Bionic Agent

by Rose, Malcolm

  Jordan sighed. “Music. But not that sort.”

  “You’re nearly there,” Angel said. “You thought about the sound of music and you got The Sound of Music.”

  “Yeah, but...”

  “Try something else.” Angel tapped the computer and said, “In here, I’ve got a file on someone called Henry Quickfall. It’s like his police record. See if you can get it up on screen.”

  Jordan didn’t need a keypad to log on to the computer. He was in wireless contact with Unit Red’s network through his latest brain implant. It was called a brain/computer interface or BCI. He’d already learned to think his password into the system. Then the network’s resources were his. To get precisely what he wanted, thinking the right thoughts should have been as good as typing a phrase into a search engine. But it wasn’t easy.

  He concentrated on the name. Henry Quickfall. The screen switched to a page posted by Wiltshire County Council. It celebrated the fact that Henry Quickfall had been voted the Cleaner of the Year for two years in succession.

  “Is that him?” Jordan asked.

  Angel smiled broadly. “No. The Henry Quickfall I know wouldn’t win any awards.”

  “What’s he done?”

  “He’s a militant campaigner. And he lives in Southend, not Wiltshire.”

  Jordan tried again. Henry Quickfall. Campaigner. Southend-on-Sea.

  The screen went blank. Two irrelevant images flashed up, too fast to take in. Then Unit Red’s file on Henry Quickfall appeared. Like magic.

  “There. I knew you could do it,” Angel told him.

  Jordan was too pleased with his achievement to take in the information on screen. For him, it was enough that he could access it. But he did notice that Quickfall was listed as an animal rights activist and environmental protester. One word caught his eye because it was in capital letters: POPE.

  “It’s clever, but...”

  “What?”

  Jordan said, “It’s great that I can get online wherever I go but, unless I’m in front of a monitor, I can’t see what I’ve logged on to.”

  Angel nodded. “I’ve got my computer people working on that. You know the cameras in your eyes send what they see into your optic nerve via the electrodes at the back of your eyes? Well, when your BCI receives information from the computer, we’re working on feeding that to the same electrodes so it’ll go into your optic nerve as well. You’ll be able to see the pages as if the screen was right in front of you.”

  “Wow!” There were advantages to having probes inserted through the skull. An online brain was one enhancement that any school kid would wish to have. It would make exams a whole lot easier.

  Education was different for Jordan. It was nothing like the schooling of Ben Smith – and every other fourteen-year-old. Ben hadn’t been great at schoolwork. He hadn’t had learning difficulties or dyslexia. It was just that he’d had better things to do, like music, tennis and hanging out with friends. Now, Jordan didn’t go to school. In a way, school came to him within Unit Red. And his lessons didn’t follow any known curriculum.

  Jordan’s tutor stopped his explanation of the Counter-Terrorism Act in mid-flow and put a hand to the side of his head. After a few seconds of listening to the voice in his earpiece, he said, “That’s all for today. Angel wants you in the bunker.”

  Jordan was pleased to get out of the rest of the day’s lessons. He stood by the sliding doors and thought about reaching out with his right arm, extending his forefinger and pushing the centre of the button to call the lift. In an instant, his arm came up and his fingertip touched the button with pinpoint accuracy.

  Within a few seconds, the doors opened and he went inside. At once, the cage plunged downwards. He could hear the steel cables slithering over pulleys. He could smell the warm oil that smoothed the motion. The distant scrabbling noise might have been a rat at the bottom of the lift shaft. Jordan turned down both the volume of his hearing and his sense of smell with a couple of thoughts. It had taken months and months of training to master his brain implants. Adjusting the power of his damaged sight, hearing and sense of smell wasn’t yet as easy and natural as standing up and walking, but he was now in control of his unique body.

  Angel was sitting at his desk, phone on one side, laptop on the other. That was probably all he needed. If someone brought him food and drink, he could probably stay in the bunker for ever.

  Standing to his left was a woman Jordan had seen in the house before. With short startling blonde hair and a fantastic figure, she was hard to ignore.

