Lucifer (aka the Lucifer Code) (2001)

by Cordy, Michael

  The fan clicked and picked up speed.

  'Shit,' whispered Kovac. He checked his watch and glanced at Amber. 'We'll wait a few minutes for it to slow again but if it doesn't we'll have to go on without him. We've lost so much time and I don't know how long you're going to need to do your stuff.'

  'Neither do I,' said Amber.

  Another click. The fan slowed.

  'Come on, Olsen,' Kovac whispered.

  Fleming braced himself and, with Kovac, reached down as the blades came to a stop. He took the Delta Force operator's right arm and Kovac took the left. The man was heavy with all his kit but they wrestled him through the gap. He was almost clear of the fan when it clicked again.

  Nothing happened.

  The man looked up at Fleming and grinned with relief.

  Then he was no longer grinning.

  It happened so fast that Fleming could only stare in horror as the fan kicked into high speed, wrenching the man from his and Kovac's grip. For some seconds the Delta Force operator rotated with the fan blades as if he was on a carousel. But as the speed picked up he was squeezed down through the blades like a carrot through a blender. All the time, as the fan macerated him from the feet up, his surprised face stared up at Fleming.

  It was over in seconds and Fleming didn't even hear the thump as the man's remains fell into the pit below. In many ways that was the most startling and unsettling thing: aside from the blades chewing up his body, the man had made no sound.

  The FBI agent leant forward and vomited.

  Kovac turned to Amber, who was staring into the whirring fan. His jaw muscles twitched but otherwise he showed no emotion. 'This makes it even more important to finish what we came here to do.'

  Amber was still staring at the fan.

  Kovac took her head in one massive hand and forced her to look at him. 'Are you up for this, Dr Grant? Because if you're not then this whole fuck-up has been a waste of time.'

  Amber blinked.

  Fleming put a hand on her shoulder. 'Come on, Amber, let's get on with it.'

  She nodded. Her face was still pale but the fire had returned to her eyes.

  'Let's go,' said Kovac, turning to climb the ladder.

  The door at the top of the ladder opened on to a deserted laboratory. Following Kovac's lead Amber crouched low and shuffled into the white room behind him and Fleming. To her left, she saw a body surrogate like the one Fleming had shown her at Barley Hall. What had he called it? Brian.

  Next to the mannequin, atop a gleaming workbench, she recognized Fleming's updated NeuroTranslator and Soames's soul-capture head-sphere. 'I thought that stuff was on the Red Ark,' she said.

  'The bastard was leaving nothing to chance - he made a back-up.' Frowning as he spoke, Fleming stared at the apparatus as if he was thinking something through. Then he looked through the tinted window to the pulsing orb of light beyond. Amber?' His eyes were bright with excitement.

  'Yes.'

  'Ssh,' hissed Kovac ahead of them. He pointed to his right.

  Amber looked through the tinted viewing screen, past the glass sphere of light and into the laboratory area on the other side of the borehole. A guard stood outside the sliding doors and inside someone was at a console staring into a screen. His tall frame and bald head were familiar: Walter Tripp. Amber scanned the laboratory circuit surrounding the glass sphere, searching for Bukowski, but there was no sign of her.

  'That must be where the master controls are,' she whispered. 'We must get him away from the console before he can warn anyone. How do we do that?'

  Kovac turned to her. 'You need to interrogate him?'

  'Not really. I can find out everything we need to know from the computer, and I wouldn't trust what he told us, anyway. I just need him away from the controls. Can you do that?'

  The Delta Force leader smiled at her; it was a cold, hard smile. 'Sure. Wait here.'

  Crouched beside Fleming and the FBI agent, she watched through the tinted glass as Kovac stole round the circle of interconnecting laboratories, passing the steps to the raised elevator platform. She lost sight of him for a moment, then saw the guard on the other side of the borehole collapse. Seconds later Kovac rose in his place, crouching outside the sliding doors to the area where Tripp was standing.

  She watched them open and Tripp turn. He appeared puzzled rather than alarmed, no doubt secure in this impregnable fortress of technology. She saw him say something, but couldn't hear what. Then he left his station and wandered to the door. He seemed to be calling someone.

  Suddenly he disappeared below the viewing window and Kovac beckoned to them through the glass.

  Amber followed in his footsteps and found herself in the main control centre. Both the guard and Tripp lay motionless on the ground, eyes wide open, their necks bent at an odd angle. Tripp looked as worried in death as he always had in life, and Amber turned away hurriedly: she had seen enough of death in the last few days to last her a lifetime.

  The control room hadn't changed since she had been here last a few years ago, and she was relieved to see that the main screen in front of her was live. Tripp had been monitoring the progress of the vast computer and was already in the system, which meant she wouldn't have to break in. At last their luck was changing. Reaching for the on-screen controls, she touched the Datafile Manager icon and pressed the quick-browse button. The screen scrolled down lists of files so fast it was impossible to read each line. At the bottom there was a number of at least seven digits.

