The Master Key

by T. K. Toppin

  Chapter 7

  “It’s done.” Simon gave me a friendly wink. “Get ready for the fallout. I’ve a ratty old umbrella I could lend you.”

  With a pursed mouth, I grunted. It was early morning and news of my “past” had been leaked to a small but reputable media house in Australia. “I hope you made it look good.”

  “Please.” Simon made a pained expression. “It’s me, remember.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

  It wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d altered and tweaked it to make me look like a simpering fool. In any other circumstance, I would’ve expected it, but considering the seriousness, I knew he wouldn’t mess about. Whatever Simon was on the surface, he was honest and fiercely loyal to those he cared about. I’d never admit it to anyone, but if the tables were turned, I’d do the same for him.

  Seventeen minutes later, we were still in John’s offices when the first of a series of calls bombarded us. John’s assistant, Aida, expertly fielded these with an affronted and cold, “Absolute rubbish!”

  Within the hour, Loeb held a press conference to answer questions and dismiss the ridiculous stories about me.

  The story had played up on my already fabricated past. I was, it had said, a pod-survivor, but linked to anti-government groups bent on destroying the Lancaster regime. My birthdate was not seventy-odd years ago as I’d claimed, but over a hundred. I was a full-fledged operative, ordered into stasis to wait for when a young Dane Lancaster would come of age. My handlers had already predicted and marked him for manipulation. When I woke, Dane was but a fledgling wannabe dictator, and my directive was to seduce him. But my identity and purpose were discovered, so my handlers ordered me into stasis once more. And now, I had been reawakened to gain access to the government and bewitch the current president. Convoluted, I know, but with luck, confusing enough that people would laugh it off.

  Select footage from my true past was used to show me as a young girl. These, of course, showed nothing to associate me with any particular place or time. There were images of me riding a horse, in a dress rehearsal for a school play, and simple portrait shots that appeared to be from school files. Other images were added—these being the “footage” from my days at the Prince Edward Island training facilities. They were made to look grainy and dodgy, as they were purportedly stolen archival footage. Then other images were pasted together. The recent images of me holding weapons, training, and being seen in the company of suspicious individuals.

  The initial “leak” was said to have come from a source within the PEI training facilities. This individual had compiled and acquired information about me over the last year. It had been made to appear like an envious colleague, an ambitious but temperamental trainee that had been overlooked for promotion. And it was made to look fake.

  At the press conference, Loeb’s cool and composed face betrayed nothing of the ruse. With just a hint of amusement and a frown of indignation on his face, he countered the flood of questions and accusations that came via remote holographic feeds. The most outspoken reporter was a stay-at-home-father, in shorts and ratty T-shirt, bouncing a young toddler at his knee while asking a barrage of questions.

  Yes, Loeb responded, Madam Lancaster was an operative. Extreme deep cover—that was no lie, and, in fact, common knowledge. He stated I was from a quiet family, a family who’d been long and dedicated supporters of the Lancaster government. For security reason, they lived under a fabricated name. Dane Lancaster had chosen me because of my dedication and intellect, and my expert abilities at blending in. Yes, I was a pod-survivor. I had been born in 2260, not in 2209 as the preposterous allegations indicated. We heard Loeb pitch his tone to sound incredulous and amused that people would think otherwise. That I was some ancient relic from a century ago; the notion was absolutely ridiculous, as no one could possibly survive in stasis for so long!

  Loeb continued, saying my ordeal during the stasis process had only proved my dedication to service, and impressed my superiors by the lengths I’d go to expose the truth. Even then, I was deep cover, trying to source the key players in a conspiracy to overthrow the first Lancaster. Though retired now, I’d proven to be a loyal operative. My track record alone should stand; saving many lives during the recent siege, including the life of the President, my husband. I’d single-handedly delivered and exposed the key players in the recent attempt to overthrow the government and the world. And my reputation and credibility were indisputable!

  So, amid the media chaos, John, Simon, and I sat across from Adam an hour before midday in the communications room.

  Adam, oblivious to what was transpiring outside, and with fastidious care, picked at imaginary dust specks on his sleeve. He reminded me of a monkey in full grooming mode. If he’d put these dust bunnies in his mouth and nibbled them, I’m positive no one would’ve raised an eyebrow.

  “I’ve racked my brain and still cannot think of any code.” A weary note tinged Adam’s words. He rubbed his fingers together to remove dust only he could see. “I thought I had some ideas, but they were too obvious and easy to attain. Code or not, some things are easy to break into.”

  “What were they?” John asked as he looked down at our linked hands. He’d been holding my hand since we left his offices, to calm me, he said, because I looked grim this morning—jumpy. He gave it a small reassuring squeeze.

  “There was some mention, while Max directed the show, of vaults of money a few corporations kept within their buildings. In case of another economic crash, you know. They horded their funds, and Max had once expressed an interest in liberating them of it. It was just idle talk. Ho was eager; the more money the better was what he said. But Max wasn’t keen since it seemed too childish a venture. Then there was a plan to gain access into the banned inner-city districts of the former big cities, especially the New York, London, and Paris sectors. They were closer, and he could use their resources—or manic tendencies—to destroy the Lancaster government.”

