by Tony Batton
Yet there was still the chance to make a great deal of money if he could just find a way through the next few hours. Subject Zero was in the building, so they could yet have their deliverable. Marron had been vague about where, ordering him to focus on managing Leskov. He glanced at his mobile - he'd got a text from Celia saying she was coming to the Tower, but there was still no sign of her. He had called Marron, but had received no reply. Muttering, he decided to check for himself. Logging into his laptop, he accessed the visitor records.
A red symbol appeared. He was locked out.
Odd.
He entered Bern's override code, but the system didn't respond. Perhaps Marron had shut it down when the building was evacuated? He needed to make sure he got to Celia first: he needed to make sure she didn't say something ill-considered – something emotional that might compromise their plan. The irony was that Bern had been the rock holding things together. And yet he had also been keeping secrets. How had he set up a Subject Zero so fast? It was almost like he'd known what Bradley was going to propose...
Bern's office phone rang. He swallowed and answered it. "This is Bradley."
"We will be with your shortly." Leskov's voice was heavily digitised.
"We're finalising our preparations for you. The building will be secure."
"I'm sure you believe that, but I'm not prepared to rely on you. I'm amending my travel arrangements. My team are sending you the details."
Bradley tapped his laptop and pulled an incredulous face as he read the message. "Will you get clearance?"
"We won't need it. Our ETA is one hour."
The call disconnected. Bradley picked up his phone to contact Marron, but suddenly the lights flickered then went out. A few seconds later, they came back on. Bradley frowned as he looked at his laptop and saw that the network was down.
He picked up the phone: it was dead too.
What was going on?
Another beep and his laptop chimed that it was reconnecting. He breathed a sigh of relief. A moment later, a message flashed up on the screen: SYSTEM REBOOT. ADMINISTRATOR ACCESS RANK TWO ENABLED.
Bradley blinked. That was way above his usual access. His hands flew over the keyboard: the visitor-records interface filled the screen. He puffed out his cheeks and typed in Celia's details. The result was immediate.
She was not shown as having signed in to the building, but one of her cars was parked in the visitor car park. And facial recognition confirmed she had arrived an hour ago.
So where was she?
He saw an icon marked 'advanced' and clicked on it. A log of her movements appeared.
She seemed to have gone to a meeting room on Level 1 then she'd taken a lift to Level Minus 5. What was she doing down there? He scanned down, but the system said that she was still on that floor, in a storeroom.
What was down there? Some secret Bern had been keeping? He shook his head and stood up. He would go and find out for himself.
EIGHTY-EIGHT
TOM CAME TO, LYING ON the floor. He blinked, his vision blurry. The collar around his neck was very warm. The cable dangled uselessly across his chest.
In his head there was a vacuum: a void where the power had been, the connection to the system. He had been so careful not to lose himself in the sensation of control, but now it was gone completely and he felt shattered: it was as if his senses had been cut off. The ache was almost unbearable. The building no longer responded to his will. And that meant Marron was back in charge. Tom grabbed the end of the cable and looked up at the computer terminal. What had happened? He ran his hand over the back of his head. There was a strange tingling. He unclipped the hub from the collar and almost dropped it. While the collar was warm, the hub was searingly hot. He placed it carefully on the floor and, with a growl, pushed himself to his feet.
Could he reconnect? If he did, would the problem just happen again? Could he do anything to defend against it? He concentrated then something occurred to him: if they were controlling the system again, they knew where he was. He wondered how long he had, then he caught himself: better to think about what he could do with the time he had.
◇ ◇ ◇
Alex's team arrived on Level 60 with a purpose. Eight men, all ex-special forces, fanned out around the office. Alex noticed in passing that the glass windows into Holm's office had been darkened so they could not see in. The only feature visible was Holm's infamous 'Trespassers will be Electrocuted' sign. She waved at two of her men. "Take the lead. We don't believe he is armed, but take no chances. And remember that he is not to be harmed." She pointed to the remaining men. "You six, follow in and fan out. I don't want any mistakes."
The lead two kicked the door down and leapt through. The other six followed. "He's not here," shouted one.
"What?" Alex moved to the doorway.
The sprinkler system came on. Alex stepped back reflexively. The men looked up, irritated. Suddenly there was a spark from one of the light fittings, as if it was overloading.
Realisation dawned on Alex. "Get out!" she shrieked.
But it was too late.
High voltage electricity, conducted by the water, flowed into the men. Their bodies jerked.
And they screamed.
◇ ◇ ◇
Tom watched the scene impassively on the CCTV cameras that he once again controlled. He sat two offices to the right, plugged into another terminal, back in charge.
But this time things were different. This time he would not hold back. This time he would throw every resource he had at these people. They were not fighting fair, so neither would he.
Before plugging in, he had visualised what he needed to do. And he was beginning to realise how much he really could do. This was all in him, in the chip, though the distinction was becoming blurred. The chip was part of him: inorganic, calculating, clinical.
For a moment, he let the men writhe, the power flowing through them, twisting and jerking their bodies. But only for a moment. He wasn't a killer.
