and high visibility vests gave him no trouble. Their concern was getting outside. One spark on the supertanker in the wrong place and its empty pressure vessels would explode. There would be no surviving that.
At least the worst of the accident — if it was an accident — was over. Either Shatterhand had tried to kill them with the supertanker or GhostKnife had used it to create a diversion so they could escape. Whichever AI was responsible, it had just destroyed tens of billions of dollars in fuel infrastructure on their account.
“Peri?” he called again, worried now she and the others might not have survived the impact.
“Simon?” came a distant cry.
Simon stopped and listened. The Secret Service agent was calling from behind a collapsed wall in front
of him.
“Peri?” he called again.
A hand appeared, reached through the rubble.
He grabbed it.
“Simon?” Peri called out and held onto him. “We’re all here, and unharmed… mostly. But we’re trapped.”
The building groaned. He watched the surviving walls shudder.
“Stand back, Peri. I’ll clear the rubble.”
“Okay.”
He gave Peri a few seconds to reach a safe distance. Then he unpacked the broken concrete and steel beams. Each piece he removed caused the foundations to groan and shudder. But he couldn’t stop now. His friends needed rescuing.
He cleared a hole large enough to crawl through. Casey came out first and hugged Simon. “Oh, my god!” she exclaimed. “I can’t believe this.”
“Yes,” Simon agreed, “but fantastical now seems normal.”
Conner scrambled through next. He helped to pull Clementine through. She cried out in pain and Simon could see why. A fracture on her left foreleg jutted at an ugly angle.
Peri was the last one through.
“I thought we were all dead for a second there,” Conner jested as he dusted himself off. “Casey? Help me with your mother. We need to get her to an ambulance.”
“No!” Clementine argued. “I’m not leaving you. Not after everything—”
“No way, not in your state,” Conner laughed. “You need medical attention.”
Casey and Conner joined arms. Peri and Simon lifted Clementine so she could sit on their crossed limbs while their opposite arms supported her back.
“We might still be in danger,” Peri spoke between breaths of exertion. “This is a petrochemical plant. That’s a supertanker perched outside, and we’re right next to it.”
Simon nodded. “Peri, you make sure these three get out of here. I’ll join you all in a minute.”
“Where are you going?” Peri insisted.
“The armory.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
Simon nodded, realizing he could use Peri’s help. He turned to Casey. “We’ll be with you in a second.” The building groaned. A support beam fell through the roof no less than five meters from where they were standing. “Go! Now!”
Strike Matrix Page 30
