Silent Warpath (Sean Quinlan Book 1)

by Dominic Conlon

  Dinsdale smirked. ‘You mean deny the story if it ever surfaces?’ Dinsdale’s smirk took a sarcastic edge. ‘Once the press get wind of this, there will be no stopping them. It will be one of those stories that will run and run.’ Dinsdale looked at the PM to emphasise his next remark.

  ‘It could even bring down this government.’

  The PM returned his stare. It was quite clear that the previous discussion had not altered Dinsdale’s mind and nothing he nor anyone else could say would change him.

  ‘There is nothing else for it’ replied the PM thoughtfully.

  ‘Good’, replied Dinsdale. ‘At last you are beginning to see sense.’

  ‘Em’, coughed the Foreign Secretary. ‘Aren’t we all missing something here?’ he asked.

  ‘F**k, we’ve dealt with it, now let’s move on!’ said the red faced Dinsdale, unwilling to become involved in further discussion.

  ‘Let’s hear what you have to say’ said the PM, giving Dinsdale a reprovingly look.

  ‘Aren’t we about to make a mistake that many governments make in circumstances like this? We are making a tactical judgement without listening to the people involved on the ground. What have the agents got to say – surely they are the people most closely involved in the operation? Surely they are aware of the potentially terrible consequences of their actions? Of all people they are best placed to assess the risk and reward and make a decision on whether the mission should continue or not – not a small group of politicians like us - three thousand miles away from the action?’

  ‘Oh Jesus’, complained Dinsdale. ‘Here we go again. We are the people with the power and responsibility. Whether they continue their mission or not is not a tactical decision – it’s a strategic one! If we are going to abdicate that, then we might as well not have been elected in the first place!’

  The PM raised his hand. ‘Martin’, he said gently, ‘it is my wish to see this through, as long as there is no direct impact on our relationship with the Americans. I think we should follow our Foreign Secretary’s advice and allow the team on the ground to decide just how far they may pursue their mission.’

  Dinsdale’s face grew redder with embarrassment. But before he could remonstrate, the PM held his hand up for the second time. ‘I understand all your arguments Martin, but I believe we need to give our team the best opportunity they have to follow their mission – just so long as it doesn’t compromise the relationship with our allies.’

  Sir Anthony bowed his head slightly, acknowledging the point. That single act alone appeared to seal the decision.

  ‘Thank you sir. We will do our best to comply with your wishes.’ He gathered his papers quickly and headed for the door.

  ‘I’ll remember this’, Dinsdale snarled. ‘When a wheel falls off, as it surely will, I will remember this.’

  The door chime sounded again, and Stan grumbled. ‘OK, OK I’m coming!’

  He opened the door and saw Natasha slumped against the wall. Her hair was wet and bedraggled and she looked exhausted.

  ‘Dear God! Whatever happened to you!’

  Natasha could barely move. She managed to stagger indoors before her legs gave way and she fell.

  Stan picked her up, carried her in and laid her out on the sofa in front of his wife Maddie. Maddie took charge immediately, ordering Stan to fetch a glass of ‘something strong’. She bent to undo Natasha’s coat and loosen the collar of her dress. Natasha’s forehead felt hot and clammy and her pulse was very high.

  Gently Maddie wiped Natasha’s face with a tissue and Natasha opened her eyes.

  ‘Maddie?’ She started to get up, but Maddie pushed her back gently.

  ‘Best to rest just now. Take a drink of this.’ Maddie guided the glass to her lips. Stan looked on helplessly.

  Natasha took a sip and spluttered, then swung her legs around and sat upright. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Whatever happened?’ asked Maddie consolingly.

  ‘Burglars’, Natasha gasped. ‘I tried to get out, but they chased me.’

  Maddie lifted Natasha’s legs back onto the sofa and helped her lie back against the cushions. ‘Tell me what happened’, she asked. ‘Take it from the beginning.’

