Urban Outlaws

by Peter Jay Black

  Jack couldn’t help but be impressed at how quickly they’d managed to set up the apparatus.

  ‘Obi,’ he whispered, ‘you getting this?’

  ‘Yeah. Told you it was real.’

  Though Jack had never seen one before, he knew Obi was right, and a cold chill ran down his spine. This was the beginning of a revolution. One of the world’s first working quantum computers.

  His eyes moved slowly around the room until they found a workstation in the corner. He hurried over to it and sat down. In front of him was the main terminal: a keyboard, monitor and mouse. He shook the mouse and the screen sprang to life.

  PROTEUS.

  For a moment, Jack sat in silence, unable to move. It was Obi’s voice in his ear that jerked him back to reality. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said you should hook it up.’

  Jack frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Look to your left.’

  A thick cable snaked across the floor, connecting Proteus to a server stack, but the server’s network cable wasn’t plugged into anything.

  Jack glanced around and saw the empty port on the wall. He scooped up the network cable and plugged it in.

  ‘I bet the network security is encrypted,’ Obi said. ‘Shouldn’t be a problem for you though.’

  Jack turned back to the monitor, flexed his fingers and set to work.

  Obi was right – the network was encrypted but it only took Jack a few minutes to bypass it. Now Proteus was connected to the internet, they could access it from the bunker whenever they wanted. Jack was just testing it all worked OK when Obi spoke again in his ear. ‘Er, Jack?’

  Jack concentrated. If he overlooked even the smallest error, it would all be for nothing.

  ‘Jack,’ Obi shouted.

  Jack almost leapt from the chair. ‘What?’

  ‘Those three agents are coming.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  ‘Down the corridor, heading straight for you.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jack listened at the door and heard their footfall approaching. They sounded purposeful, like they knew he was there.

  He ran back to the terminal. No more time to check it.

  Jack hit Shut Down, flicked off the monitor and glanced around the room. There were no other doors and the agents were blocking his only escape route.

  He hurried behind Proteus’s coolant tanks and ducked down.

  ‘Obi?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Cut the lights.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The power. Cut the power.’

  ‘On it.’ He heard Obi typing fast.

  The door banged open and the three agents entered.

  They began to walk slowly around the room, their eyes scanning the mass of tubes and wires.

  ‘Cloud, check Proteus,’ Connor said. ‘See if anything’s been tampered with.’ Then, louder, ‘Achilles, we know you’re in here.’

  In his headset, Jack could still hear Obi typing.

  ‘Achilles, you can make this easier for yourself. Why don’t you –’ The room plunged into darkness.

  Connor let out a roar of annoyance.

  Jack felt for the edge of the tanks and stood up. There was no light anywhere, just pure inky black. All of them were now blind.

  Someone banged into something.

  ‘Ouch,’ Cloud said.

  ‘Be careful of the computer,’ Connor snapped.

  Obi’s hushed voice came through the headset. ‘I see them.’

  Thank God for that, Jack thought. The camera on his shoulder was sensitive to low light and had infrared diodes. Obi could see everything.

  ‘Two have gone right,’ Obi said, ‘the other’s to your left. Follow my instructions and I’ll try to get you out of there.’

  A faint light appeared on the right-hand side of the room – one of the agents was using their phone as a makeshift torch but all the chrome equipment just cast confusing shadows around them.

  ‘What now, boss?’ It was Monday’s voice – coming from somewhere nearby.

  ‘Cloud, stay on Proteus,’ Connor said. ‘Monday, you check behind the tanks. I’ll get the door.’

  Jack pulled back and braced himself. Agent Monday was heading straight towards him.

  Obi’s voice came over the headset. ‘When I say, step back three paces . . . Now.’

  Jack did as he was told and held his breath. He felt movement of air as someone passed in front of him.

  ‘OK,’ Obi whispered, ‘turn a quarter to the left. One step forward.’

  ‘Achilles?’ Connor’s voice sounded aggravated, and closer. ‘Stop playing games. We’re armed.’