He turned the electricity to the room off.
Then he scanned the building until he found Kate and Lentz in a lift, stuck between Levels 58 and 59. They were safe. He would get them moving again in a moment.
But first he turned to his most important task: locating Peter Marron.
And yet still he could not do so. Marron was nowhere on any of the systems. If he was in the building, he was in some part beyond the reach of any of its sensors, so well hidden that even the system did not know where he was. Frustration welled up in him. The thought echoed in his mind then was processed and relayed through the building's tannoy system.
A single sentence: a statement of intent bellowed in a robotic voice, flat and emotionless. From the basement to the rooftop helipad, the voice reverberated.
Marron, I'm coming for you.
EIGHTY-NINE
TOM'S VOICE ECHOED IN THE air-conditioned air of Marron's control room.
Marron glared at Holm. "You heard him. Now find him!"
"Actually, I think I might have a way." Holm walked over to the nearest computer. "I'm presuming he has re-interfaced with the system from a different point. But he had to get there before he re-established, during which time the building would have logged his movements. If I can just access the buffer – which is within your private systems, and he does not control – then we can see where he went."
"If that works you're a genius. And Leskov won't have to kill us all."
Holm swallowed. He tapped the screen. "He's there: two offices away from mine."
Marron looked at the screen. "Your office faces north, yes?"
"Yes, but how does that help?"
Marron strode over to a cabinet and started pulling out equipment. He stepped into a webbed personal-safety harness and unravelled a long length of rope. "We just need to think laterally."
◇ ◇ ◇
Tom frowned. He was looking at a room on Level 88 connected to Marron's office - the same location he had previously noticed was m
issing from the building schematics. It had to be where Marron was, but Tom could not penetrate the room's systems at all. It wasn't just that access was encrypted: according to the system, there was nothing in the room. No wires, no air-con, no computers. He checked and re-checked but got no further. The doorway was a barrier he could not pass. He scanned the building but found no other clue until he started picking up an odd noise. A light double-thump from one of the levels way above him. Then a similar noise on the levels below the first. And so on down the building from floor to floor. Analysing the sound, the system told him that it was glass vibrating at low frequency, as if impacted by something padded. He tracked the noise down in a straight line for several floors before he realised that the next room in line was the office he currently sat in.
Alarm bells sounded in his brain, but it was too late.
Bullets shattered the window, aimed high, perhaps intentionally to miss him. Tom ducked to the ground as a helmeted figure swung in on an abseil rope, gun aimed unerringly at him. The figure moved as Tom crouched in shock and, with a fluid motion, pulled the cable from the computer and the collar from around Tom's neck.
Fire seemed to burn through every cell of Tom's body and he screamed. His hands and feet went numb, his legs and arms so weak he slid to the floor.
Straightening, the figure pulled off its helmet. "Good to see you again, Tom," said Marron.
NINETY
KATE STABBED THE LIFT BUTTONS for the twentieth time. "Can you not get it working?"
Lentz was glaring at a control panel she had opened in the wall. "The lift program went into safe mode when that system reboot happened. Until someone overrides it centrally we're not going anywhere."
"Great," Kate said. "Out of one locked box into another, smaller one."
"An elegant but unhelpful summary."
"Something has happened to Tom."
"A lot of things have happened to Tom." Lentz levered open an inspection flap and frowned at the wiring inside.
Kate swallowed. "I've just realised who you are. I saw your photo in an old news archive: you're Dominique Lentz." She blinked. "Aren't you dead?"
"I'd have preferred it if I could have stayed that way. And if I can't get us out of here, my death may prove to have not been so greatly exaggerated," Lentz sighed. "Unfortunately I've used up all my tricks for overriding the CERUS system."
"Then we need to get a signal out. I have someone we can call."
"What sort of someone?"
Kate raised an eyebrow. "They're MI5."
Lentz blinked. "You're working with them?"
"That might be overstating our relationship."
Lentz cast her a speculative look, but pulled an oversized mobile from a pocket. "You know, it's my experience that when you ask for help from MI5, it rarely comes on the terms you expect." She tapped at the phone and frowned. "The only certainty is that you'll regret asking."
"And you know a lot about them, do you? If you've been managing on your own for twenty-five years, I guess you're not used to asking for help."
Lentz shrugged. "It's all academic. This building now has cell-phone screening in place. No cellular wireless comms of any nature, in or out."
Kate folded her arms. "Surely someone as resourceful as you has a couple of tricks up her sleeve. We can't let Marron get away with what he's done." She gave a grimace. "And not just to me."
Lentz placed a hand on her arm. "Tom said you didn't talk until Marron gave you the right motivation. What did he do to you?"
"I'd rather not think about it. I can still feel them inside--"
Lentz hissed. "Truth nano? This is supposed to be about the future and he's trying to drag us back to the dark ages."
"Then help me stop him. I think the MI5 agent is someone we can trust."
Lentz nodded slowly. "You asked if I still had a few tricks up my sleeve, I recall." She sniffed. "Let's have a look, shall we?"
