Imperium: Coda: Book Three in the Imperium Trilogy

by Paul M Calvert

  Annoyed at himself for not at least anticipating this eventuality, Vimes began using his various Earth-bound avatars to look for any information on what had led up to this debacle. Almost immediately, as searches were made of this nation’s intelligence network, Vimes began detecting patterns of absence which were informative in themselves. Various sources of information which had been available before were now missing. Following the trails, Vimes determined they were all leading to the unpalatable conclusion that security forces had somehow become aware of his searching and erected either unbreakable firewalls or, more likely, stopped using any system he could access without physically being there. Unused to being frustrated in this way, Vimes began widening the search parameters, looking instead at who might be responsible for the identification and capture of Karen, to help him determine what these people would do next and the implications for Karen.

  A small part of his intellect was directed to observing the scene below him. Despite the cloud, by using the yacht’s sensors, he could get a clear and precise view of what was happening. Although the soldiers were using surprisingly efficient encryption on their communication devices, within a few moments, Vimes determined the correct cypher key, allowing him to listen in to everything that was being said or transmitted to and from those on the ground.

  The road had been closed off for several hundred yards in each direction and traffic was being directed over the hill road to Portree or back to Dunvegan. Several military helicopters were already at the scene, having brought with them several dozen men and women to the area from the already established temporary base at nearby Broadford Airfield. Most of the new arrivals had been military, although a number were obviously from the security services. Frustratingly, he had no means to communicate with Karen for as long as she remained unconscious. However, he could converse with the implant in her head, even though it was unable to do little more than relay what was being said around her and report on her physical condition. From what he was hearing and could observe before she was taken on board the Chinook, he was relieved to find Karen had only suffered minor injuries from the crash and subsequent capture. A badly broken nose and a minor flesh wound to her leg had been adequately dealt with on the scene, but Vimes was disturbed when he overheard one of the medics being told to keep her unconscious during the journey.

  In the distance, Vimes could see another Chinook approaching, this one carrying a large net and load bed underneath, probably to transport the crashed car away for examination. Vimes considered for an instant, then sent a signal to the various smart metal components in the car and on Karen’s person, deactivating and permanently rendering them inert. Now able to ignore what might happen to the vehicle, Vimes watched as the Chinook carrying Karen and her aunt and uncle took off from the field in which it had been sitting, destination unknown. With nothing more he could do until the helicopter reached its destination, Vimes focused most of his efforts on identifying where he had gone wrong and deciding on possible scenarios.

  Four hours later, Vimes watched as the helicopter made its final approach to Boscombe Down Airfield, finally landing at the end of the main runway in the south-west corner of the base, where two ambulances and several military trucks were waiting. An empty tank transporter sat to one side, which Vimes reasoned would be used later when the Chinook carrying the crashed mini landed. Vimes slowed, coming to a stop two thousand feet above the airfield, from where he could observe all of the buildings and approach roads. He watched as Karen was carefully stretchered off the helicopter into one of the dark green ambulances, her aunt and uncle moved into the second. The soldiers who had escorted Karen were loaded into one of the trucks and driven towards the main buildings, past rows of aircraft bunkers to the right. Vimes dispatched a stealthed drone to move close, and it took up position just above Karen’s ambulance, almost resting on the roof, ready to follow whenever it moved.

  Rarely used, rusty iron gates in the perimeter fence were unlocked, allowing the convoy to move off and join Winterslow Road, avoiding any prying eyes in the base itself. During the long flight here, Vimes had been monitoring Karen’s condition. The implant was reporting no signs of ill-health, other than elevated levels of inflammation signals in her blood due to the minor injuries she had suffered. It was unable to analyse the drugs being used to keep her unconscious, and the constant noise of the rotors meant it had been unable to pick up any conversations from inside the Chinook.

  No-one was speaking in the ambulance, and all Vimes could detect was the rattle and clink from loose equipment or the occasional thump as its suspension bottomed out on the poorly maintained road. Fortunately, for some time it had been apparent to Vimes where they were taking Karen; the Defence Science and Technology Laboratory at Porton Down, some four miles away. In response, Vimes slowly nudged the yacht to mirror the path taken by the ambulance and watched the video stream from the drone's perspective as the convoy drove along the straight road, keeping the airfields perimeter fence on its left. After a mile the road turned right, then continued straight, the drone and Vimes following.

  Ten minutes later, the small convoy passed through the checkpoint and into Porton Down proper, moving through the clustered buildings and out towards the rear of the base. Another checkpoint, then it stopped at a small cluster of innocuous looking office buildings and large, grey utilitarian storage sheds where it was met by another group of soldiers, this time outnumbered by what Vimes assumed were scientists. One of those waiting caught Vimes’s attention, reminding him a little of Duke Gallagher. He ran a facial recognition check, using data he’d previously taken from the Government’s records, checking it against public sources. Instantly, one name stood out; Sir John Soames. Distinguished military record but nothing recent, however, his access authorization codes seemed to be everywhere interesting data was held.