  “What’s that?” I asked. “I don’t follow. What inner-city districts? Street gangs, you mean?”

  Simon cleared his throat and directed his attention to me. “The slums and inner-city gangs and armies from the urban wars were cleaned up and cleared out a couple centuries ago. Then relocated to other cities; smaller, more secure cities. Some cities were specifically created for them. Relocation was more humane than execution. After all, we are talking close to three million people. That would be mass genocide, government-endorsed or not. As time passed, for obvious reasons, the majority of the terrorist and extremist groups spawned from these banned districts.”

  Simon nudged up a shoulder and continued. “At the time, the governments of the world were unstable and in upheaval. It was before our time, actually. Another war was on the horizon, people were hungry, angry, scared. These banned districts, even the bravest never ventured into them. They became, through the generations, a sort of sub-culture species. Oh, they are still human, but the way they have had to live has affected them. They’ve developed into a scary and vicious breed of men and women, even children. Survivalists, in a way. Rabid. No person, not even one bent on trying to take over the world, would ever dream of using them to help win a war. They do their own thing. They’d turn around and kill you before you even had a chance to think twice. As it is now, they kill each other for no reason other than to kill. Or survive. They live like a wild pack of savage beasts.”

  “And these cities and districts have a lockdown code.” John rubbed a hand over his chin. “I remembered once having to venture close to one of these districts when I was a young officer in the military. It was just outside Rio de Janeiro. It took all my training and knowledge of fighting and survival to keep from losing my mind. Petrified isn’t the word used to describe what I felt. It was a deep, dark, bowel-loosening terror. A basic revulsion to evil that near froze me. The entire time, I felt eyes on me, like I was hunted. Like being chased by a predator.”

  “They are no longer part
of the human race,” Simon said. “They are wild and evil. It’s a stain that they’ve been allowed to live and fester for so long. Might as well drop a mega-bomb into the areas and eradicate them. But under the government guidelines of the world, they are still categorized and considered human: living, breathing, Homo sapiens.”

  “My problem, really,” John lowered his head. “A perpetual problem, continually solved by being swept under the rug until another day. But one day it will have to be dealt with. I just don’t know how.”

  “And they have a lockdown code?” I gaped. “Jeez, like in mental asylums? Prisons? To keep them in?”

  “Similar.” Simon nodded. “Yes, the general idea is to keep them away from us. For most of the time, I’m told they’re happy enough where they are. They have their own cities or clan structures within their cities. Their own rules and regulations, a way of life. However harsh and oppressive it is to live there, they have acclimatized to suit. It’s just the most agitated who slip out and cause trouble—oh, there are ways to get out. Even with the three-layer lockdown system, they always manage to get out.”

  “I take it that this code is always in place?” Like listening to a scary ghost story around a campfire, I shuddered.

  “Usually, yes,” Simon replied. “But that’s the thing. There isn’t any one person who holds the master code. It’s a random series of computer-generated codes and sequences. It cannot be hacked into as easily as you’d think. It changes quite regularly and there are many fail-safes in place in case of power failure. It’s all automated, but with manual overrides. But again, no sane person would dream of letting loose a wild society like them.”

  “Max wasn’t sane,” I reminded everyone. “You don’t think he could’ve gotten into that system? Get the code?”

  “He may have. It’s heavily guarded, but not so much that it’s unbreakable. People, even extremists, prefer to leave them be. In all this time, no one has ever hacked in or tried to break them free. And, as Adam suggested, Max didn’t seem too keen. They are, at the best of times, difficult to control.” Simon seemed to be mulling over something. “If I had been Max, as tempting as it would have been to raise an evil army to fight his cause, I would not have raised them. Our rules do not apply to them, you see. They may as well have come from a different planet and speak a different language. And if I’d been successful in overthrowing the government, it would still leave the problem of getting rid of them once the job was done. Or keeping them in check. Because to turn them loose into normal society would cause more of a headache to a new dictator than the existing population. Whatever Max was, I never pegged him as a stupid boy. It must be another code Ho is referring to.”

  “I’ll ask him,” John said. “And if he doesn’t want to cooperate, we won’t play by his rules.” He glanced across to Simon. “Did you have any luck with the search?”

  “Nothing too clear.” Simon stood, frowning. Waiting for noon to come seemed to irritate him. “But it’s close. Moorjani is set up, ready to track him again. We think he may even be in Switzerland and bouncing his signal all over the place to fool us. It’s too confused and scrambled, as if he’s making a point of trying to fool us when he knows he’s right under our noses.”

  “We need to tag him and shut him down.” John clamped his mouth in a thin line and scowled at the floor, deep in thought.

  Adam had been quiet all this time in silent musing. He gazed hard at the wall, barely breathing, as if to do so would distract his thoughts. It was clear that something quite disturbing was running through his mind, where he processed and analyzed it the way only Adam could.

  “What?” I narrowed my eyes at Adam. Because I understood him, his silence meant he’d thought of something.

  John glanced from me to Adam, a distasteful expression on his face that wasn’t lost on Simon, who watched him with something like bemusement.