  'What's that?' Fleming asked, over her shoulder. 'That,' said Amber, in awe, 'is the list of every single file stored within the photons of light in that glass ball out there. In essence what you're seeing is the roll call of every piece of electronically recorded data the world has ever amassed. This is the black hole into which all the world's lost data has been sucked.'

  There was a beat of silence as the enormity of what they were looking at sank in.

  'What do the digits at the base of the screen represent?' the FBI tech agent asked.

  Amber sighed. She was used to working with mind-blowing computer power but she was still impressed at the scale of what Soames had achieved. 'That number is an estimate of how many years it would take to view every file in the Datafile Manager currently scrolling down the screen at the speed you're seeing it now. Not the total contents of the files, just the titles.'

  'That's millions of years?' said Kovac. 'Jeez.' For once even he was impressed.

  'How about sending the data back to all the places it was stolen from?' asked Fleming.

  'Don't worry, that'll be pretty quick. Every transaction can be done at the speed of light. However, we need to check the original program and ensure the integrity of the data and pathways. Soames may have built in booby traps either to destroy the stored information if tampered with or to return it to the wrong addresses. Incorrect, corrupt or misplaced data could be more damaging than none at all. We'll have to go through some standard hygiene procedures to ensure the correct data returns to the correct databanks. But with the power of this computer it shouldn't take longer than a few minutes.'

  'What about stopping the final two signs?'

  'While the return of the data is being monitored to make sure it's okay, I can search the computer's underlying programs for any pre-set instructions relating to relevant areas such as nuclear installations, warheads, that kind of thing. Then, once I've defused whatever Soames is planning, I'll key in a PIP'

  A what?' demanded Kovac.

  A paradox implosion protocol,' she said. A PIP's basically a program that sets up a paradox in the photonic core of the qubit stream, turning the computer's vast power on itself.' She smiled at Kovac's bemused frown. 'It's what you soldier boys call a bomb. A big bomb.' She checked her watch. 'We've got a few hours yet, haven't we?'

  'Unless Soames brings things forward,' said Kovac.

  Amber turned to the FBI tech agent. 'You know how to install a CAS programme?'

  A "clean and screen"?'

>   'Yes.'

  Howie nodded.

  'Good,' Amber said. 'I'll activate the second terminal over there and you can use it to run a CAS on the data, ensuring it returns in the exact state it was taken and to the exact locations it was stolen from. Okay?'

  'Whatever you say.' The tech agent moved to the second terminal as Amber powered up his screen from the panel on hers.

  'The elevator's the only way into this sector, isn't it?' said Kovac.

  Fleming nodded. Apart from the way we got in, yes.'

  'I'll go up to the gantry level and keep a lookout. Stop anyone from disturbing you guys. Good luck.'

  'Looks like everything's under control,' Fleming said, after Kovac had gone. Clearly he had something on his mind because he kept glancing back to the laboratory where his NeuroTranslator was stored. 'You don't need me for the next few minutes, do you?'

  She was punching keys. 'Why?'

  Fleming didn't answer at first. Then he pointed at the fireball and asked, 'That computer can perform really complex calculations at incredible speed, can't it? I mean, if this thing can't calculate a possible causal correlation between two apparently unrelated systems, then there probably isn't a connection or correlation to find. Right?'

  She turned to him and narrowed her eyes. 'Yes. What are you getting at?'

  'There's one thing I need this computer to do before you destroy it. It involves my NeuroTranslator and Soames's soul-capture headset and should take only a few minutes.'

  'What is it?'

  She listened as he explained. When he finished she shook her head. His outrageous hypothesis was almost certainly doomed to failure, but she of all people couldn't stand in his way. 'It's bad timing,' she said.

  'It's the only time I'll have access to this computer power. Now or never.'

  Sighing, she punched a soft key at the bottom of her screen. 'I've activated the dumb terminal in the laboratory where your NeuroTranslator is. Go in and use the search icon. Type in your questions and it'll seek out the data to prove or disprove your hypothesis. If you don't get an answer within a minute or so there ain't one. Okay?'

  Fleming moved closer and briefly she thought he was going to kiss her. And she wanted him to. But he just smiled, said, 'Thanks,' and rushed off.

  'How's it going?' she called over to the tech agent on the other terminal.

  'Almost there. Oughta be done in a few minutes. How about you? Found out what the third and fourth signs are yet?'

  'Not yet, but I'm ready to start searching the base instructions now'

  However, before she could key in the search parameters the screen changed. A grid of longitude and latitude lines appeared before her, and beneath it was a map of India and Pakistan.

  Two dots, one over Delhi and another over Lahore, were flashing red. And in the top left-hand corner of the screen a slow countdown was under way. The figure 100 flashed yellow. Then, after a set number of flashes, it changed to 99 ... then 98.

  'Oh, my God!'

  'What?' said Howie.

  'I'm not sure,' Amber said, trying to keep calm. 'Just remind me again. India and Pakistan are both nuclear powers but not exactly best buddies. Yeah?'

  The G-man nodded cautiously. 'Yeah.'

  'Christ. I think that by returning the data stolen with the second sign, we've somehow brought forward the last two.'

  'War and death?'

