Operation Sting

by Simon Cheshire

  The SWARM robots felt their sensors suddenly return to action.

  “At last. Contacting SWARM HQ!” said Sabre. “Wait. The transmission is bouncing back. We’re still cut off.”

  “Wherever we are now,” said Nero, “it must have some sort of shielding of its own.”

  The kidnappers carried Dr Smith the length of a narrow concrete corridor that sloped sharply downwards. Dim lights shone behind metal cages in the roof. The air felt cold and damp.

  “What is this place?” said Dr Smith.

  “This?” said Bullman, his voice echoing along the corridor. “This is our base of operations. A place where nobody will ever find us. Or you.”

  Dr Smith felt a stab of fear and her anger dissolved into nervousness. She stopped struggling, and looked around for some clue as to where she had been taken.

  At the same moment, Sirena was back in the laboratory at headquarters. She flew down on to the workbench in front of Simon Turing, landing gently on a large, rectangular shape. At the point where her thin metal legs touched the surface a series of red circles began to spin outwards, like ripples from a stone dropped in water.

  “I’ve finally got the download pads up and running,” said Simon to Queen Bee. “It makes retrieving data from the robots much easier.”

  Queen Bee wasn’t in any mood for pleasantries. She turned to Sirena, who was closing up her wings into their standby position, forming a large colourful triangle above her back. “Sirena, you say Nero, Sabre and Hercules are shadowing Dr Smith?”

  “Affirmative, Queen Bee,” said Sirena, her voice coming from a speaker set into the workbench. “They’re live, but out of contact.” She sent her last sensor readings up to the laboratory’s 3D display.

  Queen Bee and Simon watched Bullman’s car vanishing into the night. “No word from them at all?” said Queen Bee. She tried not to let her concern show in her voice.

  “Nothing, Queen Bee,” said Simon. “Professor Miller is trying to boost our communication systems right now, but no luck so far. They dropped off our detection grid at Dr Smith’s house, and since then, nothing.”

  “So they’re totally on their own,” said Queen Bee. “This whole operation now rests on how those three agents perform.”

  “Let’s hope they’re as good as we think they are,” replied Simon.

  Queen Bee stood gazing at the 3D display for a moment, lost in thought. She hadn’t told anyone that she’d just been on the phone to the Home Secretary again. The Home Secretary had reminded her that SWARM only had a few hours to recover Whiplash before they placed the mission in the hands of MI5 and shut the department down forever. Queen Bee was not about to tell the rest of the team that she had lied to the Home Secretary in order to play for time. She’d claimed that the micro-robots were closing in on the thieves, that SWARM HQ was in full control of the situation, and that the targets would be arrested very soon.

  If the robots failed in their mission, not only would SWARM be shut down, but Queen Bee would be in very serious trouble.

  She suddenly seemed to snap back to life. “I’ll check on how the Professor’s doing,” she said, and marched out of the laboratory.

  “Good morning, Dr Smith. My name is Williams.”

  Williams smiled down at her. She recoiled slightly. They were in a small, bare room inside the Operation New Age bunker. Dr Smith was seated at a battered wooden table, her ankles tied tightly to the legs of her chair. On the table in front of her were a laptop, a writing pad and a biro. The only light came from a desk lamp poised above the laptop.

  “May I call you Madeleine?” said Williams.

  Dr Smith glared up at him, trying not to let her terror show. “No, you may not! Whatever you want, I won’t cooperate. Who were those scum who dragged me from my home?”

  “Just some friends of mine. They’re having all their cuts and bruises attended to. You put up quite a fight,” said Williams, clearly amused.

  “Let me out of here! Please!”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Williams replied.

  Dr Smith looked at her grim surroundings. She tried not to feel nervous, but that was easier said than done. “What is this place?” she said.

  Williams slowly walked around her. “It was built in the early 1980s,” he said, “during the Cold War, when Russia and America were threatening each other with nuclear weapons, and the prospect of a ruined planet was frighteningly close. This is a bunker. A shelter from atomic warfare. Now it’s our base of operations. It was designed to keep about fifty people safe from the bomb blasts and radiation. It’s got its own air-filtering pumps, everything.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe that it was just abandoned?” said Dr Smith.

