“What trajectory?” Doug asked.
The room shook, followed instantly by a loud noise from outside. An explosion.
– 79 –
At the TranSilica building, Carl Bertrand was finishing a meeting with Director Edward when the director’s administrative exec rushed in.
“There’s been an explosion at the MC and at several power stations! It has begun!”
Carl nodded once, curtly, at the Director. A lot of money had changed hands to buy black market explosives, get them into the hands of the right Virtue people and then into the MC itself. Compromising certain power stations had been only slightly easier.
All three men took an elevator down to the Control Room. There was a flurry of activity. A large world map was being displayed on one of the large wall monitors. It showed several Xs at various locations. Some of the Xs were red and some were green.
“We have only five reds, will that be enough?” Edward asked. The din in the control room masked their voices.
“They’ll be enough, as long as Mekhos has been distracted as planned.”
“Has that happened?” Edward asked, searching Carl’s eyes.
“We’ll known soon enough,” Carl replied. He hated being pressed in the midst of this kind of clangor. Director Edward’s typical pressure tactic meant to keep people off balance was useless this morning. The plan would work or it wouldn’t work. There was little more that either of them could do about the outcome.
“Once more, Carl,” Edwards said, “will five reds be enough?”
“Yes,” Carl replied, almost whispering as he leaned in close to Edward. “If left on its own Mekhos could recover. But we have our people at every facility. While Mekhos is distracted we can still cut power, starting with the peripheral sites and work our way back. We planned for this. We will succeed.”
“Turning Mekhos into just another supercomputer,” Edward said.
“Correct,” Carl nodded. “Without power to its massive data stores Mekhos will effectively be lobotomized until we say otherwise.”
– 80 –
Mary Freeman was one of the first custodial employees hired to work at the MC Building. It was her job to ensure the cleanliness of the facility, emptying the smaller garbage and recycling bins and directing other custodians to areas that needed cleaning. She was friendly with many of the regular employees. It was her friendly nature that saved her life.
As she emptied the small refuse bin beside the cafeteria checkout counter into her custodial cart, she noticed another woman, an MC employee, leaving. Mary called out to her to wait, because she wanted to give the woman a get-well card for her husband, who recently had a stroke. Mary turned her back on the cart and walked out into the hallway, taking the card from her apron pocket. The two women exchanged a few words of sympathy, talking to each other away from the cafeteria entrance.
A plastic explosive detonated in the cart. Jamieson had planted the charge on the underside of what he thought was an unused cart. The concussion knocked both women down and showered the hallway with glass and shards of smashed cafeteria furniture. Mary was unconscious, cut and covered with blood, but alive. The other woman was dazed, her ears ringing. After a moment she felt hands dragging her.
The sequence of explosions triggered fire alarms, elevator lockdowns, automated emergency calls and emergency services. In their panic some of the administrative employees forgot their emergency response training and just rushed out of the building.
The MC security force was another matter. They quickly armed themselves and split into two groups, one exiting to secure the perimeter of the building, and the other staying inside, to search for injured personnel and to deal with any perpetrators.
Jamieson held a handcuffed Gerard and Philips at gunpoint while Bishop extracted a syringe kit from his desk drawer. He injected each man in the upper arm with a separate syringe.
“It’s non-fatal, it’ll knock you out for a few hours.”
They both watched Philips and Gerard carefully, restraining any further, faint struggling. Philips head slumped. Gerard fell unconscious a moment later.
Bishop and Jamieson exited the office. Bishop locking the door behind them. They immediately scanned the area for any stragglers.
“I hope Lockwood used the code,” Jamieson said.
Bishop spared him a glance, then shrugged.
“We’ll know soon enough.”
A security staffer sprinted up to Bishop.
“Sir, the building has been evacuated and the exterior secured. The bomb squad has been called and we’re searching for any unauthorized personnel. Supervisors Philips and Gerard are unaccounted for and may be injured. Have you seen them?”
“I haven’t seen them and we’re done in here. Escort Commander Jamieson outside where he’ll be safe. I’m going to look for Professor Lockwood.”
“Yes sir. This way, Commander.”
There was another explosion, and the acrid smell of smoke from the detonations was starting to creep through the ventilation system. The plastic explosives that Bishop and Jamieson had planted that morning during their so-called tour of the MC were not designed to destroy the building. They were disguised as drink containers and other refuse, left in garbage bins in non-critical areas. Rector had compromised perimeter security the day before, cooperating with a Virtue cell that delivered forty explosive charges complete with battery detonators and timers. Bishop and Jamieson had not managed to place all forty, but they’d planted enough to get the job done. The explosives were a distraction, timed to go off in stages to keep the security personnel off balance and clear all the staff out of the MC, in particular the team constantly monitoring Mekhos. It would distract them until after Doug’s code had fully engaged the quantum supercomputer. The damage to Mekhos would not be physical, at least not at the MC.
