Cyber Terror

by Rose, Malcolm

  “I don’t want to kill anyone else,” said Kate, her voice wavering.

  “I’m used to explosions,” Jordan replied. “They’ve never finished me off yet. I’m on my way.”

  The motorcycle rider wove expertly round the Saturday afternoon traffic, on the way to London Heliport. Clinging on tightly behind him, Jordan wondered why he hadn’t been trained to ride a bike himself. The journey to Battersea would have taken him four times longer by car, bus or Underground.

  A woman in a high-visibility jacket met him in the car park and ran with him to the helipad perched on the southern edge of the Thames. As soon as he was strapped in to the waiting chopper and given a headset, the pilot left the ground. Almost at once, the helicopter rose above the height of the tallest buildings – all curves and glass – and soon left them far below. The office blocks became stiff fingers, pointing up at Jordan. Battersea Park was a splodge of green among the bricks and concrete. At its far side was the unmistakable Battersea Power Station. Wasting no time, the motorized bubble lurched north-east. Next to Jordan, the pilot soon had the chopper on full throttle, speeding towards Essex.

  “Going round Chelmsford,” Kate’s voice said hesitantly. “Turning onto the A12 towards Colchester, Ipswich and Felixstowe.”

  Inside Jordan’s helmet, speakers fed sound to his ears. He could hear every conversation involving Angel, Kate or the pilot. The tiny microphone that bent round in front of his mouth allowed him to speak to them all.

  “Yes,” Angel replied. “We’re still locked on.”

  “Copy,” the pilot said. “We’ll be joining you as soon as possible.”

  “Is the phone battery okay?” Angel asked Kate. “It’s not going to die a death soon, is it?”

  There was a delay of a few seconds. “Two bars of power left,” she replied. “I guess that’ll do for a few hours.”

  The helicopter followed the Thames for a few minutes and then flew over the brand new Olympic Park. Jordan’s whole body felt the vibrations from the rotors and, despite the muffling effect of the headset, there was a constant loud drone in his hearing system. “Can’t we go any faster?” he asked the pilot.

  “No. Our forward speed is just over two hundred kilometres an hour. That’s tops for this model.”

  “How long before we catch her up?”

  “She’s leaving Chelmsford so we’re about sixty kilometres behind. If she’s taking it easy on sixty or seventy kilometres an hour, we’ll be above her in...er...half an hour.”

  “Let’s hope it’s soon enough.”

  Sensing Jordan’s anxiety, the pilot kept pointing out features on the ground to stress how quickly they were leaving London behind. “Romford,” he said, jabbing his finger downwards. Later, he said, “The M25. Brentwood ahead. We’re in Essex. That ribbon’s the A12.”

  The county looked even flatter than it really was. Toy towns and villages broke up the regular patchwork of fields. The next landmark was Chelmsford. The pilot kept to the southern edge, following the bypass.

  “Everything okay, Kate?” Angel asked.

  A long way ahead of the helicopter, she answered, “No change. Still on the same road.” Her voice sounded strained.

  “You’re doing great,” Angel said. “Try to hold your nerve and stay calm.”

  “If you don’t turn off, we’ll join you at Colchester,” the pilot informed her.

  “That’s good,” she replied. “I could use the company, even if you’re way over my head.” She hesitated before adding, “I could use a guardian angel.”

  “Never been called that before,” Jordan said with a grin. His smile soon faded. Even if the pilot landed close to Kate, Jordan didn’t know what he could do. He’d joked about surviving explosions but really he dreaded another. He’d already lost his family to one massive blast. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing anyone else that way. He also feared further pain and injuries.

  For another ten minutes, the ground slid underneath Jordan. The pilot pointed ahead and said into his microphone, “Approaching Colchester now. Update your position, please, Kate.”

  “Just going past a golf course on my right, still on the A12.”

  “We’re close behind you.”

  “What sort of car is it?” Jordan asked. “I never knew what Raven drove.”

  “It’s a Volvo S60.”

  “What colour?”

  “Gold.”