  “Along with the industrial complex around it, yes. The businesses went bust. This bunker was supposed to be top secret, even when it was built. It extends underground beneath the River Thames.” He pointed up at the concrete roof. “Above where you’re sitting are millions of tonnes of water. There’s only one way in and out. Put any thought of escape right out of your mind.”

  Dr Smith felt more nervous than ever now. “You’ve wasted your time kidnapping me,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. “Nobody I know has got any money. You won’t get much of a ransom for me!”

  “We don’t want your money, Dr Smith, we want your mind. The computer in front of you shows details of a coded electronic locking system. Your job is to tell us what that code is. You have everything here you need, I think. Computer, pen, paper, brain.”

  “I won’t do it!”

  Williams loomed over the table. The light of the desk lamp threw twisted shadows across his face. “Aww, you disappoint me,” he sighed. “I thought you’d be a sensible girl. Oh well, you’ll still be able to work with a broken leg. Or even two broken legs.”

  “It’ll take more than your threats to frighten me!” cried Dr Smith. “I’ll never crack that code! I don’t care what you want it for, or how much you try to scare me, it’s not happening. OK? Do you hear me? Never!”

  Williams tutted quietly and shook his head. Then he pulled an envelope from his pocket. “Have I got to resort to this? Huh? Have I?”

  He opened the envelope and pulled out a handful of papers. One by one, he dropped them on to the table in front of Dr Smith. There were photos, addresses and phone numbers.

  “Here we are, then,” said Williams cheerily. “It’s amazing what you can find online. We know where your parents live, and your three best friends. We have details of the vet where your lovely dog Sam is recovering from his operation. Do you need more? Do you need me to spell out what will happen if we don’t get our code? Ah, I can see from your face that you understand. Excellent.”

  Williams gathered up the papers and slipped them back into the envelope. Dr Smith began to tap at the keys of the laptop in front of her. Her face was a battle between steaming anger and terror.

  “I’ll leave you in peace, then,” said Williams. “Someone will be back soon to check on your progress.”

  The door clicked shut behind him.

  Inside Dr Smith’s pocket, the three SWARM robots prepared to move out.

  “We’ll have to blow our cover,” said Nero. “I’ve run the maths on our options and it’s our only real choice. We’ll have to reveal to Dr Smith that we are robots – she can’t escape without us, and we can’t recover Whiplash without her.”

  “Let’s go!” said Sabre.

  “Don’t be so hasty,” said Hercules.

  “Letting an unauthorized human know about us is strictly against SWARM rules,” said Nero. “SWARM is a top-secret organization, and we are the most top-secret part of SWARM. Our programming is very clear on that point.”

  “Our programming also tells us to think for ourselves,” said Sabre. “We’re out of contact with SWARM, and we have to make our own decisions. What is more important – keeping our existence secret from Dr Smith or the success of the mission? We can be very clear on that point too.”
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br />   “Agreed,” said Hercules. “Recovering Whiplash must be our first priority.”

  “We have to be cautious about how we reveal ourselves to Dr Smith,” added Nero. “At this moment she is experiencing emotions such as fear and anger.”

  “Humans are weird,” muttered Hercules.

  “Agreed,” continued Nero, “but we mustn’t do anything to make the situation worse. She might panic, or believe we are part of Williams’s gang. She might even tell Williams about us, and then SWARM itself would be at risk.”

  “We should locate Whiplash first,” said Hercules, “and only show ourselves once we’ve gathered whatever information we can.”

  “Should we leave her working on the code?” said Sabre. “Is that wise?”

  “Our programming tells me that complicated tasks help focus a human’s thoughts,” said Nero. “Working on the code will calm her down. By the time we’ve gathered data, she should be in a more logical frame of mind. Then we won’t scare her. Besides, robots are much more efficient than humans. I’m sure it would take me only a few minutes to crack the code, but even Dr Smith will probably take hours.”

