Apocalypse

by Dean Crawford

  ‘Camera 7 is ready,’ he reported. ‘I was just about to play it.’

  Aubrey busied himself with downloading the files from the camera into the control panel’s database, watching as the information bars slowly filled and racking his brain for some way to convince Joaquin to give him access to the communications room.

  ‘How do you know that the governor and his friends won’t simply tell the government about this facility?’ he asked. ‘Any one of them could be overcome with moral righteousness, especially Benjamin Tyler.’

  ‘They are greedy men,’ Joaquin replied impatiently, ‘obsessed with power and image. They won’t be able to overcome their vanity.’

  Aubrey wondered at the depths of Joaquin’s delusion, that he could say such things and be oblivious to the fact that he was describing himself. Aubrey mastered his fear and pressed further.

  ‘You’re in danger of pushing them too far,’ he cautioned. ‘Resentment forces men of power to do stupid things. Perhaps you should ask Katherine down here. Her influence might calm them, convince them to follow you.’

  Joaquin’s jaw clenched beneath his tanned skin.

  ‘Katherine has gone to work on one of our charity projects in the Dominican Republic,’ he snapped. ‘She won’t be coming here.’

  ‘But she might be able to help us—’

  ‘Nobody will oppose us!’ Joaquin shouted. ‘By the time I’ve finished with them here, they’ll do anything I say!’ The tycoon’s rage subsided as quickly as it had arrived. He smiled and clapped Aubrey on the back. ‘But I thank you for your concern. Now, play the damned tape.’

  Aubrey pressed play. Immediately the image of the Florida news station appeared, racing forward at double speed. Aubrey squinted as he tried to follow the rapidly changing screens and the silently jabbering anchors. Images of the Florida coastline, a Coastguard rescue, and the words falling silently from the moving lips of the anchors: a train wreck down Tampa way; a fugitive chase down the interstate; a murder suspect charged with . . .

  ‘There, that’s it!’ Joaquin pointed at the screen.

  Aubrey paused the image, rewound it to the beginning of the piece, and then set it playing at half its normal speed. Now, the images and the anchor’s motions and lips appeared to move at normal speed, only the occasional flare of energy flickering to disrupt the image.

  As the anchor mouthed her silent words at the camera, an image of Charles Purcell appeared behind her, captured from a holiday snap with his wife and daughter. Dennis Aubrey felt a terrible pang of impotent despair as he saw the beautiful woman and their angelic child, now lying in a morgue somewhere in Florida.

  ‘It’s just a piece on the manhunt for him,’ Aubrey said, reading the anchor’s lips.

  Joaquin shook his head and leaned closer to the screen.

  ‘They did that already, or rather they will do. This is new.’

  Suddenly the image changed. A police cordon, tape strung between the twisted branches of mangroves way out in what Aubrey guessed was the Everglades. Aubrey saw that there were no police cars, the scene attended by small hovercrafts, the only type of vehicle able to access the immense swamplands.

  ‘They’ll find a body,’ Joaquin guessed.

  Aubrey glanced at the clock on the lower portion of the screen. The news report was from less than two hours’ time. The shot of the Everglades disappeared as the anchor reappeared in the frame, with the shot of Charles Purcell beside her. Now, the scrolling text beneath her ran with new information:

  SUSPECTED MURDERER SHOT DEAD IN EVERGLADES

  Joaquin stood up from the screen.

  ‘Charles, your time is about to come to an end.’

  Aubrey looked at Joaquin in confusion. ‘You think that the police killed him?’

  Joaquin shook his head as he reached for the satellite phone on the control panel, whilst retrieving his access card and opening a communication channel.

  ‘It would have said so,’ he decided.

  ‘Then who did it?’

  Joaquin smiled as he held the phone to his ear. ‘We did, Dennis.’

  Aubrey heard the line connect, and the distorted but familiar voice of Olaf Jorgenson on the other end of the line. Joaquin was still smiling as he spoke.

  ‘We know where Purcell will be in two hours’ time.’

  35

  PROJECT WATCHMAN HQ, KENNEDY SPACE CENTER

  June 28, 14:27

  ‘You can look into the past?’

