Driving back to the motel on the outskirts of Philadelphia, Kerrin's mind started to make its way through the information Fiona had brought him. There was so much to take in. Thankfully, before they had left the restaurant Fiona had mentioned that where possible she had made notes on the backs of the photographs, giving the names of the people shown, who they were and which companies they represented.
About five minutes away from his motel, another piece of the puzzle suddenly fell into place in Kerrin's mind. During the months leading up to the purchase of Gen8tyx by the other companies, Sonderheim had started to recruit other geneticists into his company. It had troubled Kerrin that Sonderheim would suddenly be able to recruit other top scientists without advertising the positions. The other scientists in Gen8tyx had not been aware of the positions being vacant or that the head count had been increased. The answer had not been obvious to Kerrin.
Two of the companies purchasing stakes in Gen8tyx were genetics companies! Philadelphia Pharma, and Sabre Genetics Inc.. Which putting two and two together, meant that Sonderheim had probably allowed staff from Philadelphia Pharma, and Sabre Genetics Inc to infiltrate his workforce, and slowly replace them during the preparations for the takeover.
It was becoming obvious that the takeover of Gen8tyx had been planned long in advance.
Chapter 29
Day Nineteen
Fort Dixon
NSA American Surveillance Centre
Deep in the National Security Agency bunker in Alabama, the job of processing all the telecommunications in America was handled by six hundred government agents. To an outsider an agent's work would perhaps seem like a dull job, sitting in a man-made concrete cavern four levels beneath the ground, glued to a computer screen with a pair of headphones strapped to their ears for every moment of their three, two hour shifts. The routine was strict. Two hours on, thirty minute break, then two hours back on. Lunch for one hour. Then two hours back on before handing over to the next shift.
The communications analysis was divided into three groups: phone conversations, emails and faxes. Each group was further subdivided by language, and handled by agents fluent in that tongue.
Every email, phone-conversation or fax in the United States of America passed through this system, each call being monitored and analysed by the billion-dollar Multi-Neural Digital Array Processing grid, a massive array of parallel optical processing computers linked into each other in such a way that the processing power of the combined grid was one million times the power of the individual computers that made it up.
The latest in neural network technology had been employed to build the array, and the servers which made up the grid took up the entire fifth and sixth floors of the underground complex. The area the computers occupied was so large that technicians maintaining them ran around the twenty-five acre complex on little underground cars. On the ground above the bunker, an array of satellite dishes received signals fed to it from the various collection centres on the east coast, and fed them into the computer grid below.
'George', the unofficial name given to the 2nd Generation 'Echelon' network by the NSA agents who worked on it, had been operational for two years now, and provided the greatest computational resource known to mankind.
Its purpose?
To defend the citizens of the United States of America by listening to every single word they said. They had nicknamed the system after George Orwell, the author of '1984' and the man who inspired the phrase ‘Big Brother is Watching You’.
Sector Nine Alpha of the fourth level was no different from Sector Ten Beta or Eleven Gamma, or any other sector within the base. They were all as boring as each other. The artificial lighting and the constant hum of the computer systems and the ventilation units were present wherever you sat.
It was in Sector Nine Alpha that Agent Johnson had been given the task of monitoring Washington for any conversation that Kerrin Graham may take part in. The system itself was impressive. Every phone conversation in America passed through George, who never slept and never stopped listening. Each sentence that passed through its digital ears was broken down, analysed and scanned for individual key words. If any person in the United States held a phone conversation in which he or she mentioned three or more of these key words, the conversation was automatically recorded and then stored in a massive data bank.
Once recorded, these phone conversations were available to be retrieved and analysed in greater detail at any time in the future. In fact, once it had been recorded, a phone conversation could be dissected and analysed in any way that was required. New sets of keywords could be defined, and George would happily scan all the recorded conversations for any new combination of keywords, highlighting any conversation which contained them.
The system was simple. All Agent Johnson had to do was to decide what key words he wanted to listen for, and the friendly computer would do the rest.
Then, at different times of the day Agent Johnson would log-on and ask George for the progress so far, and he would listen to the conversations that had been recorded that day which involved his key words.
It was also possible to program his friend to alert him by SMS, email or pager whenever something really interesting took place.
It took a certain type of person to work in the NSA centre in Fort Dixon, and Agent Johnson was definitely that type of person. He loved his job.
Of course, Kerrin was not the only person Agent Johnson was tracking. He had well over a hundred other names on his identified target tracking list, but that morning Kerrin Graham had just jumped to the top ahead of the others. Kerrin Graham, whoever he was, had just been given a Code Green status. This meant that the NSA had to do everything they could to find him in the next twenty-four hours. He was seemingly an immediate threat to national security.
