The Tau Directive

by Tomas Black

  He dressed and headed down to reception. The young man behind the desk waved to get his attention.

  “Good morning, Mr Drummond. Your tailor left a message to call back. Your evening wear is ready for its second fitting.”

  Drum thanked him and headed for the restaurant. He ordered coffee and croissants. He couldn’t stomach anything more substantial. Drum pulled out his phone and dialled his ‘tailor’.

  “I thought you’d been stood down,” said Drum.

  “Yes, I’m back at my desk shuffling paper,” said McKay. “It played out like you said it would.” He paused. “I’ve been told to bring you in. They want you back in London for a debrief.”

  “We expected that,” said Drum.

  “We did,” said McKay. “What do you intend to do?”

  “Do you want to know?”

  “Off the record.”

  “I intend to get my people out of this mess.”

  “I thought so. Just so you know, they’ve blocked all my requests for assets.”

  “You said they would. Have you been in contact with our friends?” said Drum.

  “The lanky gamekeeper is on Lord Henry Smeaton’s estate, helping rear pheasants or such like. Lord Henry knows our friend and so was understanding when he requested a few weeks leave. The cook is always up for a scrap, and the mad Scotsman is between blowing things up.”

  Drum smiled. “The usual reprobates then.”

  “Aye.”

  “When?”

  “Too late for the exchange you have planned—a few days, tops. Best I could do.”

  “I understand,” said Drum. “Thanks for sticking your neck out.”

  “What next?”

  He had little option other than to proceed as planned. Tau would want to keep to its timetable. He had said today at a place of his choosing. But where? He hadn’t given it much thought. “Stick to the plan. I have little choice.”

  There was a long silence at the end of the line. Then McKay spoke. “Marchetti called me. He’s not happy we canned the operation. Said we had no backbone. I couldn’t disagree. He wants a meet.”

  Drum smiled. “Tell him the usual place, midday.”

  “Will do. And no more communication on this line. Go to the backup plan.” The phone went dead. His tailor had officially retired. He’d get no more help from McKay.

  He sat there pondering likely scenarios for the exchange when his phone buzzed. It was Delaney.

  “Hi, Phyllis.”

  “I’ve not heard from you in a while,” said Delaney. “I’m guessing you’re up to your neck as usual.”

  “Nice to hear from you too, Phyllis.”

  “I got a call from a mutual friend in the Agency. He said you might need some help.”

  Drum smiled. He knew she was referring to Marchetti. Phyllis had contacts in nearly every agency. “If I survive tonight, I may put up my hourly rate.”

  “Seriously, Ben. I knew this would be a mess. I should never have taken it on.”

  “I think people in government had other ideas. My card was already marked.”

  “I understand. Keep me in the loop.”

  “I will, Phyllis.” She hung up.

  Mei Ling walked into the restaurant and nodded when she saw him. He pocketed his phone and raised the cafetière. “Coffee?”

  “I missed you last night.”

  He stopped in mid pour. It wasn’t something he was expecting her to say. He assumed their last midnight manoeuvre was just a play. “I needed time to think,” he said. He sounded like Greta Garbo: I want to be alone. “You’ve heard?”

  Mei nodded and rattled her cup for more coffee. “My embassy has contacted me. My visa has been revoked, along with several other members of my team. Jane was right. Tau’s timing was perfect.”

  “And Beijing went along with it?”

  “They had no choice. They are playing along for now. I’m booked on the next flight back to Shanghai.”

  Drum nodded. No government wanted the data for sale on the black market. “What will you do?”

  She looked at him and tilted her head to one side. It reminded him of Alice. “It depends. I suspect you have a plan to get your people out. You told Tau the exchange is today.”

  He sat back. “It’s not much of a plan.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “I intend to meet with Vashchenko and kill him and as many of his people as I can before he kills me.”