  Lopez sounded incredulous and Ethan wasn’t surprised, but Doug Jarvis nodded as though it were common knowledge.

  ‘Project Watchman has been running under various budgets and with differing degrees of success for over twenty years,’ he explained. ‘It requires only a small premises from which to operate and thus remains extremely covert. Even Congress does not know of its existence, mainly because the funding is supplied through the Pentagon’s Black Budget, which is protected from Congressional oversight by presidential mandate, due to military-and-intelligence community requirements for secrecy. The intelligence signals we receive are likewise lost amongst NASA’s standard radio traffic, further concealing its presence.’

  Ethan looked at the giant digital display across the nearby wall, where one particular object was highlighted with the designation USA-224 as it orbited the planet.

  ‘How does it work?’

  Michael Ottaway gestured to the map.

  ‘Beautifully,’ he replied. ‘When USA-224 was launched, its optical ability completely surpassed anything that had gone before, anything that even I could have dreamed of.’

  ‘Is it a satellite, then?’ Lopez asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Ottaway said. ‘National Reconnaissance Office Launch 49 is a KH-11 “keyhole” optical-imaging satellite, the fifteenth of her type to be launched. She went up aboard a Delta IV Heavy rocket from Space Launch Complex 6 at the Vandenberg Air Force Base in California. Upon reaching orbit, she received the International Designator 2011-002A, but she’s now known as USA-224.’

  Ethan stepped in and looked more closely at Ottaway’s bank of computer screens. The search he had initiated was flipping through locations in the Miami area at a tremendous rate, and facial images flickered past in a blur of motion, as though the program were searching for Purcell’s face amongst millions of Floridians.

  ‘What does it do, exactly?’ Lopez asked.

  ‘USA-224 is in a low-earth orbit at ninety-seven point nine degrees of inclination,’ Ottaway explained. ‘This places it at a typical keyhole-satellite operational orbit, and allows for maximum target exposure on the earth’s surface. In short, it can look down upon the planet in real-time and to a degree of resolution so high that if you forgot to wash your hair this morning, USA-224 could spot your dandruff from orbit.’

  Ethan turned to look at Ottaway.

  ‘Sure, that’s impressive, but it doesn’t warrant this level of secrecy: people already know about these satellites, even if they don’t know exactly how they work.’

  ‘True,’ Jarvis said, ‘but the difference is that in the past they could only take photographs or short-duration video of moving targets. The satellites would move out of visual range as they orbited the planet, making identifying targets within narrow timescales difficult, if not impossible.’

  ‘So what’s different now?’ Lopez asked.

  ‘The fact that we have four of them,’ Ottaway grinned. ‘Between them, 220 to 224 provide total coverage. Their lenses are of such high quality that they can operate together to not just image anywhere on earth, but to do so in three dimensions. By compiling the data from each satellite on a given target area and recording as we go, we can use supercomputers to crunch the data-streams to produce a three-dimensional world through which investigators can move, examining classified enemy installations or airbases, or replaying events from the past and witnessing them directly.’

  Ethan turned and looked at the two soldiers waiting on the nearby platform as a sudden and overpowering realization swelled
in his mind.

  ‘How long have you been recording data?’ Ethan asked.

  ‘From the continental United States? Almost ten years, with varying degrees of detail, and with the supercomputers we keep every moment of it on record.’

  Ethan forced himself to remain calm. Ten years of visual information from every last corner of the globe, the last few years in ultra-high resolution, three-dimensional full color. A single moment in time lodged in his thoughts like a splinter in his mind’s eye: the December of four years previously, the Gaza Strip, Palestine. His fiancée, Joanna, abducted by persons unknown.

  ‘You could solve any crime,’ Lopez gasped in amazement, ‘prove any event happened or didn’t happen, just by stepping into the virtual world and viewing it.’

  Ethan turned to look at Jarvis, who raised a hand.

  ‘It’s not quite that simple,’ he said, focusing on Ethan. ‘The cameras can only record in detail what happened in the open, not within buildings. True, Watchman also records in the near infrared, so we have some ability to look into interiors, and occasionally the angle of the satellite camera across the earth’s horizon allows us to see a small distance inside buildings, but for the most part we’re limited to exterior activities. We only have full coverage in daylight.’