  Angel stood up when Jordan came in and, for the first time, offered his right hand.

  Jordan looked into his face.

  “Yes. Come on. Shake hands,” said Angel. “I trust you.”

  It was a significant moment. There was a time when Jordan would have crushed a real hand completely. He still could if he wanted to. But he had learned to control the strength of his arm using feedback from its pressure-sensitive artificial skin. He thought about it carefully, reached out and clasped Angel’s delicate hand with perfect pressure, and then released his grip.

  Angel smiled and introduced the woman. “This is Winter.”

  She stepped forward and also shook his robotic hand without a trace of nervousness. “How you doing?”

  “Better than before.”

  Angel waved him towards a chair. “Sit yourself down. Do you know what day it is?”

  Jordan nodded. “It’s my birthday, in a way. I was born – sort of – exactly a year ago. New life, new name, new bits and pieces.”

  Angel chuckled. “You’re big for a one-year-old. Very impressive. As I’ve said before, you’re incredibly lucky to be alive. But you’ve done really well. You put up with all the operations and learned to manage all your enhancements. It hasn’t been easy, I know. For one thing, it shows you’ve got a tremendous thirst for life. That’s good.”

  Jordan was wondering why Angel was giving him a lecture that he’d heard many times before.

  “We’re entering a new phase,” Angel continued. “It’s when you pay back the effort and money that’s gone into giving you extra time. Let’s face it. We’ve invested very heavily in getting you this far.”

  Knowing what was coming, Jordan nodded.

  “A while ago, you asked me what Unit Red’s got to do with you. I imagine you know perfectly well. Have you got your terahertz vision switched on?”

  “No.”

  “To be honest,” he said, glancing at Winter, “it’s quite unsettling, knowing you can see through our clothes whenever you want to. But why did we give you it? Not because it’s every schoolboy’s dream, that’s for sure. It’s so you can spot a concealed weapon at a glance. Your other wavelengths help in all sorts of ways, like seeing in the dark.”

  “But I’m not a spy.”

  “You’re from a police family. Getting bad people off the streets is in your genes.”

  “I’m fourteen!”

  “Mmm. That’s one of the advantages.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “You don’t look like an agent.” Angel smiled at him. “But you are. It’s right there on your ID card. It’s a piece of plastic like any ID, but its number makes it exceptional. The first four digits are the same as mine and Winter’s – and everyone else’s in Unit Red. It’s a code known only to us, the secret services and the police. Don’t get me wrong. The police don’t know anything about us and how we work. They just know they mustn’t ask questions when they see that code.”

  “But...” Jordan took a deep breath. “I think you’re mistaking me for some sort of hero.”

  Angel disagreed. “Not all heroes look like Superman, you know. They come in all shapes and sizes. I reckon I’m pretty good at recognizing them. It’s little things – like not giving up when the rest of the world has thrown the towel in.” He leaned forward on his desk. “What’s the downside? I’ll tell you. You can never contact your old friends or relatives. They know Ben Smith’s dead.” He reached
into a drawer, extracted a state-of-the-art mobile phone and handed it to Jordan. “It’s yours. I’m sure you won’t call anyone you shouldn’t.” There was an edge to his tone as he stressed the word sure. “But what’s the upside? A new, powerful life that a lot of people would envy. Winter here will be your handler and backup. She’ll provide all the guidance and support you need. You can trust her totally.”

  Trust, Jordan thought, was earned and not stated as a fact. That was one of his mum’s many mottos. He shook his head.

  “Don’t underestimate the feel-good factor,” Angel continued, “of going after bad guys, working for truth and justice.”

  Jordan could see the point, but he was still wary. “Sounds dangerous.”

  Angel smiled. “You’re equipped to handle it. And we’ll fit you with more enhancements as soon as they’re developed.”

  Seeing an opportunity to get what he wanted, Jordan asked, “If I...you know...become an agent, does it mean I can find out who did this to me?”

  “Investigate the Thames explosion?”

  Jordan nodded.