  Mei looked at him. “You’re right. It isn’t much of a plan.”

  ~~~

  The lunch crowd at the Grey Duck was light at this time of year, allowing Drum to secure his usual table by the window. Marchetti arrived on time and had someone with him, a tall, middle-aged man in blue jeans and an old, battered leather coat.

  “Ben Drummond, meet Marcus Hemings.”

  Drum shook hands. Hemings had an easy manner about him and a broad Texas drawl.

  “Marcus is an ex-Seal,” said Marchetti. “Best marksman you’ll find this side of the Rio Grande.”

  “How about the River Cam?”

  “That too.”

  “Has he told you what you’re getting yourself into?” said Drum.

  Hemings nodded. “Not my first rodeo.”

  “He helped free Harry in New York,” added Marchetti.

  Drum raised an eyebrow. “Then I’m impressed and truly grateful.”

  Hemings smiled and they sat down.

  “Your man on the train—Chambers,” said Marchetti. “He was one of ours. We found a digital wallet on his phone containing about two million in currency. Someone had activated him and transferred payment for his services.”

  “But?”

  “We didn’t sanction it.”

  Drum nodded. “They used the stolen data cache to find and activate your agent. He assumed he was working for Uncle Sam.”

  “That’s what we believe,” said Marchetti. “We’re having to change all our protocols, which is why I chose Marcus. I’m only sorry I couldn’t do more but, as McKay probably told you, this is strictly off the books. If it all goes pear-shaped, Uncle Sam don’t wanna know.”

  “Understood.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  Drum had spent the morning with Mei trying to work up something better than his original suggestion. They had a crude working plan.

  “There’s a small disused chapel just off the Newmarket road. It’s relatively isolated, but it will allow us to make a tactical retreat in the event things don’t go as planned. I can’t risk making the exchange in a more built-up area in case there’s a firefight. The aim is to trade Stevie and a young man called Jeremy Burnett for a device.”

  “What’s so important about this device?” asked Marchetti.

  Drum pulled the keystone from his pocket.

  “That looks interesting,” said Hemings. “What is it?”

  Drum handed him the keystone. “It’s what the opposition wants above all else.”

  Hemings hefted the device in his large hand. “It feels warm.”

  “It’s probably emitting over a broad range of the spectrum, generating heat in the process.”

  “Why does the opposition want it?” said Hemings.

  “It’s complicated, but essentially it’s one of three keys to unlock an advanced piece of code. It’s this code—this advanced computer program—which is giving us all so much grief.”

  “Really!” said Hemings. “Life was simpler when you knew who the bad guys were. Now we’re fighting a computer program?”

  “Essentially, yes,” said Drum, “a very sophisticated one. If it gets all three keys … well, it’s game over.”

  “And you intend to exchange it for the girl and this guy Burnett,” said Marchetti.

  “I suspect that once they have the key, they’ll clean house. That’s where you come in, Marcus.”

  Hemings nodded. “How will I know the bad guys?”

  “Whoever grabs the key or threatens the hostages. I will position my people
in and around the chapel as backup. Mei Ling, a Chinese operative, will be on standby for the extraction.”

  “We’re working with the Chinese?” said Hemings. “This operation just got weirder.”

  “It’s best you don’t ask,” said Marchetti. “Isn’t it risky giving up the keystone?”

  “I have to get my people out,” said Drum. “We’ll deal with Vashchenko and his men later.”

  “What if he decides not to play ball?” said Hemings.

  “We revert to Plan B.”

  “Which is what?” asked Marchetti.

  “Kill them before they kill me.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  The Coffee Club

  “It’s not much of a plan,” said Alice. She turned to Sergei, who sat with his back to the wall of the small cafe, a distant look in his eyes. “You still with us?”

  “I think we go now to the house and kill as many of them as possible,” he said.

  Drum looked at Alice. “We’ll call that Plan C.”

  Alice turned to Sergei. “Why don’t you get us some more coffee, dear.”

  Drum watched Sergei walk off like some moody teenager. “You been giving him grief?”

