2041 Sanctuary (Genesis)

by Robert Storey

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘We wanted to speak to you somewhere the Committee couldn’t overhear us. We knew if we followed your agent long enough there was a chance you’d turn up, it just so happens it was later rather than sooner.’

  Joiner’s eyes narrowed. He hated being predictable. ‘And how did you come to that conclusion?’

  ‘Because you need all the friends you can get. Now, before you do something stupid like trying to catch me, look underneath the chair Agent Myers was sitting on. You’ll find a sealed envelope. Open it.’

  Joiner walked back to the seat in question, reached under and withdrew the envelope. Opening it, he pulled out a blank piece of card and a pen.

  ‘Are you still listening, Director?’ the voice said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then write down these numbers.’

  The voice reeled out a series of digits which Joiner wrote down, but what the person behind the vocal disguise didn’t know was that Joiner had opened the channel up to his security detail. Even now the helicopters above and the men below searched for the source of the call.

  Joiner saw Myers pointing into the crowd and Joiner’s operatives stormed forward. People screamed as the armed soldiers cut a swathe through the masses. Movement to the right caught Joiner’s eye. A man pushed his way through the throng in the opposite direction to his pursuers. A moment later he emerged from the stands, leapt over a railing and ran onto the pitch. More operatives moved to block his escape and he came to a stop as the trap closed in. He put something to his ear.

  ‘I told you not to do anything stupid, Director,’ the man said, his voice still distorted.

  ‘And I told you before; there’s nowhere you can hide from me.’ Joiner watched as his men bore down on their target. It was time to get some answers and he would make sure this individual suffered regardless of what he gave up. No one controls me, he thought, no one!

  ‘Use the numbers, Director,’ the man said, ‘and our sight will become yours.’ He held his arms aloft. ‘EGO SUM REX GLORIAE!!’

  The man disappeared in a blinding fireball and a massive explosion rocked the stadium. The shockwave whooshed past with a rush of dust and Joiner staggered back.

  When the air cleared, he found himself staring out at a large crater at the side of the pitch. Chunks of turf and dirt crumbled down from around its edge, while the bodies of his intelligence agents lay strewn in all directions, many of them disassembled into multiple parts. Somehow the helicopters had escaped unscathed.

  ‘Sir,’ an operative said, running up to him, ‘are you hurt?!’

  Still in shock, Joiner shook his head.

  Agent Myers approached, gun in hand. ‘We’re clearing the stadium; local emergency services are en route.’ He glanced round. ‘I’ll issue a GMRC Alert for the media and our forensics will be here within the hour.’

  ‘Good,’ Joiner said, ‘very good.’

  ‘Do you have the numbers?’

  Joiner held up the piece of white card and Myers removed it from his hand to inspect.

  ‘It looks like a server address,’ he said.

  ‘That’s because it is.’ Joiner brushed a piece of dirt from his shoulder. ‘And maybe an access code.’

  Myers handed back the card. ‘What did he shout before he went up? I didn’t recognise it.’

  ‘It was Latin. It translates something like, I am king of glory.’

  ‘What does it mean?’

  ‘It means he’s a fanatic.’

  ‘And the numbers,’ Myers said, ‘he said “our sight will become yours”. Do you think the code links to a camera somewhere?’

  Joiner took one last, lingering look at the carnage. Just when he thought he had these people cornered, he was left empty-handed – again. He looked down at the card. Well, he thought, not completely empty-handed.

  As Myers waited for a reply that would never come, Joiner clenched his fist and crumpled the card. He was tired of reacting and defending, of the explosions and dead agents. It’s time, he thought, to change the game. It’s time … for action.

  Chapter Eighty Two

  Malcolm Joiner strode through the foyer of the GMRC’s Washington building, with Myers and his armed operatives in close attendance. It had been some time since he’d last visited the Intelligence Division’s D.C. branch and since the incident at the baseball park it was all systems go. As they emerged from the elevator agents scurried hither and thither, and the wallscreens were awash with data and footage of the stadium explosion and the terrorist at its heart.

