His hand went to his chest, his head bowed, and the hundred men and women gathered on the airfield did the same. After a few moments of quiet reflection, Umbebe raised his head to address the crowd one final time. ‘Our mission is sacred, let us never forget that. We will die so that the earth may live!’
He raised one fist high into the air in a gesture of defiance, letting out an animal roar that pierced the cold blue sky beyond.
And, despite the pain in his stomach, he smiled with undiluted joy when his chosen people raised their own fists in return, letting out their own screams of joy, pride, exultation and defiance.
Yes, he thought to himself, they are ready.
Now all he needed were the codes.
Anderson stood at the edge of the river, seething with anger. The dogs had lost the trail.
They had followed the scent for over twenty miles, right into the forest, tracking the fugitives through the trees and undergrowth. But then they’d got to the river – a wide, fast-running monster – and the dogs had come to a dead halt.
Durham and Murray hadn’t trekked along the riverbank, that much Anderson could be sure. But had they swum to the other side? With the water as fast as it was, he wasn’t sure if the pair could have made it. Still, he reasoned, adrenalin was a powerful thing. He’d send a team across with the dogs to check the other bank just to be sure.
Another possibility was that they’d tried to swim across and been swept downstream. Where did the river go? Anderson checked the map he carried, saw quickly that it led to a waterfall a couple of miles further down. Could they have survived if they’d gone over the side? He just didn’t know.
Quickly, he organized his search teams into two groups; one would search this bank downstream and try and pick up the scent in case they’d managed to get to shore, either before or after the waterfall, while the other would try and get across the river to do the same on the other side.
Until he had evidence to the contrary, Anderson had to assume that they were still alive. Certainly, no bodies had been reported having washed up anywhere recently.
‘Colonel!’ came an excited voice from behind him, and Anderson turned to see one of his men racing from the trees. ‘We’ve found evidence of a gunfight in the forest!’
‘What?’ Anderson asked with sudden interest.
‘We’ve got casings for various different weapons, handguns and rifles, as well as shotgun shells. Damage to trees and foliage too, in keeping with a firefight. Well, a one-way firefight anyway,’ the soldier continued. ‘This early it’s hard to tell, but it looks like the gunfire was just going one way.’
‘Anything else?’ Anderson asked.
The soldier nodded. ‘We’ve got some blood in a small clearing, and some sort of man-made hole in the ground, with a tarp sheet to one side.’
‘What’s inside?’ Anderson asked.
‘Nothing,’ the soldier replied. ‘It’s empty.’
Anderson thought for a moment before giving his orders. ‘OK, here’s what I want to see happen. We’ve got a gang of armed people in these woods, and I want them found. That blood’s not from our targets or the dogs would have picked it up, so that means one of their party is injured. If we can find them, they can tell us what happened.’ He quickly assigned men to the task, and they raced off back into the woods, along with two dogs to follow the blood trail.
He looked out across the river, glinting in the midday sun. With dogs on both sides, and possible eyewitness testimony, he hadn’t lost them yet. There was still hope.
Dr Niall Breisner looked at the telephone with trepidation. It was time to make the call.
A large part of him didn’t want to do it. The ramifications of his actions were starting to plague him, and he had all but stopped watching the news. The strange animal phenomena, the riots, the mounting chaos were bad enough; but he couldn’t stomach any more reports about that little island, swallowed up whole by the ocean. It was just too much to bear.
But this was what he had agreed to, and neither Tomkin nor Jeffries had ever lied to him. General Tomkin had laid it out for him as plain as day, the first time they’d met. His plans were crystal clear. The technological, scientific challenge had been a tremendous lure, Breisner had to admit. Was such a thing possible? Breisner had believed so, and he had wanted to be proved right. His ego had demanded satisfaction.
And what was the result of his years of secretive, covert efforts? The endless months of research, analysis, experimentation, all covered up from the majority of the base’s scientific staff? The fear of discovery, the pain and guilt of Colonel Anderson’s ruthless prosecution of anyone who came too close? The end result, Breisner was loath to admit, was nothing like he had anticipated. He had dreamt of champagne celebration and pride and joy at a job well done, a job everyone thought impossible but which he alone had had the ability to see through to completion.
But now? Now, whenever the pride of success entered his heart for even a second, guilt expunged it in an instant. What had he been thinking? Spectrum Nine was a monster, no sane person should ever have conceived it.
But it was his monster, Breisner thought as he toyed with the telephone handset on his desk. Didn’t he deserve some reward for his work, the decades spent in this Arctic hellhole, separated from his family and loved ones?
He deserved something at least, and the five million bonus promised by Tomkin in his next pay packet would go a certain way to assuage the guilt. Not all the way, but it would be a good start. He could forget about peer adulation or professional recognition; none of his peers even knew about the project. No, instead of awards and prizes, cold, hard cash would have to do.
But still, he found it hard to dial the number. It was too late to turn back, he knew that, but his mind baulked at this final step. He shook his head, downed the contents of the glass in front of him, and dialled the number for General Tomkin.