  Yeah, right, Jack thought. They might have guns but they have no target. Not unless they wanted to risk shooting Proteus or each other.

  ‘Duck!’

  Jack dropped to his knees.

  Obi let out a breath. ‘Close one.’

  Connor cursed under his breath. ‘Where’s the door?’ he growled.

  Jack could imagine the agents walking around with their arms outstretched like mummies in a horror film.

  ‘Now’s your chance,’ came Obi’s urgent whisper in Jack’s ear. ‘Crawl forward until I tell you to stop.’

  Jack followed Obi’s instructions.

  ‘Right, stop. You’re at the door.’

  Jack reached out his hand and his fingers touched the painted surface. Slowly, silently, he stood up. He turned the handle, praying it wouldn’t make a sound, and slipped into the hallway.

  Gripping the edge of the door, he closed it again silently.

  How long would the agents be groping around in the dark before they realised he wasn’t in there?

  Running his fingers over the rough concrete wall of the hallway, Jack jogged towards the glowing exit sign.

  • • •

  It was only when he’d made it safely back to the bunker, and saw that everyone else was OK too, that Jack allowed himself to relax.

  He nodded at Obi. ‘Thanks for getting me out of there.’

  Obi had a triumphant look. ‘Told you Proteus was real.’

  The others grinned at Jack. Well, all except Wren, who was sitting at the dining table with her arms crossed. She stared straight ahead and didn’t even acknowledge his return.

  ‘What’s wrong with her?’ Jack muttered as Charlie tossed him a can of lemonade.

  Charlie looked over at Wren, then back. Keeping her voice low, she said, ‘She’s upset because you didn’t let her do anything on that last mission.’

  Jack frowned. ‘There wasn’t anything for her to do. We didn’t need a decoy. I walked straight into their trap.’

  ‘I know you’re protecting her, Jack. I feel the same way but –’

  ‘I’m not protecting her.’

  Charlie glanced over at Wren. ‘You need to give her more responsibility.’

  ‘She’s new. Hasn’t had any training. Anyway, she’s only ten years old.’

  ‘She’s clever.’

  ‘I know that,’ Jack said, feeling a little defensive. ‘She’s the one that came up with the idea of how to get Slink past the cameras. Still doesn’t mean I’ll have something for her to do every time we go on a mission. She played her part in the Richard Hardy one.’ He took a pull of the lemonade. It felt cold and sweet sliding down his throat, and eased some of the sting from Charlie’s comments.

  ‘Guys.’ Obi looked like he was about to wet his pants with impatience.

  Jack and Charlie gathered around him.

  ‘What’ve you got?’ Jack said.

  ‘The link to Proteus.’ Obi clicked the trackerball and brought up a window filled with scrolling code.

  ‘That’s not processing very fast.’ Jack was expecting Proteus to outstrip anything he’d seen before. It had about the same computational capacity as a slug.

  A drunken slug.

  A drunken slug after having its brain removed. But he expected more from Proteus.

  Jack sighed,
unable to hide his disappointment.

  ‘What programming language is that?’ Charlie said, leaning forward. ‘Python?’

  Jack leant in too. ‘Looks like a hybrid code. Python mixed with . . .’ He straightened up. ‘Nothing special.’ The disappointment was now sinking into his stomach. He walked over to the living area and dropped on to one of the sofas.

  All that effort. For what?

  They’d nearly got into a lot of trouble. Not to mention that Agent Connor guy now knew what Achilles and Pandora looked like. Jack thought about that. So what, if Connor could link Jack and Charlie’s hacker names to their faces? It didn’t matter. It made no difference – Connor still wouldn’t catch them. He didn’t know about the bunker.

  ‘Jack?’ Charlie beckoned him over.

  He got to his feet and rejoined the group. ‘What?’

  ‘Look at this.’ Obi pointed at the screen. It showed a folder with three video files. Each had the name Prof. J. Markov, followed by a date and time.

  ‘What are those?’ Jack said.

  ‘I think they’re from the guy who designed Proteus,’ Obi said. ‘Some kind of diary.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘Look.’ Obi clicked on the first video file dated 18 March, and a window opened.

