Thermals

by Evan Currie

  Anselm winced, shrugging, “Well, it was either that or the virus might have escaped.”

  The Australian police inspector closed her eyes, covering one eye with her hand, and actually whimpered slightly. “I know I’m going to regret asking this…but, what virus?”

  “Ah…well, that would be the reason that Abdallah Amir is here in the Tower project.” Anselm replied, his voice moderately chagrined. “I suppose I should tell you what I know.”

  “Yes, Please.”

  Anselm sighed, nodding. He quickly outlined the situation as he knew it, explaining what he knew about the virus that Abdallah had been developing, and confessed that he wasn’t certain why he had chosen the Project as he base of operation, but neither he nor Gwen thought that it mattered now. A Biological weapon of terror of this nature was, by international treaty, defined as a Weapon of Mass Destruction.

  WMD’s, as they were known, were nightmares of civilization for a damned good reason. Unlike traditional weapons of military forces, there was not even the slightest pretense that a WMD could be used as a ‘surgical’ weapon. They were designed to kill indiscriminately within their range, sparing no person whether soldier or civilian, child or adult.

  No civilized nation would allow them to be used if there was any possible way to stop them. Once maybe, but not now. And the idea of one being released on her country’s soil gave Gwendolyn Dougal shudders of revolted terror.

  “My God,” She whispered, shaking her head. “We have to stop him.”

  “We will,” Anselm promised, “It’s just a matter of getting in some appropriate backup.”

  “We have twenty officers on the force, and another forty we can deputize.” Gwen told him, “Let me call my Captain, We’ll get an electronic warrant issued out of Sydney and…”

  “No. Not yet.” Anselm shook his head, speaking emphatically.

  “Why the bloody hell not!?”

  “We don’t know how many are in there,” He told her, “Listen, Gwen, They have an impressive infrastructure dug right into the Project facility. I’ve got the employee database on my Portable, it’s already running a comparison through the computer’s in Stockholm. Half hour, and we’ll know how many people have infiltrated the officials of the Project.”

  “A half hour?” She asked, taking a deep breath.

  “A half hour for that,” He told her, “After that, we’ll decide what to do.”

  “Fine.” She told him, “You have your half hour, Agent Gunnar.”

  Chapter 7

  Half a world away from where two police officers struggled with the existence of a man made horror beneath their feet, there was a room filled with computers which were all linked to other rooms similarly filled. In that room every proverbial red flag, buzzer, siren, and other methods of saying ‘hey! There is some bad shit going down here!’ was currently sounding.

  “This better be good,” A woman in a professional suit snarled as she threw her handbag against a cubicle wall, letting it thump to the desk below, “I was at a dinner with the President.”

  “Uh…” A white coated man goggled, swallowing.

  “Oh for crying out loud, Howard, talk to me already,” She growled, rolling her eyes.

  “Uh. Yes Ma’am.” Howard replied, shaking himself quickly and trying to regain some semblance of poise. “It’s Agent Corvine, Ma’am.”

  Natalie Cyr, Deputy Director Intelligence, Central Intelligence Agency, frowned at that. “What about Joshua?”

  She and Joshua Corvine were contemporaries, they had been recruited into Langley only a year apart. Their careers had mirrored each other in many ways, she rising through the analyst division while Joshua excelled in the field, and she herself had been his Control on several missions following the 9/11 crisis in Oh One.

  “He uploaded a lot of data about an hour ago, Ma’am. It’s hot stuff.” Howard told her.

  “Hot?” Natalie raised an eyebrow, “How hot?”

  “It’s a Fire Swarm Alert, Ma’am.”

  Cyr’s eyes widened as her jaw dropped slightly, the code words penetrating quickly but understanding taking a measure of time even so. Fire Swarm was the current Federal Code Word for a Biological Threat to the United States or her Allies, specifically used in cases of potential bio-terrorism. Similar code phrases had been used more often than most people realized in the past, but they spared no fear in Natalie Cyr for all their unfortunate familiarity.