Agent Johnson was pleased to get results so soon. Within two hours of receiving the new directive, Kerrin Graham had been tracked making several phone conversations from JFK airport. Since the calls had been made at the airport, Agent Johnson had contacted a colleague in another department which monitored flight reservations, and he had not been surprised to find out that using his corporate Amex credit card, Mr Kerrin Graham had just booked a flight, which left the next day to London - England. Johnson had immediately passed on the details to his superior, who was undoubtedly happy with the speed by which first contact had been made.
By five o'clock the next day thirty agents had been deployed at the airport, discreetly monitoring the British Airways check-in desk and the various entrances to the airport. Thanks to Agent Johnson's fast work, they would be able to arrest Kerrin Graham the moment he arrived at the airport for his international flight.
Unfortunately it did little for Agent Johnson's promotion prospects when about the same time that evening Kerrin walked into Ronald Reagan National Airport outside Washington D.C., picked up the ticket he had booked over the internet and boarded his flight to San Francisco.
"Have a nice flight, Mr Twain!" the air stewardess wished him as she handed him his ticket.
"Thank you. I will," he replied with a smile.
--------------------
Carmel
Day Twenty
The lightning flashed outside, lighting up the surrounding hills through the warm torrential rain and illuminating the massive waves crashing onto the beach below. Seconds later, a deafening thunderclap rolled across the valley, the wall of sound ricocheting from the cliffs onto the glass windows of the prison cell. Dana sat in her wheelchair, her hands tied by thick orange cord to the armrests, a piece of silver duct-tape stretched tightly across her mouth.
As Kerrin entered the room, she looked up and blinked, her eyes screaming a warning at him. Too late, a heavy hand fell on him from behind, crashing into his neck and driving him to the ground. He fell awkwardly, sprawling on the floor, his hand losing its grip on his gun which hit the ground with a metallic clunk before skidding across the ceramic floor tiles to the other side of the roo
m, impossibly beyond his reach.
His senses stunned, and little flashes of light sparking around his peripheral vision, he struggled to lift himself up and turn towards the direction of the next blow. Just then another lightning bolt lit the sky and for the briefest moment in time he found himself looking up at the figure of David Sonderheim towering above him, his outstretched hand pointing a gun straight at Kerrin's chest.
Kerrin reacted instinctively, kicking out at the legs of the figure and sweeping his legs from under him with a swift sideways blow to his shins.
As Sonderheim went down, a single gunshot lit up the room, the loudness of the shot reverberating around the walls of the cell and mixing with the next peal of thunder which boomed across the valley.
Kerrin jumped to his feet, swinging a second blow from his foot at Sonderheim's head. He felt the impact through the leather in his shoes, the heavy blow being absorbed completely as Kerrin's foot smashed hard into the man's temple, killing Sonderheim instantly.
With no further thought for his victim Kerrin turned to Dana, lunging towards her wheelchair in an effort to free her and escape from the cell as soon as possible.
Another flash of lightning lit up the interior of the room. In disbelief at what he saw, Kerrin collapsed at Dana's feet, a long, low, guttural scream making its way from the pit of his stomach, up through his torso and out of his wide open mouth.
Dana's head lolled to one side, her eyes staring blankly at Kerrin's face. A large patch of red was spreading rapidly across the chest of her white blouse, the blood flowing fast and free from the large bullet wound where Sonderheim's bullet had found a target.
The lightning flashed again, and Kerrin screamed aloud. He jumped up from his bed, his eyes staring wide open, his brain racing, the dream still running in his mind's eye while he struggled to full consciousness and tried to work out where he was. For a few seconds confusion reigned, and his heart pounded furiously as the fear and adrenaline coursed throughout his body. The sweat ran off his forehead, and the sheets of his bed were cold and wet, drenched by the fever that had burned within him, ignited by the horror of the dream.
Staring around him, fighting furiously to find familiarity in his surroundings, slowly his mind began to clear. Another peal of thunder shook the air about him, and outside the hotel the storm raged unrelentingly. The rain crashed in sheets against the large windows overlooking the beach, and the air was heavy with static electricity from the storm. Jet lagged and confused, Kerrin slowly began to surface from the nightmare.
Awake now, he relaxed back on to the bed in his hotel room just outside Carmel, shaking and cold, but grateful.
Grateful that it had only been a dream. Grateful that Dana was still alive. Grateful that soon he would meet the man that had turned his life into a living hell. Grateful that his dream had shown him clearly that he had to kill Sonderheim before Sonderheim killed them.
--------------------
Purlington Bay
Day Twenty
"Please come in gentlemen" David Sonderheim shouted loudly in reply to the knock at his door.
It was 3 p.m. and he was expecting both Trevor Simons and Colonel Packard for a meeting to discuss their progress so far.
Trevor opened the door and stepped inside, his stature once again strong and powerful, his commanding presence once more capable of demanding instant attention the moment he entered any room. The weak and frail man that had entered the clinic over two weeks ago was gone. In his place, a new Trevor Simons was emerging from the chrysalis of the old.