  A senior agent that Joiner knew well approached.

  ‘Report,’ Joiner said, as the woman fell into step alongside.

  ‘Eight dead, ten more injured, three of them critical.’

  ‘Profile?’

  ‘We’re working on tracing the terrorist’s history, his route in to the stadium and his base of operations.’

  Joiner stopped in front of the main wallscreen, which spanned one end of the office, and gave the agent his full attention. ‘Identity?’

  ‘We’re working on it,’ the woman said, her voice stressed.

  Joiner withdrew his computer from a pocket and spoke into it. ‘Patch me into the local speaker system.’

  ‘Certainly, Director,’ said the artificial intelligence.

  A moment later a green light appeared and Joiner held the device before him like a microphone. ‘Agents,’ he said, his voice booming loud.

  The office tumult died down and everyone paused to look in his direction.

  ‘You know who I am, you know what I expect. I want this terrorist’s movements traced to birth. I want to know what he ate, who his friends were, who he worked for, what he stood for, what he thought, where he went. All leave is cancelled, all agents recalled. You will work all night, you will sleep at your desk, and no one gets paid until I have the answers I seek. This is priority one; make it happen!’

  Joiner switched off the mic and strode to his office suite, while behind him the department erupted back into organised chaos.

  Joiner moved to his desk and motioned for Myers to close the door. Two armoured agents stood guard outside and Myers turned the transparent walls opaque.

  Joiner dropped the piece of white card on his desk and flattened it out, then scanned the numbers into his computer. ‘Identify and locate,’ he said.

  ‘Numerical values accepted,’ a computerised voice said. ‘Searching …’

  The office door opened and an agent handed Myers a suit of grey body armour.

  ‘Data input verified, Director,’ said the A.I. assistant.

  ‘Put it on the wall.’ Joiner turned to face the screen as the room’s lights dimmed.

  The display glowed into life and a central window appeared showing the numbers Joiner had written down at the terrorist’s instigation.

  > Server Address: 152.789.665.5.10.99

  > VERIFIED

  > Wireless access code: 345990-888552

  > VERIFIED

  > I.P. Device

  > ACTIVE

  > Password

  > UNKNOWN

  > Access

  > DENIED

  ‘Password?’ Myers said.

  Joiner grunted. ‘Computer, password input. Use all permutations and translations using the string: Ego sum Rex Gloriae.’

  ‘Of course, Director,’ said the A.I., ‘processing …’

  Seconds ticked by before the same results displayed, except this time the final lines read:

  > Password: Identified

  > REX GLORIAE

  > Access

  > GRANTED

  The image on-screen fluctuated and a message appeared:

  SECURE SIGNAL REDIRECT

  Joiner sat on the edge of his desk and waited as the message altered:

  SOURCE VERIFIED

  IDENTIFICATION: LIVE BROADCAST

  ‘Looks like I was right,’ Myers said, moving closer.

  Joiner didn’t reply. What do these people want me to se
e? His anticipation grew as the message changed again:

  ACCESSING ...

  Joiner leaned forward, his eyes boring into the screen.

  ACCESSING ...

  The screen darkened.

  BROADCAST ACQUIRED

  The image inside the window graphic flickered to life.

  ‘What is that?’ Myers said.

  Joiner frowned. ‘Zoom out.’

  ‘Zooming out,’ the computer said.

  The image adjusted as it refocused and Joiner’s eyes grew wide.

  ‘Is that where I think it is?’ Myers said.

  ‘It’s Sanctuary’s military lab complex.’ Joiner stood up. ‘Dagmar Sørensen’s secret playground.’

  ‘And Project Ares’ ground zero,’ Myers said.

  Without taking his eyes off the screen, Joiner pressed a button on his desk to lock his office door. From what he could see, the camera that streamed the image had been positioned inside a large chamber hewn out of solid rock, the exact same chamber from which Sarah Morgan had stolen the Anakim orb.