NINETY-ONE
THE EXPRESS LIFT ACCELERATED DOWNWARDS. Bradley stared at the screen on his tablet, exploring his administrator-level access. He was now scanning the CCTV footage from the time of Celia's arrival. He watched her drive up and park her Ferrari across the CERUS car park entrance. He saw her storm into the reception area and shout at the guard on duty. Then he saw Marron appear and steer her away. He took her to a meeting room and then to the lifts.
Why hadn't Marron told him she'd arrived? He searched again, but there were no further CCTV records of Celia and the system would not confirm Marron's current location. So much for administrator access.
The lift slowed then finally reached its destination. Bradley stepped out onto Level Minus 5. According to the floor plan, the storage room Celia had gone to was twenty metres along the corridor. Clenching and unclenching the fingers of his left hand, he walked towards it, noting the CCTV cameras and wondering why they weren't providing footage to the system. He reached the storeroom door and tugged at the handle.
It was locked. Smiling, he searched for the physical door access menu on his tablet. The screen flashed red: ADMINISTRATOR ACCESS - LOGIN REQUIRED.
Muttering, Bradley realised the system had restored. His administrative privileges were gone. He knocked loudly on the door. "Celia?" he called.
There was no reply.
He shouted her name again. He tried turning the handle, jiggling it roughly, but it would not move. In frustration, he kicked the door, hard. It groaned in protest. Then he threw his whole weight at it. The door groaned again but held. He rubbed his shoulder then backed up to the far side of the corridor. Shouting, he charged at the door, focusing his impact on the mid-point, near the handle. With a shriek the lock split and the door swung inwards, Bradley stumbling through.
At first, his brain did not register what he was seeing.
A woman's body. Slumped face down on the ground. There was blood. Lots of blood - a gunshot wound in her chest.
His heart pounding, he brushed her hair aside and stared at her face.
Celia.
He took a step back, trying to digest what he was seeing. He had never seen a dead body before. He stood motionless for a long time, finally realising he was holding his breath. He let it go with a painful gasp and stepped away from the body, stumbling out into the corridor. He closed the door, though the lock was broken and it didn't shut properly, then he ran for the nearest stairwell and pounded up the metal treads. Reaching the ground floor, breathing hard, he pulled out his mobile phone and called a number on speed dial. But, as he held it to his ear, it beeped in error. Confused, he looked at the display.
No signal. There was no cellular network available: Marron's lock-down protocol. Muttering, Bradley reached into another pocket and removed a second, larger phone: an encrypted satellite phone. There was only one number programmed.
"What is it?" replied Leskov immediately.
"I've just found Celia Bern. She's been murdered. I think it was Marron. It had to have been him."
"Interesting. Perhaps Bern was also his handiwork."
"Do you still want to come here?"
"I need to be certain I'm getting what I'm paying for."
"What about Marron?"
"I'm more than ready to deal with him."
NINETY-TWO
TOM WAS PLACED IN STEEL handcuffs then escorted by a large group of guards to Marron's office on Level 88. Waiting there was a man he vaguely recognised and someone clad in a familiar black combat suit: the woman who had started everything.
"Alex. It's always you. Don't you have anything better to do?"
She smiled. "It's been quite a dance, Tom."
"Whatever they're paying you, you're not going to have long to enjoy it."
"You think this is about money?"
"That was exactly what I--"
Marron raised a hand and beckoned the man over. "Ed, do what you need to do."
The bespectacled man walked over to Tom. "I need to run a few quick checks on you before I run the installation. You're getting the
final interface code. The codecs for the helicopter." Holm held a scanner near Tom's head. "I have a connection! And it's stable. Now please hold still."
Tom felt a tingle under his scalp and leaned away. "Or maybe I won't."
Marron coughed. "I have two friends of yours suspended in a lift more than two hundred metres up a lift shaft. Would you like me to lower them at a speed considerably in excess of the recommended maximum?"
Holm tapped something on the scanner. "OK, commencing transfer."
Tom felt as if someone had dunked his head in a cold bucket of water. The cold intensified, becoming like shards of ice. Then suddenly it was gone.
Holm nodded. "It's complete. I'm getting bidirectional data transfer. No conscious instructions at this point, but it should be enough for Leskov."
"Excellent," Marron said. "How do you feel, Tom?"
"Like killing you all."
Holm removed a blood pressure kit from a case and slid it up Tom's arm.
"Now you're concerned for my health?" Tom looked at Marron.
"Circumstances change. Now you're our main attraction."
"And you're going to use me to demonstrate the technology to your buyer. Then what?"
"That's all Leskov wants from you. Proof that the technology works. What we want is you to come back to work – only in a slightly different capacity. You'll find staying with us far more comfortable than GCHQ or Moscow."
"Moscow?"
"Chez Leskov."
Holm pumped up the blood pressure cuff and then let it deflate, making notes of the readings.
"Does he know the truth about me? That I'm not evidence that the project is replicable?"
Marron coughed. "I'll leave that kind of statement to the scientists."
