by Mark Walden
As the three of them rounded the next corner they spotted the headquarters of Drake Industries. It was a towering edifice of mirrored glass with an intricate exo-skeleton of steel beams criss-crossing the surface. The building was set back from the street and in front of it was a wide plaza, the central feature of which was a huge sculpture of the Drake Industries logo. If corporations were the monarchs of the modern world, then this was definitely a fortress fit for a king. Nero, Otto and Wing joined the crowd of people who were pouring into the building, heading through the glass doors at the base of the tower and into the cavernous reception area. It bustled with activity as the workers around them made their way to the escalators and lifts. Security guards stood at choke points monitoring the employees as computerised systems scanned their ID cards. What wasn’t so obvious were the sophisticated facial recognition systems that were tied into the array of cameras above each checkpoint, ensuring that the name on the badge matched the face of the person wearing it. Otto took all of this in with a glance as they walked towards the long, granite-topped reception desk, instantly memorising the positions of every single guard and camera that he could see and unconsciously building a three-dimensional map of their various fields of vision, hunting for blind spots and vulnerabilities. He could see very few flaws; security was as tight as one would expect for a company such as Drake Industries.
As they got closer to the desk, Otto let his senses extend outwards, brushing against the directory systems that fed into the receptionists’ terminals. It took just a moment to find what he was looking for.
‘Gina Charles, VP of Public Relations,’ Otto said quietly to Nero, who gave an almost imperceptible nod in response.
The woman behind the reception desk smiled as they approached.
‘Welcome to Drake Industries,’ she said, still smiling. ‘How can I help you today?’
‘My name’s Simon Jones,’ Nero said, returning her smile. ‘I’m here to see Gina Charles. She promised she’d give my son and his friend a tour of the building.’
‘I see,’ the receptionist said with a tiny frown. ‘That’s quite unusual. I’ll have to speak to Mrs Charles about this.’ She picked up the phone on her desk and punched in an extension number. After a few seconds she placed the phone back in its cradle.
‘I’m afraid Mrs Charles is not in yet,’ the receptionist said. ‘If you’d like to take a seat, I’ll let her know you’re here just as soon as she arrives.’ She gestured to an area filled with leather sofas off to one side of the reception area.
‘Thanks, that’s great,’ Nero said and began to walk away. ‘Oh, just one other thing,’ he said stopping suddenly. ‘Do you have a bathroom that my son could use? I’m afraid it was quite a long journey to get here this morning.’
‘Of course,’ the receptionist replied, ‘it’s just over there.’ She pointed to a door on the far side of the atrium.
Nero and Wing went and sat on the sofas while Otto headed into the visitors’ bathroom. Shutting the door behind him, he quickly scanned the room, spotting what he needed in one of the cubicles. Unzipping his backpack and opening one of the concealed compartments inside, Otto pulled out a small vehicle with caterpillar tracks and a dark green canister mounted on top. He stepped up on to the toilet, balancing carefully as he levered open the ventilation hatch in the wall above his cubicle. The hatch was far too small for a person to climb through, but the compact tracked vehicle fitted inside with a couple of centimetres to spare. Otto resealed the hatch, climbed back down and flushed the toilet before unlocking the cubicle door and heading back out of the bathroom.
He went and sat down with Nero and Wing and reached into his backpack again, pulling out a small control unit with a screen in the middle and a tiny joystick off to one side. The screen lit up with the view from the tiny camera mounted on the front of the infiltration unit that he had just left in the bathroom ventilation shaft. He pushed forward on the joystick and inside the shaft the tiny vehicle began to move. To anyone watching in the reception area, Otto just looked like a teenage boy playing on his portable games console; they would never have guessed that what he was doing was anything but a game.