  Natasha closed her eyes, reliving the experience. ‘I woke because I thought I heard a noise. The outside light had come on and I went to investigate.’ She continued, starting to shake when she described how the car that had been chasing her had tried to mount the concrete posts in its quest to run her over.

  ‘Oh my poor girl’, Maddie fretted. ‘What happened then?’

  ‘I cycled through the mall.’ Natasha weaved her hand in and out, as if describing an obstacle course. They couldn’t follow me in the car. They started chasing me on foot, but I cycled through some side streets. That was the scariest time in my life.’ Natasha looked up at Maddie. ‘You won’t believe how relieved I felt when I arrived at your door.’

  Maddie clucked in sympathy.

  ‘We’d better tell the police’ Stan said.

  ‘The police!’ gasped Natasha. ‘Yes – do you mind if I use your phone?’

  Maddie helped her up and through the hallway to the house phone, before making a discreet retreat. She looked directly at her husband. ‘Do you know what all this is about?’

  He lifted his eyebrows and murmured quietly: ‘Not really. We had a project go dreadfully wrong. Some people have died and she took it badly - we all did - but she thinks it wasn’t an accident.’

  ‘You mean it was deliberate?’

  Stan sighed. ‘I don’t think she knows. She just has this hunch that there’s something going on.’ Stan glanced at Maddie. ‘Now she thinks there’s somebody after her.’

  ‘You think she just made up that story about being chased through the streets?’ Maddie asked indignantly.

  ‘Maddie’, Stan’s tone was serious. ‘Her boyfriend has been murdered and we’ve been through a disastrous time at work. These things affect different people in different ways.’

  ‘But that poor woman has just had the fright of her life’, started Maddie.

  Stan held up his hands to stop her in mid-stride. ‘I know. The best we can do for her is to keep her here where she feels safe.’

  Natasha entered the room and looked from one to the other. ‘The police will be here in the next half an hour. I’m sorry to have put you through all this.’

  ‘You’re welcome to stay as long as you like,’ Maddie offered. ‘We’ve a spare room. I’ll just need to go up and air the bed for you.’

  Natasha flopped back onto the sofa. ‘I’m so grateful to you both. Thank you.’

  Stan disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a hot chocolate drink. ‘You know, when the police arrive you won’t be able to talk about work.’

  Natasha wrapped both hands around the mug. ‘Of course, I know that. But now I think about it, it’s possible there’s a connection. I only told you yesterday about the virus and early this morning I have burglars.’ She shivered when she thought back to the shadow she saw through the glass of her front door.

  ‘It’s a bit early to connect your ideas about the virus to the burglary. It could be just a random burglary.’

  ‘How many burglars do you know that chase people through the streets?’

  Stan shook his head. ‘Anyway, we’ll just have to let the police sort it out when they get here.’

  ‘Well you know what I think.’ Natasha was adamant. ‘I think all of this is a deliberate act to sabotage the project. Someone is after me because I know the truth.’

  Stan glanced at Natasha.

  ‘If that is true, then now they will be after me too.’

  Chapter 11

  ‘Can someone tell me precisely what is going on?’

  The senior military commanders around the table looked at each other in surprise – it was rumoured that the President had occasional bouts of anger, but only one person in the room had actually seen it before – until now. The Secretary of Defence was first
to break the silence.

  ‘Robert, please calm down. You have the latest situation reports - there is nothing more we can add.’

  ‘Bullshit Harris’, snarled Donahue. I have ten people dead or missing on the first count. And now no-one knows where this f***ing sub has gone!’

  Although Brindle Harris was used to the occasional angry exchanges from his friend, the strength of the outburst and the fact that it was so public shook him. ‘I know how this looks, Robert’, he proceeded warily. ‘But for all we know, Cetus might be at the bottom of the ocean. For all we know, the same calamity that affected its support ships might have affected the Cetus as well.’