  Vimes debated what to do next. The drone was not suitable for close-in surveillance work as the small disturbance its cloak made would make it vulnerable to being seen at close range. Not expecting any trouble on this journey to Earth, Vimes hadn’t brought any of the long-range stealthed micro-drones available to the military, which limited his courses of action. Impotently, he watched as Karen’s stretcher was taken inside one of the buildings and followed it using sensors. After less than a minute, both the yacht’s sensors and Karen’s implant reported she was descending into the large underground complex that covered a large proportion of the area beneath this small cluster of buildings. Suddenly and without any notice, the signals were shut-off, and Vimes lost all contact.

  Frustrated, he increased power to the sensors to restore contact but was unable to break through whatever shielding the locals were using, leaving him deaf and blind to whatever was happening to Karen.

  Inside the slowly descending industrial-sized elevator, Sir John was alarmed at his first sight of Karen’s badly bruised and swollen face. On the relatively short flight here from Whitehall, he’d studied the initial incident briefing reports, but until seeing her face didn’t realise how badly her face had been damaged.

  “This doesn’t bode well for future relations between us,” he thought to himself, only partially consoled by the fact that both the aunt and uncle had been taken unhurt. He debated whether to begin her interrogation before administering treatment on her nose, as the pain would make her more amenable to questioning, but the humane side of his nature prevailed. He turned to one of the medical staff next to him who was currently examining the patient.

  “How long to reset her nose and clean up her face, Doctor Kumar?” he asked.

  Doctor Kumar finished gently palpitating her nose and examining Karen’s face before responding.

  “It looks to be a simple break. Everything we need is already here, so if the X-ray tells us it is a simple break and nothing more serious, we can clean her face, take blood work and bring her around from the sedative. We can do all of this while she is asleep and have her ready for you in no more than half an hour.”

 
Sir John thought for a moment, then nodded. “Please see to it, Doctor, and have her woken once she is in room forty-two. You know the drill.”

  Doctor Kumar nodded, a veteran army medic who had been seconded into Project Meteor at the beginning, assisting Sir John and the rest of the team in running hypothetical scenarios for First Contact. He knew what was at stake but was finding it difficult to associate the unconscious young woman next to him with warnings of a possible alien invasion or infiltration. However, he knew now was not the time or place to voice his reservations, so kept them to himself.

  Sir John’s mobile phone chirped at him, confirming all signals had been cut off now the lift had descended into the shielded portion of the complex. Although not an engineer, he understood the underground complex was shielded by layers of lead and other signal deadening materials and sat within an enormous Faraday Cage. Being able to shut out all forms of communication had been one of the deciding factors in choosing this site.

  Now deep underground, the elevator came to a halt, the twin doors opening to reveal a large hallway and yet more armed guards. Even Sir John’s credentials were rechecked at this point before they were allowed to proceed. Doctor Kumar, his charge, and several guards turned right towards the self-contained medical suite. Sir John went in the other direction, following the passage that led to the room chosen in advance for the interrogation. It was only a matter of moments before he reached it, walking into the recording room where banks of screens and monitors would relay everything that happened in the room next door, divided by a large one-way mirror. He looked at the mirror and smiled, wondering why they were still used when everyone now knew what they were for, thanks to numerous television detective dramas.

  Unusually apprehensive, he found himself a comfortable chair to sit in, then began going through the sequence of events with the assembled technicians, wanting to make sure everything worked perfectly.

  Half an hour later, having been brought from the medical suite, Karen began waking from her chemically-induced sleep and finally became lucid enough to hold a conversation with Vimes.

  “Bloody hell, Vimes, my nose is throbbing like it’s going to explode. What did they do to me and where am I?” she asked.

  “Please don’t try to move or show signs you are awake, Karen. I’ve lost contact with the yacht, and my attempts to re-establish them are being successfully blocked, so for the moment, we are on our own. However, my alter ego knows where we are and has probably already formulated a rescue plan. I know I would. As to your nose, it was broken after the crash when a soldier hit you from behind, forcing your face into the road. However, it has been correctly reset, and the bullet wound to your leg attended to.”

  “Why didn’t you pick any of this up? I thought you were supposed to be so bloody smart, Vimes? How come you didn’t wonder about the Army and the people near the house?” Karen asked, angrily, her mood not improved by the pain from her nose.

  “Apologies, Karen, but it isn’t that simple. The Armed Forces regularly use Skye for manoeuvres and practice. For example, nuclear submarines regularly pass through the waters around the island. As you know yourself, because of the sea eagle and views, Struan is a regular site for visitors. I am good, but not omnipotent.”

  “What are they going to do to me, Vimes? Have you any idea? Do you think they will use torture? Will they kill me?” Karen asked, the questions tumbling over themselves in her eagerness to know all that might happen.

  Vimes noted the emotional content in Karen’s thoughts and tried to reassure her.

  “For the moment, they will just ask you questions. The likelihood of the lead interrogator being Sir John Soames is high, and by all accounts, he is a decent man, so no, I don’t think you will be tortured or killed. They are after information on you, Adam, and anything else you can tell them about what has happened to you and whether their suspicions are true.”