  Alice shrugged. “Don’t know what’s come over him. He might be brooding over his father.”

  Drum sighed. He didn’t want to have that conversation—at least, not yet. They needed to focus on the exchange. Alice was about to say something when Mei Ling walked in. He waved her over. “Mei, this is Alice. Alice, Mei Ling.”

  The two women nodded to each other as Mei took a seat beside him. “You must be the office manager.”

  Alice raised an eyebrow. “And you must be the Chinese banker.”

  “Alice is part of the team,” said Drum.

  “You said there was another man—a Russian,” said Mei.

  As if on cue, Sergei returned with a tray of coffees. He looked suspiciously at Mei. “Mei Ling, Sergei.”

  Sergei nodded, “Coffee?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Sergei sat back down and distributed the coffees, letting the empty tray clatter to the floor. “Where do you fit in?”

  “I’m the driver,” said Mei, a smile on her face.

  “Will you get three in that car?” said Drum.

  “I’ll squeeze one in the back, no problem. It’s you I’m worried about.”

  Sergei smiled.

  Alice gave him a disapproving look. “I have a rental. Should be room enough,” she said.

  Drum looked at his watch. “I set the time of the meet for four o’clock. The fading light should work in our favour. Our main advantage is our shooter. He’ll be stationed in a disused building on the estate opposite, overlooking the chapel.”

  “They’re likely to have the same,” said Alice.

  “That’s a risk we’ll have to take,” said Drum.

  Alice turned to Mei. “Do you need a weapon?”

  Mei shook her head. “I’ve come fully equipped.”

  A broad grin spread across Sergei’s face.

  “You’ve cheered up,” said Alice.

  Sergei looked at her. “What do you mean?”

  Alice shook her head. She turned back to Drum. “You realise that once they have the device, nothing is stopping them from just eliminating you.”

  “I’m hoping our shooter will take care of that,” said Drum.

  “As long as he doesn’t shoot us!” said Sergei.

  “I’ve given him your mug shots,” said Drum. “He’s an experienced professional. You should be fine.”

  “Communications?” said Alice.

  Drum retrieved a small case from his bag and opened it. Inside were sets of miniature earbuds and transceivers. “From a friend,” he said. He neglected to mention they were from the CIA.

  Mei took one and smiled. “Made in China.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  The House

  Stevie sat on an old apple box in the corner of the garage. The flickering fluorescent light was giving her a headache. Jeremy Burnett sat forlornly on the floor in the corner, looking down at the bare stone floor. Drum had persuaded Vashchenko to exchange them for the device. She wondered if he was going to keep his end of the bargain.

  “Will they let us live?” said Jeremy, looking up at her.

  “I don’t see why not. What do they gain by killing us? As long as they get the device, we should be ok.” She tried to sound confident, but her voice betrayed her.

  Jeremy nodded. “What time is it,” he asked.

  Stevie had no idea. They had taken all her tech. She guessed that it must be sometime in the afternoon. Drum said the exchange would be today. She wondered how he was going to play it. Not subtly, if the last rescue was anything to go by. “I’m guessing early afternoon,” she said. “Can’t be long now.”

  The garage door opened and Baz sauntered in with one of Vashchenko’s men. “Ah, the two lovebirds. Not long now.” He walked over to Jeremy and kicked the side of his foot. “Hey, frat boy, I’m talking to you.” Vashchenko’s man grinned.

  Jeremy looked up but said nothing.

  “Leave him alone, Baz,” said Stevie, wishing the psychopath would just disappear.

  “Why do you hang around with these losers,” said Baz. “You should have joined us. We’re going to rule the world once Tau comes online. What do you think about that, sucker?” He kicked Jeremy again, hard on the shins.

  Jeremy looked up, his face flushed. He stood suddenly, taking Baz by surprise, and delivered a sharp uppercut to the man’s groin. Baz grunted and sank to his knees, clutching his balls. Jeremy followed through with his knee which connected to Baz’s chin, sending him sprawling onto his back. He lay there, groaning.

