by Hammond, Ray
*
Two hours after police officers in Mountain View identified a supposedly unoccupied building that was in suspicious use, 200 heavily armed SWAT officers surrounded the unit on the industrial estate.
Three miniature robot crawlers had approached the building and, using the latest penetrative thermal imaging cameras, had radioed back that there were six independent heat sources inside the building. Four of the heat sources appeared to be large, mechanical and stationary. The other two were mobile and had been positively identified as human.
Captain Brad Cheveski, the commander of the combined SWAT teams, stared at the moving heat images on a small screen he held in his hand. Twenty of his men were armed with metal-piercing tear-gas shells, another eighty were ready to simultaneously blow open the steel doors and barred windows all around the building. They would be using both stun grenades and conventional explosives.
‘Ready?’ asked Cheveski into his walkie-talkie. He got three affirmatives – from the leaders of his tear-gas advance force, from those who would take down the access points and from the back-up forces who would storm the building immediately afterwards.
‘GO, GO, GO!’ ordered Captain Cheveski.
Inside the former muffler shop Dr Kjell Nordström, an HFDA scientist originally from Stockholm, was hunched inside the container which housed the particle weapon. The particle physicist was on his knees adjusting the Xenon gas input beam alignment according to instructions he was receiving remotely from Dr Sergy Larov. Nordström knew that his boss was currently somewhere in France.
At the door to the container HFDA direct action volunteer Karen Ostriecher watched anxiously, knowing that these were the very final preparations that were going to be made to the weapon. Once Dr Larvov declared himself satisfied with the set up, she and Nordström would have twelve hours to get out of Silicon Valley before the black hole implosion was detonated by remote control.
A brilliant flash of light exploded inside the warehouse, and then a massive roaring wind seemed to consume everything. Then all of the lighting went out.
Karen Ostriecher was knocked unconscious immediately but Nordström was partially protected from the shock wave by the metal container. He sprang to his feet, clambered out of the particle accelerator and found himself surrounded by choking fumes.
Pulling his shirt up over his nose, Nordström ran to fallen HFDA colleague. Then a hail of bullets tore into his upper body, stoving in his ribcage and smashing his pulped heart and central cardiovascular system out through his back.
Switching on their flashlights, the lead members of the SWAT team inched forward through the darkness and swirling tear-gas fumes towards the fallen HFDA terrorists and the four large metal containers. All team members were wearing enveloping gas masks.
Quickly they checked each of the four containers in case there were more perpetrators – the three generators were still running at what seemed like full power.
Realising that the containers held important evidence, the sergeant in charge of the lead team, raised his automatic rifle and shot out the power cable connections which linked the three units, taking care not to hit the containers themselves or their contents.
The roar of the generators died away as members of his unit returned from searching the rest of the warehouse. All reported that there were no more suspects.
‘Open the main doors,’ the sergeant ordered over the radio network. ‘Let’s get some goddamn air in here.’
*
Mike Ryan and Tony, his virtual assistant, were flicking through a flood of reports that had come in to the Agency’s in-box from American embassies overseas. U.S. diplomatic missions were now being over-run by people claiming to know the whereabouts of Alexander Makowski. Ryan’s departmental analysts were vetting the reports and conducting a ruthless triage in an attempt to cope with the situation, but the ATA director had asked for a copy of all the supposed sightings of Makowski so he could get a feel for the reaction of the world’s public to President Brabazon’s most recent appeal for help.
‘Look at this one,’ said Ryan. ‘A clairvoyant walked into our embassy in Tokyo and offered to go into a trance to locate Makowski’s present whereabouts. There’s hundreds more as crazy as that one.’
‘That’s just a natural reaction to the reward being increased to half a billion dollars,’ observed Tony. ‘The noise level goes up accordingly. It just gives your people more pointless work to do.’
‘You mean this reward thing is self-defeating?’ asked Ryan.
‘Well it is if Agency staff have got to follow up every plausible lead. It stands to logic that even if one informant has genuine information about Makowski or the HFDA, almost all of the others will be lying, mistaken or deluded.’
‘Look at this one from Mexico City,’ said Ryan. ‘A woman claims she met Makowski in a bar last week and then she slept with him.’
‘The man probably told her he was Alexander Makowski just to get her into bed,’ said Tony.
‘Doesn’t sound like a very successful pick up line to me,’ Ryan said, shaking his head. ‘ “Hi I’m a mass murderer, the most wanted man on the planet. Want to have sex?”.’
Tony laughed. ‘I wouldn’t know about that,’ he admitted.
‘This is a strange one,’ muttered Ryan as he scrolled through the long list of reports. ‘A man walked into our consulate in Geneva yesterday claming that Alexander Makowski has been living in a remote farmhouse in the Jura mountains in France for the last year. The man says he was a HFDA volunteer and his job was to cook for Makowski and other members of the Humans First leadership.’
