System Shock Part 2

The heavy woodland continued for another hundred yards after the fence. Then it stopped abruptly, ending in a ragged scorch mark across the blackened ground. The cleared area was about fifty yards square. In its centre stood a grey metal box. The shuttle was functional rather than attractive, with heat s.h.i.+eld and engine cl.u.s.ters at one end, viewport and detectors at the other. The ragged scorch marks along the pitted hull betrayed the vehicle's age and frequent use.

Stabfield pulled a remote control from his jacket pocket. A single b.u.t.ton opened the shuttle's door, swinging it outwards and down so that the inner surface formed a set of steps up into the c.o.c.kpit. Stabfield clambered aboard and strapped himself in.

The radar jammer was continuously active, and Stabfield checked the scanners for air traffic above him. When he was sure he had not been observed, he gave confirmation of his destination to the flight computer and let it handle the lift off.

The functional grey short-range shuttle lifted ponderously into the air. A few rabbits ran for cover, startled by the noise 20 and by the dust cloud kicked up by the down-thrust. Then the woods were silent again.

'A most satisfactory outcome.' There was more than an element of relief in the Home Secretary's words.

'As good as we could reasonably have expected,' Andrews agreed. 'A pity about the two hostages, though.'

The Home Secretary brushed this off without comment. 'I think we need some sleep before the formal debriefmg,' she said. There was agreement from all round the table. The shadow Home Secretary and the Attorney General even broke off their whispered conversation to nod their consent.

'Good. Tomorrow morning then shall we say ten o'clock?'

She gathered up a few papers out of habit, and stood up.

'Thank you for your help and support. It's been an interesting few days.'

'I'll pa.s.s that on shall I?' Andrews' words caught her at the door. 'The thanks, I mean to the people involved on the ground.'

'Please do.' She hesitated a moment longer before opening the door. 'I'm sorry, General, I'm rather tired. We all appreciate the work that's been put in, especially by the SAS team. If you pa.s.s the word round, we'll arrange something more formal once we've recovered.'

Andrews waited until everyone else had left. Then he went to the telephone on the desk at the back of the room. He made two calls. The first was to his wife. The second one was to an unlisted number in Hereford.

He had stopped using the lift when he left work, although he was not sure why. It seemed more of an instinctive thing in the same way he was listening to less music. And hardly eating or drinking. Still, if nothing else the exercise did him good, he reflected as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

He had arranged to meet Lewis in the upstairs bar of the Chandos, just round the corner from St Martin-in-the-Fields.

He used to find the comfort of the leather sofas relaxing, though he was less inclined to such comforts now. Then later he had to see Peterson whom he loathed to tell him ... To 21 tell him something important. It would come to him, whatever it was. Perhaps Lewis would know.

Lewis was already there, sitting in the darkest corner with a gla.s.s of fruit juice untouched on the table in front of him.

Lewis never drank or at least, he had never seen him drink.

He ordered a gin and tonic out of habit and joined Lewis in the corner.

'A great success,' Marc Lewis said quietly. 'We're very pleased.'

And at once he remembered what the meeting was about what his task had been and what his purpose now was. The couple at the next table broke up into sudden laughter, leaning back in their seats and slopping their drinks alarmingly.

'Yes,' he replied, 'a very useful study. Such feedback from a real-life situation is far more effectual than extrapolation and ball park figuring.' Part of his mind was surprised not recognizing the form of his words and rejecting the jargon. The rest of it was intent on Lewis's input.

'I hear what you're saying,' Lewis said.

The other man both relished the praise and worried that the phrase meant nothing.

Lewis leaned forward. 'So now we can proceed. You remember what you must do next?'

He nodded. He remembered. He closed his eyes for a while to concentrate on his next work item. And when he opened them, Lewis had gone, his drink left untouched on the table.

There was a moment's pause in the ambience as the juke box moved on to another anodyne track. Then the sounds around him kicked in again and life continued.

He reached for his gin and took a sip. It was bitter in the back of his mouth and he almost choked on it. The very thought of allowing liquid or food to enter his body was nauseating. The very fact that his body was dependent on external substances for sustenance was suddenly sickening to the point he could feel the bile rising in his near-empty stomach.

He was still coughing when Peterson arrived. 'You all right, old man?' Peterson asked. 'Should take more tonic with it.' He added as he administered a badly aimed thump on the back.

22.Then frowning, as if surprised at the rigidity of the surface his hand had slapped, Peterson sat down on the opposite couch. He sank into the leather, and the table edged away from him to make room.

The coughing subsided, and Peterson examined the gla.s.s of fruit juice. 'We expecting company?' The disdain was evident in his tone as he ran a hand through his thinning hair. 'Or is this for me,' Peterson added as an afterthought, wiping his greasy hand on his trouser leg.