  The three robots carefully emerged from their hiding place and crawled away down the back of the chair. Dr Smith was concentrating on the computer screen in front of her and jotting notes on the writing pad. She glanced up briefly, distracted by a faint buzz, but quickly returned to her code-breaking.

  The robots easily made it under the door and out into the narrow corridor beyond. To the left, their scans revealed the bunker’s main control room, where the gang was preparing Phase One of Operation New Age. To the right, they could detect voices coming from one of the rooms about ten metres away.

  “Sabre, you gather visuals,” said Nero. “Photograph and scan everything going on in this bunker. I’ll get into their computers. Hercules, cut access holes wherever possible, in case we need a rapid escape route, and monitor whoever goes near Dr Smith.”

  “We’re live,” said Sabre and Hercules. Sabre took to the air and sped away. Nero scuttled rapidly into the control room, while Hercules flew up to an electrical box bolted to a nearby wall, cut a small hole in it and crawled inside.

  They transmitted streams of data to each other as they progressed. “Eye cameras at enhanced level,” said Sabre. “Images of all gang members obtained. Watching activity.”

  Nero kept to the shadows at the edge of the large control room, skirting around the equipment until he found a blank metal plate on the back of a PC. Using a screwdriver attachment inside one of his claws, he quickly undid the plate and squeezed inside. He tested the computer’s processors until he found a suitable patch of circuitry. Then a tiny fibre-optic probe extended from his claw and clamped on, linking him to the gang’s computer network.

  “Can you send a message?” said Sabre.

  “Negative,” said Nero. “All communication with the outside world is routed through Williams’s own smartphone. I can’t bypass that without tripping several automatic alarms. However, I can read every byte of data that’s gone through here since it was first switched on.”

  Hercules was snipping and chewing his way through various air vents, and pipes designed for electrical cables. “Give me the full layout of the bunker, Nero,” he said. “That way I can check that I won’t cut through any cable I shouldn’t.”

  “Accessing,” said Nero. The probe searched the computer’s hard drives. “I’ve got it,” said Nero. “Detailed drawings of the whole place.”

  “Received,” said Hercules.

  “Wait,” said Nero. “I’ve found a lot more in here… Hang on… Accessing… Accessing…”

  Meanwhile, Hercules emerged from a neatly cut hole in a metal heating duct. He found himself in the long concrete corridor that led away from the bunker’s entrance.

  The large metal wheel in the centre of the door was turning.

  “Someone’s coming in!” said Hercules.

  “You might be able to slip past them.” transmitted Sabre. “If you leave the bunker, you can contact HQ!”

  The bunker’s entrance swung open. Hercules instantly flicked his wings to full stretch and took off. Whereas Sabre, and Chopper the dragonfly, were built for agility and would have reached the entrance in seconds, Hercules was designed for heavier work, and his top speed was much lower. He was eighteen metres away from freedom…

  A figure stepped through the entrance into the sinister gloom of the corridor.

  Fifteen metres…

  The figure turned and took hold of the metal locking wheel.

  Ten metres…

  The heavy metal door was swung back.

  Seven metres…

  The door bumped shut, the wheel was turned and the bunker was sealed up once more. Hercules swerved in mid-air and landed on the wall above the entrance.

  “Attempt failed,” he transmitted to the others. “The door wasn’t open long enough. I got a brief look at our visitor, though.”

  He sent his sensor readings to the others. They pieced together a photograph that was too blurry to give a positive identification.

  “I’ll intercept him,” said Sabre. “I can see he’s entering the control room now.” With a sharp buzz, Sabre skimmed along the ceiling.

  Nero, still plugged into the computer system, had accessed a treasure trove of documents, emails, phone calls and technical data. “The information I’ve tapped into tells us almost all we need to know,” he said. “To begin with, it seems this bunker is safe from the effects of Whiplash. It’s built using thick concrete reinforced with layers of lead and other metals. That’s why our signals can’t get through.”