  The screen changed again. This time she saw a larger map, showing Asia and Europe. Red dots flashed over numerous sites in the Middle East, and large swathes of Ukraine, Russia, North Korea and China. A similar countdown was in evidence at the top corner of the screen.

  'Shit,' said Amber, reaching for the control keys. This was happening automatically. She had to get into the programming and stop it.

  Bang.

  A gunshot.

  Then three more.

  'What the hell was that?' asked the FBI man. He stiffened.

  The sound of gears told Amber that the elevator was descending. 'Probably Kovac,' she said, torn between the countdown on the screen and the elevator.

  'I'll check,' said the FBI man, and ran towards it.

  Amber returned to the screen, punching in a program code as the countdown continued: 92 ... 91 ... 90 ...

  She heard growling behind her, then a scream. She whipped round. One of Soames's wolves leapt from the elevator platform and embedded its fangs in the tech agent's throat, stifling his cries. The second wolf leapt at his groin.

  Then Soames appeared. Walking down the stairs, he stepped over the agent's writhing body, while Bukowski followed with a gun. The blonde scientist glanced at Tripp's crumpled body then glared at Amber, blue eyes as cold as ice.

  'Amber, step away from the terminal and come here,' Soames said, with chilling calm.

  She glanced back at the screen. The numbers were counting down: 88 ... 87 ... There was nothing she could do about it.

  'Touch nothing, or Felicia will take great pleasure in shooting you,' Soames cautioned.

  Amber didn't move.

  'Where's Miles?' Soames asked. 'You two seem to have become something of an item.'

  'He's not here,' she said, willing herself not to look towards the fireball and the laboratory beyond.

  Soames scanned the area and smiled. 'What a shame. There's someone to see him.'

  Fleming had just finished interrogating the computer in the far laboratory when he heard the gunshots.

  Instinctively he turned back to look across the borehole to where Amber was working. He stared in disbelief as the FBI man was brought down by the wolves. Ducking out of sight, he searched the laboratory for a weapon, but there was none - all he could see were the NeuroTranslator and the soul-capture head-sphere.

  He watched helplessly as Soames appeared with Bukowski, who was pointing a pistol at Amber.

  Where the hell's Kovac? Shit, shit, shit.

  Amber moved away from the console towards Soames, who stepped forward to meet her. At that moment, Fleming saw Carvelli in front of the elevator . . . with Jake.

  What was he doing here?

  Fleming had to restrain himself from leaping up and charging, armed only with his bare hands.

  Leaning into Amber, Soames reached for her collar. Seconds later, Fleming could hear his voice issuing from the speakers in his helmet.

  'Hello, Miles. I'm using Amber's microphone so I know you can hear me. First things first. Your mission has failed. The final signs have been activated so you have no more reason to be heroic. Also, I have your nephew with me. We're going up to the gantry level now and I will give you two minutes to come up in the elevator and join us or I'll expose Jake's tender young eyes to the light. Then, if you still don't show, I'll feed him to my pets. They're partial to young flesh. The choice is yours.'

  Fleming balled his hands into fists. He watched Soames's lackeys shepherd Jake and Amber into the elevator and felt sick with impotent rage.

  All was lost. He had no choice.

  If he could no longer help to save the world, then he must at least save Jake and Amber.

  Time ticked by. It seemed hopeless. Amber needed to be back at the master console finding a way to stop the countdown. But only Miles Fleming could do anything now. And he didn't know how to reprogram the computer.

  Standing by the elevator on the exposed gantry level, squinting through her eye-protectors, she saw Kovac's body lying on the steel platform beside another guard. Both looked dead. Kovac's neck area was torn and bloody and there were bullet wounds in his upper body. Carvelli stood alone to her left. He looked pale and sickly, as if he would much rather be somewhere else. By contrast Bukowski was obviously itching to use her gun. She stood with Soames and Jake by the railings. Soames wore his protective clothing and Jake's silhouette looked pitifully small beside him and Bukowski.

  'You okay, Jake?' Amber asked. He darted a quick look at the wolves, standing expectantly by the elevator, and nodded. The movement almost dislodged his over-large eye-protectors.

 
; 'He's fine,' said Soames. 'For now.' 'Why are you doing this, Bradley?' Amber asked. 'I'm not doing anything,' he said. 'I'm simply ensuring that what has been preordained happens. I didn't decide this, I'm merely fulfilling the prophecy. That's why you never stood a chance of stopping me. Even by reversing the second sign and restoring the world's data you've only made the final signs more potent.'

  'You're going to launch nuclear missiles and wipe out most of Asia?'

  Soames laughed. 'Of course not. That's the whole point. Mankind will choose to do this. The loss of power in the first sign didn't cause civil unrest - humanity's reaction to it did. The second sign wasn't real famine - it didn't starve humanity of what it needs physically to survive, only what it has come to rely on. And the final signs will be no different. Mankind will bring war and death upon itself through its own prejudice and choice. Certain nations are going to see phantom missile launches on their computer screens. They're going to think they're under attack but they still have a choice. They can either check whether the attack is genuine, trusting their enemies when they reassure them that no missiles have been launched, or start a real and costly war.'