‘David,’ he said with false cheer, ‘Spectrum Nine is ready.’ He breathed out slowly, trying to regulate his heart rate. ‘Your weapon is now fully operational.’
7
WHEN ALYSSA AND Jack arrived at the huge concrete bunker which served as the eastern entrance to the Department of Defence headquarters, they were both awed by the sheer scale of the building beyond.
Alyssa had read about it often, but seeing it in the flesh was something else altogether. She looked at the double steel access doors, with metal detectors and armed guards, and wondered, not for the first time, how they could possibly get away with their plan.
They had already passed through two external cordons to get this far – once at the entrance to the parking lot, and again at the perimeter of the actual building. Both times their identities had aroused no suspicion. But the further they got into the belly of the beast, the less confident Alyssa felt. She wondered how well Jack had hacked into the Beltway system. Would they begin to suspect something and contact the DoD? Maybe they were performing a routine check of employees and would come across Dave Jenkins and Elaine McDowell – Jack and Alyssa’s current assumed identities – and wonder why nobody at Beltway had ever heard of them.
Ahead of her, a steady stream of workers filtered through the security checkpoint. She looked past the queue and saw a man in a blue military uniform waving from the doorway, ushering them forward.
Well, she thought as she and Jack walked past the incoming workers, it’s too late to back out now.
Five minutes later, they were being led down one of the complex’s long corridors by their escort, who had introduced himself as Sergeant Adam Fielding. This pleasant young man was a private aide of Lieutenant Colonel Evan Ward, the man in charge of the Cyber Warfare Division, who had placed the call to Beltway.
The only hold-up at the concrete bunker entrance was when the security guards had to wait for the computer to print off their internal passes. They wore these ID cards now and this, combined with the presence of Sergeant Fielding, made them feel almost as if they really did belong here. Alyss
a had been worried about people recognizing them from the news, but their simple disguises of glasses and dyed hair seemed to do the trick. Nobody was paying much attention to them anyway – hardly surprising really, Alyssa reflected, in an organization that employed thirty thousand people.
‘We’re pretty much on a war footing at the moment,’ Fielding told his guests. ‘With things as they are, word has come down to increase our threat level to only one stage removed from all-out war. I don’t blame them,’ he continued, and Alyssa presumed he meant the federal government. ‘Things are getting crazy out there, and the military is already having to step in. It’s not just in this country either.’
Fielding led them round two more corners, stopped at a bank of elevators and pressed a button. ‘There have been plenty of attacks on our people abroad too. With all this talk of global destruction, a lot of groups – not just terrorists, but normal citizens too – feel it’s their last chance to make a mark, and we’re the target, yet again. The President just ordered two carrier groups out to southern Asia, and another to the Gulf.’
The elevator doors opened and Fielding stepped in. ‘It’s unbelievable, it really is. I mean, is it our fault this is happening? Of course not. But do we have to step in yet again to pick up the pieces, make sure the world remains stable? You bet we do.’ He sighed. ‘Anyway, that’s why people around here aren’t exactly a barrel of laughs at the moment.’
The doors opened again, and Alyssa realized she hadn’t even felt the elevator move. Fielding strode out towards another long corridor, and Alyssa and Jack hurried to keep up.
‘What do you guys make of it all?’ Fielding asked, breaking a smile. ‘Do you think we’re all goners?’
‘People have been saying the same for years,’ Jack said. ‘I don’t suppose now’s any more likely than any other time.’
Fielding grunted, and Alyssa wasn’t sure if it was supposed to have been a laugh.
‘But on the other hand,’ Jack went on, ‘it’s probably gonna be true one day, right? Why not today?’
Fielding grunted again and turned away, increasing his pace. The man wasn’t laughing this time.
‘I’m not telling you pigs anything,’ the grizzled old man said to Anderson, before spitting on the colonel’s shoes.
Anderson responded in an instant, backhanding the man across the face. A stream of phlegmy blood shot out of the man’s mouth, along with two teeth. The man sagged for a moment with the impact and then burst forward, straining for all he was worth against the two soldiers who held him.
There had been a nasty gunfight when they had found the survivalists. Six of the group’s members were killed, along with two of Anderson’s own men. When Anderson entered the camp, he was surprised to see that there were children there; and the surprise had turned to shock when he discovered that the children, too, were armed.
Durham and Murray must have stumbled upon the group and been hunted through the forest.
But who the hell were these people? He’d ordered his men to search the camp for anything that could identify them. In the meantime, he wanted to know what had happened to Murray and Durham.
He turned back to the old man. ‘These people are terrorists! They want to destroy this country. I thought you were patriots.’
But the old man just regarded Anderson with hatred and spat again. ‘You big government pukes are the only ones who want to destroy this country,’ he said vehemently.
Anderson resisted the urge to hit the man again and looked over to where another member of the survival group was receiving medical attention for his maimed eyes. He had refused help at first, and Anderson’s men had had to use drugs to subdue him. Durham or Murray must have gouged them, Anderson felt sure. He couldn’t help but be impressed by their will to survive.