  “I was just recalling,” Adam’s voice sounded thin and tinny. “The banned districts spurred an idea. It’s a bit wild, but it might have been what Max had in mind. Also, Wellesley and Ho were arguing about it. Ho was red in the face, too. He never gets that riled up. It was something about communications and shutting down the worldwide networks. Wellesley insisted it was a bad idea, that no amount of convincing would change his mind. He said something about ‘over his dead body’ would he ever agree to something like that. Now, when did this happen? It was during the first few meetings I had with Ho, when I first posed as Mr. Jones, The Expert. Before I came across you, Josie. I can’t understand why he was so opposed. I mean, if the intention was to overthrow the government, then shutting down the networks is a reasonable method of ensuring control. And am I correct in assuming that there is a master code for the communications network?”

  “You would be correct.” Simon’s face went grim, turning paler. “But it’s easy to reroute and run independently. That aside, there is a master code for shutting down and reactivating the three satellites that are home to our off-planet military bases. And these bases not only house the majority of our military personnel, but form the mainframe for every security network, surveillance monitors, communications, and defense protocols for the entire world. It’s like our mother ship. Shutting it down would cripple us. All our secrets would be out. We’d be thrown back into the dark ages. And if I were Max, that is where I’d want to concentrate on and try to get in.”

  “For fuck’s sake!” I stood up in horror. “What’s with all these master codes? Haven’t you ever heard of Plan B? Tell me there’s a backup plan?”

  “There’s always a backup plan, Josie.” John ground his teeth and stood to join me. “How could Max Wellesley have gained the access codes? The codes are guarded and secret. Combined in the right order, they make the master code work.”

  Adam turned to look at John. “He was very resourceful. And he did have several key people within the government in his pocket. You’ve sought out and tried the majority, but a great many are still out there who’ve the good sense to keep quiet about their former affiliations. Max had been planning this for a long time; he could have acquired this code any number of ways.”

  “Three people hold the access codes. One is dead, so now I have it. And the other two, I trust my life with them. And to the best of my knowledge, I did not entertain Max in any conversations about codes.” John seethed in anger. “How did he get it and where is it now?”

  Adam stared at him. “Apparently, me, according to Ho. And he now thinks that it belongs to him—rightfully, as he thought himself as Max’s second.”

  “Why would he think that?”

  “Well, you see, I think he realized Max had been confiding in me. Maybe he was jealous. It was, after all, under Max’s urging that Ho hired me to consult. Ho, of course, did not know who I really was at the time, or the influence I had over Max. Nor did I realize who Ho was at first. But my influence on young Max had started to wane by then. He’d grown too…mad.”

  “Why would Lorcan oppose something like this?” I asked. I knew Lorcan. There had been a time when I cared a great deal for him too. I’d trusted him and his instincts. But he was dead now, killed by his own son, Max. If Lorcan had opposed something, he must’ve had a good reason for it.

  “Shutting down the world’s communication and security networks would cause absolute madness,” Simon said. “We’re talking mayhem. Wars would erupt—people would kill each other just to protect themselves. Identities would be lost, countries, everything—gone. And we’d all be under the control of one person, as opposed to the united front it is now.”

  “You mean we’re all under the control of this government, and it’s all fair and just.” I cocked a brow at John with a wry expression.

  John nodded, seeing my point. “It is. Whatever it sounds like, it is fair. It is the combined effort of the entire group of world leaders, including me. Control lies with everyone. Nothing is passed or agreed upon unless it’s carefully investigated, tested, and thought out. What is in place now is there be
cause everyone involved has agreed to it. But to have that taken away, for one person to hold control, that would be like giving your soul to the devil and asking him not to corrupt you.”

  “Like when your grandpa had it?”

  “Mmm.” John never took my jabs about his grandfather as an insult. It was the truth, after all.

  “But now someone supposedly has it and Ho wants it back. What’s to stop this person from using it and fucking Ho over?” I glared at everyone. “And how do you know the person who’s dead wasn’t the one who spilled the beans and told Max in the first place? Who was he?”

  John made a sudden growling noise and spun around to face his brother, a feral edge to his expression. Adam flinched.

  “He told you, didn’t he?” John curled his lips into thin slivers, baring his teeth. “What an idiot I’ve been!”

  “He told me nothing—I swear to you.” Adam was out of breath. Sudden realization rushed to his face. He stood, his legs shaking, and made as if to approach his brother. John stood hunched, ready to pounce and squeeze the life out of his brother.

  “Except…” Paling, Adam swiped a hand roughly across his mouth. His face sagged, horrified at something. “He gave me this—insisted I take it.” He raised his left hand to present the ornate onyx and platinum ring.

  Adam’s eyes focused on it, just as three other sets of eyes were now riveted upon it.

  “The other person…the one who died,” I whispered. “It was your father?”

  Chapter 8

  John, still reeling from the revelation, had to turn his back on everyone to give himself a moment.

  Reviewing what had transpired, he tried to process it. Adam had appeared stunned, struggling with conflicting emotions. And the idea that he could’ve—all this time—been in possession of the most important master code there was. He’d all but wrenched the offending ring from his finger and flung it at John like it was some mortal disease. But then, Adam was good at deception.