Ray looked again. He could make out a large grey box in the centre of the room, probably no bigger than a couple of large American style fridge freezers. “It hasn’t any lights. All computers have lights.” He said with surprise.
The Commander smiled again. “Perhaps it isn’t a computer. Either way, there are no lights.”
Fawzia had watched the two of them carefully. They were smug and that was a dangerous trait in the military. “Ok” she interrupted them,” Let’s get on with our questions. Take a seat please.” As they returned to their respective desks she realised there were no other chairs. Instinctively she perched herself on the nearest desktop and Ray followed suit on the other one. At least she now towered over the two senior officers although the seemed unflustered by it. “I’ll start with the obvious stuff…how it is powered and how that supply is protected, how it communicates and then we will work our way through the maintenance and upgrade schedules before we come to the vetting of those working in this facility.” The smiles faded from the two officers. They knew it was going to be a very long night. Fawzia pulled out her tablet and began her assessment.
As dawn broke Fawzia filed her report with the base commander and climbed back into the Jaguar. Ray was already on the phone talking to Alicia. The complexity and nature of the barracks had given her scope to make a few minor recommendations but she admitted she was nit-picking. What had completely foxed her was the security directly around “the cube” itself. Impregnable was a word she hesitated to use given her experience and training but she really couldn’t think of anything else. They might as well have buried it under a mountain. Only something like a nuclear blast might destroy it. If that happened it would take out half of Devon so that eventuality didn’t bear thinking about. It generated and harnessed enough residual power to survive months if its power supply was cut off; it used a range of mechanisms to communicate ranging from deep buried cable and 4G to using its own power lines and other means “too secret to divulge” as the Lieutenant Colonel had stated. In the end she could only make the point that if it became faulty it would take a long time to disable its protection to fix it.
Ray was driving again. “We are to report to Alicia in person. She is at a secure location north of Bristol. We can rest up there for a few hours.” Fawzia didn’t think being with Alicia Court could in any way be restful so she shut her eyes for a power nap as the car headed north east towards Exeter and the M5. About forty minutes later she awoke with a jolt as Ray swung the car into the motorway services to the east of Exeter and pulled up into a small lay-by on the ramp. “Sorry” he apologised, “something is wrong, I’ve just had a coded alert to pull over and wait. The Bristol location may have been compromised.”
Chapter Eleven
The two of them had agreed to meet at 7am in advance of the National Security Council briefing in the Cabinet Office. Sir Alistair faced Alan Vickers, the Head of MI6, across the large desk in his office. He seemed diminished by the events of the previous day and the lack of sleep was evident on the faces of both of them.
“Well it appears we have lost control of Lightening. That is not to say that Dame Maude would be foolish enough to try and cut us out of the operation completely. However the management of it has moved to the Cabinet Office. My fault in that I was allied to the wrong politician. The PM just needed an excuse to fire him and sadly the last 24 hours have provided it. Fortunately she still respects me but I have used a lot of my capital and any further disaster…well we all know what will happen.. In our favour the strategy will continue to be directed through the National Security Council of which we remain members.” Alan Vickers just nodded. The Permanent Secretary continued: “In terms of the NSC meeting I think we should be as positive as we can, and try to stop any politically expedient tokenism that might weaken our resilience.”
The Head of MI6 shifted uneasily in his seat. “I am going to find a positive spin challenging” he began, “particularly as it would appear that our former colleague Neville is implicit in bringing this threat onto our shores.”
Sir Alistair looked reflective: “Perhaps we need to step back a moment. All of this has a context and we should be certain that we are not missing the bigger picture”.
The Head of MI6 rubbed his hands on his cheeks in a gesture that conveyed irritation and a need to keep his focus: “I’ve spent the last few hours going over what has happened and I am coming round to the belief that we have a conspiracy on our hands. It smells of a setup and a setup that would require more than Mr.Benning to execute. Some things are just too pat and others just don’t fit with everything else we know. Special Events are lumbering towards the same conclusion.”
Sir Alistair raised an eyebrow inviting him to explain further.
“Mossad, of all people, find a plot on a computer in a random operation. They give us ample warning and positive ID’s. The whole infiltration is professionally run and involves their former agents. The protocols in our response make us refrain from arresting them, limit our surveillance capability, allow gaps. These very gaps are the ones they see and exploit, all designed to make us look stupid and create panic and distraction. I spoke to Nia Williams in Cheltenham this morning. She isn’t making excuses and holds herself personally responsible, but her account of events only serves to reinforce my suspicions.”
Sir Alistair clasped his hands together and leaned across the desk: “To what end?”
The Head of MI6 was direct: “I think we have to go back to when Rose Garden became operational. Almost immediately we saw it being compromised and within weeks we have evidence that both the Chinese and Americans were seeking to understand and emulate its capabilities. We have failed to grasp that the technologies involved in cyber warfare are not solely the property of nation states but are in the hands of powerful multinational corporations. As with every capitalist market there is a dark side; a covert and illegal trading of technologies. I now think Benning was part of that. I think he became corrupted by it. I believe that this incursion is a cover for something else, a setup, but to understand it we need to find him and get answers.”