He steered the vehicle along the ventilation shaft for a couple of minutes before the camera showed that it had entered a larger chamber where several shafts connected. He panned the camera around the area and, once he was satisfied that it was in a suitable location, he pressed another button on the control unit and then switched it off, placing it back in his bag. In the depths of the ground-floor ventilation network a valve opened on the canister attached to the back of the tiny tracked vehicle and, with a hissing noise, it began to vent its contents.
Meanwhile, back in the reception area a confused-looking woman in an expensive suit approached Nero, Otto and Wing.
‘Mr Jones,’ the woman said with a frown as she walked up to them, ‘I’m Gina Charles. Our receptionist has just explained to me that you’re here to see me for a tour of the building. The only problem is we never let people tour the building and I don’t have the slightest idea who you are. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to –’
The woman was cut off in mid-sentence as the deafening ringing of fire bells filled the reception area. She looked shocked for a moment before hurrying back over to reception. The security guards dotted around the lobby rushed back towards the rear of the area, getting ready to direct the flood of people who were already starting to pour out of the stairwells. Smoke began to billow out of the vents in the ceiling, adding to the chaos as panic began to take over what was supposed to be a calm and orderly evacuation.
Nero watched the reception area fill up with smoke, waiting for the perfect moment. ‘Now,’ he said quietly, and all three of them got to their feet.
Otto walked quickly through the crowd of panicking employees, sticking to the route that he had already calculated would steer them through as many of the security system’s blind spots as possible. Nero and Wing followed close behind. They had to rely on the fact that the building’s automated security systems would never be able to cope with the number of people exiting the building and the thick grey smoke that was filling the area. They wove through the surging crowd to the nearest bank of lifts, all of which were now heading for the ground floor as part of the automated response to a fire alarm. Just as Nero, Otto and Wing reached the nearest lift, its doors slid apart and several worried-looking office workers hurried out.
‘Onwards and upwards, please, Mr Malpense,’ Nero said calmly as the three of them stepped into the empty lift carriage. Otto closed his eyes and quickly connected with the simple systems that controlled the lifts. He effortlessly overrode the safety lockouts that were keeping their carriage on the ground floor and issued a new instruction for it to be sent to the executive level near the top of the building. The lift doors closed, muting the sounds of panic from the crowd that was now stampeding out of the building as the carriage began its ascent.
Jason Drake stood looking through the glass that lined one side of his office. On the other side of the window was the vast underground hangar that contained the Dreadnought, which at that moment was alive with furious activity. He watched as robotic arms manoeuvred over the underside of the giant aircraft, making the modifications that they would need for the next stage of their plan. Everything was proceeding on schedule. Suddenly there was a knock at the door.
‘Enter,’ Drake said, turning away from the window as Furan walked into the room. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, noting the other man’s worried expression.
‘There’s something going on in New York,’ Furan said quickly. ‘There are reports of a fire at your headquarters building. An evacuation is under way.’
‘Nero,’ Drake said, his tone venomous. ‘It has to be.’
‘It seems unlikely to be merely coincidence,’ Furan replied. ‘I am having the security footage and Overwatch recordings analysed now, but I think there is little doubt that Nero has decided to bring the fight to us. He is
not the sort of man to just run and hide.’
‘Where is the retrieval team?’ Drake asked quickly.
‘They have arrived at Raven’s presumed location. They are just about to launch their assault. Do you want me to divert them to the headquarters building?’
‘No.’ Drake rubbed his forehead with one hand. ‘Have them despatch the hunter drones to stop Nero and inform building security there that we believe they have been infiltrated. I had hoped to take him alive, but he cannot be allowed to retrieve whatever it is he’s looking for.’ Drake feared that he knew exactly what Nero was after and there was no way he could allow him to discover the location of the hangar facility. ‘The retrieval team will stay on Raven and can assist in Nero’s capture or execution once we have his pet assassin in hand. Make sure your men understand that I want her alive. If Nero does slip through our fingers, I may need her as leverage.’
‘As you wish,’ Furan said and hurried out of the room.
