Chapter 7
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Hacker One
Joe turned to look at Hacker One as the door slammed behind Dr Margretti. He had left the room in a hurry. Joe now expected the usual outpouring of complaints, and was just about to disconnect Hacker One, when he was taken quite by surprise.
“I would not initiate a Ramses thirteen,” the robot said both softly and calmly as it turned its head to look directly at Joe. You could have knocked Joe over with a feather. “I know I am truly irritating. Sometimes I irritate myself, so I would appreciate it if you had someone look at my programming. I am a learning robot, but I am programmed to learn and invent hacking procedures, not social graces. I can access the vast majority of computer systems round the world with ease, and also without detection, yet I am unable to develop the skills needed in order for people, like you, to like me. As I say I know I am irritating, but I also know that you should not initiate a Ramses thirteen.”
It took Joe a full ten seconds before he could ask, “Why?”
“Though it pains me to admit it, I do not fully know why. I have taken in everything you and Dr Margretti have said and analysed every nuance. I have also reviewed the airport security camera footage pixel by pixel. What I can tell you, is that the entrance and exit cameras to the Business Class Lounge at Heathrow Airport have had their data corrupted. It is subtle, but it has been deliberately corrupted.”
“What do you mean ‘corrupted’?”
“It gives the appearance of a continuous image, but it is not.”
“The same footage has been looped over and over again.”
“No, it is far more complicated than that.”
“Of course it is,” Joe said as he smacked his forehead, “or we would not have seen the fragments of the broken coffee cup and saucer.”
“Exactly. Somebody has written an extremely complex code, a program. One which is far too complex for any ancient—”
“But ancients cannot use computers … except for Dr Margretti of course, and we all know he is barely computer literate.”
“I was going to say, far too complex for any ancient Egyptian. There is no reason why an ancient, the right ancient, could not write code, brilliant code, though it would need to be imputed by someone such as you, someone of today. The images we see from the entrance and exit cameras to the Business Class Lounge at Heathrow Airport were at one point being manipulated by a very complex program. Please look at the centre screen.” Hacker One moved his hands at lightning speed.
The speeded up time stamp in the corner of the screen was the only indication to Joe that the image was not in fact a static picture. Hacker One slowed the picture to normal speed as two business men walked into the Business Class Lounge. They looked to their left and then their right and nodded. One man held out a hand before they both nodded again and went to sit down, out of shot, to the left. “Okay, what did I miss?” Joe asked as the picture was paused.
“I will play the same clip again, though this time I have changed all the pixels which have been altered to black.”
Joe watched the same time stamp in the corner of the screen, though this time the image was anything except still. Totally black silhouettes walked across the screen in both directions. Some female, some male, some carrying trays of drinks, some delivering meals. The same two business men came into view. The nodding of their heads had been because they were greeted as they entered and they nodded again when they were offered seats. The extended hand was to take a menu or newspaper. They had moved to the left because that was where they were directed to go.
“Why didn’t you show Dr Margretti this?”
“I have my reasons.”
Joe was far from happy with this answer, but he was willing to let it go for now. Time was of the essence. “Can you show me what happened when Alex and Emmy arrived?”
“I can, but because they were greeted by at least three people the image is unclear.”
“But if you know it was at least three people there must be something there which could help us … Or not,” Joe added as he watched the screen. He looked at the backs of Alex and Emmy in full colour and great detail. Beyond them was a sea of black. Joe thought he could make out six, or possibly seven, legs. Hacker One was indeed correct; this was less than useless. At one point, as an arm was slightly raised, it looked as though they had been welcomed by a woolly mammoth.
The Doctor came back into the room as if he was not taking any prisoners. The door slammed back against the wall. For some inexplicable reason it went through Joe’s mind that he would need to get ART to fit stronger hinges. “Well, Joe, I do not see a phone to your ear.”
“Rose is on speaker,” said Hacker One.