Sir Alistair was underwhelmed by this statement of the obvious next step. “He was a highly effective field officer in his day and has access to knowledge across the full spectrum of our security services. Finding him is not going to be easy. Is there anything in his files that might indicate why he has done this?” The Head of MI6 shook his head, both to answer the question with a “No” and express contempt for the implication that the vetting of Benning had been flawed.
Sir Alistair raised his hand “Let’s stop it there. Our key sites have been target hardened; there is no sign of any weapon of mass destruction; we both believe that the terrorist cell and accomplices are here to create a diversion. We are agreed that our efforts should now be to find Benning and to see what we can obtain through our assets in MI6 and MI5. You will focus on China and through unofficial channels with the intelligence community in the United States. That is our line for the NSC this morning.”
“Special Events are hunting him in the UK but I am certain he has gone abroad to orchestrate this,” said the Head of MI6 “so we are looking overseas. We need to get to him first.” They both nodded and with that the meeting ended.
Chapter Twelve
The interior of the Jaguar XE became cold but both of them succumbed to sleep. About two hours later Fawzia woke up as the car door opened and shut. She slowly pulled herself upright to see Ray walking away towards the service station. The thought crossed her mind about going after him but within seconds he was obscured by thick fog and he clearly didn’t need her company. She peered through the windscreen. Visibility was down to about twenty metres. The swirling blanket must have descended while they slept.
As she gathered her thoughts, it struck her as odd that he hadn’t woken her. She checked around the dashboard and doors. It looked as though he had gone with both his phone and the keys. She felt stiff and her left arm was sore where she must have
slept on it. On impulse Fawzia decided to get out and stretch her legs. Maybe Ray had decided to get something to eat without disturbing her. Maybe he wanted to make a private phone call. Maybe he just wanted the toilet. Maybe.
She stood near the car and stretched and jogged on the spot to get warm. Only a couple of cars passed the parking bay over the next minute or so. The traffic on the motorway could be heard but she guessed the fog was slowing vehicles down from the rumble of the tyres. A pair of headlights suddenly appeared coming up the ramp. At the last minute a grey van emerged from the fog and swung into the lay-by. It wasn’t slowing.
Years of training kicked in. Within a second Fawzia turned and ran towards the cover of the trees. As she darted over the kerbside barrier, the air seemed to fill with the noise of metal hitting metal and the Jaguar was pitched forwards under the impact. Seconds passed and then through the fog came the distinctive dull sound of suppressed automatic gunfire.
She could hear the glass windows of the car splinter and fragment under a hail of bullets and the softer sound of splattering grass and mud behind her. Running low and weaving she wasn’t sure she had even taken breath after that initial gulp of oxygen to get out of the way. Her body felt de-sensitised to the point she didn’t feel the thorns grabbing at her ankles or thin branches whipping her face as she hit the bushes. The gunfire seemed to be directed off target to her right. “Thank God they haven’t got a clear sight on me” she thought. Less than five metres away young saplings were being carved into wood chips. She made towards a more mature tree to her left and flung her body behind it. As she rolled onto her back across its roots she reached, at last, for her holster. The gunfire was now reduced to short bursts sweeping in broad arcs. Every so often there was a pause as they reloaded and she wriggled on her stomach further into the woodland. It was hard to tell but they seemed reluctant to come after her into the undergrowth. Just as well. Her 9mm pistol with just one magazine was no match in firepower and she was clearly outnumbered. She had to get away.
Bullets whizzed over her head and large chunks of bark began flying off the pine tree ahead. She used the next pause in firing to fling herself forwards to where a small stream ran in the bottom of a ditch. It afforded better cover but her exit routes were now limited. She might have to fight it out after all if they spotted her position. Flicking off the safety on her pistol in a single deft movement she lay flat against the embankment and levelled it over the edge whilst looking for muzzle flashes. Nothing. The firing had ceased.
She held her breath and listened for movement. In that moment something in her brain clicked. The bag containing her tablet and all her briefing notes was on the rear seat of the Jaguar. “Crap” she muttered.
Fawzia knew that her attackers were either searching the woodland or had called it a day. Staying put had only been a temporary option whilst the air was thick with bullets. After checking for movement again she slid down into the ditch and scrambled along the bed of the stream heading away from the road. Around her the thick bushes and undergrowth gave way to more mature pine woods. Trained in covert operations the Major could evade pursuers with the best of them but the woodland was not that big and this one had only sparse bracken at ground level. She looked around and in the distance could see the hazy glow of lights of the services café and the filling station. Fawzia could have headed straight for them but they would be filled with innocent civilians who might get caught in crossfire. “I’m lucky it is foggy,” she thought.