  “Who is this Soames? What should I tell them? Do I lie or what? I don’t know what to do!”

  “From what I can gather, Sir John is a respected military man and appears to be one of the Governments go-to experts when original thinking is required. Tell them the truth, Karen, but start right at the beginning and how you first met Adam. Don’t leave anything out. I will guide you. Hopefully, before we get to the time where Adam reveals himself to you, I will have come to your rescue,” replied Vimes, reassuringly.

  “Christine said to me when we first met that she could wipe my memories. Will you be able to do the same here with all these people?” Karen asked, desperately trying to come up with a way to put the genie back into its bottle.

  “Regrettably, no. There are too many people involved, and I suspect that there will be video streams transmitting things live out to too many places for me to doctor everyone’s memories.”

  A male voice broke into her discussions with Vimes.

  “Ms Mcleod, are you able to talk now? I’m told you have been awake for a little while. Would you like a cup of tea?”

  Karen opened her eyes, finding herself slumped in a comfortable armchair, propped upright with several cushions. She moved to straighten herself, causing a pillow to fall to the floor, then noticed both her arms were tethered to the armrests by long plastic cords. She looked down and saw a similar restraint fastened to her left ankle. Karen looked across the large desk towards the man opposite. His eyes flicked between hers and the small computer monitor in front of him, angled in such a way that she was unable to read anything. A little of the light from it was reflected on his waistcoat, making the buttons glint.

  “Sorry about those,” said Sir John, noticing where her eyes had gone, “as you took out several of our finest only a few hours ago, I thought it prudent to keep you restrained until such time as I think you won’t be tempted to do the same to me. I’m not getting any younger and my days of fighting off beautiful young women are long past, in more ways than one.” He smiled at her, and despite Karen’s predicament, she found herself liking him.

  “They started it.” Karen looked him in the eyes and returned the smile, wincing slightly as she did so. “And you are?” she asked.

  “Of course, where are my manners? My name is John Soames. If you want to be formal, it is Sir John, but you can call me John if you prefer. He smiled again. “Tea?”

  “Yes, please. No sugar, but a little milk and some biscuits if you have them,” Karen responded, suddenly realising how thirsty she was, reasoning it might be related to the anaesthetic she had been given.

  “I understand you are partial to Jammy Dodgers. Will they be acceptable?” he asked, again with that smile.

  “How did you…?” Karen started to ask, only to fall silent when Vimes provided the information.

  “Probably checked your old Tesco Clubcard bills to see what your spending habits were. Don’t be surprised to learn how much they must know about you. Have some fun and show them you are nobody’s fool. It is too late to play the innocent, so earn his respect,” Vimes urged in her mind.

  “Ah, my Clubcard statement. You have done your homework, John,” she replied, testing how much movement the cords gave her for she desperately wanted to feel around her nose and scratch the end of it.

  Sir John’s face gave nothing away. However, Karen thought she saw the faintest glimmer of surprise from behind his eyes at her response. He watched her carefully, only once looking towards the exit as if checking the distance should she manage to get free. Karen gratefully managed to scratch her nose very carefully, then settled down, deciding she might as well make herself comfortable.

  Reassured, he resumed talking. “Well done. You are quick on the uptake. I do like that. Perhaps when this is over you might consider coming to work for me?” he asked, following her lead and settling back in his chair. “Where have you been these past few months, Karen? We have spent considerable resources looking for you, yet for all intents and purposes you just vanished, apart from regular letters to Flora and Alastair. Your bank account wasn’t touched during
this period, neither was your Mini picked up on any of our surveillance cameras.” He looked at her again, this time gesturing with his hands, spreading them wide. “And then you suddenly appear again on Skye, yet we can find no record of your car ever having left the island.”

  “Perhaps if you had waited a bit longer before breaking into their house, your microphones might have picked up my telling them where I’ve been.” She looked him in the eyes, irritation in her voice. “I assume you bugged Alastair and Flora’s house?”

  Sir John had the good grace to look a little sheepish at this. “Yes, we did. Forcing their way in at that moment is embarrassing. I don’t know what went wrong there, but that’s water under the bridge.”

  “Speak for yourself, John. Your nose isn’t broken nor was you shot at. It was a miracle I wasn’t badly hurt by your goons,” Karen retorted. “What have you done to my aunt and uncle, by the way? You know they are innocent in all of this, don’t you?” she asked him, looking for his reaction. Vimes had told her they had also been brought to this establishment, so she knew they must be somewhere nearby, perhaps even in the next room, but she wanted to test how honest he would be with her.

  For a moment, Sir John debated with himself whether to answer her truthfully or use their fate and whereabouts as a bargaining chip. Almost immediately, he decided that Karen was not going to be easily fooled and wherever possible, he would be honest and frank with her.

  “Yes, I surmised as much. Unwitting pawns in the great game, as it were. They are nearby and being held, as are you, under emergency measures. If you are truthful with me, I will recommend their eventual release, subject to some safeguards. In all probability, my recommendations will be followed for I have full negotiating authority on behalf of Her Majesty’s Government.”