– 81 –
Doug heard another muffled explosion and felt the building shake. He had no idea what was going on, only that the building might be under attack and that as his meeting with Mekhos concluded he was trapped in the room. Great, Doug thought. I may have just started the War of the Worlds and I’m trapped in the room where it all began. He ran his hands along the featureless door, trying to figure a way out. Mekhos was not answering him, having been forced to solve what might be the most complex equations imaginable, apparently to the exclusion of all else.
“Dr. Lockwood! Are you in there?” came a voice on the other side of the door.
“Yes I am,” he yelled back. “There doesn’t seem to be a way out.”
“Stand as far away from the door as possible and well off to the side. I’m going to blow it open.”
Doug quickly moved to the far corner of the room and stood with his back to the door, his hands covering his ears. A moment later the door exploded into the room.
“Come on!”
It was agent Bishop, waving him out.
“What’s happening?” Doug shouted, rooted to his spot, his ears ringing from the blast.
“We need to leave now!” Bishop said sharply, dodging a piece of the crumbling door frame as he ran over, gripped Doug’s upper arm and hauled him through the blasted entrance. They rushed though several corridors hazy with drifting smoke until they finally exited the building. At least seven emergency vehicles had already arrived, along with a tactical response team. More vehicles seemed to be arriving every few seconds. A heavily armed man stopped them almost immediately, checked Bishop’s ID, then waved them through.
A car arrived with high-ranking NSA personnel. One of them saw Bishop leading Doug away.
“Hold on, the two of you need to be debriefed,” the man said, as Bishop flipped open his ID and badge again.
“This is Professor Lockwood from the Twin,” replied Bishop. “He was here on a scheduled visit and may have been a target. There may be snipers in the area. We need to get him to a safe location.”
The man hesitated a moment, looked back towards the mayhem at the MC, then back to Bishop.
The man had tactical control and technically Bishop had to obey his order rather than argue. But the situation was unique and Bishop seemed determined to protect the VIP.
“All right Bishop, get him out of here. Report in immediately to the south office when you get him stowed. We’re locking down the MC right now.”
Bishop and Doug walked at a brisk pace away from the building. After only a few steps Bishop hesitated momentarily, but then tapped Doug’s elbow to resume the pace. Doug looked up at that and saw something that didn’t quite register at first. There was something big striding toward them through the dust and confusion swirling through the area. After a few more paces it was Doug’s turn to hesitate. Despite what he had just been through he was startled at the sight of a robot, walking smoothly at a regular pace, arms swinging in normal human fashion.
It was over two meters tall, fully armored, with a metallic, human like face and mirrored lenses for eyes. The black chest had a bold NSA logo stenciled on it. The upper and lower arms looked as if they were made of carbon fiber or some other woven composite. The fingers looked like they had a semi-transparent soft plastic covering with a metal skeleton underneath. The feet were heavy articulating devices with thick rubber soles. The thing was huge and made no sound other than the thumps of each step which Doug could feel as a faint vibration in the pavement. It looked very lifelike, extremely functional and very dangerous.
As the robot passed by and out of view behind them Doug turned forward and saw two men wearing wraparound sunglasses, one with a handheld device of some sort and the other wearing elaborate gloves. Doug looked back at the robot then again at the two men. They seemed to be controlling the robot.
Bishop led Doug to a plain sedan parked a few meters away from the emergency vehicles. He opened the rear door for Doug, then proceeded to get into the front passenger seat. The driver took them at a brisk pace away from the complex.
“What the hell was that thing?” Doug asked.
“It’s a Remote Armed Kinesthetic Engagement & Reconnaissance android,” replied Bishop. “RAKER for short. Very new. It’s designed and built to completely mimic the human body so that an operator can guide it using his own movements to manipulate locks, open doors, climb stairs and even ladders. Its fingers are as dexterous as a surgeon’s for delicate work diffusing explosives. It’s also designed for rescue and can carry a 300-pound man under each arm.”
“You said it was armed?”
“It carries explosives in its waist compartment which can be placed at a scene to remotely detonate any bombs which can’t be defused. It’s also designed for close quarters and battlefield combat.”
“On its own?”
“It has certain simple programmed modes but it has no autonomous function when it comes to complex tasks. It is designed to be controlled by a two-person team, although one person can control it if necessary.”
Doug turned his attention back to their predicament, and to the man in the driver’s seat. He looked a lot like one of the agents present at the White House back home. He may have been the agent assigned to Stan Foley.
“Do I know you?” he asked the driver. The man didn’t reply, only looking at Doug briefly through the rear-view mirror then turning his eyes back to the road.
“Were you telling the truth back there?” Doug asked Bishop. “Was the attack directed at me?”
“No, that was staged by us. We’re taking you to a safe place,” replied Bishop. “You’re going to meet Norman Stravinsky.”
At the same moment in the MC office area, a security team searching for employees to evacuate broke down the door to Bishop’s office to find an unconscious and bound Philips and Gerard. Within minutes an alert went out to detain agent Bishop. The alert included Dr. Lockwood as Bishop’s possible kidnap victim.
PART 3: SACRIFICE
As they were driving Bishop tossed a fedora hat onto the back seat.
“Put that on, and hand me your right shoe.”
“What for?” Doug asked as he untied his shoe and passed it to Bishop.
