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Prediction

Page 18

by Tony Batton


  Nothing happened.

  "IT genius?" Michael said. "Sure about that?"

  Millie frowned, then made a tutting sound before sliding a switch. "I didn't think there was a power switch, but there you go." The screen flickered, then streamed green characters on a black background. "This might take a while. It's decided to perform a full self-diagnosis. But it's a good sign." She picked up her mug of tea. "I don't normally have an audience for this type of thing."

  "I appreciate you letting me stay."

  "Maybe I'm trying to butter you up. Hoping you'll put in a good word with your firm."

  "They just want you to stop hacking their client. And you do not want to mess with us."

  "I know. You really think I didn't look them up the moment you left the café?"

  "Them you look up. Me you ignore."

  "Do you find the ego helps with your job?"

  "Yes. I do," Michael replied. "But you’re one to talk. Why not find a softer target than ZAT? Are you just trying to show off?"

  "Let’s focus on the task in hand. What do you think was so special about this Project Darwin?"

  "I only found out about it an hour ago."

  "Oh yeah." She turned to the laptop, peering at the screen. "It's not in a hurry. So, if not Darwin, maybe you could tell me about your father and the work he did?"

  Michael shook his head. "It was a long time ago, and I was just a kid. Plus my Mum doesn't like talking about him. Probably because he killed himself."

  Millie blinked. "From my research he was a programmer of some repute. But I think he went beyond programming and designed some new type of computer system. Something sophisticated and incredibly valuable. He was in discussions with ZAT’s CEO, Gregory Jenson, to commercialise it."

  "Darwin?"

  "It was an early venture into quantum computing and predictive search – way ahead of its time. If only we had some way of getting into the ZAT building. From inside I’d have a proper chance of hacking their systems." She tipped her head to one side. "Any ideas?"

  "Are you suggesting I help you? I’d get arrested."

  "Only if you got caught. This could be incredibly important, and you are uniquely placed to do it."

  He hesitated. "You know, instead of breaking and entering, I could always just ask my mother."

  "You haven’t already?"

  The laptop beeped loudly and a password screen appeared. "Progress." Millie reached over to her other desk and picked up a tablet computer.

  "I don't know the password."

  Millie's mouth curled in a smile. "Fifteen years ago that would have presented an impregnable doorway to the laptop’s secrets. But that was then, this is now. Heard of Moore's Law? "

  "Yes. Although not the kind of law I usually deal with."

  "With computers exponentially more powerful now than fifteen years ago, our battle against the password won't be a 'fair fight'." She plugged a cable into the tablet, then took the other end, which separated into two electrodes, and prodded them into connections on either side of the older machine. "I'm stressing the processor by applying slightly too much power, while simultaneously targeting it with a brute-force attack. We deluge it with millions upon millions of password combinations, starting with obvious solutions, and working from there." She pressed a key.

  It took just under three seconds. A string of text and numbers appeared on the screen of the tablet. She looked at it, laughed, then held it up for Michael to see.

  "mikeadams1234. Not exactly password best practice." Her fingers flickered over the old laptop's keyboard and the screen went dark again. Then it lit up to show a basic computer desktop. "We're in."

  Michael watched as Millie navigated through some email records and miscellaneous admin, then found a file labelled confidential. Within was a folder labelled Darwin System.

  She clicked on the folder. "Damn it, encrypted."

  "Can you just force it again with those electrodes?"

  "That was just the startup routine. This encryption is part of the full OS, and it’s considerably more robust." She tapped away at the keyboard, then frowned. "Added to which there’s an anti-tamper mechanism to prevent a mirror back-up of the drive. So whatever we do we need to get it right or we’ll lose everything. This is going to require some work."

  "You're not just trying to read it in private?"

  "If I didn't want you to read it, there are easier ways to achieve that. But don’t you see? The fact that it even exists is huge."

  "Although the project was terminated."

  "According to some random deep-web search. Maybe they passed the tech to another project, something hidden from general company reporting. We’d find it hard to trace."

  "You’re suggesting it was developed further?"

  "It’s a possibility. People like that will do anything to avoid paying royalties to inventors. Or their widows."

  "That’s quite a series of assumptions and guesses."

  "Then let’s turn them into facts. You're inside ZAT. I'm sure there will be records. Maybe they're using the Darwin technology today."

  "Why would I risk that?"

  Millie raised an eyebrow. "Your father may have been conned out of a fortune. Maybe you should run that past your mother?"

  "It will just upset her. This just feels wrong." Michael stood up and walked over to the window. "And to be frank I think you’re just stringing me along, spouting noble notions of seeking the truth, telling me what I want to hear, all to further your own exploits."

  "That’s not true. Listen, I can—"

  "I just wanted some simple answers to some simple questions." He shook his head. "Coming here was a mistake. I’m going home."

  Opposite Millie’s apartment block, Cory Ashcroft sat in his ten-year-old grey Ford Focus, pretending to read an article on his tablet while surreptitiously watching the building’s main doors. A young man appeared, pulling on his coat, then walking off towards the Tube station. Cory swallowed hard.

  Michael.