  “Confirmation?”

  “Digital only,” Was the immediate response. “Agent Corvine has not yet contacted us for a personal confirmation.”

  Damn.

  Natalie winced. It was, if not Agency protocol, then certainly her own not to interfere with an agent in the field unless absolutely necessary. The advent of technology had allowed a greater and greater degree of worldwide micromanaging, if a person was inclined to that sort of thing, which had resulted in some spectacular disasters which, thankfully perhaps, would never be reported to the public at large.

  “Do we have a lock on his portable?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Howard nodded, tapping in a command.

  The wall screen lit up instantly, showing a map of Australia, then zoomed in quickly using real world imagery to show the Australian desert, then the immense tower facility, and finally a small home built along the strange little ring city that had grown up around it.

  “Is that his hotel?”

  “No Ma’am.” Howard tapped a few more keys, “It belongs to a…Gwendolyn Amelia Dougal…She’s an Inspector with The Tower City PD.”

  “Police?” Natalie resisted the urge to curse, “We don’t need any local police involvement. What’s he doing there?”

  Howard shrugged. There wasn’t really much more he could do, under the circumstances. The technology involved in surveillance satellites was probably fifty years ahead of what the public believed them to be, considering the classified nature of the programs that developed the down looking technology, but they had yet to orbit a bird that could look into a man’s mind and tell what he was thinking.

  Hell, they hadn’t even developed one yet that could reliably look inside a man’s house.

  Speaking of which, Howard tapped a few keys, and the image shifted color frequencies. “There are…two people in the domicile in question, Ma’am. Both located in the living room if I’m reading the floor plan correctly.”

  Natalie nodded, sighing. “Do me a favor, Howard, ping his portable. No audible signal, if you please.”

  “You’ve got it, Ma’am.”

  *****

  They were still waiting on the completed database comparison to come through when the portable Anselm had recovered from the American agent began to buzz softly on the desk as its soft vibrate feature caused it to shiver across the glass desk he had laid it on.

  He exchanged a glance with Gwen, who just shrugged, so Anselm looked back at the device that had, up until a moment earlier, been entirely dead.

  “Are you going to pick it up?” Gwen asked him after a moment.

  “I suppose I should,” He said, a little reluctantly.

  If it was someone, as it almost certainly must be, trying to contact the Agent, Anselm was going to have to give them some very bad news. He’d always hated that part of his job. Of course, he supposed that no one liked that part of the job, or if they did they were very disturbed people indeed. He reached out and picked up the common looking portable and fanned it out with a flick of his wrist.

  “Yes?” He said as the screen flickered to life.

  “Who is this!?” The voice on the other side was sharp, angry even.

  Given who Anselm thought it probably was, more or less, he understood entirely. It was also probably best to give her the truth. “Agent Anselm Gunnar, Interpol. May I ask who this is?”

  The screen went dead before he got out the fifth word.

  *****

  Natalie Cyr automatically killed the signal with a single touch of her finger, then glared at Howard. “Give
me a full file on that man. I want to know if he’s who he says he is.”

  “Yes Ma’am.” Howard nodded instantly, his fingers tapping away.

  The Interpol records were an open book to the computers buried throughout the Langley facility, and within thirty seconds they had the appropriate file up and on the screen.

  “Anselm Gunnar, Agent, Interpol. Age, thirty three. Born in Stockholm. He’s their leading anti-terrorist investigator.” Howard replied, eyes flicking as he read the file.

  Natalie nodded, reading over his shoulder, “It looks like him too. What does the computer say?”

  “One moment…” Howard tapped out a command, capturing the video file and sending it to the Facial Topography Comparison Programs.

  The linked supercomputers almost instantly spat out the response.

  “Ninety eight point three percent positive.”

  Natalie grimaced, hesitating for a moment.

  “Alright. Call him back.”

  *****

  The device hummed again against the desk just a few moments later, and this time Anselm didn’t hesitate. He picked up the already open device and brought it up to his face again.