“We need to change cars,” Bishop said as he examined Doug’s shoe. “At least fifty people outside the MC saw the two of us get into a car driven by a third person. Our driver set up a vehicle for us in a parking garage not too far from here. We’ll be exposed for a short time, so I’m making alterations to your insole. It will affect your walk, and help confuse the recognition algorithms when you’re in view of security cameras. Otherwise it’s impossible to move in the city without being spotted. The hat will partially block your face. We’ll split up briefly at a Mall entrance. The security cameras will spot me immediately, so you and the driver are going to get out separately, meet at the entrance and then make your way to pillar M in the parking garage. Ground level. It’s a blind spot for the garage cameras.”
“Pillar M, ground level,” Doug said, as he put his shoe back on.
They drove to a crowded shopping mall parking lot and pulled up near the main pedestrian entrance. Doug got out of the car.
“Keep your hands in your pockets and keep your head down,” Bishop said through the window as the car drove away.
The car only moved another ten meters and stopped again. The driver got out and Doug could see Bishop sliding over into the driver’s seat. Doug began walking as instructed. He winced as pain shot through his right foot. It felt as if there was a jagged pebble under his heel. It definitely affected his gait. As he got to the Mall entrance door, the driver walked up at the same time.
A few minutes later, Doug and the driver found pillar M deep within the parking structure and waited. A grey sedan with tinted windows pulled up. Doug got into the back as the driver walked around and took Bishop’s place at the wheel. Doug settled in as Bishop slid back over to the front passenger seat.
They drove out of the parking garage in silence. Doug didn’t know Seattle at all, but he could easily tell that they were heading toward the water because he kept catching glimpses of it. He tried reading some street names but they were meaningless to him. Bishop and the driver were silent. Special forces, combat veterans, experienced agents, Doug thought, are all of a kind and they don’t share any information that doesn’t have to be shared. Doug checked his watch just as they were pulling over to the curb near an abandoned industrial building.
The driver scanned the area, then nodded and opened his door. Bishop and Doug followed. They walked to a two-story building where the driver unlocked the steel door so they could enter. The building was empty. It smelled of solvents and mustiness and there were a few paint cans stacked on a pallet.
Doug was slowly piecing the puzzle together but had some questions for Bishop.
“The commands you passed on to me,” Doug said urgently, “somehow forced Mekhos to attempt to solve what must be vastly complex equations. I assume the whole point was to distract Mekhos so that you and whoever you’re working with here can get something else done. With Mekhos gone or disabled, how is this supposed to solve anything? We can’t steer the Moon back to Earth without Mekhos. I also don’t understand why you destroyed the MC. I need the place in one piece, especially if it contains the main viable interface with Mekhos.”
Bishop removed his MC jacket and put on a plain windbreaker. He shook his head as he turned back to Doug.
“We didn’t destroy the complex. It was a distraction to ensure you had enough time to issue the commands and to give me an excuse to get us out of there. We collaborated with key personnel here. Within government ranks on FLO there is a lot of discontent with Mekhos. Virtue helped as well. They knew there would be a contingent sent from Earth. We convinced them to cooperate.” Bishop nodded at the driver as he said it.
Doug looked at the driver.
“You helped Bishop plant explosives in the MC?”
“Not exactly,” he replied. “Commander Jamieson, your Commander Jamieson, helped Bishop during his tour of the MC. The explosives were smuggled into the building the yesterday.”
“You’re nat
ive to FLO, I presume?”
“My name is Alexei Rector,” he said, turning to Bishop. “I worked with his counterpart here.”
Doug and Rector shook hands.
“Thanks for helping us. But what’s the plan now?”
“Most of the public here doesn’t believe how hard your planet is being hit without the presence of the Moon,” said Rector. “Or they do know and simply can’t wrap their minds around the idea. After all, many of them could hardly comprehend the reality of their world being warped into another universe. Neither can I, but here we all are anyway.”
Doug nodded.
“The UN directorate has been holding intensive meetings with heads of state from all over the world to convince everyone involved to embark on an active public relations campaign to spread the idea that Mekhos is merely committing petty theft, and perhaps partly out of willful ignorance—”
“It’s called pluralistic ignorance,” Doug cut him off. “A population consisting of individuals who want to believe that everyone else is silent and agreeable on a specific issue for all the right reasons, while at the same time not voicing their own nagging anxieties for fear of being ostracized. It’s a powerful psychological force.”
“Uh-huh,” Rector nodded, “and a lot of the public is buying it. We’ve been feeding accurate data to as many contacts as we can. Virtue and the hard core science-based organizations are willing to stick their necks out in press releases explaining the true fate of your Earth. There’s been very little reaction except deep behind closed doors.”
“I don’t get it,” Doug said loudly, after a moment. “What is everybody afraid of? Why was there no groundswell of support to order Mekhos to use its vast power and resources to re-orbit Europa? Repositioning Europa won’t repair the damage to Earth, but it will stop the damage from getting any worse. It was the strongest argument I could make to Mekhos.”
Dark Nights Page 25