Suddenly two figures appeared out of the mist ahead. They were walking away from her position on the bank of the stream. Both carried silenced machine pistols. They looked professional but their frantic searching movement betrayed they were in a hurry. That meant time was on her side. With luck she could have shot them both but she had no idea if there were others just a few yards away. She decided to try and circle left to flank them and then lie low. Slowly crawling out of the ditch she moved almost silently between the pine trees. The ground under her feet was soft and muddy and the carpet of needles helped deaden the sound of her footfall. For nearly five minutes she played cat and mouse as they executed a search pattern. Eventually she saw them turn away and hurry back into the mist towards the wrecked Jaguar. After a short and anxious wait she heard the doors of a car bang closed back on the slip road. She couldn’t distinguish an engine being started against the other traffic so couldn’t tell if the assailants had been driven away in another vehicle.
Cautiously she worked her way back to the slip road. It took nearly ten minutes. After each scurried dash to the next cover she waited and checked for signs of her attackers. There were none. Eventually she reached the scrub and bushes by the barrier to the lay-by. Both the Jaguar and the grey van were still there. The van, with its front smashed and wheels buckled, was empty with the nearside doors open. The Jaguar had its windows shot out but the bodywork was intact although the rear was crumpled badly from the impact. She crept forward and peered into the back of the car. She could see her bag was gone. The attackers had disappeared as quickly as they had come.
She holstered her pistol and set off to find Ray, slowly working through the cover of the evergreen bushes towards the services. There was no point staying with the car and she worried that he might have been ambushed as well. The lights of the motorway illuminated hundreds of cartridge cases on the tarmac. Carefully keeping cover, she skirted the fuel filling station and hid close to the entrance to the café and toilet facilities. It was busy but no one appeared to have heard the attack. On the pavement outside she could see a woman and two men animatedly looking at parked vehicles and the people moving around the service area. There were at least three other cars that looked suspicious. It was too dangerous to break cover. There was no sign of Ray. She needed to get away and report what had happened.
Fifty metres to her left she saw a flatbed truck. Two workmen in overalls were walking towards it, having just picked up breakfast baguettes and coffee. She kept out of sight, racing through the trees, and saw them climb into the cab at the front. The last twenty metres were in the glare of the car park floodlights but she darted across the space hoping the driver was not going to glance in the mirror. As the engine ignited in a clatter of diesel and a large puff of smoke at the back, Fawzia deftly swung herself into the open rear. Within seconds the vehicle moved off and she pulled a tarpaulin cover over her. An anxious moment passed as the truck reached the filling station but they drove on without refuelling. Lying on the hard metal floor curled between some bricks and the cement she was at least uninjured, on the move and away from the ambush site. The bad news was that the tablet had gone with all her notes. It was at that point her mind began to focus on who the hell had set her up and why Ray had disappeared.
Chapter Thirteen
Trent Powell had taken an early flight to Boston. Despite everything, he had a business to run and working in the first class cabin of a scheduled flight was as good as anywhere else. Lauren would use the private jet to join him later after a hectic round of meetings of her own. He settled down to go through a series of corporate finance reports and study a dossier on a new biometrics company that might become a target for acquisition.
He realised that the conversation with Lauren had carried both concern and a warning. She thought that the secretive technology arrangement with the Chinese had been a mistake. His only comfort lay in the fact it had not been his initial idea. In fact it had been the corporate deep analytics section, which she created, that had signed off the deal. Despite that, she had personally asked him to sort it and he had, perhaps foolishly, agreed. That meant he would now be held to account quite ruthlessly for dealing with the matter to her satisfaction.
Esterhazy Investment was very much a company of two halves. The public face was an innovative investment bank with an exciting portfolio of new technology companies that had seen significant growth and profits over the last fifteen years. Lauren had inherited the business from her father and transformed it into one of the qu
iet giants of corporate America. Trent had risen within that environment to become her trusted confident and chief operating officer. Since 2005, however, he had developed the lesser known side of the company, not only investing in, but actually buying and controlling small cutting edge companies. His success was hard earned and a combination of astute judgement and luck. His edge in the market over the last ten years, however, came from his partnership with the US National Security Agency. Recognising his success, it suited the NSA to sponsor and assist a private sector company that could develop, test and bring to market the various secret technologies of advanced defence programmes. Trent himself had a controlling interest in a number of the ventures and two years ago he had agreed with Lauren and the NSA to build a single scientific campus in a secure location in New England. It would act as an incubator for new business and create the synergy necessary to bring different technologies together and apply them in an innovative way. Yet the arrangement had its flaws. The NSA were over controlling and possessive. They imposed bureaucracy and red tape that might stifle the risk culture on which the campus was based. Worse still they syphoned ideas and profits prematurely with a short-term gain mentality. It had been frustration with these behaviours that had tempted them into the side deal with China. Now he was going to have to break the news to the Agency about that arrangement and ask for their help in dealing with the consequences.
From Boston he would drive north-west into the White Mountains to the new campus that had only become operational in the last few months. Not a scientist by training, nor indeed inclination, he was nevertheless fascinated by the power of the new technologies under development. He saw the huge profit potential but it was the ability to exercise control and influence that motivated him. In that he shared the same perspective as those he had met in the military and the security services. He knew they would be upset when he told them but fascinated by what had been developed from the work with the Chinese. Nevertheless the NSA would want something in return for helping him and he had yet to decide what he could offer.
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