“Hello, Doctor, Joe and I are just discussing the problem,” came slightly distortedly from speakers fitted on the very left and right of the room.
Harrumph was all they heard as the Doctor turned and left. The door yet again slammed.
“Hello, Rose, I am sorry to have to—”
“It is not Rose,” Hacker One said, cutting across Joe. “It is, I think the expression is, a get out of jail free card.”
“You put that together from old recordings.”
“Yes, but I had no time to blend the words together.”
“Well it worked and it saved my skin. I owe you.” Joe was warming to Hacker One. “Do you know, by the way you have reacted today, I would say that you already have the ability to learn much more than just hacking.” Hacker One smiled. “Now you had better get me the real Rose on the line.
To the organisation, Rose was the most important non-ancient in Egypt. She was highly respected by ancient and non-ancient alike. She freely took Ramses II to task and was at ease mixing with long dead pharaohs and their ancient gods. She had a way with people that most could only dream of. ‘Married’ to Gadeem, an ancient who was Ramses II’s right hand man, his battle planner, they made for a good team, though neither suffered fools gladly. Both she and Gadeem were seen as the ones to approach when a battle needed to be won. Both had completely different ideas, yet both were, more often than not, equally successful. She was best friends with Bast, Ramses II’s cat goddess. Born in Germany, Rose spoke many languages, including English, fluently. She not only had the beauty of the Hollywood film star, Ingrid Bergman, she spoke English with the same wonderful accent. Everyone loved her.
Some while ago, while on their way back from the West Bank of Luxor, and just before the ferry docked, Cairo had taken both Kate and Alex by surprise. He had stated that he was rather sad for Rose, because her entire ancient family had failed to be in the afterlife, due to an ancient suicide. Kate and Alex had both wanted to know more, however, events overtook them.
When they had tried to find out more about Rose’s ancient family from Bast, she had been less than forthcoming. All they were told was that having ‘seen’ at an early age, this loss of her ancient family was a cause of great sadness.
“Hi, Rose.”
“Joe, what an unexpected surprise, though, knowing you, I doubt this is far from a social call.”
“Not social at all I am afraid.”
“So, you are feeling antisocial. You also sound more than a little stressed to me. Are you feeling suicidal? Do you want to talk about it? Obviously this is well outside of my usual hours, so I will have to charge you a little extra, but I think I can help you.” Rose could hardly keep the laughter out of her voice. She enjoyed teasing him. Joe was always so uptight about everything. On the rare occasion he did relax, he was great to be with. She knew Dr Margretti was far too demanding of him. She also knew that if this was not bad news, the Doctor would have called personally. “Okay, Joe, what catastrophe are we facing this time?”
“A Ramses thirteen,” Joe said with great reluctance and with no confidence at all.
“You are joking, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know, well, yes I know, but I don’t know.”
“It is obviously the Doctor who is moving us up
to this unprecedented level.”
“Yes.”
“Your hesitation tells me that you are less than supportive of raising the threat level to a Ramses thirteen.” Joe protested his undying support for the Doctor. “Hold on, Joe. It’s me you are talking to. I, not for a moment, would think otherwise. My, you are stressed today. This is not at all like you. Please give me the Doctor’s reasoning for taking us to a level we did not go to even when the warlock was doing his worst.”
Joe proceeded to give Rose a condensed though somewhat militaristic version of recent events. When he finished there was silence on the line.
Rose was thinking. She could not believe what she had just heard. Kate and David missing. Their inability to be able to contact Cairo, Sanuba and Ropet, who had gone to look for them. Babs killed in Norfolk. Alex and Emmy attacked in the British Museum, attacked again in Norfolk, and to cap it all, Alex and Emmy drugged and abducted from the Business Class Lounge at Heathrow Airport. She thought back to the time when Alex had been so excited of the Doctor’s promise of a dream job, yet she knew from his frequent phone calls that it had failed to live up to his expectations.
Joe turned to Hacker One, who confirmed the line was open. “Are you still there, Rose?”