‘Look at your friend,’ Anderson said. ‘I doubt he’ll ever see again. He’ll be completely blind, and I know one of the people we’re after did it to him. Don’t you want to help us catch them?’
The man shook his head. ‘We thought they was government pukes like you at first,’ he said, then smiled, the broken teeth making his face look grotesque. ‘But they ain’t with you, I know that much now. And the enemy of my enemy is my friend.’
Anderson looked at the man a moment longer before anger got the better of him, and he punched the captive square on the jaw, knocking him out cold. He watched with satisfaction as the body sagged into the arms of his men before turning away.
‘Colonel, we’ve found something!’ a voice called and a soldier came running across with a clear plastic bag full of documents and keys.
It didn’t take long to match the various IDs to their captives and the dead bodies, apart from some of the children who may have been too young to have any. The problem was, two of the adults present had no documents. A man and a woman.
Anderson sighed. Two sets of ID were missing, and you didn’t have to be a genius to figure out who’d taken them. Damn. But if he could find out who the two people were, he’d know what names Murray and Durham were using.
He told his men to take the fingerprints of the two with no ID and send them off for analysis. The problem was, how long would it take?
He called for the pair to be brought forward, straining against their plastic flexicuffs. Torture wasn’t his favourite thing in the world, but it was sometimes a necessary tool of his trade.
8
COLONEL WARD STOOD and extended a large hand. ‘Mr Jenkins,’ he said courteously, shaking Jack’s hand. ‘Ms McDowell,’ he said next, shaking her hand and inclining his head towards her. ‘Thanks for coming out here so quickly. We’ve got a real ball-buster of a virus here – begging your pardon, ma’am – and we’re struggling with it, to be frank.’
Jack nodded. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘What we need is an office where we can get some privacy, four fully networked computers, and a vat-load of strong black coffee.’
Ward smiled, pleased with Jack’s confidence. ‘You’ve got it,’ he answered.
Within a few minutes, Jack and Alyssa were in a corner office. Three more computers were carried in to sit on the desk beside the room’s original unit, and the coffee came moments later.
The only fly in the ointment was Ward, who sat down in the room with them. Alyssa turned to him, smiling.
‘Colonel, thank you for the office. But we really must insist that we are left alone. Some of the code work we use is proprietary information, and Beltway has a legal obligation not to reveal anything which has copyright or other intellectual property ramifications.’
‘You think I’m gonna steal your algorithms?’ Ward asked unbelievingly.
‘We’re a private contractor,’ Jack chipped in, ‘a business. We rely on being the best in the field, and we’ve got to be careful. I’m sure you appreciate that.’
‘And I’ve got the security of the whole damned country to worry about. Surely you can appreciate that?’ Ward responded icily.
‘I do, but our hands are tied,’ Alyssa said. ‘Company procedure.’
‘Well, maybe I’ll just call up your boss and tell him I’m switching our preferred contractor to Armordyne Systems,’ Ward responded.
Alyssa looked nervously at Jack. If Ward called anyone at Beltway, it could cause all manner of problems. They simply couldn’t take the risk. But how were they going to access the system and find out anything with Ward watching their every move?
‘OK, OK,’ Jack said, holding up his hands. ‘You’ve just got to understand, it goes against procedure.’
‘I don’t give a damn what procedure it goes against, I’m staying in the room and that’s all there is to it.’ Crossing his arms, Ward sat back in his seat.
‘OK,’ Jack said again, taking a sip from his coffee cup and turning back round to face the computer, cracking the knuckles of both hands as he did so. ‘Let’s see what we’ve got here.’
Alyssa’s nerves were starting to grate. She was trying to talk to Ward, to get him involved in a conversation so that h
is attention was off Jack and the computers, but it was proving difficult.
Ward was watching Jack carefully, which meant that he had to go through the protocol to find and eradicate the virus rather than try and identify which computer terminal in the building had been used to sign off on Spectrum Nine. He would be able to stop the virus; after all, he was the one who had embedded it in the first place. But Alyssa could tell he was trying to string it out, maybe in the hope that Ward would have to leave the room to deal with something else, or even just to use the bathroom.
Alyssa was also wondering how long it would take before Ward asked her what her role was here; so far, she hadn’t touched a computer. How could she? Her level of understanding was far below Ward’s own, and it would be pretty obvious as soon as she tried that she had no idea what she was doing.
Finally Ward stood up to go to the bathroom, but he got one of his colleagues to cover the room in his absence. Alyssa watched Ward through the dark glass of the office windows to make sure he actually did head for the bathroom; part of her had worried that he was going to make a call to Beltway anyway.
They were going to have to do something, that was for sure. But what? Alyssa checked the time. Three thirty-five in the afternoon. She thought for a few moments. Ward hadn’t left the room for over an hour, and presumably wouldn’t now be needing another rest break for some considerable time. During that hour, nobody had disturbed them, which indicated that Ward had asked to be left alone, probably delegating his other duties temporarily to a junior officer. Any change in shifts would be on the hour or the half-hour, which gave them until four o’clock. Twenty-five minutes.
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