  The computer terminal pinged and Ethan turned to see Purcell’s image and the word MATCH flashing in a red box in front of it.

  ‘You’ve found him?’ Jarvis asked.

  Ottaway consulted the screen for a moment and then nodded.

  ‘The face-recognition software has located him leaving a ferry in Miami, approximately twenty-two hours ago.’

  ‘That’s before his family was killed,’ Ethan noted.

  Ottaway looked up at the two soldiers on the platform and keyed his microphone.

  ‘Okay, guys, I’m sending the information over right now.’

  Ethan stepped forward. ‘Wait a second. Why don’t we go up there and do this ourselves?’

  Ottaway chuckled and shook his head.

  ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible. The equipment is highly specialized, not to mention classified, and if you damaged it or—’

  ‘They’re security-cleared Cosmic,’ Jarvis interrupted the scientist. ‘Right now, we have more than one suspect in this case. To brief your men on all of the details would take far too long and we’re running out of time as it is.’

  Ottaway glanced at Lopez and Ethan, then sighed.

  ‘I want your name on the paperwork for this, Doug,’ he said as he keyed his microphone again. ‘Come on down, guys, change of plan.’

  Ethan watched as the two soldiers carefully removed their headsets, gloves and boots and stepped off their platforms. They clambered down from the maneuvering area and looked at Ottaway questioningly before standing aside.

  ‘Go on up,’ Ottaway said, ‘and put the gear on. Let me know when you’re ready.’

  Ethan and Lopez climbed up onto the maneuvering area, then each stepped onto a platform. Ethan pulled on the boots, then slipped the helmet over his head, strapping it securely under his chin before pulling on the blocky gloves laced with wires that ran to a miniature antenna on the right wrist. Ottaway’s voice called out to them.

  ‘When I say so, close the helmet visors and hold on to the rails either side of you for balance. It will take you a moment or two to adjust to the device.’

  Ethan rested his hands on the railings and waited. Moments later, Ottaway gave him a thumbs-up. Ethan reached up and slid the helmet visor down, just catching a glimpse of Lopez doing the same, and then in absolute blackness he waited with his hands resting on the railings beside him.

  ‘Can you both hear me?’

  Ottaway’s voice came through the earphones loud and clear and he heard Lopez reply.

  ‘Loud and clear.’

  ‘Roger that,’ Ethan said.

  ‘Stand by, patching you in.’

  The blackness flickered in front of Ethan’s eyes and then suddenly bright sunlight flared. Ethan squinted as his eyes adjusted to the brightness, and he gasped and almost lost his balance as the world appeared before him with absolute clarity. A brilliant ocean glittered, hundreds of sailing boats moored on the blue water, the sky above clear blue. People walked everywhere, cars rolled past nearby and a seagull arced through the sky above him. Ethan looked about and saw a stylized figure nearby, dressed in a strange silver suit with the virtual-reality helmet on. He realized that Lopez’s image was deliberately designed to stand out, to make recognition easier.

  The only thing missing was the sound, for the virtual world around them was entirely silent. As Ethan looked more carefully he saw patches of pixilated ground, shadows that shifted erratically, and deep black holes within shop windows and inside cars. The virtual world moved with incredible fluidity and yet looked stark and unnatural, like a highly realistic computer game that had not quite been finished.

  ‘Ethan, Nicola, we can see him. Can you confirm you have visual on the target? He is in the queue by the dock.’

  ‘Stand by,’ Ethan replied.

  A line of people were walking away from a ferry that was docked beside the quay. Ethan scanned their faces, their clothes, and their shadows on the ground as they walked. A seagull wheeled above them and Ethan noticed that it was jet black on its underbelly, its edges blurred and pixilated. The orbiting satellites could not see beneath the gull, so there was no information to relay into the virtual-reality world.

  ‘I see him’ Lopez said. ‘Fifth from the front, white shirt.’