Drake turned back to the window and tried to suppress the growing concern he felt. Nothing could be allowed to interfere with their plans at this point. He had to admit that he’d always felt a grudging respect for the man, even though he’d been so instrumental in Darkdoom’s plan to take over G.L.O.V.E. He had even hoped that when they’d successfully carried out the next stage of their plan, Nero might see sense and ally with him and the rest of the Disciples. It was too late for that now though. Nero had to be stopped at all costs and if that meant he had to die, then so be it.
Raven tensed as a red light on the desk next to her terminal began to flash. That light meant something considerably bigger than a rat had just triggered the motion sensors in the sewer that served as this safe house’s emergency exit. She quickly pulled up the feed from the camera that monitored the tunnel leading to the manhole cover at the rear of the basement. Moving stealthily along the tunnel towards the hatch were half a dozen heavily armed men in full body armour and gas masks. Raven swore under her breath and moved quickly to the rear of the basement, sliding four heavy bolts into place to lock the cover. She hurried back to her monitor and switched to the camera monitoring the street outside the safe house and was not surprised to see a similarly armed and equipped group climbing out of a large van parked directly outside. The team from H.I.V.E. were still several hours away and G.L.O.V.E. had no idea they were there, so whoever these men were they were certainly not there to protect her and the students.
‘Everyone over here now,’ Raven yelled at the surprised H.I.V.E. students.
‘What’s going on?’ Nigel asked as they quickly moved over to where Raven was standing.
‘Suffice to say that we’re about to receive some uninvited guests,’ Raven said, strapping her katanas to her back. ‘Help me with this.’ She gestured to the heavy metal table in the middle of the room. Shelby and Laura helped her tip the table over with a loud bang. ‘Stay behind there,’ Raven said, pointing at the overturned table. The students huddled behind it, taking advantage of what little cover it afforded.
Raven quickly moved to the switch on the wall and killed the lights, plunging the room into darkness. She heard a tiny sound as what she assumed was a breaching charge was attached to the front door. She took a deep breath, crouched down below the switch and pressed her hands hard over both her ears and closed her eyes. Moments later she heard the explosive bang of the breaching charge blowing the door’s lock and then felt the concussive shocks from at least two flashbang stun grenades going off inside the room, their brilliant light still bright even through her tightly closed eyelids. She counted to three in her head and then in a single motion stood, flicked the light switch on and drew her twin swords.
The overhead lights flared brightly, immediately overloading the night-vision goggles of the three men who had entered the room. Taking advantage of their temporary blindness Raven rushed at them, her swords swinging. The crackling blades sliced through the two lead men’s weapons effortlessly as she kicked the third man squarely in the centre of his mask, knocking him off his feet. Stepping past the two men with disabled guns, Raven dropped her swords and pulled a dangling stun grenade from each of their belts. She popped the pins from both grenades with her thumbs and threw them through the door into the middle of the remaining men who were about to enter the room. She kicked the door hard, forcing it shut just as the two grenades went off. There were yells from the men outside as the explosion instantly blinded and disorientated them.
The two men inside the room who remained conscious ripped their masks off, blinking in the bright light. Raven dropped low and punched the first man in the belly while sending her other foot out and hitting the second man’s ankle with a sickening crunch. Raven gasped in pain as the shock ran up her injured leg; she staggered backwards clutching her thigh, inhaling sharply through her teeth. The man whose ankle she’d just broken collapsed to the floor with a yelp but the other man threw himself at her. The blow to his stomach had been absorbed by his body armour and now, having seen her pained reaction, he punched Raven hard in the wound in her thigh. Raven yelled out, collapsing to one knee as the blow sent waves of agony through her leg.