  Cory wanted to run after him. He wanted to put an end to all the lies, to the years of subterfuge. But given the stakes, this wasn’t the moment to do anything hasty; because now he had a new task to attend to: working out who exactly this Millie Wright was, and why she was in touch with Michael. Was she a girlfriend? A work contact? Or something more nefarious? He would certainly be finding out.

  Fifty-Six

  Once Michael left, Millie worked on his father’s laptop into the early hours, but the encryption did not yield. After a few hours' sleep, she decided to phone in sick to work, then nipped out to acquire breakfast. Returning with egg muffins and coffee, she stepped from the lift and walked towards her front door.

  It was ajar. And she had most definitely not left it that way.

  She moved closer, listening, but heard nothing. Should she go in and investigate? Should she call for help first?

  "Please, come in, Millie," called a man’s voice from inside. "It’s quite safe."

  She frowned then pushed the door open. "I have a baseball bat."

  "Of course you do. In the lounge."

  Millie walked through and found a man in his fifties wearing a grey suit and brown shoes, sat cross-legged on her sofa. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  MI5 Director Warwick Saxton uncrossed his legs. "I was waiting outside, but then two different people asked me what I was doing. At that point I thought it might be better if I stopped drawing attention to myself. It is my usual preference."

  "So you broke in?"

  "I picked the lock. My days in the field haven’t been completely forgotten."

  "You could have just messaged me. I hear nothing from anyone in your office for twelve months and then you just turn up?"

  "You made it pretty clear you didn’t want to be contacted."

  "A position I have not changed." She glanced around. "Have you got a team with you?"

  "I’m here alone. There’s something I want your opinion on." He unlocked a dull grey tab
let computer and handed it to her. "You usually have a valuable perspective."

  "Last time you said I was using my skills purely for my own gain."

  "You were. Now shut up and read."

  Millie looked at the screen and hesitated. "This file is above my level of security clearance. Or it would be if I still had one."

  "You’ve been elevated. Read it."

  She skimmed the first few pages then looked up. "Kinek Consulting? Not heard of them."

  "They do covert research. They’re very good at it. But it seems they’re also good at hiding themselves."

  Millie flicked through more pages. "Why are you showing me this?"

  "Five days ago, I met with Kinek to discuss a background check on Gregory Jenson."

  "Why go external? And why run a check on Jenson now?"

  "I’ll get to that. There was, obviously, particular sensitivity."

  "And did they find anything?"

  "No. But that's not the issue. The representative I dealt with – his name was Morton – dropped a comment indicating he was aware of a top-secret government project. This prompted me to re-run background checks on Kinek as a precaution. And apparently Kinek does not exist."

  "They ceased trading?"

  "They’ve never existed." Saxton drummed his fingers on the coffee table. "That’s why I’m here."

  Millie frowned. "Last time we spoke, you fired me. And that was the polite part of the conversation."

  "I didn’t fire you. I terminated your consulting contract."

  "Same difference."

  "I wouldn’t ask this lightly. The agency has been compromised and the usual procedures aren’t appropriate because they’re attempting to compromise me. A combination of threats and temptation." He paused. "Mostly threats."

  "Then you should immediately report yourself."

  "I’m well aware of what I’m supposed to do. But I’m also sure that is exactly what they want. I think Kinek is a much larger organisation than I had understood, with much grander plans. They know how to find information, and they know how to use it to achieve their ends."

  "Why would they want to remove you specifically?"

  "A classified project I’m running. They’ve already asked that I cancel it."

  She rubbed her temples with her index fingers. "It’s Parallel, isn’t it? You’ve restarted it."

  His face went pale. "How could you possibly know—"

  "Why else would you be running a check on Jenson or talking to me? I hardly needed to run a Big Data analysis to spot that pattern."

  "You’re right. Except now it's being cancelled again."

  Millie gave a snort. "Can nobody make up their mind?"

  "You misunderstand me. Kinek have told me to cancel it. They say they have other clients with overlapping interests. If I don’t play ball, they will release information that would compromise both Gregory Jenson and myself. I’ve already instructed Jenson of the cancellation decision. I’m fairly sure he intends to challenge it."

  "No doubt. Did you tell him about Kinek?"

  "Of course not. The fewer people who know, the better."

  "So they’ve already made you lie."

  He raised an eyebrow. "I’ve spent twenty years in the intelligence business; it’s hardly the first time. I’m more concerned that this incident won't be the end. If Kinek have done this once, they will do it again."

  "So what do you want me to do?"

  "Use your special toolkit to work out what’s going on."

  "Do you not have a team of specialists in this type of research?"

  "I have no idea who I can trust. I’m not sure whether this is an isolated incident or the tip of the iceberg. I’m not ruling anything out at this point."

  "Yet you trust me?"

  He gave a sigh. "I’m in this situation because old-fashioned thinking has led me to be outmaneuvered by an enemy I do not understand. I need a new solution, based on an entirely different approach. I need you." Saxton held out a secure hard-drive. "Everything we have about Kinek is on here. Much of it is unverified, but it should give you some leads you could not have found independently. Take this and evolve it into something comprehensive. I want to know everything about them."