  Inside this cavernous space ten self-contained laboratories dominated the perimeter. At two storeys high and with a host of oblong windows, each of these grey structures bustled with activity as lab technicians, dressed in their characteristic white coats, went about their duties, unaware that their movements were being spied on over two thousand miles away.

  Whoever was trying to manipulate Joiner to their own ends had just provided him with an invaluable insight into Dagmar’s, and thus the Committee’s, secret operation. If he could rid himself of their hold over him, he could yet turn the situation to his advantage. His mind switched into overdrive as he played out possible scenarios in which he’d emerge victorious.

  ‘Director,’ the computer said, ‘there appear to be multiple broadcasts streaming in parallel to the current image. Do you want to view them all at once?’

  Joiner’s pulse quickened. ‘Do it.’

  The window on the screen expanded and, one after another, new camera feeds appeared until the whole wall was full of moving images.

  Myers gave a shake of his head in disbelief. ‘It’s their entire network. They’ve accessed their entire network. How can they not know they’ve been compromised?’

  ‘Whoever’s done this has more than one person on the inside,’ Joiner said, ‘and if that’s the case they’re deep cover agents. Dagmar would vet his people to the nth degree, but all organisations are susceptible; just look at Debden. He passed all our tests with flying colours and yet he was working for not one, but two, other employers. Which reminds me, I want your opinion on the procedural review I’ve instigated.’

  Myers nodded. ‘How are they getting the signal out of Sanctuary?’

  It was a valid question. Underground-to-surface communications were strictly monitored. So much for Sanctuary being the securest facility on the planet, Joiner thought. He surveyed the array of images on show, scanning each one to see what he could see.

  ‘What’s that?’ Myers said, pointing.

  Joiner peered at the image in question. ‘Computer, expand grid frame D eleven.’

  The specified feed tripled in size and Joiner’s blood ran cold. ‘He must have brought it back on foot,’ he murmured. He knew Ophion hadn’t brought it through the SED; he’d had it under twenty-four hour surveillance.

  ‘It’s true then,’ Myers said, ‘it does exist.’

  Joiner tore his eyes away from the shimmering form of the imprisoned Pharos to look at his agent.

  ‘I may have been bleeding out when you shot me,’ Myers said, ‘but I’m trained to observe in extreme circumstances, as you are. I saw the video General Stevens showed you. I saw what you saw.’

  Joiner turned back to the screen. ‘Then you know as well as I that this … thing, needs to be eradicated.’

  ‘It looks secure.’

  ‘Looks can be deceiving,’ Joiner said, ‘as well you know. They have no idea what they’re dealing with.’

  ‘And we do?’

  ‘No,’ Joiner said, ‘and that’s the problem.’

  ‘Then whoever’s seeking to coerce you may actually help us bring down this Committee you speak of.’

  ‘Not necessarily; they want me to infiltrate them. For all we know they want this Anakim tech for themselves.’

  ‘The Pharos doesn’t look like any kind of technology I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Joiner said, ‘biological tech, perhaps; whatever it is, it outlived the Anakim, and if that’s not a lesson to heed then I don’t know what is.’

  ‘If it’s more important to them than Morgan’s pendant then I doubt we’ll have much chance of getting to it. Those walls look reinforced; they could probably withstand a nuclear blast.’

  Joiner knew he was right. The military that controlled the labs were beyond his control. And what with Dagmar and the Committee running things from behind the scenes, their chances of getting away with any attempt, successful or not, were slim to none. We’ll have to find another way, Joiner thought, and perhaps these live streams will give us that opportunity.

  He continued to watch the strange creature as its light glimmered in and out of existence inside the dark interior of its specially designed cell.

  ‘What are you?’ Joiner whispered. ‘What do you want from us?’

  As the two men studied the screen, an intrusive noise broke the silence.