‘I see the Consul interviewed the man himself,’ said Tony. ‘He’s holding the man in the consulate and he marked his report high priority.’
‘Yep – that one’s interesting,’ agreed Ryan. ‘Although why the hell Makowski would run the risk of living in Europe when he could be safe in Venezuela beats me.’
‘Nicole’s still in London,’ Tony reminded his boss. ‘You could get her to check that one out before she comes back.’
*
‘How the hell did they get hold of this black hole technology of yours?’ Fox demanded.
Ray Fox was meeting the American ATA visitors in a conference room deep within the British government’s Henlow Hill crisis facilities. Following their return from the blast site in London, Nagourney and Nicole Sanderson were providing the CTU director with more details of the terrible weapon that had been used against Britain’s capital city, as Mike Ryan had ordered.
‘We think HFDA volunteers stole computer systems belonging to the man who was once lead scientist on the project,’ explained Nicole. ‘Then they must have tortured him to get his password. Anyhow, he washed up dead in the ocean.’
‘The end justifies the means,’ said Fox sarcastically, shaking his head. Incoming call from Homeland Security in Washington, Sue told him.
The communicator in front of Fox warbled quietly. With an eyebrow twitch of apology he picked it up and listened.
‘Yes, thank you. I understand,’ he said into the phone. ‘Excellent news.’
After he terminated the call he glanced from Nagourney to Nicole. ‘Well, we’ve had a bit of luck lat last,’ he said with a tired smile. ‘The police in Mountain View have discovered the second weapon planted by the HFDA. It’s undamaged. And they’ve taken one female HFDA volunteer alive. She’s in custody.’
‘Very good news indeed,’ agreed Nicole, standing. ‘Will you excuse me while I liaise with Washington?’
*
Once the quaint laptop computer had been booted up, Ramon Resigo stepped up to the bound and gagged man and laconically slapped him back to consciousness. Then he ripped the gagging tape from the prisoner’s mouth.
As the screen flickered to life, Resigo pulled up another upright chair and sat beside his victim. Then he reached forward and touched a key on the computer keyboard.
‘Do you see anybody you know, Professor Lundgren?’ he asked quie
tly, speaking in his guttural English.
Floyd changed his position slowly to get a better view of the computer display. He saw an image of three white females, a middle-aged woman, a younger woman and a girl of around six or seven years of age. All were seated in upright chairs, all were bound and gagged. Two of the FARC mercenaries, now dressed in civilian clothes, both armed with guns, stood behind the chairs.
The prisoner stared stupidly at the screen, his beaten eyes as cloudy as phlegm. He shook his head in an attempt to focus. Then he cried out in anguished recognition, ‘Don’t hurt my grand-daughter, don’t hurt her. Please, please…’
‘You will co-operate with Professor Makowski?’
‘Yes, yes,’ screamed Lundgren, his words ending in a sob. Whatever resistance the prisoner had put up during his own physical punishment had now evaporated completely in the face of an immediate threat to his family.
‘You will give him whatever he needs to access the collider?’
‘Yes,’ cried Lundgren. ‘Just don’t hurt them.’
‘O.K.,’ said the Colombian as he stood up. ‘Your wife, daughter and grand-daughter will remain with my men while you assist us. Their safety depends on you. You understand?’
The professor nodded once and he closed his eyes, allowing his head to slump forward.
‘Good,’ said Resigo. Turning away to face Floyd, he ordered, ‘Clean him up, give him something to eat and drink and then re-tie him. I’ll send a relief guard in one hour.’
*
‘We’re all very relieved that the bomb in Silicon Valley has been found,’ Ray Fox told Nicole Sanderson as he resumed their inter-agency meeting later in the day. They were both gazing up at the wall screen in Fox’s private office. ‘It’s a real breakthrough.’
Images of the crime scene in Mountain View were streaming in from feeds supplied courtesy of a very disgruntled local police video unit. After killing all power supplies to the Mountain View industrial building, the local police force had searched the building and the surrounding area thoroughly. One female suspect had been detained and one male had been declared dead at the scene, his body left lying where it was to preserve forensic continuity.
But to their annoyance, the diligent Mountain View Police Department had then been ordered by the Anti-Terrorism Agency in Washington D.C. not to examine the technology it had found, not to begin a forensic investigation and not to begin to interrogate the living HFDA suspect. They were instructed to wait until federal agents from the ATA arrived.
Local FBI agents had then appeared to enforce this directive and they declared the crime scene to be a classified area. They explained to the local police that Professor Alain Nagourney, a consultant to the Anti-Terrorism Agency, was already on board a plane from USAF Fairford in the UK and on his way to Mountain View. He would be the first person allowed to examine to complex electro-mechanical equipment that had been found inside a number of steel cargo containers. Other ATA agents were on their way to interview the HFDA suspect.