  His long time opponent CIA Director Henry Alfred Jones turned to face him, as though lining him up in the sights of a rifle. ‘Do you expect us to believe that?’ Jones appealed to the audience around the table. ‘Do you expect us to believe that Cetus sank three ships and then just sank itself without a trace?’ He voice rose a notch. ‘I’ll tell you what’s happening. That experimental sub is off on a jaunt of its own!’

  Harris stared at his hands laying flat before him on the table, looking for the slightest tremor that might betray the fear inside. At last he sighed reluctantly. ‘We don’t know for sure that the sub sank its support ships. All the evidence we have cannot confirm what happened down there. But - one of the managers was called by a member of the sub’s project team last night. Name of Stanislaswski. He says that one of the team thinks the sub has downloaded a virus.’

  ‘You mean, like a computer virus?’ asked an alarmed President.

  ‘Yes sir, just like a computer virus Robert.’ Harris held his hands up. ‘Before you say anything though, you should know that Stanislaswski himself doesn’t believe that’s what happened. He thinks the software on-board the sub got screwed up - he thinks it was corrupted. He also thinks that’s what caused the sub’s weapon to be activated and why it was fired - indiscriminately - at the other ships.’

  ‘Jesus, Harris’ stormed the President. ‘What the f***king hell does it mean?’

  Jones tried to interrupt.

  ‘Hear me out Director’, Harris commanded sternly. ‘If the software wasn’t corrupted, that leaves us with just one possibility. Someone ordered the sub to unlock the cannon and line it up on its supply ships. But this project has been conducted at the highest level of security of any black project in the last five years. Every member of staff of every company engaged in this project has been checked, double checked and triple checked.’

  Harris turned to Jones. ‘I believe your organisation was totally involved in the vetting process.’

  Immediately Jones clammed up. Harris continued. ‘There is no way the project could have been compromised. Mr Jones will tell us that the security was watertight from beginning to end. Our best guess is that there was an internal hardware failure and as a result part of the software has been corrupted. It would have the effect of making the sub do random things, such as diving and surfacing and speeding up and slowing down.’

  ‘But not attacking and sinking three ships?’ the CIA Director shot back.

  ‘Listen.’ Harris was aware of the growing swell of disbelief around the table. ‘This submarine we created was made to do just that. Inside that submarine there is more electronics and computing power than in one whole floor of the pentagon. Every part that could fail has at least one backup. We needed to know that once it was programmed with a mission it would carry it out.’

  ‘If that’s right, then any faulty components should have been replaced - right?’ The President remarked.

  ‘True’, replied Harris. But we think that part of the mission software got screwed up. If this part is corrupted, no amount of redundant hardware will put it right.’

  Donahue regarded his friend. ‘Could it have been corrupted by another country’s agents – we’re having to keep a real close eye on our Chinese counterparts these days and their technology is nearly as good as our own.’

  Harris pursed his lips and looked over towards the CIA Director. ‘What do you think Henry?’

  ‘If they are in on this, then we’ve not caught a whisper.’

  ‘That won’t be the first time’ remarked Harris quietly.

  ‘So how do we find it and stop it?’ the President asked at last.

  Harris looked over his notes. ‘We have in-built safety features which..’

  ‘Which didn’t work!’ interrupted Jones. ‘My information is that an abort sequence was sent during the first thirty minutes when the sea trial started to go wrong.’

  The President looked shocked and turned to Harris. ‘Is this true?’

  Harris looked grim. ‘Yes, it’s true. It didn’t work, obviously, but we think that this was due to the corrupted software. There is another safety system which is more reliable than that.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘At weekly intervals, or as soon afterwards when the sub is able to, it must surface and send a coded request to base. When we receive this signal we need to send an acknowledgement back so the sub can continue its mission. If the sub fails to receive authorisation, or if it receives a signal which is incorrect in any detail, the sub fails safe.’

  ‘Which means what?’ enquired the President.

  ‘The sub aborts its mission, shuts down its weapon systems and finds the quickest way home’ responded Harris.

  There was a short break while everyone thought about that.

  ‘What if the signal was intercepted or a different signal was sent?’ asked Jones.