  “I’m here.”

  “Where is the owner of that Portable, Agent Gunnar?,” The voice on the other side of the connection was tense and sharp.

  Anselm hesitated a moment, then sighed. “He’s dead.”

  The voice fell silent for a moment, leading Anselm to believe that the link had been cut again, but the voice came back, still hard, still sharp, but with more depth than Anselm usually heard over a digital line.

  “How?,” She asked.

  “He was killed in an explosion while we were investigating an underground facility near here,” Anselm said, deciding that the truth was the best plan. “There was an incident. He saved my life.”

  When there was another long silence, Anselm decided to ask a question.

  “Are you Agent Corvine’s superior, Ma’am?”

  On the screen, the woman’s face hardened. “Agent Gunnar, you know a bit much for my preferences. I have a feeling that you’re leaving something out of your encounter with Agent Corvine.”

  “So you are his superior.” Anselm said, eyes glinting slightly.

  She ignored him, “What do you know about the situation Agent Corvine was investigating?”

  “Alright, I’ll play it your way,” Anselm told her, “He was looking into the activities of Raymond Gorra, AKA Abdallah Amir.”

  “And you are aware of these activities?”

  She’s fishing for info…the question is, about what exactly?, Anselm wondered.

  Before he could say anything, though, Gwen was snarling over his shoulder.

  “Aware!? That freak has a goddamned bio-warfare lab right under our…!”

  “Gwen!” Anselm cut her off, glaring over his shoulder.

  “I see.” The voice on the other side sounded slightly amused. “As it turns out, Agent Gunnar…Inspector Dougal, that is precisely what Agent Corvine’s data indicates.”

  “What data did he send out?” Anselm asked quickly, “I’ve been compiling a list of the known terrorists here, it might let me figure out who’s doing what.”

  “Send us the list,” The woman said, “We’ll determine that.”

  Anselm chuckled dryly, “Fat chance lady. I hate to remind you, but we’re the ones on site…And, uh, Inspector Dougal and I have jurisdiction.”

  “Inspector Dougal is a local police officer, Agent Gunnar. She isn’t qualified for this sort of operation, and neither, quite frankly are you. Your investigative talents are well noted, however this is no longer an investigation.”

  “Says you.” Gwen muttered, annoyed.

  “You know how this works,” Anslem said, shooting Gwen a quelling look, “You give a little, you get a little.”

  “Agent Gunnar,” The voice said, then dropped off. When it came back, she was sighing. “Alright. We’ve been developing some simulations based on the data we received from Agent Corvine…Do you have access to a high speed connection?”

  Anselm raised an eyebrow, looking over at Gwen, who shrugged. “Of course. My home network is…”

  “No. Your home system isn’t…secure.”

  “Oh well then the station has…Wait…How do you know that!?”

  “The station has a link to the standard police networks, will that do?” Anselm asked, ignoring Gwen’s outburst.

  “It should.” The woman replied after a moment.

  “Alright, Gwen?” Anselm looked over, “Let’s go to the station.”

  *****

  The connection closed and Natalie fell silent for a moment as she stared at the dark screen.

  “Ma’am?”

  The technician waited a moment, growing slightly more anxious by the second, then braved her silence once more.

  “Ma’am?”

  “What?” She shook her head, looking down at the technician.

  “What do you want me to do?” The man asked nervously.

  She sighed, pushing the death of her agent aside for the moment. “Agent Corvine was using the Consulate secured Portable Comp, right?”

  “Ah…Yes Ma’am.”

  “Download its entire contents, including the ‘black box’ signals.”

  Howard nodded, “Yes Ma’am…That…That’ll take some time.”

  “I’m aware of that,” She replied, knowing that while the wireless networks that the portables connected through were quite fast, they were still nowhere near as fast as the trunk lines that interconnected the primary network nodes, and as technology had progressed the amount of data that even a small device like an off the shelf portable computer could accumulate was huge.