‘Agent Sanderson, you were very frank with us earlier about how Humans First got hold of this weapons technology,’ said Fox turning away from the screen. ‘I intend to be equally frank with your agency about our own position. We have a CTU undercover agent in place inside one of the FARC camps that the HFDA uses to train their direct action volunteers – one of my best men. It was he who gave us the warning about London and Silicon Valley. But I am afraid we haven’t heard from him for almost three weeks.’
Nicole understood what that probably meant. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, meaning it. Like all anti-terrorism agents she had the greatest respect for those who risked their lives by going undercover. Through his bravery this agent alone had already saved many thousands of lives in London and in Mountain View, California and he also had prevented Silicon Valley – the engine room of American economic growth – from being devastated.
‘I presume you’ll also want to get back to the States to interview the HFDA suspect,’ said Fox.
‘I would like to,’ she admitted. ‘But my boss wants me to stop off in Geneva first. It will probably turn out to be nothing, but a man walked into our consulate in Geneva yesterday claiming to be Alexander Makowski’s cook. He says Makowski has been living for the last year in a remote cottage on the French-Swiss border. The man asked for the reward, political asylum and American protection.’
Fox nodded and gave a weary smile. All over the world thousands of people were attempting to claim the $500 million reward now being offered for information about Alexander Makowski’s whereabouts. Like Nicole, he knew that almost all of these claims would turn out to be wildly spurious, even though they all had to be investigated.
‘France!’ he said with a smile. ‘That’s a new idea. Was the man taken seriously?’
‘The Consul was sufficiently impressed to send his report to Langley as a High Priority,’ she told Fox, as she stood up to leave. ‘That’s why my boss is sending me in to interview the man.’
*
‘I’ll clean him up, you get the food,’ Floyd told his fellow soldier.
As the young HFDA soldier headed for the door, Floyd picked up a cup of water from the stone floor and held it to the beaten man’s mouth. The prisoner sipped thirstily then, once the soldier had left the barn, Floyd quickly slipped the blindfold back over the man’s eyes.
The old laptop computer had been left on top of the up-turned crate, still displaying a still video image of the professor’s captive family – presumably to underline Humans First’s hold over him.
Floyd knew that Resigo or HFDA soldiers might return at any moment but, with his automatic rifle resting on his knees, he knelt and closed the video window. He saw that Humans First and the HFDA had established a local wireless network for their own communications. Uncaring whether that network was monitored for unauthorized traffic, Floyd desperately tried to recall how to use a manual computer system. Maria had taken care of all his own communications for the last two years. He found and launched an email application, entered an emergency email address that was burned into his brain and began to type.
Parachuted into the Jura mountains, France. Nearest town Morbier. 200 heavily-armed HFDA volunteers here with some FARC mercenaries. Target unknown. Attack imminent. Talk of global-scale super weapon to be used as climax to campaign.
Floyd.
The blind-folded prisoner groaned. Floyd glanced up, then quickly typed eight more characters.
L4, B22, H91.
Then he hit Send.
*
In an upstairs room of the farmhouse Dr Sergy Larov drew a deep breath and placed an encrypted call. As always he was required to provide a code phrase before he could speak to the leader himself.
‘The police have discovered our weapon in Mountain View,’ he said when he had been connected.
A torrent of curses and abuse filled his ear as Makowski flew into one of his sudden rages. Larov waited for the eruption to subside.
‘They got the accelerator and two of our people. Kjell Nordström was killed and an American active service volunteer, Karen Ostriecher, is in custody.’
More curses, another explosion. Larov heard dull thuds as if Makowski were kicking things. Then there was a silence and Larov knew his leader was struggling to regain control of himself.
‘But I do have some good news,’ added the Russian-born physicist. ‘Our FARC friends have taken Lundgren’s family hostage. He has now promised us his full co-operation.’
Larov waited, listening as his leader’s furious breathing subsided.
‘O.K.,’ said Makowski at last. ‘Well, at least the Americans will now have undeniable physical proof of our particle technology. Are our men ready?’
‘All here and armed,’ Larov told him. ‘Ready to go.’
‘Then we must bring the operation forward,’ said Makowski. ‘We go in tonight.’
*
Floyd and his fellow guard had been relieved in exactly one hour, as Ramon Resigo had prom
ised. In the meantime Floyd had scrubbed his email from the laptop’s memory and had restored the image of Lundgren’s family to the computer screen. Then he had carefully bathed and dressed the prisoner’s wounds.
Cold beef and bread had been fetched from the kitchen and Floyd had then watched over the man while he ate gingerly. Floyd also saw that the prisoner’s nose had been broken, like his own, and it was difficult for the man to breathe while he was eating. The British infiltrator knew that the cartilage and bones of his own nose had now almost completely healed and he could now breathe properly once again. And the message had been sent.
They had retied the Swedish professor to his chair securely but not viciously and, on being relieved, Floyd and his HFDA companion stepped out through the barn’s massively thick doors.
It was late afternoon and all was activity. Men were scurrying in all directions and it looked as if the group was packing to leave.