  “I have an idea,” said Hercules. “I could cut through the wall of the bunker, at a point close to the entrance. It would take a while, and it would use up most of my processing capactiy, but if I could tunnel through to the outside, our contact problem would be solved.”

  “Logged,” said Nero. “Begin at once.”

  Hercules set his pincers to emit tiny ultrasonic vibrations, far too high for human ears to hear. He focused them on to a single spot in the wall ahead, hitting the concrete with just enough energy to loosen its molecules and allow Hercules’s pincers to dig in. Slowly but surely he chewed his way into the wall.

  Meanwhile, Nero’s processor was in overdrive, sorting and assembling the details of Operation New Age from the mass of information.

  “It appears that we were correct. Williams’s gang have had a mole inside Techna-Stik all along,” he said. “They’ve been getting information about Whiplash from someone they know only as the Insider. This person has visited the bunker several times over the past few days.”

  “Logic would suggest that this Insider is the newcomer who’s just entered the control room,” said Sabre. “Gathering detailed visuals now.” He flew level with the newcomer’s face, and transmitted an image to the others.

  Within seconds the robots had a swift and definite ID. Nero cross-checked against the mission data Simon Turing had uploaded. There was no doubt.

  “The Insider is Mr Haynes, Techna-Stik’s UK Operations Director,” said Nero.

  “Why would the boss of the company that created Whiplash help other people to steal it?”

  “Listen to this,” said Nero. “Williams has been lying to his gang. They think they’re engaged in a plan codenamed Operation New Age. Phase One is genuine – it involves firing Whiplash to cause havoc across southern England. But Phase Two is a complete fantasy. I’ve traced and reconstructed a call between Williams and the Insider, or rather Mr Haynes, two hours seventeen minutes ago. Listen.”

  There was a crackle of static on the robots’ communication circuit, then they heard…

  Williams: It’s me. How are preparations going?

  Haynes: Fine. The Gylbut Gadgets factory is ready to start producing Whiplash shielding as soon as we need it. The sooner the better, I’ve got the banks hounding me for money. They’re hounding Oliphant too. He’s going to give in and let them t
ake everything he owns but he’s not dragging me down with him!

  Williams: That’s your problem. Me, I’m having trouble not laughing out loud.

  Haynes: What do you mean?

  Williams: This bunch of dimwits here. The closer we get to Phase One the more they’re getting like a bunch of kiddies on Christmas Eve. Pathetic.

  Haynes: Don’t underestimate them. They’re badly misguided, but they’re not stupid. Are you sure we’ll be able to get away?

  Williams: Of course, stop fussing. I told you, once Whiplash is fired, they’ll all be in party mode. I’ll pocket the weapon, then you and I can slip away. They have no idea who we really are and they’ll all be wanted by the cops for terrorism.

  Haynes: All I’m saying is, have we covered every angle?

  Williams: I have. Are you coming in soon?

  Haynes: Yes, I’ll be at the bunker in a couple of hours. I’m just going to stop off at home and put all my electronics in one of the new Gylbut Gadgets protector boxes. Don’t want my TVs ruined when Whiplash goes off.

  Williams: OK.

  There was another crackle of static and the recording ended.

  “Why fire Whiplash and walk away?” said Sabre. “What is Mr Haynes’s connection to Gylbut Gadgets? Aren’t they Techna-Stik’s main business rival? Why do both Haynes and Oliphant owe the bank a lot of money?”

  “I’m continuing to sort and assemble data,” said Nero. “We need more answers.”

  “Have you found Whiplash itself?” said Sabre.

  “Almost,” said Nero. “It’s location is masked by layers of security… Accessing… Accessing…”

  “If Williams is also using a fake identity,” said Sabre, “then who is he really?”

  Nero was too busy to answer. “Got it! Whiplash is plugged into a circuit board beneath the workstation closest to the corridor.”

  Hercules had tunnelled through nearly two metres of heavily reinforced concrete and he was still working. Now he’d come up against the lead-lined outer shell of the bunker. The plans sent to him by Nero told him that this shell was made of thick metal sheets and would be extremely difficult to break through. His own sensors readings were telling him the same thing.