  Ethan stepped instinctively to one side for a better view and almost fell as the rolling platform shifted beneath him with a slight delay.

  ‘Step slowly and carefully,’ Ottaway advised over the microphone, ‘it’ll take time to get used to it.’

  Ethan moved slowly to his right and saw Purcell amongst the crowd. He looked flustered, sweaty and nervous as he pushed past the people in front of him and dashed away from the dock to flag down a taxi. Almost before Ethan could move, Purcell was aboard and the taxi pulled away. He started walking swiftly in pursuit.

  ‘How do we keep up with him?’

  ‘Wave your hand in front of your face,’ Ottaway replied. Ethan complied, and a digital list appeared to hover in front of his vision. ‘Now select Manual Guidance.’ Ethan’s hand in front of his face had automatically become a cursor, and he selected the option before him. ‘Good. There will now be two joysticks activated either side of the railings beside you on the platform. The one on the right controls speed and direction, the one on the left altitude. You can fly in our virtual world.’

  Ethan fumbled either side of him and then got hold of the two joysticks. He gasped again as he was elevated instantly into the air. A sense of vertigo plunged through his belly as his brain caused the very sensation it expected to feel as he lifted off. Ethan, his eyes fixed on the taxi, flew along behind it in pursuit.

  ‘Lopez, are you with me?’

  ‘Way ahead of you,’ came the reply.

  Ethan looked up to see Lopez’s silvery form zipping past in pursuit of the taxi. Ethan followed as the cab weaved its way through Miami’s late-afternoon traffic.

  ‘He’s heading west, probably directly home,’ Ethan guessed. ‘If he saw what was going to happen to his family, maybe he tried to prevent it.’

  ‘Stand by, I’ll move you to his house and accelerate time until his arrival.’

  Ethan watched as the dense Miami cityscape beneath him blurred briefly and he was whipped across the surface of the earth to be deposited outside Coral Gables with Lopez alongside him.

  As they waited, Ethan saw the time-accelerated clouds race by overhead, the scenery around him flickering with bright sunlight and cloud shadows and trees quivering rapidly in the breeze as the sun arced down toward the west. Airliners zipped across the broad sky and cars raced past at impossible speed. Suddenly a cream Chevrolet appeared like lightning outside Purcell’s house and then vanished.

  ‘Wait,
’ Ethan said. ‘Rewind that by a few seconds.’

  The world around them froze and then was whipped into reverse. The Chevrolet appeared again and raced away backwards from Purcell’s house.

  ‘There,’ Ethan said, ‘play from there.’

  The world returned to normal speed and Ethan watched as the Chevrolet rolled casually past him and pulled up alongside the Purcell residence, the interior of the vehicle a pixilated miasma of darkness. Ethan moved in alongside the vehicle as the door opened and the driver climbed out.

  Over six feet tall, hugely muscular and with short-cropped blond hair.

  ‘I think we just found the killer of Purcell’s family,’ Lopez said.

  36

  ‘Follow him.’

  Ethan obeyed without question, following the giant man as he walked toward the front door of Purcell’s house. Ethan realized that the man’s brazen approach was either reckless or brilliant: what assassin would hit their target in broad daylight?

  Ethan looked about, but there were no other people on the street. No witnesses. The date stamp hovering on his menu list was the same as the estimated time of death of Purcell’s wife and daughter.

  The big man got to the front door and reached into his pocket. To Ethan’s amazement he produced a key and slipped it into the lock, then turned it slowly before pushing the door inward. It opened, and Ethan looked instinctively inside.

  ‘Damn!’

  The interior of the house was jet black, devoid of any visual data.

  ‘Could we switch to infrared and get above the house?’ Lopez asked. ‘We might pick something up.’

  ‘IR view is on your visual menu,’ Ottaway confirmed. ‘Try it out.’

  Ethan waved his hand in front of his face again and selected the IR view. Instantly the world changed from near-perfect visual clarity to a shadowy mixture of cool blue tones and hot oranges and reds as the recorded data from the keyhole satellite’s heat-sensing cameras took over. Ethan grabbed his joysticks and levitated up over the roof of Purcell’s house alongside Lopez.