  The pilot came in on the exchange. “I’m going to come in low – as low as I’m allowed. If you hear a helicopter or see us, wave something out of the window. It’ll help us pinpoint you.”

  “Okay.”

  The chopper swooped and Jordan felt his stomach lurch as if he were on a fairground ride. He ignored the unsettling feeling as the ground seemed to rush up at him. Gazing forwards and down, he soon began to make out individual vehicles on the dual carriageway as it bypassed the centre of Colchester. He picked out huge rumbling lorries first. He couldn’t distinguish one make of car from another, but he could tell small from large. Sunshine glinting on the cars made it difficult to distinguish one colour from another, but he could tell light from dark.

  “I’m going over a road but there isn’t a junction onto it,” said Kate. “Just a second.” After a few moments, she added, “The SatNav says I’m coming up to a junction in two kilometres. I’m going to bear right to stay on the A12. Have you seen me yet, Jordan?”

  “No, but we must be close.” He could see a swirl of roads ahead. It had to be the junction.

  “A big green lorry’s going past me right now.”

  Frantically, Jordan scanned his field of view on maximum strength. “Yes,” he cried. “I think...”

  “I’ll wave out of the widow.”

  “Yes,” Jordan confirmed. “Got you.”

  The pilot glanced across at him, perhaps surprised by the power of his sight. “Keep your eye on her.”

  Guessing that the pilot didn’t know he had enhanced vision, Jordan pointed towards the gold S60.

  “Going in closer,” the pilot announced.

  “Okay,” Angel’s voice said. “Everything’s in place. All we need is a destination and a plan.”

  21 SKY HIGH

  Jordan didn’t really need Kate to tell him where she was, but she kept up a running commentary anyway. “Going round Ipswich ring road... Coming up to the Felixstowe turning... I wonder... Wait. No... I’m back on the A12, heading for Woodbridge.”

  “All these places are familiar to Short Circuit,” said Angel.

  “Everyone prefers to play at home,” Kate replied. She drove faster now, perhaps eager to end the whole experience.

  There wasn’t much to say for the next twenty-seven kilometres, but then Kate broke radio silence. “The SatNav’s just told me to take the next right. It’s a minor road. The B1121 for Saxmundham and Leiston.”

  Angel’s voice was suddenly urgent. “Right. I know where you’re going and it’s bad news. It’s not going to be Saxmundham or Leiston. Sizewell’s just beyond them.”

  The pilot said, “The nuclear power station?”

  “Bound to be,” Angel replied. “So we’ve got to intervene. She’ll turn right onto the B1119 any second now. Fly on ahead and find somewhere to land near the road. I need Jordan on the ground. Make sure it’s well short of Sizewell. Kate: we can’t let you near a nuclear facility with a bomb. The threat’s too great.”

  “I know,” Kate replied quietly.

  “For the good of everyone,” Angel continued, “we can’t have a nuclear incident. It’d be a disaster. If necessary, Kate...”

  “Yes,” she said, interrupting. “I may have to veer off course.”

  Jordan shuddered as he heard her acceptance of Angel’s chilling verdict. The acceptance of her own death. She was prepared to sacrifice herself to save thousands.

  “Not yet,” Angel said. “Drive slowly. Let’s see what Jordan can come up with. And I’ll send in a bomb-disposal team as soon as I can get one. Now, give me a moment to tal
k to the people who run the power station. I’ve got to alert them. Just in case.”

  The nuclear complex loomed large ahead of Jordan, on the boundary between land and sea. The site contained several uninspiring rectangular buildings and one huge white dome that looked like a giant golf ball.

  Below them was a village. On a square field next to a school was the largest bouncy castle that Jordan had ever seen. Kids were swarming over it. To the side, some fairground rides were lined up on the recreation ground. None of the people there realized that they were in great danger. They were busy enjoying themselves.

  The pilot said, “There’s a construction site by the road on the outskirts. No one’ll be working on a Saturday. I can put her down on the foundations of whatever they’re building. A short run will take you to the road to Sizewell.”

  “What’s the village?”

  “Leiston.”