  ‘Then the sub would fail safe and return home.’

  ‘When does the sub surface next?’ enquired the President.

  Harris cleared his throat. ‘It should come up before midnight tonight. We programmed in some latitude in case the sub was otherwise occupied when it needed to confirm its orders. The window is up to 6 hours long. So by this time tomorrow, Cetus will be on its way home.’

  The President breathed out slowly. He noticed one or two people around the table looking as relieved as he felt. But something still troubled him and he could not let it rest.

  ‘How certain are you that this system will work as planned?’ he asked.

  ‘As certain as I can be, Robert’ affirmed Harris. ‘If this doesn’t work, you can have my resignation.’

  ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come that’ said the President gently. ‘Otherwise I will lose a friend as well as a colleague.’

  ‘No sleep for the wicked – are we all powered up and ready to go?’ Stan enquired. He surveyed the team. There were various nods amongst the staff and some of the more experienced technicians replied to his question with less than polite humour.

  ‘OK team, we are recalling Cetus when it surfaces. It’s due any time from now until six this morning. Chan, are you ready to respond?’

  Chan indicated he was ready. He was the technician with responsibility for initiating the communication signals. Stan took one last look around and made his way to his desk.

  In the southern Atlantic Cetus scanned its environment continuously. There were no indications of ships or submarines in a 10 mile radius around the submarine. It continued to scan for a whole hour until it was clear there was no threat.

  Then it started to rise slowly until it reached a depth of two fathoms. A hatch opened quietly on the top of its short conning tower and a black buoy the size of a tennis ball slid out, rising rapidly to the surface. As it rose it trailed a thin wire connected to the communications centre in the submarine.

  Bobbing on the inky waves in the dark of the night, the buoy was impossible to spot. Cetus sent its first broadcast back through the aerial attached. The electronic signal was encrypted and compressed and lasted no longer than three microseconds – too short a time for any surface ships to gain a fix.

  ‘Coming through’ yelled Chan.

  ‘Let’s see.’ Stan looked over Chan’s shoulder. ‘Yep – it’s the real thing. OK, send the pre-recorded recall sign’. Stan’s voice betrayed the tension t
hey were all feeling.

  Chan clicked the send button on his screen. ‘Signal sent!’ he reported a second later.

  They waited impatiently.

  ‘Acknowledgement received!’ shouted Chan as soon as he saw the message appear on his screen.

  The room erupted. Stan went round the technicians, shaking hands, hugging and backslapping.

  ‘Well done everyone!’ he shouted above the noise. ‘Well done!’

  Natasha paced Stan’s office. ‘You remember I told you earlier I thought the sub had downloaded a virus?’

  Stan nodded. How could he forget?

  ‘You know the main aim of all viruses?’

  ‘Replication’ said Stan without hesitation. They need to find another host, otherwise they die.’

  ‘Right Stan. Nearly 90% of all code in a virus is written so that the virus can be sent to another computer and from there to another and another. That’s how millions of computers have become infected in the past.’

  ‘OK, we agree – but so what?’

  ‘Apart from that, what else do they do?’ asked Natasha.

  ‘Well, most also carry a payload. Usually a set of instructions that cause some problems for the computer that is playing host. Files could be deleted or renamed, or the registry is hacked - there are lots of nasty things a virus could do.’

  ‘Right again’, replied Natasha. ‘I think this virus carried a particular payload.’

  ‘Well, if it did, the sub is surely on the bottom’ replied Stan. ‘If it interfered with any of the on-board computers, the sub couldn’t last long. The operating systems would freeze up and with no control there would be no power and no navigation. The sub would sink.’

  ‘I don’t think this virus was like that. I think that the virus wasn’t meant to disable the sub, but to activate its weapons system.’

  Stan thought for a minute. ‘Supposing that’s true, how did the virus come to be there in the first place?’

  ‘I think it was embedded in the Itinerary pack, but I don’t know how it got in there.’