  Myers withdrew a coms device and put it to his ear. ‘Myers,’ he said.

  There was a pause before he said, ‘I’m on my way.’

  Joiner unlocked the door. ‘What is it? Have they found something?’

  ‘I’m not sure, I’ll keep you updated.’ Myers scooped up his body armour and left the room.

  ‘We have an incoming priority call, Director,’ the computer said, ‘do you wish to accept?’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘GMRC HQ, it is the Secretary General of Oversight.’

  Joiner sighed. The Oversight Division was one of the few seats of power that rivalled his own. This was one call he couldn’t avoid. ‘Keep these broadcasts running,’ he said, ‘and ensure they’re recorded and stored under top level encryption. My eyes only. Understand?’

  ‘Of course, Director,’ said the computer.

  ‘Put the secretary general on-screen.’

  The video footage from Sanctuary’s laboratories vanished and a new window opened showing a grey-haired woman dressed in a power suit. She had sharp eyes and stood in front of an impressive desk bordered by two large flags bearing the emblems of the GMRC Directorate and the United Nations.

  ‘Ah, Malcolm,’ she said, ‘I heard about the attack. I take it you’re unhurt?’

  ‘Madame Secretary, yes, everything’s under control. Is this is a social call as we’re pretty busy over here?’

  ‘I wish that it were, Director. We require your presence in New York … immediately.’

  Joiner gave an incredulous snort at the request and the woman frowned.

  ‘Forgive me, Madame Secretary, may ask I why?’

  ‘Why?’ She looked confused. ‘Because the countdown has begun. Surface evacuation is just around the corner and with the dust cloud’s early break up the next summit meeting has been brought forward. Didn’t you get the memos?’

  Joiner gave an inward groan. This was just what he didn’t need, not now. Did Debden hide this from me on purpose? he wondered, ruing the fact that he’d yet to install his replacement. ‘I’ve had some internal disruption.’

  ‘That’s unfortunate,’ she said, unmoved, ‘and despite your recent shock you will need to get here, if not today, then no later than noon tomorrow. This is not a request; the final summits are mandatory and I strongly suggest you liaise with your relevant departments as to the nature of the questions you’ll be facing.’

  ‘Questions?’

  ‘There have been rumblings about your leadership, or absence thereof. Any failure to appear will only compound your problems. We also need your input on the
Space Programme catastrophe, the Steadfast incident and the subsequent inquiries, and I’ve been told your independent review is overdue. I’m not sure what’s going on over there, Malcolm, but to put it bluntly you need to get your house in order or you’ll find yourself with a vote of no confidence, and we both know where that will lead.’

  Joiner didn’t know what to say and before he could think of something raised voices outside his office drew his attention.

  ‘Director, are you listening to me?’

  He turned back to the screen. ‘I am, Madame Secretary.’

  ‘No later than noon tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Don’t be late.’

  The woman’s image disappeared from the wallscreen and Joiner remained staring at its blank surface before the disturbance he’d heard grew louder.

  He collected his computer and emerged from his office to see his armed bodyguards engaged in a slanging match with a dishevelled analyst.

  ‘WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!’ Joiner said, furious.

  ‘Sir,’ – one of the operatives turned to face him – ‘Agent Myers told us you weren’t to be disturbed.’

  ‘It was Agent Myers who sent me!’ the analyst said.

  Joiner gave a flick of his hand and the armoured agent stepped aside to let his plain-clothed colleague past.

  ‘Director,’ the man said, ‘Agent Myers sent me to tell you he’s following up a lead and he’s taking a team to intercept.’

  ‘Why didn’t he tell me himself?’

  ‘He said he tried, but your priority call blocked his attempts.’

  ‘What sort of lead?’

  ‘He wouldn’t say.’

  Joiner accessed his computer’s contact list and tried calling Myers, but all he received was an unobtainable message.

  ‘He said if you wanted an update you’d need to meet him on the roof in,’ – the analyst checked his watch – ‘two minutes.’