  Jordan nodded. “Kate. Look out for a building site when you leave Leiston. I’ll be waiting.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  She paused for a second and then replied, “Just when I need some reassurance... Honesty’s not always the best policy.”

  “Stop on the road,” he told her. “Don’t take a turn.”

  “We’ll have five minutes before the car goes up.”

  “Five minutes to get you out, run to the chopper and take off.”

  “No luck with a bomb squad,” Angel reported. “You’re on your own. Sizewell’s still operational but it’s gone into lockdown. No one in or out.”

  That would stop a bomb, Jordan thought, but locking doors and gates wouldn’t stop an electrical signal triggering a hardware Trojan or a cyber attack. It wouldn’t stop an electronic meltdown.

  Kate must have been thinking the same thing because she said, “I’m worried about what’s in the boot. A bomb and a computer, if we believe Raven. She might’ve primed the computer. It might send a signal to the power station that shuts it down or makes it go wrong. That’d be typical for Short Circuit.”

  Doing his best to sound confident, Jordan replied, “Maybe. But I’m going to get you out and let the bomb blow up anything else in the boot.”

  As soon as the landing skids touched the concrete base, Jordan pulled off his headset and safety strap. He jumped down and made for the lane out of the village. It was the road that connected Leiston to the nuclear site at Sizewell.

  He didn’t have to wait for long. The gold Volvo cruised up to him and came to a stop.

  On the phone, Kate had given the impression of being calm and in control, but she looked haggard. “There’s a pressure sensor in the seat. If I get up...”

  “Yeah, you told us.” Unsure, Jordan looked around.

  “Don’t do anything with the boot. But Raven didn’t say anything about the other doors.”

  Luckily, the road was quiet on a Saturday. There was no other traffic.

  Jordan dashed round to the passenger’s side and opened the door. Making up his mind, he said, “Right. I’m going to fetch some bricks and stuff. Anything heavy. I’ll dump it on your seat so you can edge out slowly while this stuff makes up the weight.”

  First, he grabbed a stack of bricks. He used the strength of his right arm to haul them back to the car and his left arm to steady the pile.

  “Okay,” he said to his partner. “Budge up a bit. Give me enough room to load these onto your seat.”

  Kate was sweating. She realized that one wrong move could kill both of them. She leaned slightly to the right while Jordan put the first three bricks on the seat, against her thigh. “How much weight will fool the sensor?”

  Jordan looked at her blankly. “There’s only one honest answer.”

  “You don’t know.”

  “Right,” he said, loading more bricks on top of the others.

  Kate glanced at her watch. “I didn’t check the time when I got here. How long have we got?”

  “I’m online, monitoring the time. A minute-and-a-half. We’re all right for now, but...”

  “But?”

  “I think I need something heavier.” He looked around again. “Like that.” He ran across the road to a heap of big bags filled with cement. Each one was twenty five kilograms. Steeling himself, he picked up the top one and lugged it back to the car. Bending over, he lifted the heavy yet floppy bag awkwardly over the passenger seat and handbrake. He almost threw it against Kate’s side.

  She didn’t grumble. She shuffled further to the right to make room for the sack.

  “One more to make sure,” he said breathlessly. “That’ll be up to your weight.”

  Kate smiled through her anxiety, attempting to stay cool. “Very flattering.”

  Jordan tried not to think about what would happen if he got this wrong. Taking a deep breath, he hoisted another sack of cement onto his artificial arm. As quickly as he could, he staggered back to the Volvo.

  Three minutes and fifteen seconds had passed since Kate had stopped the car.

  “Right,” he said to her. “When I slap this one down, you jump out. Okay?”

  “What if it doesn’t work?”

  He smiled at her. “It will. Don’t worry.”

  “Honest?”

  “No problem.” But he felt the sweat rolling down his own face now.

  “Okay.”

  In the background, the helicopter’s engine revved.

  “When you jump out, don’t stop. Run. We’ve got a minute and a bit to get away.” He looked into her face and asked, “Ready?”

  She took a breath. “Ready.”