Shelby stood up from behind the table and moved quickly behind the man, who was now drawing a vicious-looking combat knife from a sheath on his thigh and advancing on the crippled Raven. Shelby tapped the man on the shoulder and he spun around. She punched him squarely in the face and the man dropped the knife, stumbling backwards holding his shattered nose, blood pouring from under his hand. Shelby stepped towards him but was knocked to the ground by the enormous explosion that suddenly destroyed the bolted hatch at the rear of the room. Shelby and Raven fought to get to their feet as three more stun grenades flew into the room through the smoking mouth of the tunnel leading down to the sewers. The grenades rolled across the floor and then detonated with an ear-splitting bang just metres from Shelby and Raven.
Black-clad figures poured out of the hatch, fanning out across the room, levelling assault rifles. Raven tried to stand, half blinded and able to hear nothing but a high-pitched ringing sound. The lead man reached her and clubbed her back down with the butt of his gun. She fell unconscious to the ground next to Shelby. The other students, stunned and disorientated, slowly raised their hands in surrender as the soldiers from the sewers quickly surrounded them.
‘This is retrieval team one,’ the leader of the second assault team said into his throat microphone as he looked down at the battered figure that lay on the floor in front of him. ‘Raven is secure; repeat, Raven is secure.’
A nondescript black lorry was parked a couple of blocks from the safe house. Inside, several of Drake’s men were sat at control consoles completing final checks on their systems. Their senior officer strolled down the centre of the large trailer, talking into his headset.
‘Yes, sir, we have confirmation that Raven has been captured along with five of Nero’s students. They are being taken to the nearest dropship for transport now.’ He nodded, listening to the response on his headset. ‘Understood. The hunter drones are ready for launch. They should be at the headquarters building within minutes. I shall despatch the uninjured members of the retrieval team to the location too. If Nero’s there we’ll find him.’
The man turned and addressed the men at the consoles.
‘Launch all drones,’ he said quickly. ‘Use of lethal force has been authorised.’
The roof of a second lorry slid open and with a hushed whining sound three black shapes flew up out of the trailer and into the grey overcast sky.
The lift doors opened with a ding and Nero, Otto and Wing stepped out. This floor was one of several executive levels of the building and would normally have been bustling with activity at this time of day but was now silent and empty.
‘We must move quickly,’ Nero said. ‘The smoke will already be starting to clear downstairs and it will probably not take the fire department long to realise that this was a false alarm.’ As if in response to Nero’s words, they could suddenly
hear the distant wail of fire-truck sirens from the street far below.
‘This layer of the company operates an isolated network,’ Otto said as he closed his eyes. ‘If I can get to a hub I should have almost unrestricted access.’ Otto thought back to the schematics of the building that they had studied in the safe house earlier that morning. The layout of the offices on this floor meant there were only a couple of places that would be suitable to locate a wireless network hub. He could sense the buzzing flow of data around him and he tried to home in on which direction it was flowing from.
‘This way,’ Otto said after a few moments and hurried down the corridor with Nero and Wing close behind him. The humans may have left the building but the computers were still talking to one another. He followed the flow until they came to a door at the end of the corridor. Otto tried the handle. It was firmly locked and Otto realised with a vague sense of panic that it wasn’t an electronic lock but a good old-fashioned mechanical one and consequently quite immune to his persuasion.
‘Now would be a good time to have Shelby here,’ Otto said with a frown. There wasn’t a lock made that she couldn’t master.
‘Allow me,’ Wing said and bent to examine it more closely. He stood back up slowly and then kicked the door just above the handle, smashing it open. The force of Wing’s kick had almost knocked the door out of its frame; it now hung limply off just one hinge, the lock mechanism completely destroyed.
‘Now that’s what I call lock picking,’ Otto said with a grin, pushing the shattered door aside.
‘Perhaps not quite as elegant as Miss Trinity’s work though,’ Nero said with a slight smile.
Inside the room was a grey metal box from which a thick bundle of fibre-optic cable fed into the wall. All of the computers on this floor would communicate wirelessly with this hub, but the hub itself would communicate with the central mainframe through the cable since it was faster, more reliable and, theoretically at least, more secure. It was this connection that Otto needed: it was his route in.
