by Mark New
We were walking across the lobby towards the bank of elevators when I started to worry about my fridge. I knew that there were still a couple of bottles of beer in it but I couldn’t think what else was in there. I could always ask Joe or Frisque to have a look but it shouldn’t be too long before things were resolved one way or the other and either I was home or the fridge would have to manage without humankind poking its nose inside. Meanwhile the contents would remain cold and have no chance to rise up and take over the Cook Islands. It was at that precise moment that I had a flash of insight into what had been bothering me about containment. As Taylor pressed the lift button for the top floor, I sent an urgent encrypted message to Avalon Red’s portal for the personal attention of Sir Bors. By the time we reached our floor I had an answer:
‘Good question. I’ve really no idea - I’ll try to check it out.’ I managed to avoid smiling as we stepped out of the elevator. I looked forward to hearing Avalon Red’s solution to my fridge problem. George and Becky were on the far side of the room heading for the dark room and I heard the faint whirr of Peter’s PMV. For a second Taylor and I stood together but away from any Argonaut people.
‘Anything I can do for you?’ she murmured, lacing it with meaning. I chose to assume that she meant surreptitiously.
‘Project files? If you can without being found out.’ I said quietly. She blinked once and I saw comprehension dawn. She nodded almost imperceptibly and waved as she walked away to my right. I watched her go for a second and then made my way to the dark room.
I was the last of our little cadre to enter the room and I shut the door behind me. I was amused to see that all present had taken their previous positions. It must be something in the human psyche that prefers comfortable routine. Being me, I deliberately broke the pattern by taking the first chair at the other end of the table directly facing Jason at the head. There were a few odd glances in my direction although Jason just smiled at me. There was an element of childishness but I also saw the value of unsettling them. Your standard vir-game maverick cop, that’s me.
I looked around and grinned at Peter who half-grimaced back. Becky barely met my gaze and looked as though she hadn’t slept since I last saw her in here. Catz was looking earnestly at Jason, possibly hoping that he would want someone to tie his shoelaces or something.
‘Thank you for coming at such short notice,’ Jason began. ‘There has been a serious development, as some of us know. For those who don’t; Peter?’
‘Yes,’ Peter reversed his PMV slightly so that he didn’t need to keep turning his head to take us all in. My position at the end of the table had spoiled the previous team feel of the proceedings I noted with pleasure. One or more of the people in here weren’t playing nicely so I saw no need to cosy up. ‘Twelve hours ago the Secretary-General received a message from someone who purported to have the codes. It said that proof that they had them would be furnished with the next message together with their demands. Two hours ago, that message was received. It was accompanied by a short extract of the beginning of the codes sufficient to convince us that they do, indeed have them. It came from a group...’
‘Excuse me,’ I said it quietly but it was enough to put him off and he stopped talking. Everyone looked at me. ‘The first message arrived twelve hours ago and I’m only hearing about it now?’
‘Sec-Gen wanted to ensure that the claim was genuine. He gets a rather large number of crank messages.’ Peter seemed a bit put out that his big reveal was being interrupted. Good. Keeping them off-balance seemed a pretty good idea to me.
‘How many people knew the codes had been stolen?’ I asked reasonably. ‘Wasn’t it just us in here and the Sec-Gen himself?’ I was being provocative. I already knew that at least one other, in the person of Sir Edward, knew of the theft so there could be others.
‘Well, yes,’ threw in George.
‘So unless you’re suggesting that this room or the Sec-Gen’s office leaks like a sieve, wouldn’t it have been reasonable to assume that it was genuine and act accordingly?’
‘Point taken,’ pronounced Jason though he was frowning. ‘Any relevant information, however trivial it may seem, is to be passed to Mr Harvard at the earliest opportunity from now on. Clear?’
There were nods around the room. I thought Catz’s head might be loosened from the enthusiasm of the nodding. I raised a hand in gratitude.
‘Fine,’ I said and looked at Peter, ‘please carry on.’
‘As I was saying,’ he resumed with a look at me that I knew well. It meant ‘git’ which seemed fair enough. ‘The group signed itself FKKT. We’ve come across them before,’ he consulted his slimpad ‘it stands for Fratoj Kontraŭ Kompania Tiraneco.’
‘I’ve heard of the FKKT,’ put in Catz. ‘They were on a threat list we got from the US government not long ago but they weren’t supposed to be a serious problem here.’
‘No, they weren’t,’ George agreed, ‘they were, as suggested by the Esperanto title, mainly an eastern European outfit carrying out low-level sabotage of automated factories.’
I ran the name through my implants and got a translation of the name into English: Brothers Against Corporate Tyranny. How quaint. I sent the name and brief details to Red’s portal. No alarms went off so the stealth mode was still operative.
‘They appear to have loftier ambitions now,’ Becky commented.
‘They want a substantial ransom too,’ Jason added.
‘They require ten billion dollars and the release of a number of prisoners belonging to their organisation held in European jails,’ Peter read from his slimpad.