  A grey-haired man, his face drawn and lined, his skin pale, was staring straight at the camera. He had bags under his eyes and wore a pair of thin-rimmed glasses. He looked like he hadn’t slept in months. Behind him was Proteus, though it was in a different location. This room had smooth plastered walls painted pale yellow.

  Obi hit Play and Professor Markov began to talk. His accent sounded either Russian or East European. It was hard to tell. ‘Despite my best efforts, Proteus remains stubborn. Refuses to operate anywhere near design parameters.’ He removed his glasses and glanced away.

  Professor Markov had the look of a man who’d poured his soul into what he was doing, and wasn’t likely to ever get it back.

  He slid his glasses back on, blinked a few times and looked at the screen again. ‘Our first task is to dismantle Proteus and check for design flaws.’ He reached to the keyboard and the video ended.

  Jack gestured for Obi to play the next file. This one was dated 3 April.

  The window opened and again Professor Markov was sitting in front of the camera. Though Jack would’ve said it was impossible, Professor Markov looked even more drawn. His skin seemed waxy under the harsh lights.

  Professor Markov took a long, laboured breath. ‘I have dismantled and checked every millimetre of the Proteus machine and have found nothing that should cause this anomaly. I rechecked all key areas and have ascertained it is not a hardware problem. As a precaution, I also added extra shielding from electromagnetic interference.’ He looked past the camera for a moment, as if someone else was stood there watching him, then returned his attention to the camera. ‘So, my next task is to run through the algorithms. The only explanation left is there must be an error in the programming code.’ He looked up again and his eyes were vacant, as if drained of all life. Without another word, he leant forward and turned off the camera.

  The last video file was dated 19 July.

  Obi clicked the Play icon and, once again, Professor Markov’s image filled the display. ‘All lines of code have been independently verified. I have found no obvious flaws.’ He looked off camera, clenched his fist and – with what seemed to be a supreme effort of will power – said, ‘In conclusion –’ He looked at the camera, jaw tight, eyes narrowed. ‘In conclusion, I am forced to abandon the Proteus project.’

  There was a clicking sound. The professor’s eyes snapped up, and a look of defiance swept across his face. ‘I have told you,’ he said, keeping his gaze locked on whoever was stood off camera. ‘We have exhausted all –’ His eyes went wide and his voice shook. ‘Let me go. I have done everything you asked of –’

  The image went dark.

  For a long while, no one spoke. Jack wasn’t sure what they had just witnessed. It looked like someone had threatened Markov. Had someone killed the professor? It seemed so unreal.

  Finally, Obi said, ‘What do we do?’

  What we should do is disconnect from Proteus and stay away, Jack thought. Never talk about it again. Move on. But here it was again – that need to know what was going on.

  He glanced at Charlie and, sure enough, she had the same look on her face.

  Jack cleared his throat. ‘We need to see what the problem with Proteus is. We just need to be careful. There’s something not right about this.’

  Obi quickly moved through the folders, searching for anything that would hint at what the problem with Proteus was. Eventually, he found what they were looking for, not in the files, but in the direct link to Proteus itself.

  Every time Obi tried to send Proteus a simple command, he’d receive a nonsensical answer. Jack was right – a slug could way outperform this thing.

  Charlie frowned. ‘It could be random interference.’

  There was no sense to the returned data. It was like something external was messing with Proteus. But Professor Markov had said they’d increased the electromagnetic shielding around the computer. So, they could eliminate external interference like mobile phone or radio signals as the cause. What else could it be?

  Obi found the files containing the design blueprints on Proteus’s hard drive and Charlie set to work. Jack hadn’t seen her so excited in months. She pored over the designs, working out what each component did.

  Although she had to admit she didn’t understand it entirely, she said she admired the genius level of thought that had gone into the design. The workmanship. The craft.

  After an hour scouring Proteus’s hard drives, looking for clues, Jack, Charlie and Obi were no closer.

