The Codex File (2012)

by Miles Etherton

  But then he’d never seen anyone hanging around suspiciously. It was only the group’s assertions that he was being watched that kept up this onerous security pretence.

  Within a few minutes of his arrival Brown pulled up alongside where Michael stood on the pavement, opening the car door. Pulling his seatbelt across his chest he noticed the bags under Brown’s eyes seemed to have drooped a little further towards his top lip, if that was possible. The washed-out harrowed expression of a man on the run was still as evident as ever. But there was just the slightest glint of excitement behind the glassy eyes.

  “Have you got it working yet?” Michael asked finally, getting impatient for Brown to speak as they followed the quiet road towards Aldershot and their secret refuge.

  For a few moments Michael believed Brown hadn’t heard him, or was just too tired to talk and drive.

  “We’re getting there. The others will tell you more when we arrive. They’ll have the latest news.”

  There was just a hint of irritation in his voice as he kept his eyes firmly on the road ahead.

  The latest news?

  He guessed Brown’s annoyance stemmed from being dragged away from his work and the inconvenience of picking him up from the station. He decided not to pursue it or attempt to engage Brown in any further conversation. He would know soon enough.

  Continuing in silence Michael closed his eyes for a few moments, letting his thoughts wander. In an instant Colette was there on the TV screen, alive, talking to him, accusing Trevellion. And then those words which made little sense to him, being repeated in his mind. Over and over again until he could take it no more, until…

  His eyes flicked open with a start as the car ground to a halt. They were in the derelict park in front of the dilapidated mobile homes. The windows were as ever blacked out to the world, concealing the secrets and fugitives inside.

  The normally verbose Brown, forever spinning his conspiracy theories, merely grunted as he opened his door and exited the car. His mind was clearly elsewhere. Probably a seething mass of code, questions, and hopefully answers, to the problem Michael’s information had set the group.

  Following Brown to the door of the mobile home Michael’s heart rate began to quicken, and his hands went clammy. He needed them to find the answers, to get the app working. Trevellion wasn’t going to get away with what he had done to Colette, to Clare, and to him.

  Taking some deep breaths he felt his anger and bitterness subside a little as he watched Brown carefully knock four times on the door. He had to stay calm. He wouldn’t be able to exact his revenge properly if he was the gibbering wreck he had been. His resilience would provide the strength to take his vengeance on Trevellion and all those with him.

  The door to the mobile home clicked shut and locks and bolts were reapplied. Michael quickly looked around him for any sign of the group’s success in getting the app operable. But instead of answers all he saw was the familiar screens, either scrolling unintelligible code at a ferocious rate, or showing the current lies and misinformation being pumped out by UKCitizensNet.

  Green was sitting at one of the screens, a long burnt out cigarette hanging limply from his bottom lip. Turning, he looked at Michael. But just like Brown, the harrowed-looking expression wasn’t revealing any secrets.

  Before Michael could speak Jones emerged from the dimly lit, opposite end of the mobile home.

  “Michael, good to see you,” he said, holding out a welcoming hand. “Any problems getting here?”

  Michael shook his head, anticipating the next question.

  “Nobody was following. It was fine. But enough about that. Have you got it working yet? I’ve been going mad just sitting at home, waiting hour after hour to know whether we can use it against Trevellion and SemComNet.”

  Jones raised a placating hand, beckoning for him to sit down before he became too animated.

  “We’ve had some success,” he said slowly, picking his words carefully, knowing Michael was hanging on every possibility. “We’ve only done a minimal amount of testing but the app is working and seems operational.”

  Michael’s anxious expression erupted into a determined smile.

  “Don’t get too excited,” Jones added cautiously. “All we’ve done so far is upload the app with the changes we’ve made to a customised network we set-up ourselves. We use it to test various ideas we want to try against UKCitizensNet if we ever we manage to get past its gigabit encryption. We’ve been able to manipulate the app to perform various tasks of our choosing, but that’s all. We haven’t yet successfully hacked into UKCitizensNet. That’s what Green spends all hours of the day doing, looking for the slightest vulnerability in their system. And assuming we do get into the system there’s no way we can guarantee the app will work in exactly the same way.”

  Michael tried hard to hold back the feeling of deflation he could feel rising within him. At every turn Trevellion still held the upper hand.

  Sensing his disappointment Jones leant forward, placing his hand gently on his arm.

  “Michael, it’s not all bad. What you’ve given us in the shape of the app is the biggest leap forward we’ve had since we went on the run. We now stand a chance of really being able to do something. Before, we were still groping around in the dark waiting for something or someone, waiting for you.”

  Michael half smiled, looking to where Green was inspecting a printout of unintelligible code which ran onto several pages.

  “Do you stand any chance of hacking into UKCitizensNet? Or have I just given you a new toy to play with for a while before we all realise we’re back to where we started.”

  Jones sighed, determined to remain positive.

  “Amongst your wife’s papers was information on advanced encryption techniques. If UKCitizensNet is using one or any of the techniques mentioned in the papers then yes, we do stand a chance of breaking it eventually. Whether that’s tomorrow, next week, or in six months time I can’t tell you.”