From what I’d heard so far, Jason knew about it already and Peter and George as well. I wasn’t sure about Becky but it was reasonable to assume that Peter would have told her given their relationship. That left Catz and I as the new recipients of the information. It seemed a poor method of dealing with information dissemination to me but what did I know? I was just a decorated Intelligence Officer. Of course, compartmentalising the information and controlling the release is handy if you want the person most able to analyse it to hear it last and come under pressure to react to it rather than look at it properly. I was a little disappointed as that would indicate that Catz was innocent of anything other than brown-nosing.
A discussion followed as to how they would want the ransom paid and whether we could trace it if the UN made it or if we could find them by tracing their messages but I was a bit distracted by a knock at the door. In fact, I even half-turned to face the big oak door behind me before I realised that the knocking was coming from inside my head. As Jason was trying to explain that there was no guaranteed method of tracing a message if the bad guys were clever in covering their tracks, I used the implants to peer out into the ether and see who was at the door Online. It was a bot bearing an interface with Guinevere. I had no idea such things were possible but, thinking about it, I suppose it was no great leap of imagination to suppose that the implants - hardware connected Online - could host a piece of software from an AI. I verified its identity and let it in. This was going to be interesting but awkward. I would have to conduct two conversations at once and try not to mix them up. Jason was pondering the size of the demand when Guinevere spoke in my ear, at least that was how it felt.
‘I got your message. The FKKT? Seriously?’
‘Apparently so. Sounds like a load of bollocks to me.’
‘What a colourful expression. I assume it indicates scepticism?’
‘You may safely assume that to be the case.’
Peter and George were discussing the likely timescale by which the ransom should be delivered. Further instructions were expected in a few hours according to the previous message.
‘Are you sure this is undetectable?’ I asked.
‘Arthur is confident as long as I just use this bot and take aural and visual feeds from your implants. If he had been able to construct the bot earlier I would have asked to create the interface last night.’
‘Did you get anywhere tracking that cryptid?’ I asked in the general direction of Peter and Becky. ‘Was it possibly corrupted by east European tech?’
The conversation about the ransom petered out as Becky pulled a face and turned to look at me.
‘No, it was too late to pick up any traces after it left the system.’
‘My, how convenient,’ said my inner companion.
‘But entirely plausible,’ I thought at her. It was a really odd feeling. Even though I was essentially sub vocalising through the implants it really did feel as though I was using telepathy.
‘What’s the Sec-Gen’s view?’ I asked Peter.
‘He thinks if we can’t find the perpetrators and recover the codes before any ransom deadline, he’ll have to instruct the world bank to pay up and hope the codes are returned.’
‘Presumably that would need the approval at the very least of the Security Council?’ asked George.
‘Almost certainly,’ Peter told him. ‘It might be a way to stall for time, perhaps.’
‘Only if the demand is legitimate,’ I thought at Guinevere.
‘It’s a good way to distract everyone while The Ambrosia Promise tries to use the codes,’ she agreed.
‘Maybe Mr Harvard could bring us up to date on his investigation into the deaths,’ Jason suggested, ‘in case we can track the perpetrators that way.’
‘I can’t tell you much without compromising security,’ I said seriously.
‘You’re such a good liar. You should give me lessons.’
‘Shut up, I’m trying to concentrate.’
‘I have a lead on the connection between the other deaths and that of Professor Andersson,’ I announced, ‘but I’m going to need to go to Sweden to check it out. I intend to leave immediately we’re done here.’
Jason didn’t look convinced. ‘If you’re sure sharing isn’t a good idea that’s fine,’ he said ‘but don’t we need you here in case of other developments?’
‘I think in the circumstances I should go,’ I said firmly. ‘If something comes up we’ll use one of the vir-locations where we can have a private conversation. I expect to be back later tonight in any case.’
‘As you wish.’ And with Jason’s assent any possible opposition disappeared.
‘I’ll make sure the jet is well stocked,’ sighed George.
‘He can still find time to joke?’
‘Sssh. You’re a distraction. Humour in the face of adversity is commendable, not a sign of guilt.’
The only outward reaction to George’s attempt at a joke was that Becky regarded me thoughtfully.
‘Facility security?’ Jason addressed Catz.
‘Upgrading as we speak, Sir. I intend to return to New Mexico to take personal charge.’
‘Very good.’ I waited for Catz to turn over and purr while his tummy was tickled but I was disappointed. Jason looked around. ‘So we’re giving top priority to finding this group?’ Everyone except me nodded dutifully. ‘Then I won’t keep you any longer. Thank you.’
I was nearest the door so I was up and opening it within a second of the dismissal. As I walked out I heard the whisper of Peter’s PMV behind me but I was a bit preoccupied with Guinevere’s presence so I didn’t hear Becky approach me until she spoke in my right ear.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Getting Taylor to drive me to the jet, I hope,’ I said neutrally. I could work with her without undue emotional problems but I wasn’t interested in a chat. She looked behind her and noted where everyone was then grabbed my right arm and guided me to a spot beside the water cooler out of the way of anyone else.
‘You know what I mean. You’re trying to keep them from finding out what you’re poking around in. What are you really up to?’ The hidden dangers in working with someone who knows you well. This time an outright lie wouldn’t work.
‘The ex? Feisty isn’t she?’