  Millie took the drive and hefted it in her hand. "What's in it for me?"

  "A competitive consultancy fee." Saxton glanced around. "And another chance to see inside the house of secrets."

  "And if I say no?"

  "Don’t."

  Millie stared at the hard drive. "This is tempting. But working with you is always more complicated than you say." She held out the drive. "Sorry."

  Saxton’s face tightened. "Think about it for a couple of days."

  "Just how desperate are you?"

  "Desperate enough to come here and apologise."

  "I must have missed that part."

  "I think it’s implied."

  Millie gave a sigh. "I’m not promising anything. I’ve come to realise that working for the 'man' isn’t really my preference."

  He stood up. "I’ll leave you to your breakfast."

  Millie stepped aside to allow Saxton to leave, locking the door behind him. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of the visit she had just been paid, but she knew one thing: she needed to improve her home security.

  Fifty-Seven

  Michael found it hard to get to sleep. At 4:30am he gave up entirely.

  He needed to know more so he got in his car and drove. At just after 6:30am he was knocking loudly on a familiar front door. Nina pulled it open, clad in an old dressing gown.

  "Michael? Whatever is the matter?"

  "Can we talk?"

  She opened the door wide. "I'll make coffee."

  He followed her into the kitchen. Nina tipped ground coffee into a plunger, then after adding boiling water, forced it home with intent. She poured two mugs and placed them on the kitchen bench.

  "What is so important," she asked, "that you drove out here without warning? And shouldn’t you be at work in a few hours?"

  Michael looked at the surface of his coffee. At first glance it was just black, featureless. But as he looked closer he saw whirls and eddies moving constantly in the hot liquid. "Did Dad ever talk to you about his work? I want to know about a project he was working on. A new computer system."

  Nina shrugged. "When he wasn’t programming, he was often working on some pie-in-the-sky scheme. He was a dreamer."

  "And he worked at the weapons manufacturer, ZAT?"

  "He worked for himself. He may have done a project for them. Why?"

  "You never mentioned it."

  Nina spread her hands. "Your father worked for a number of different companies. Nothing particularly exciting." She shook her head. "Least of all ZAT."

  "So you do remember him working for them."

  "Whatever he did for them, it didn’t pan out. They terminated his contract with no notice. Gregory Jenson himself called to do it. Your father might have been an expert in computers, but he was rubbish at business. People will only throw money at a pipe-dream for so long. I’m sorry. It… upsets me to talk about him. After what he did."

  "Yet you took fifteen years to throw out his stuff."

  Nina sighed. "Love is complicated. At least it was when it involved your father."

  "But what if his death wasn’t what it appeared to be? What if that explosion in his workshop hid the truth?"

  Nina looked at him. "Oh Michael. Your father’s note was very clear."

  Michael closed his eyes. "I’m not here to discuss that. I just think ZAT might have conned him… and conned you. This computer project, the one they cancelled – I think they developed it anyway. There might be something in Dad’s old files. A forensic expert could compare it against what ZAT went on to develop."

  "Most of your father’s work was destroyed in the explosion. And the few things still in his study I threw away when I had the clear out."

  "If his invention was made to work it would have been worth millio
ns and you’ve never received a penny."

  Nina reached over and placed her hand on his. "You’re seeing connections where there are none. Even if there were any money in it, I wouldn't want a penny." She stood up. "I don’t know why you’re suddenly being like this. You’re going to have to accept that there’s no big secret to uncover, just an awful set of events that make no real sense. Please, just drop it."

  Michael shook his head. "It’s not really about the money. I want to know. I need to know." He hesitated. "What if someone killed him to take this project then made it look like a suicide?"

  "I understand the need to look for meaning. But there is none here." She put a hand on his shoulder. "I don’t know what has given you these crazy ideas." She smiled. "I know I’ve made a career out of saying I could make people do anything, though not a terribly good one—"

  "Your book deserved to do better—"

  Nina raised a hand. "My point is that I’m not going to try and make you do something. I just want you to take the time to think. Because there’s been no conspiracy."

  "I just thought something about Dad might provide some answers."

  She squeezed his hand. "You and me both."

  Fifty-Eight

  At 6:00am Morton was taking his regular early morning walk along the Thames, past the London Eye and the South Bank Centre. Across the grey river he could make out the Palace of Westminster and the Houses of Parliament: the domain of those that ran the country. At least those who thought they did. They spent their lives lying in the pursuit of self-serving goals; as a result they got nowhere. Whereas Morton was part of an organisation that exploited the truth, in the service of a collective plan. Kinek was built on the guiding principle that fact was better than fiction. As Kinek’s rise had shown, the truth could be a powerful weapon.

  Morton continued walking. It was still blissfully quiet: well before the morning rush-hour and way too early for the gangs of skateboarders to be out adding peril to the act of navigating the pavement. But not too early, for a decent cup of coffee. He smiled as his favourite kiosk came into view, the owner unfolding the shutters and placing his ‘Any coffee you want, as long as it’s an espresso’ sign on the pavement. Morton was about to call a good morning when his phone buzzed. It was a request for a meeting.

 

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