  “You talk of if they used one of the techniques. What if they didn’t use one? What if they used a new technique they created themselves? What if this is all for nothing?”

  The incessant hum inside the mobile hum came to an abrupt halt. The three other men turned away from their individual tasks to listen in on the unfolding discussion.

  Jones chewed his bottom lip nervously. Pulling a small hip flask from his pocket he handed it Michael who had slumped back in his chair.

  “I won’t begin to say I understand what it feels like knowing what they did to your wife. But remember, we’re all the victims here. We all want this to work, and we’re working our arses off to get it working. Do you think anyone of us wants to be cooped up in this cold shithole in the middle of nowhere wondering when they might finally locate us? We’ve had our lives taken away too. We’ve had our families torn from us. We’ve been made outlaws for opposing what they’re doing. What do you think will happen to us if ever we’re caught? We won’t end up in some cosy prison cell with three square meals a day. We’ll end up in a shallow grave in the middle of nowhere just like your daughter. That’s our reality. So don’t you tell me this is for nothing.”

  Michael looked up from swigging the hip flask and saw the anger burning in Jones’ eyes.

  “I’m sorry. All I want is for Trevellion and all of those with him to suffer for what they’ve done to me.”

  He paused, looking into the harrowed faces of the four men.

  “For what he’s done to all of us.”

  Michael’s renewed sense of togetherness immediately alleviated some of the tension in the room. Jones sat back in his seat and sighed.

  Taking another swig from the flask, and handing it back to Jones, Michael looked him straight in the eye.

  “Just promise me one thing. When you’ve cracked the encryption we go after SemComNet.”

  Jones nodded, but Michael hadn’t finished.

  “We go after SemComNet. But only after we’ve dealt with Trevellion first.”<
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  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Warm sunshine baked Michael’s face as he squinted from its rays. Looking away his gaze dropped on the endless ocean before him. Sparkling aqua blue sea glinted in the morning sun. Not the dreary grey or green wash that you expect at home. This was the Caribbean sea, where the beaches are white and your feet burn on the fine sand.

  About two hundred feet away a glass-bottomed boat was making its way out into the quiet water, ready to show more tourists the wonders of the ocean. Multi-coloured marine life would dance beneath the glass, almost playing for the tourists as they gathered round, eager to see something, anything, they couldn’t see at home.

  Colette was one of those tourists, armed with her new digital camera. One of their many wedding presents. Thankfully, this was the only one she’d brought on their honeymoon.

  Michael smiled. Fortunately for him, she hadn’t brought too much in the way of clothes. Not that you needed many during the day. And they didn’t need any for the night either.

  Yawning, he screwed up his eyes, trying to spot Colette on the nearby boat. But all he could see were a mass of blobs as one tourist melded into the next in the haze of the horizon.

  They’d always wanted to come to Antigua. And when they’d finally set the date for their wedding, less than a year after they’d met, it had been the obvious choice. Two weeks of breathtaking scenery, laid-back locals, and as much indulgence as you could manage. It was idyllic.

  “Move your feet will you,” the gruff male voice said, pushing his legs out of the way.

  Michael instantly stirred from his light sleep, sitting bolt upright in surprise. Lying back on the moth-eaten sofa he’d stretched his legs out for comfort, but had only managed to block the walkway through the mobile home.

  Brown sat down opposite him, a cup of coffee in one hand. A chocolate digestive in the other.

  “Don’t tell Green,” Brown whispered, pushing the biscuit into his mouth in one go.

  Green was still busily typing away at one of the many computers at the far end of the mobile home. Hour after hour he tried to find one vulnerability in UKCitizensNet’s security. One window that could give them their opportunity. Smith had departed to one of the other caravans to get some much-needed sleep. Something all four men looked like they badly needed.

  Out of the gloom at the far end Jones appeared, the glint in his eye betraying a childish excitement at their work that his weary features denied. Dropping down next to Michael on the sofa he yawned loudly, stretching his arms behind his head, interlocking his fingers.

  “How do you cope, living like this, I mean?” Michael finally asked, looking from one man to the other.

  “You’d be surprised how quickly you get used to it when your life depends on it,” Jones replied sourly. “When the alternative is a shallow grave, this seems like a palace, believe me.”

  “But what about your family? Your friends? There must be people out there who are wondering where you are, what you’re doing?” Michael persisted.

  Jones half-laughed, although the joke never reached his eyes.

  “To all intents and purposes we’re dead. All four of us. It’s easier for us. And it’s easier for them. We chose to give up everything we had, including the people we love in order to protect them.”

  “But how? I could never have willingly given up Colette or Clare. Not for anything.”

  Brown leant forward from the hard wooden seat he was perched on.

  “Look Michael, it was impossible for any of us to keep our former lives. The government, and whichever part of it that supports SemComNet and UKCitizensNet, came after all of us. At first it was a bit of roughing up by a couple of particularly unpleasant 20 stone thugs. Then our bank accounts were drained dry. And then the death threats. All because we actively opposed UKCitizensNet. We all believed in our cause. We still do. So we stood by our principles. But then they came after our families, the most extreme leverage they could have used on any of us. They wanted to know where all of our kit was so they could prevent us from hacking their system. In return they wouldn’t break the legs of Smith’s daughter. Or cut off Jones’s wife wedding finger.”