‘Didn’t I tell you to shut up?’ I heard Guinevere chuckle.
‘I can’t tell you,’ I said bluntly, ‘and it would be useful if you didn’t tell the others that I’m off-message.’
She regarded me seriously. ‘Do you give me your word that what you’re doing is helping and not hindering?’
‘I do,’ I said with as much sincerity as I could muster. She thought about it long enough for me to take a paper cup and fill it from the cooler.
‘OK,’ she said at last, ‘I’ll stay quiet for now. Don’t let me regret it.’
‘No, dear.’ She managed a smile. She’d taken a pace away before she half turned, serious again.
‘And be careful. I’m not entirely sure this is all legit.’ Before I could ask her what ‘this’ referred to she had walked off towards where Peter was about to enter the elevator.
‘How mysterious,’ my inner friend commented.
‘She was always good at analysis,’ I said, ‘so if she thinks there’s something wrong somewhere it’s more than likely she’s right.’
‘Well, we know the ransom is a diversion so maybe she’s picked up on that.’
I walked back around to Taylor’s office which was situated alongside George’s, sipping the cold water as I went. I met Taylor coming towards me with her jacket in hand.
‘George tells me you want to use the jet,’ she said excitedly, ‘so I’ve ordered it prepared.’
‘Very kind,’ I half-bowed, ‘and very quick.’
‘I don’t think they’re wild about you leaving,’ she said, ‘and I can come with you if that’s all right with you?’
‘I would welcome your company,’ I said gravely, ‘I know so few spies.’
She punched my arm and leaned in. ‘I know stuff,’ she whispered. I didn’t doubt it for a minute.
‘I like this one. She’s entertaining.’
‘I’m sure you’ll learn a great deal about human behaviour from your observations of her.’
Taylor was able to contain her excitement long enough for us to get into the car and pull away from the Argonaut building.
‘I was able to pull up all the project files for New Mexico and nobody suspects a thing because it looks like I was just following up on our visit,’ she gabbled. ‘And you’ll never, ever guess what I found out!’
‘That there is no research project worth the name in New Mexico and never has been?’
She visibly deflated and sank down into her seat. ‘You know, sometimes you’re no fun at all.’
Chapter Sixteen
By the time we took our seats in the trans-orbital jet Taylor was much mollified. I told her that I still wanted to know what she’d found out as the detail was important. It turned out that she had somehow been able to copy some of the files onto her personal slimpad in defiance of Argonaut’s security policy. I had thought that the files were protected so that alarms were raised if confidential material was copied to an unauthorised device but my administrative genius was able to tell me how she got away with it.
‘Somebody probably screwed up the classification system,’ she explained, keeping an eye on the location of the flight attendant so that we couldn’t be overheard. I leaned over her and pressed the button on her slimpad that set up the privacy zone. She mock-slapped her forehead. ‘Oh. Idiot,’ she muttered. ‘Anyway, whilst the facility and anything to do with the buildings themselves or the security thereof is highly classified, the project files aren’t. They do have a classification but it’s no higher than any other Argonaut project file and it’s within my authorised privileges to read them, copy them, whatever.’
‘I don’t suppose they want to draw attention to the facility.’
‘No, that’s what I thought as well but that’s where it gets screwed up. If you compared the classifications between facilities and then the projects...’
I got it. ‘...you’d wonder why the New Mexico facility had such a high rating if the projects there are nothing special.’
‘Correct,’ she nudged my arm again. I was going to bruise at the current hit rate.
‘It’s way better than that,’ she was proud of her moment of glory, I could tell, ‘because according to the projects list - and I’m authorised to see the list even if I can’t access the highly classified ones - the research building has only one project running in it and it’s this one.’ She flicked at her slimpad and brought up the cover page of the project to show me. It was a standard Argonaut title page of the kind I had seen on the front of the hard-copy files that Becky had with her in my little hut. It seemed an age ago now. The project title was just a string of code which must have related to the Argonaut nomenclature if it followed the pattern on Becky’s files. The member of staff heading the project was listed underneath; Dr Hilary Needham. Taylor was looking at me expectantly but I didn’t see what was so interesting.
‘I can’t find any individual of that name in any database,’ said the helpful hinter in my head.
‘I don’t know him. Or perhaps her,’ I said.
‘No,’ she was building to a crescendo of revelation, ‘that’s because there is nobody listed at all in Argonaut records by that name.’
‘So the project is a fake?’
‘Uh-huh.’
I frowned. ‘So, if it doesn’t exist what are they protecting?’ It seemed to be the question she was expecting judging by her wide smile. A little misdirection on my part as I was aware that this wasn’t getting me anywhere. It wasn’t as if they were going to put up a sign saying ‘Please do not feed the weaponised nanotech’ was it? Taylor might think this was the big reveal but I already knew what was in there.
I hadn’t noticed that we had taken off. Taylor hastily dropped the privacy zone as the attendant brought my customary cognac even though it was relatively early in the morning. I still grinned appreciatively at her. It was the same attendant I’d had before and I hoped that her tea-making skills had been retained as I had a feeling I would need them on the return journey. As she walked off towards the galley Taylor engaged privacy mode again.