  The Consulate’s portable wasn’t even remotely off the shelf.

  “Let me know when the information is available,” She told the technician, turning to leave.

  “Ma’am? Where are you going?”

  Natalie looked back sharply, and the man flushed under her gaze. After a moment her eyes softened slightly, “I have to see a man about a star.”

  *****

  “My network isn’t secure…” Gwen complained as they walked to the monorail, “what does that mean anyway?”

  “Probably that they hacked it and downloaded everything you had on your computer.” Anselm replied dryly.

  “What!?”

  “Gwen,” Anselm shook his head, “That was the Deputy Director of Intelligence at the CIA. Natalie Cyr.”

  Gwen fell silent as they boarded the monorail car, staring at Anselm for a long moment.

  “What?” He asked, checking his shirt.

  “Are you kidding me!?”

  “Not at all,” Anselm smiled, “It took me a moment, but I recognized her. She took over the position last year actually, I attended a party she was at about six months ago, though we didn’t meet. Tough lady, or so they say.”

  “The CIA just hacked into my computer!?”

  Anselm smirked, “Something on it you’d rather they not know about?”

  “Hell yes!” Gwen bristled, eyes flaring with an indignant light.

  Anselm chuckled, though he admitted that it wasn’t likely to be funny in the slightest to Gwen. Personal computers were extremely private matters, and even the most scrupulous person was likely to have a few tidbits located on their home system that they’d rather no one know about. He didn’t know what Gwen’s particular thing was, but he had more than a few on his computer that he’d certainly rather no one ever see.

  Which, come to think of it, brought up another likely issue.

  “If it’s any consolation,” He said, grimacing as the thought struck him, “They’re probably doing the same to mine now, assuming they haven’t already.”

  She glanced sidelong at him as the mono-rail sped along, “It’s not, but I suppose it’ll have to do.”

  Anselm chuckled slightly, “Don’t worry too much about it. Truth is, your name has probably crossed some anonymous cler
k’s desk a few thousand times over the run of your life. There are international signals intercepts that routinely check and analyze messages based on keywords.”

  “That’s not comforting,” Gwen told him dryly, glancing out of the rail car. “We’re here.”

  Anselm just smiled as the monorail car slid to a smooth, nearly imperceptible, stop. “What can I say? We’ve come a long way since Echelon.”

  Gwen shook her head, making a rude noise as she got up. “Come on, Gunnar. I want to get this over with.”

  “I thought I told you to call me Anselm?” He grinned, following her off the rail car.

  “That was before you got me investigated by the CIA,” She told him sourly, showing him her back as she strode down the steps to the ground, then turned toward the police station.

  Anselm just laughed and followed her.

  *****

  “Natalie?”

  Natalie Cyr hastily composed herself as she scribbled her signature on a piece of paper, then straightened and turned to greet the man standing in her door.

  “Sir.” She nodded.

  “I just heard about Joshua,” Carl Severson, Director of Central Intelligence (DCI) said softly. “You have any hard data yet?”

  “Not yet,” The severe looking woman said firmly, “I ordered a full upload of the Consulate Portable he was carrying, but that will take some time.”

  “Alright,” He nodded, “Let me know when it’s done. What’s the status on the team we’re dispatching to Australia?”

  She grimaced, shaking her head. “They’re still in California, forming up. We weren’t expecting it to come to a head so fast.”

  The DCI grimaced as well, but nodded. “Alright. Get them in the air. I don’t care if you don’t have a full team yet, fill out their ranks from the Navy if you have to, we have to have something in the area that’ll do the job.”

  “Yes Sir, uh…what about SecNav?”

  “I’ll talk to Rob myself,” the DCI promised, “maybe find you a SEAL team or something.”

  “I’ll take some of their Masters at Arms as a second choice,” She said.

  “Agreed,” Carl told her, “I’ll clear it. Just get your team in the air. Whatever is going down in the Outback, I want it shut down before it becomes an Incident.”