  Angel took a deep breath. “The police never found out who did it. They tried hard, but...” He shrugged. “It’s a tough case and you’re too emotionally involved. So, the answer’s no.”

  Jordan stood his ground. “My answer’s no as well, then.”

  Angel stared at him for several seconds. “Are you really saying you’ll join Unit Red only if I give you the estuary explosion case?”

  Surprising himself with his strength of will, he replied, “Yes, I am.”

  Again, Angel lapsed into silence. Then he sighed. “It’s against my better judgement but...”

  Jordan’s eyes opened wider. “I can go after whoever blew me up?”

  Angel nodded reluctantly. “The police investigated it for a year and failed. Now, it’s landed in my lap. I’ve got to delegate it to someone. I didn’t want it to be you, but you’ve forced my hand. So, yes, it’s your first mission. At least you’ve got a good reason to succeed. You’ll need more training and plenty of briefings from Winter. You’ll have to pass some tough tests. But then you can go out there and catch him.”

  “Him?”

  “I mean him or her. Or them. It could have been a group action.”

  Jordan realized that Ben Smith had spent too long sitting and learning in school, and not enough time doing things that made an impact. That was because Ben thought he had plenty of time. But Jordan knew that life could be snatched away in a moment. To make the most of his extra time, he had to live fast. He imagined a Unit Red agent would never be short of action. But the most important thing was the desire for truth and justice.

  5 GUN

  The teams of officers that had worked on the case of the Thames Estuary explosion were not even sure what they’d been investigating. It could have been the work of a crook. It could have been terrorism. It could have been something else, but it probably wasn’t an accident. A year after the Richard Montgomery blew up, their investigation had stalled. Needing a fresh approach, it was handed over to a boy who died in the massacre and who was reborn as Jordan Stryker.

  The novice agent sat quietly in the white Audi as Winter drove at speed towards Medway. No one in Lower Stoke would recognize Jordan when they got there. The passing of a year and the effects of medical reconstruction would take care of that. Jordan hardly recognized himself. He imagined walking up to Amy Goss and watching her face. Zilch. Completely blank. Not a tiny spark of recognition. Besides, she’d believe that he’d died. She might even have gone to his funeral.

  Everyone in the affected areas of Kent and Essex had been placed in one of four categories: Unhurt, Injured, Deceased, or Missing. Unlike Ben Smith, Amy wasn’t listed among the dead. When Jordan had checked, he’d found her name under Unhurt. But would he dare to go up to her? Angel had made him promise that he wouldn’t get in touch with anyone who knew Ben Smith. Even so, he longed to see Amy and make friends all over again as Jordan Stryker. But he wasn’t convinced that he was a good enough actor to pretend he didn’t know her. Maybe there would be a giveaway spark of recognition on his face. Anyway, she would have moved on. She would have new friends. Maybe a boyfriend.

  Angel had called Jordan special, but he longed to be normal. It wasn’t possible. Jordan would never be normal again. He had agreed to become a Unit Red agent and a guinea pig for modern medical technology. His body would be upgraded whenever there were other useful enhancements. And he would use his advanced body and brain to tackle tricky cases and untouchable villains. Starting with the Thames Estuary bomber.

  Jordan was determined to unearth the culprit. He wanted to come face-to-face with the person responsible and ask one simple question. Why? He needed to know what was worth so much loss of life and his own pain. Then...Jordan wasn’t sure. Would handing the bomber over to the police satisfy him? Would he want to go further? In his right arm he had the power to snuff out a life. But could he kill someone he hated? Was his thirst for revenge as strong as his thirst for survival? He didn’t know himself well enough. Ben Smith wasn’t built like that, but Jordan Stryker was still a mystery. Really, he was a blank slate, waiting for life in Unit Red to define him.

  He was sure about one thing, though. He wished that the bomber could go through the same pain and suffering as he had. That appealed to his sense of natural justice.

  On cue, Winter said, “I suggest we give the bomber – or bombers – a name. It’ll make it easier to talk about him or her...or them.” She paused while she thought. “Red Devil. The Red being short for river estuary destroyer. Okay?”