  Vashchenko’s man stepped forward and slammed his fist into Jeremy's temple, knocking him unconscious. He stepped in, about to deliver a kick to the head that would have surely killed Jeremy if it was not for Stevie rushing over and covering him with her body.

  “Stop, stop!” she shouted.

  The man pulled up at the last moment, grunted and returned to Baz who was now sitting up, groaning. He hefted him to his feet and spoke roughly to him in Ukrainian, dragging him to the door.

  “You’re dead, you’re both dead!” shouted Baz, before being pushed through the door.

  Stevie knelt beside Jeremy and examined his cheek, looking for visible signs of injury. The side of his face was already swelling. He’d have a nice bruise there later. His eyes fluttered open and a lopsided smile spread across his face. Then he winced in pain as he sat up.

  “Feels like a sledgehammer hit me.”

  “Are you mad! What were you thinking? They could have killed you!”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ve dealt with bullies like him all my life. He’ll think twice about trying it on again.”

  “Stupid men!” said Stevie, exasperated, pushing him away and sitting back down on the floor. “What good did it do you?”

  Jeremy grimaced. “It made me feel better … and I got his phone.”

  Stevie sat there open-mouthed, staring at the large phone in Jeremy’s hand.

  “Unfortunately, it’s locked.”

  Stevie grabbed the phone, swiped the screen and typed in a short string of letters. The code was accepted and the home screen came up.

  “How did you know his password?” asked Jeremy.

  “Some stupid nickname he always called me,” she mumbled.

  “Can you call the police?”

  “No signal.”

  Stevie noted the wi-fi was turned off. She went to the settings screen and turned it back on. The wi-fi indicator bar grew in length, showing a strong signal. It had connected to the house router and was therefore subject to the strict firewalls setting. It would be difficult getting a message to the outside world. She sat there thinking when a message popped up.

  Hello, Svetlana. You don’t know me; we haven’t met. My name is Jane and I work for Marco Salenko.

  Stevie stared at the screen. Was this th
e Jane that Drum had mentioned? Where was this coming from?

  “Who’s that?” said Jeremy, peering over her shoulder.

  “Wait!” She typed a brief reply: Are you in the house?

  There was a slight pause before another message flowed swiftly across the screen: I am Jane. I am everywhere.

  Stevie frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  Jeremy read the message. “I think I know. Let me.”

  She handed the phone to Jeremy. He typed a brief message: Jane, it’s Jeremy. Can you get a message out to Ben Drummond?

  “You know this person?” said Stevie.

  “It’s one of Kovac’s AIs. It must have piggybacked onto my phone and the network when they connected it.”

  Jane’s message appeared on the screen: Hello, Jeremy, the firewall has been re-patched. Access is denied. I can only monitor internal messages. Ben Drummond is in danger.

  Stevie’s brain went into overdrive. They had patched the firewall, shutting down access to the outside world. What about an encrypted tunnel through the network, she wondered? “Here, let me try something,” she said, grabbing the phone from Jeremy. She swiftly typed a message: Try a VPN tunnel to this IP address.

  They waited for the reply: Access denied.

  Stevie cursed, then had another thought: Use Point-to-Point Tunnelling Protocol.

  “I don’t understand,” said Jeremy.

  “It’s an older type of protocol first used for Virtual Private Networks. They may have missed it.”

  Access granted, came the reply.

  “Now what?” said Stevie. “What do I tell Ben?”

  “Explain the situation to Jane,” said Jeremy, “it’s a sophisticated AI and will understand. It’ll devise a plan to warn Drummond.”

  Stevie hesitated.

  “Here, let me. I’ve worked with something like Jane before.” He took the phone and began to type, his fingers and thumbs flying over the small keyboard: Jane, communicate the situation to Ben Drummond. Update him on all intelligence about the exchange. Advise on the best scenario for rescue.

  They both stared at the screen, waiting for a reply. Seconds ticked by.

  “That was probably too ambitious,” said Stevie.