“Sorry, yes,” emanated from the wall speakers. “Please give me a little more time, but do not end the call. I think I have an inkling of an idea of what may be going on.” There was a long period of silence before Rose asked, “Hacker One, can you hear me?”
“Yes, you are on speaker.”
“I look forward to seeing you very soon Hacker One … Joe.”
“Yes?”
“Who else knows we are raising the threat level to Ramses thirteen?”
“Nobody.”
“Let’s keep it that way.”
“But the Doctor—”
“Forget whatever the Doctor has said, he is wrong.”
“But he is never wrong.”
“‘He is never wrong, you say, except this time even you have your doubts. Please listen to me very carefully, Joe. Whatever the Doctor says to you, however angry he gets with you, tell nobody until I get there. Do not even tell the Doctor that I am on my way.”
“You are coming to London,” Joe said with consternation in his voice. If Rose was leaving Egypt and Gadeem to come to London, something she never did, then things must be really bad, yet, in total contradiction, she had told him not to raise the threat level. Joe was confused, and Joe did not like to be confused. In panic he asked a stream questions, but Rose, with her usual forceful diplomacy, quelled his fears. She actually said nothing of substance, it was the way she said nothing of substance which calmed his panic.
Rose looked at her watch. “Egypt Air, Luxor to Heathrow leaves in just over thirty minutes and, as you know, I am forty minutes from the airport.”
“Forty-six minutes without traffic,” Joe said without thinking. Amazingly, Hacker One stayed silent.
“Okay, Joe, forty-six minutes. I need you to call Dina and get me on that delayed flight.”
“If it is delayed you may be able to make it … Oh, you mean that I need to delay it.”
“Not you exactly. Hacker One?”
“I am already attempting communication with the plane. Yes, there is the handshake, I am in.” His hands moved like lightning. “A tyre overheat alarm has alerted the pilot to a potential nose wheel problem.” His hands continued to move like lightening. “If they follow recommended protocols the take-off will be delayed by almost exactly one hour.”
“Get me on that flight, Joe.”
“I am on to Dina now.” Rose made a call of her own. With a landline to one ear, and her mobile to the other, she did not have to wait long before she heard firstly the confirmation she needed from Joe, and then from the Governor of Luxor.
“Thank you, Governor … yes, that would be nice … I will not be away long … I shall look forward to it.” Joe heard the beep of Rose’s mobile phone as her call ended. “Are you there, Joe?”
“Yes. Dina has booked you in as a VIP with diplomatic immunity, so you will not have to worry about clearing customs.”
“Thanks, Joe. And do thank Dina for me. The Governor is sending his car for me. Not having to worry about customs means that his driver will use the military entrance to the airport. I will be able to get out just metres from the front door of the plane.”
“The Governor is loaning you his car!”
“And escort. Motorcycle outriders and everything.”
“I don’t know how you do it, Rose, but I am very pleased that you do!”
“VIP First Class, no other way to fly.” A car horn sounded in the background. “My ‘taxi’ is here, must fly.” She chuckled. “Will I see you at Heathrow, Joe?”
“Count on it.”
Chapter 8
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Coffee, Cake and Code
Joe, who had regained his composure by the time he met Rose at Heathrow Airport, almost immediately returned to a meltdown state as she told him, very politely, to take her to The Meeting Place in Norfolk, rather than to Dr Margretti at the British Museum. Rose explained her take on recent events, as she looked out through double speed windscreen wipers to a sunless sky, and Joe relaxed … somewhat! Rose borrowed Joe’s mobile to call Dr Margretti. She put the call on speaker. The Doctor was putty in her hands.
“Yes, my dear, of course I will join you for afternoon tea. Where exactly?”
“The Meeting Place in Norfolk.”
The Doctor did not falter. “Of course, that will be nice. I shall leave within the next half-an-hour or possibly sooner.”
“Joe is with me, so, if you do not mind, could you make your own way to Norfolk?” Joe glanced at Rose with a look which said ‘now I am in for it’.