  Jordan shrugged. “Okay. Red Devil.”

  “I won’t always be available to drive you around, you know. I’m busy on other things as well. Anyway,” she said, dropping down into fourth gear, “I heard you’re going to get your own car if things go well.”

  “A car? But...”

  She glanced sideways at him. “You’ve got false ID. It wouldn’t take much to tweak your date of birth so you’re old enough. You’re big enough to pass for a seventeen-year-old. Just.”

  Jordan smiled to himself. His own car. Maybe a Ferrari or Porsche. He’d be the only fourteen-year-old on the road. Things weren’t all bad.

  He looked across at her and said, “Are you enhanced in any way?”

  “That’s an impertinent question to ask a woman!”

  “I didn’t mean... I just wondered if all agents...”

  Winter laughed. “I know what you meant. And, no, I’m all flesh and blood. You’re unique – in Unit Red or anywhere else.”

  As Winter drove, Jordan used his wireless connection to run through the police file on the case. But Amy Goss kept appearing in his mind. Had his imagination conjured up her likeness or had he logged on to a Unit Red file that contained her photo? He wasn’t sure, but she was certainly on his mind.

  Perhaps she was linked to the case. The local police had looked into the possibility that a rival gang had muscled in on her father’s patch and announced itself with a spectacular show of strength. They weren’t sure. They knew only that, after the big bang, Mr. Goss was no longer controlling the streets. Some of the same thugs were out there, but they weren’t working for Mr. Goss any more. All of the usual police informants were too scared to whisper the name of the new gangland boss and Mr. Goss was keeping a low profile.

  Then there was the motive of terrorism. But who or what was the target? Who had come off worst – apart from the Smith family and many other unlucky victims? The police decided that the oil and gas industry had suffered most. That suggested sabotage by an extreme environmental group. Most suspicion fell on an outfit called the Protectors Of Planet Earth – or POPE – headed by Henry Quickfall. Then there was the destruction of Sheerness Animal Breeding Station, possibly by animal rights activists. That was another of Henry Quickfall’s activities.

  If the police file on possible terrorism had been printed on paper, it would have filled Winter’s car and more. It might have
filled a lorry. Jordan hadn’t got a hope of absorbing it all. He concentrated on the summaries that Angel had provided.

  The Audi lurched as Winter pulled out to overtake. An April shower began to splatter the windscreen, blurring the view. The car detected the moisture and the wipers turned on automatically.

  Five protest groups had claimed responsibility for the blast. One was an animal rights outfit, another campaigned against the arms trade, two were radical green movements, and the last was a bunch of political extremists. After examining each claim thoroughly, the police concluded that there was no convincing evidence to back up any of the claims.

  Realizing he was out of his depth, Jordan wondered what he had talked himself into. He didn’t know what to make of the case. He wasn’t an expert. He was just a boy with a strong arm. He’d been taught all about intelligence work by Unit Red, but that didn’t make him a professional. Even so, his idea of terrorism didn’t match the events of a year earlier.

  Surely a terrorist would have rammed a boat at full speed into the wreck of the Richard Montgomery, or downed a plane on it, in a spectacular suicide mission. A fanatic would have gone out in a blaze of glory. Literally. But, according to the police file, Red Devil planted an underwater time bomb or a remote-controlled device on the wreck to provide the opportunity of escape. To Jordan, that seemed too subtle for an act of terrorism. But what did he know about terror campaigns, sabotage and bombs?

  One particular lead grabbed Jordan’s attention. Red Devil had left the site of the wreck and powered towards Southend-on-Sea, pursued by the river police. That was when the chaos had begun. Before both boats had sunk, the police were able to identify the vessel they were chasing and had radioed its name to their headquarters, but they hadn’t got close enough to identify who was in it. When the investigations began, the Quickfall family were immediate suspects because that boat belonged to Henry Quickfall’s sister. Cara Quickfall was so closely related to the animal rights and environmental campaigner that the police had questioned her and Henry at length. Both had alibis and denied any knowledge of the explosion. Cara had even reported the theft of her motorboat the day before the bombs went off.