  Brown and Jones exchanged a knowing glance as Michael listened intently.

  “At that point we all knew there was only one course of action we could take. We had to disappear and go on the run. Effectively become fugitives in our country, even though we’d committed no crime other than to support freedom of speech and freedom of information exchange.”

  “What did you do?” Michael asked, memories of his former life flashing before his eyes.

  “We faked our own deaths. It was the only thing we could do. The four of us were all friends, so it wasn’t odd for us to be all together. An explosion in a warehouse near to where we all used to live in London sufficed. And leaving round a few of our charred belongings was sufficient to convince the authorities we’d all been killed. The blaze was so intense they’d never have found anything more than ash anyway. It was the perfect cover. From then on our families were left alone and they lost their bargaining power. Of course, they still know we’re out here as objectors to UKCitizensNet. But they don’t know who we are, so our friends and family are safe.”

  Michael looked to Jones first, relieved to finally hear some personal details. Even if he didn’t have his real name to match.

  “So you’re married?”

  “14 years next month,” Jones replied sorrowfully, looking down at the pale white tan mark of where his wedding ring had once been. Everything from their previous lives had had to go when they’d faked their own deaths. “It’s funny, but despite everything you’ve been through with the deaths of your family, we’d have given everything to have had the time you had with your daughter. How old was she when she….”

  The sentence tailed off as the two men held each other’s stare.

  “She was eight,” Michael said quietly, as a picture of Clare dancing before him, her blond hair swishing from side to side, filled his thoughts.

  “We always wanted children. But Margaret, my wife, wasn’t able. We tried everything. Even IVF four times, but it just wouldn’t take. They told me it had nothing to do with my fertility. They didn’t say it was Margaret, but then they didn’t have to. It’s just as well I was raking it in at Microsoft. God knows how we’d have afforded the IVF otherwise. Margaret would have been fifty if we’d waited for treatment on the NHS rather than going private.”

  Not wishing to dwell on the issue of children, a painful subject for them both, Michael chose another subject.

  “What did you do for Microsoft?”

  “I was a chief software engineer for six years, working primarily on their operating systems. It was good until that bastard McCoy banned access to the internet. The company’s priorities changed at the point. I think if I hadn’t gone down the road I have I would probably have been out of a job in 18 months anyway.”

  Jones sank back on the sofa, sighing at his predicament. The pain of telling it one more time didn’t make it any easier to bear. Michael’s next question was all too predictable. And he had his answer ready.

  “So, do you ever see your wife? Just to see what she’s doing.”

  Jones looked at the floor, clasping and unclasping his fingers as images of Margaret came rushing back. Images of her getting into her car and driving to her job. Images of her doing her weekly shop at the supermarket. And images of taking flowers to his grave at the nearby cemetery.

  His tombstone was always immaculately kept. It was the pride of the graveyard. Every month, on the 23, the day of the month he had ‘died’ she would visit. Without exception. Always with a fresh bunch of flowers, clearing away the dead remains of the previous offering.

  Jones paused for a moment, casting a nervous glance at Brown, fearing his response.

  “For the first few months I discretely kept an eye on her, following her around, but always out of sight. I think I hoped she would see me, but always knowing that she c
ouldn’t. I so wanted to tell her I was alive but knew that I couldn’t. No matter how hard people try, no-one can really keep a secret. She would have told someone, who told someone else, who told someone else. And before long that someone would be working at SemComNet and they’d be threatening to kill her. I couldn’t put her though that, or myself. In the end, I just stopped. I let her go. I had to.”

  Brown’s jaw had dropped slightly at this revelation. Biting his tongue at what he really wanted to say, he said his piece quickly.

  “You’re a fucking idiot. You could have got yourself killed, again. You could have got all of us killed, including your wife.”

  Jones raised a dismissive hand at Brown, shrugging off his admonishment.

  “Look, I said I wasn’t doing it anymore. So don’t lecture me.”

  With the tension rising Michael turned to Brown whose face was flushed with anger.

  “So what about you? What did you give up for the cause, for this existence?”

  Brown smiled, looking to Jones and then to Green who was oblivious to their conversation.

  “Not as much as the others. I had someone who I saw on and off. When we had to go into hiding we were ‘off’. I always guessed she thought I wanted that permanently. There was no emotional farewell. No trauma at my passing. I don’t suppose she even knew. She was working in France at the time. She probably just thinks I moved on. It was no big deal emotionally. The biggest sacrifice was the lack of freedom. I don’t have any children and I don’t have any family. No-one misses me. It’s as simple as that.”

  “What about your job?” Jones replied, slightly acidly, still annoyed at Brown’s former admonishment. “You lived for that.”

  Brown scowled, knowing Jones was right.

  “Alright, so I was pissed off I had to leave my job because of this. I worked for Google, developing their search algorithms. It was a fascinating job until fucking SemComNet ballsed things up.”