'No it's not for you. And yes, we are expecting company.'

He smiled. 'Or at least, you are I have to be going.'

'Oh?'

'But there's someone I wanted you to meet.'

Peterson smiled. 'Always glad to make new contacts. Life and blood of the ministry, new contacts. Not what you know, but who you know eh?'

'Indeed.' He stood up, already tired of Peterson's cliches.

'Drink?'

'Thought you'd never ask. Vodka and lime, with ice.'

He made for the bar quickly, coughing into his handkerchief to disguise his retching. Now even the coughing was upsetting him another infuriating and nauseating bodily failing. He waited for a while as the barman served his friends.

Peterson was all too obviously watching two young women at a nearby table when he returned drink at arm's length.

Peterson took it and raised the gla.s.s in mock salute. 'Thanks, old man.'

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Peterson drinking and watching the women chatting, smoking, laughing. The other man sat virtually still, his gin and tonic sitting just within reach on the table between them.

He could tell she had arrived when Peterson's jaw dropped slightly. She had come up the stairs on the opposite side of the bar, and walked the length of the room to get to them.

Peterson, facing into the room, watched her all the way. She was wearing a short skirt and a tight blouse. She had high heels and her red hair was loose, curling about her shoulders. When she sat down opposite him, Peterson visibly flinched.

23.Then she kissed the other man on the cheek. 'h.e.l.lo, darling,'

she said in a voice that sounded like brushed silk. 'Who's this gorgeous friend of yours,' she asked as she surveyed Peterson's portly form across the table.

'This is Clive Peterson. He works in the Ministry of Information Technology.'

'Mmm that sounds exciting.' She held out her hand just far enough for Peterson to have to half rise to reach it. He made the not inconsiderable effort.

'Clive, this is Eleanor Jenkins.' He watched Peterson reluctantly relinquish his grip on Eleanor's hand. 'Look after her, won't you Peterson she's an old friend.'

'Not that old, surely,' Peterson smarmed.

He was tempted to admit that he had never met her before, just seen her photograph. Instead he stood up and said: 'I'm afraid I have to leave now you know how things are.'

Peterson was understanding. 'Of course, old man. I a.s.sume you were involved in er,' he lowered his voice to a normal volume, 'you know. Great work, by the way. Really showed 'em.'

Eleanor rose and hugged him hard, just like an old friend.

'What a shame. But I'm sure we'll find lots to talk about, won't we Clive?'

He left them to it. Peterson offering her a drink, and Eleanor espousing the obvious advantages of getting a bottle rather than just a little gla.s.s of champagne. He had a headache coming on, needed the fresh air.

He paused on the Strand, disoriented. He was sure there was something important he had to do, but he could not remember what. In the distance a clock struck nine. It was later than he thought he could have sworn he only called in at the office for a couple of minutes after the meeting broke up.

24.

02.

Involvement

Kevin Sutcliffe was using a torch. Partly this was the usual intruder's caution at showing too much light, and partly it was because he wanted to keep away from the switches. The torch cast a dim oval of light across the pale blue walls of the windowless, box-like office. The basic pieces of office equipment became fearsome silhouettes, rearing up like snakes.

He had picked the lock to the office without much trouble he had done it several times before. But those occasions had been dry runs when he stood little chance of being caught. This was the real thing, and he was shaking like James Bond's martini.

He checked his watch again. They had given it to him when he started several months ago. It was digital of course everything to do with I2 was digital. He had spent only three minutes searching, yet it seemed like he had been there most of his life.

It was not on the desk. He had been through the papers and the file trays twice, making sure he kept well clear of the telephone and the desktop personal computer. But he knew it was there somewhere. He had seen Stabfield showing it to Lewis in his office. Sutcliffe had hidden in the storeroom next to Stabfield's office, ear pressed against the thin part.i.tion wall.

The thinness of the walls was one of the few benefits to him of the open-plan configuration of the main office area with its modular rooms erected at random round the edge. He had caught enough of the conversation between Stabfield and Lewis to know roughly what was happening, and to know what he had to do.

25.A sound across the other side of the main office area startled him, and he ducked down behind Stabfield's desk. He killed the torch and held his breath. A flexible desk lamp loomed over him like a cobra poised to strike. Sutcliffe watched it carefully, but it did not move and the sound did not come again. After a while he relaxed, took a deep breath and set about breaking into the drawers of the desk.

The lock resisted his attempts to open it. It was electronic, with a slot for a magnetic card. Sutcliffe knew it was based on a German design, and that there would be only one magnetic key. He stroked his thin beard, and looked round for something to force open the drawer. 'Problems, problems,' he muttered.