  “Go!” Jordan shouted.

  As Kate eased out, he thrust the second sack of cement onto the seat.

  And nothing happened. There was no explosion.

  Jordan didn’t stop to celebrate. He scrambled out and began to follow Kate towards the helicopter. The bomb in the boot was due to detonate in just over a minute.

  But movement in the lane distracted him. Three boys – much younger than Jordan – were cycling down the lane towards the car. Perhaps they’d seen or heard the chopper and had come to investigate.

  As Kate swung herself up into the chopper, Jordan stopped, changed course and raced towards the boys. Waving his arms, he yelled, “Get away from here!”

  “Why?”

  “This is our road,” the second one said.

  “Who are you to tell us what to do?”

  Jordan didn’t have time to explain or argue. He slid to a halt by a speed limit sign. It was there to slow vehicles entering the village. He swung his right arm at the pole and it buckled at once. The road sign bowed its head in submission. “Turn round and go back or I’ll rip your heads off.”

  The boys stared at the damage he’d done to the metal post, and then at Jordan. A split second later, they turned and pedalled away as quickly as they could.

  Jordan sprinted towards the chopper. Its engine was roaring, overloading his hearing system. Its rotor blades were at full power, kicking up sand and cement. Jordan fought his way through the dust storm. Seeing that the helicopter was already hovering off the ground, he put on a final burst of speed and launched himself at the open door.

  His left ankle hit the landing skid, his knee caught the muffler and he didn’t quite make it. As the chopper rose steeply, Kate reached out to grab him, but she wasn’t quick enough and she couldn’t get a grip. He fell.

  22 EXTREME VIOLENCE

  He didn’t fall far. Jordan’s mechanical fingers clamped round the landing skid. The weight of his body jolted the bolt attached to the bones of his shoulder, but he clung on tightly. He dangled in mid-air as the pilot continued to surge upwards and away. Jordan knew the helicopter wouldn’t descend even though he was in great danger. If the pilot swooped down when the bomb activated, it would be much worse for Jordan. He had to hold on.

  But Jordan’s online brain told him it was now six minutes since Kate had parked the car in the lane that led to Sizewell B nuclear power
station. He didn’t dare to look down, but he knew that the Volvo was still in one piece. He hadn’t heard an explosion or felt the shock wave.

  The helicopter was circling over the village of Leiston, but keeping clear of the building site. The pilot was probably deciding what to do, consulting with Angel perhaps.

  Jordan didn’t need to be told the decision. The chopper flew lower and lower, heading for the centre of Leiston. The children playing on the bouncy castle scattered as the helicopter descended and hovered above it. Jordan looked down. About fifteen metres below him, the bouncy surface was now deserted but it seemed a long way down. Taking a deep breath, he let go of the skid and plummeted through the air. When he thudded into the cushioned castle, the wobbly walls folded in momentarily and belched loudly, like an old man. Then the whole structure let out a long wheezing sigh. The force of Jordan’s landing had punctured it.

  At once, the helicopter moved away. Unhurt, Jordan scrambled off the castle as it slowly sagged. He looked around the startled faces of the children and their parents and said, “Sorry about that.” He wasn’t sure of his next move, but he knew he should get away. Once the villagers recovered from the shock of his sudden gate-crashing of their fair, they could turn ugly.

  His mobile rang. It was Angel. “The pilot’s going to bring the chopper down at Leiston Abbey. He says he’s done it before. It’s just to the north. Two kilometres at most. Up Abbey Road, appropriately enough.”

  “What about Raven’s car?”

  “Leave it. The local police are nearly there and a Sizewell team’s about to take a look. It’ll probably be a controlled explosion. We’re not taking any chances.”

  Jordan’s inertial navigation system told him which way was north. He jogged from the recreation ground and went to the left. “Is Sizewell okay?”

  “Yes,” Angel said. “No electrical interference. I’ve got you on my monitor, by the way. You’re moving in the right direction.”

  “I can hear the helicopter,” Jordan replied. He didn’t need to be guided. He simply homed in on the sound of the rotor blades.