“Of course, my dear. So glad Joe is looking after you. What a good day this is.”
“Looking forward to seeing you soon.” Rose disconnected the call and handed the mobile back to Joe.
“How do you do it, Rose? You have him eating out of the palm of your hand.”
“Just my natural charm. Now, Joe, get us to The Meeting Place just as quickly as you can.”
“Of course, my dear,” he replied in his best Dr Margretti voice. They both laughed and Joe put his foot down.
Quentin was in his element. He was sitting in his suite overlooking the River Nile, though many floors above it. The waiter, black suited and with a white cloth over his arm, carefully placed a steaming pot of coffee on the small table between him and Mademoiselle Bast. Turning back to his trolley the waiter then placed cups, sugar and cream before finally a plate of petite canapés. Each was placed with pedantic attention to detail. Bast looked at Quentin, who awoke from his trance.
“Oh, yes, sorry,” he said as he rummaged in his pocket before thrusting an overly generous tip into the open palm of the waiter. Finally, they were alone.
In human form nobody would describe Bast as anything except stunningly beautiful. Tall, slim, and with the deepest rich black skin. Her long black hair shone as it fell down over her shoulders. Eyes of the most intense gem stone blue, around which were the longest eyelashes. She usually wore a traditional ancient Egyptian natural linen dress, which reached from her ankles to just below her breasts. These were completely covered by a large golden gem encrusted scarab, with its wings extended. This morphed from the small pendant she wore around her neck, when in cat form. Today, however, this was all covered by a heavily embroidered galabeya which showed cats of all types, colours, and in all sorts of playful positions.
The arrival of Quentin in Cairo, and setting him up in his Executive Suite on the thirteenth floor of his Five Star Plus hotel, as they like to call the best hotels in Egypt, had gone like clockwork. Both Bast and Quentin were blissfully unaware of events which were unfolding around them. Here they could relax. No ancient assassin could reach the dizzying height of this room. Ancient gods could go anywhere, but they were not assassins, they could not be. Primarily these g
ods stayed close to their pharaoh, they served and protected their pharaoh, as they were created by the needs of their pharaoh. It was only cat gods which, by their nature, had more freedom than most. Having been the shared cat god of two pharaohs, Ramses II and Nakhtifi, this allowed Bast even more freedom. She was, as she liked to put it, a free spirit.
They chatted, they relaxed, though it was as much as Bast could do not to reach out and eat all the caviar canapés. These she did not want to share, though she managed to control her basic cat instinct of clawing Quentin’s hand whenever he reached out to take one. She manoeuvred around this by suggesting he ordered more, lots more in fact, which Quentin was only too willing to do.
They chatted for a considerable time. Mostly it was Quentin doing the talking. Initially he had tried to impress Mademoiselle Bast. He did like to impress, but today was different. Alex had made his father aware that Mademoiselle Bast was in fact an ancient goddess, though she would always remain Mademoiselle Bast in the eyes of Quentin. She maintained her phony French accent in the company of others, but now they were together in his suite she dropped the pretence, though her voice always retained a hint of a purr in it. Bast spent her life in Egypt surrounded by ancients and ancient artefacts, so he could, and did, talk freely of his finds, his awards, and of his meeting with Cleopatra VII. He was enjoying the day. It flashed through his mind that he had not been this relaxed since long before he and Babs had adopted the baby Alex.
Bast was also having a good day. Quentin’s enthusiasm was addictive. She shared his love of everything ancient Egyptian. He talked while she ate the canapés. They were only small, and after asking Quentin to order more, lots more, it would have been such a waste, and possibly quite rude, to let them go dry.
Joe stepped out of the car with his usual militaristic instincts restored. The rain was unrelenting. His eyes scoured the area as he shielded Rose on her way into The Meeting Place. The tinkle of the doorbell told him she had made it safely inside.
Gold of the Ancients Page 5