  Obi sat back. ‘This is stupid.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Jack said. ‘Proteus not living up to your expectations?’

  ‘It should work, Jack,’ Charlie said. ‘Well, as far as I can tell. I ain’t no genius or nothing.’

  ‘Jack is,’ Obi said. ‘Maybe he can work it out.’

  Jack gave him a look.

  ‘I just don’t get it,’ Charlie said. ‘It seems like it’s interference that’s stopping Proteus from working, but it can’t be.’ She threw her hands up. ‘I don’t know what else to tell you.’

  ‘Can you isolate the interference?’ Jack said. ‘I want to see it.’

  Obi opened a few windows and, a couple of minutes later, a live feed of the interference signal was scrolling down the screen.

  Jack watched the screen for a long time and was about to give up when he spotted something. ‘Wait a minute,’ he breathed. He took the keyboard from Obi, brought up a dialog box, and started to write a new program.

  Five minutes later, it was done. He typed RUN and the code started. He handed the keyboard back. Jack had written a program to turn the interference into something they could hear and they listened to a series of pops and squeaks coming from Obi’s computer speakers.

  ‘That’s the interference?’ Charlie said.

  Jack nodded, closed his eyes and listened.

  At first, it still sounded random but, after a few minutes, tones emerged, increasing and decreasing in pitch, accompanied by an assortment of whistles that reminded Jack of dolphins.

  Deep beneath it all, something else was there too, faint, spaced a long way apart – a deep humming.

  Jack’s eyes flew open. It was a multilayered code of some kind. Definitely not random. ‘Copy the code across to our servers,’ he said.

  Obi muted the speakers and a few mouse-clicks later the download started. ‘Wow,’ he said, ‘it’s coming fast.’

  ‘Only stop when you have it all,’ Jack said. ‘I want to look at as much of it as possible.’

  Obi shrugged. ‘Sure.’

  ‘What do you think it is?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘Time for some fun,’ Slink called. He dropped several custom made, hard-shell backpacks on to the dini
ng table.

  Wren looked curious. ‘What’s going on?’

  He slid a backpack to her. ‘Your supplies, young lady,’ he said and bowed.

  Wren looked curious. ‘For what?’

  Slink’s eyes sparkled. ‘We’re going raking.’

  ‘What’s “raking”?’

  ‘You’ll see.’ Slink walked over to Charlie and handed a backpack to her, then held one out to Jack.

  ‘I’m not going.’ Jack glanced at the displays of code.

  ‘Yes you are,’ Slink said, shoving the backpack into Jack’s hands.

  ‘No I’m not. I want to figure this out.’

  ‘You’ve been looking at it too much,’ Slink said. ‘All work and no play –’

  ‘– makes Jack a dull boy,’ Charlie finished. She smiled. ‘He’s right, Jack, you need a break. Obi can stay and keep an eye on it.’

  Jack let out a breath. ‘Fine. Whatever.’ He looked at Slink. ‘You’ve got the list of targets?’

  Slink pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and held it up. ‘Of course.’

  • • •

  An hour later, Jack, Slink and Wren ducked behind a battered skip opposite a block of flats. They had their hoods and bandanas pulled up, and just their eyes showed.

  They were almost invisible in the shadows.

  Benning was a rundown council estate. Rubbish littered the streets and everything looked dirty and decayed. This was a part of London the mayor either didn’t know existed, or just chose to ignore. It wasn’t the kind of place you saw in tourist brochures.

  ‘What are we doing?’ Wren asked for the hundredth time since they’d left the bunker.

  Slink put a finger to his lips. ‘I told you, “raking”.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Wren said, exasperated, ‘but what is it?’

  ‘Jack?’ a voice said in his ear. It was Charlie. She was hiding further up the street. ‘Target approaching.’

  Jack looked up and sure enough, a woman with a pushchair walked around the corner. Jack guessed she was in her early twenties, though she looked a lot older. Her clothes were tatty and worn. She’d tied her hair back in an attempt to hide how matted and dirty it was. She walked with a limp, and was so thin she looked as though she’d snap in a light breeze.