The main drawer of the desk was easily levered out with the promotional paperknife. Like his watch, the knife was a free gift from the company, complete with I2 logo engraved on its plastic presentation case. He shone the torch inside the drawer.

It was empty apart from a compact disc.

Sutcliffe snapped open the slip case and popped out the disc inside. Like most recordable CD-ROMs, neither side was labelled. It had been no trouble to find an identical one to replace it with. He stuffed the CD into his inside coat pocket.

Then the lights came on.

It took a while for his eyes to adjust from the dim light of the torch to the painful brightness of the fluorescent strips. He could vaguely make out two blurred shapes standing in the doorway, one with its arm extended to the lightswitch. He had not heard them enter perhaps they had been there all along.

The image cleared, and Lewis took his hand off the switch and smiled, his face cracking across. Johanna Slake was standing beside him in the doorway, her head slightly angled so that the black ash hair that framed it fell away from one perfect ear. It was a stance at once accusing and mocking.

'Mr Sutcliffe from the Publicity unit, I do believe.' Lewis knew very well who he was exactly who he was. 'Perhaps I can help you. Were you looking for something?'

Had they seen him take the CD? Or had they arrived after he pocketed it?

'Er yes yes, I was that is ...' Sutcliffe moved closer to them, closer to the door, as he bl.u.s.tered.

26.'Yes?' prompted Lewis.

'I was running an overnight test case on the latest OffNet driver. You know, helping out. My LAN connection went down some software problem as usual. Always problems. I thought maybe the one in here was still working.'

'So you thought you'd try Mr Stabfield's PC.'

'Yeah.'

'In his locked office.'

Sutcliffe shrugged, using the gesture to edge closer still. 'It wasn't locked, actually.'

'A machine with a power-on pa.s.sword like all the machines here.'

Johanna was still blocking the doorway, her hands in her jacket pockets. But she stepped forward, into the room, as she added: 'Without any lights.'

'Hey,' Sutcliffe took a step forward and spread his hands in a pretence of innocence, palms open towards her. 'I couldn't find the switch.' He continued the gesture, bringing his hand up to point to the light switch between Johanna and Lewis. Then he leaped forward and the room was plunged into sudden darkness.

Just as fast, Sutcliffe pulled away. He grinned as he heard them try to grab at him and find each other instead. He ran for the s.p.a.ce he hoped the doorway occupied, caught his shoulder painfully on the frame, and slammed the door behind him.

Almost immediately he heard the door being thrown open again. He ran towards the emergency exit sign, cras.h.i.+ng through the door and bounding down the dimly lit concrete stairs beyond. Above and behind him the lights came on again they would know the way he had gone and be after him. He paused slightly as the staircase turned back on itself, glared at the security camera swinging round to follow him. But there was nothing he could do in the seconds he had, so he carried on down the stairs, taking them three at a time and bouncing off the artex of the side wall as he went.

The street was as quiet as any in the London evening. The relative calm was smashed by the juddering crash of an emergency exit door being slammed back on its hinges.

27.Sutcliffe glanced behind him no sign of anyone yet. Then he made for the grey 'R' registration Vauxhall Cavalier parked on a double yellow line several hundred yards away.

He clicked the alarm off while still running. The sidelights flashed rea.s.suringly at him as he reached the car and sprawled over the bonnet. The simple electronic response made the car seem almost alive seem as if it were opening its eyes as he approached. And with this half-consciously in mind he pulled away.

Behind him he heard a door close. A worryingly unhurried noise. He yanked open the car door and pushed the key into the ignition. But instead of getting into the car, he pulled the seatbelt down and leaned across to clip it into place over the empty seat. Then he turned the key one click, and rolled down the window. He paused momentarily to turn on the headlights, then shut the car door.

Footsteps high heels on pavement from round the corner.

Slake was coming from the main entrance in Albion Road.

Sutcliffe turned the key the full distance. The engine caught first time, and he ran.

Johanna Slake heard the car start as she reached the corner of the building. She smiled as she caught sight of the Cavalier the engine was running, the headlights s.h.i.+ning directly at her. She waited, one hand on her hip, the other still in her jacket pocket.

The car began to move slowly forward, heading in a dead straight line. It gathered speed, and she could imagine the driver struggling with the wheel, stamping uselessly on the brake. She crossed the road as the vehicle came towards her, heard with satisfaction the central locking activate as the car changed into second gear and hurled itself forward.

Lewis emerged from the emergency exit at the foot of the stairwell. Slake saw him, but she did not move or speak. Lewis had already seen her. They both watched the car as it bounced up the kerb and smashed itself into the side wall of the Regatta Bank building opposite the I2 main office. It exploded in flames almost immediately, rolling back several feet from the wall.