Trevor turned around, holding the door open for Colonel Packard. He walked slowly, the Zimmer frame in front of him supporting much of his weight, and the sweat rolling off his forehead as he laboriously moved his legs forward one at a time, placing each foot carefully, but solidly, one in front of the other.
Sonderheim stood up from his desk and walked around towards Trevor and Colonel Packard. He placed a hand on Trevor's shoulder and smiled at him, a gesture of familiarity and cordiality that both shocked and pleased Trevor. Simons had detested Sonderheim when he had first entered the clinic, but over the past few weeks he had realised that Sonderheim was not the man he had first taken him to be. And there was no doubt that he was one of the people to whom Trevor owed his life.
Sonderheim held out his hand to the Colonel and he took it in his own, clasping it firmly.
"Gentlemen, please sit." Sonderheim waved at the chairs around the conference table set beside the large curved windows overlooking the bay beneath. "There is much to discuss."
Sonderheim knew better than to offer to help Colonel Packard with his Zimmer frame, so he waited patiently as the Colonel walked carefully to one of the chairs at the table, and sat down slowly, moving his walking frame to the back of his chair and out of his way.
Simons took a seat on the opposite side of the table from Sonderheim, alongside the Colonel.
"I have invited you here today to congratulate you in person on your outstanding progress. I have read the full reports from your doctors, and I am both pleased and impressed by the pace of your recovery so far."
The two men in front of him sat silently, listening to his every word.
"Trevor, as your doctors have told you, your blood cell count is returning to normal, and the leukaemia is in full remission. Colonel, the stem cells that you were injected with have grafted and developed well, repairing the nerve cell damage to your spine, and although the process is not yet one hundred percent complete, we expect that at this rate of progress your spine will be fully functional within a week."
Sonderheim watched the men for their reactions. He was pleased to see that in spite of their best attempts at stoicism, emotion was clearly bubbling away behind their eyes. It did not surprise him when the Colonel smiled, and then quickly wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. Sonderheim could only imagine the happiness and exhilaration these men must be feeling.
"I am happy for the both of you. I imagine it will take a while for the full impact of the success of the treatment to dawn on you both. However, I can assure you that our tests indicate that this is not a temporary respite you are experiencing. This is a genuine resolution to your problems. However, although you were both admitted to the Phase Two trials in order to demonstrate the possible effectiveness of the Gen8tyx Treatment on your particular medical conditions, the extent of the treatment will reach further than anything you can imagine…"
"…I can't overemphasise enough the importance of completing your log books every day. We need you to record the progress of your bodies as the Orlando Treatment works within you. You must record everything,… all the changes you notice within your body…anything…"
"…As you know, the decision to advance to the Phase Three trials will be made at the board meeting next week. You are both executive officers of the Chymera Corporation, and I recognise that as such you are senior to myself in rank. However, as Executive Officer in charge of the Orlando Project I have been given authority over you, temporarily of course, and therefore I must require of you, …or should I say more politely, that I would like to invite you both …to attend the board meeting with myself to present a summary of the results from the Phase Two programme so far! Your participation in this meeting would be most appreciated. Of course, I'm sure you understand the importance of your presence and will comply with the invitation?…" Sonderheim looked from one man to the other, eyebrows raised questioningly, but before they could answer he continued.
"Good…that's settled then… I will of course brief you in a few days time on your participation in the meeting next week, and I will make all the necessary travel arrangements on your behalf. Do you have any questions, gentlemen?"
The Colonel coughed, stood up slowly from the desk, and looked down at Sonderheim.
"I would be most grateful if you would explain to me exactly what is happening within my body. The changes that are occurring within me…I do not recognise myself…"
"I too would app
reciate a full explanation…" Simons added his voice to that of the Colonel's.
"…And you shall both receive one. All in good time. I promise you!" Sonderheim answered. "However for now it is important that you continue on your programme of rehabilitation. As we will be leaving for New York to attend the meeting, I have personally reviewed your recovery programme, and have authorised a few changes to your nutritional intake, as well as your exercise and physiotherapy programmes. I would like to have you both fully independent and mobile for the board meeting…it will create a better impression that way…"
"Will we be returning to the clinic after the meeting?" Colonel Packard asked.
"Perhaps…perhaps not. A lot of progress can be made in five days…shall we reserve judgement on that question till later?"
Sonderheim smiled at both of the men before him.
"Good…that takes care of that…I would like to thank you both for your time…I will be meeting with you again in two days' time…but until then, may I invite you to enjoy the facilities here at Purlington Bay as much as you wish? Thank you gentlemen."
Sonderheim stood up. Evidently the meeting was over.
When Trevor made it back to his room, he stood in front of the mirror and studied the man before him. He was hardly recognisable as the man he had lived with for the past ten years. The skin under his eyes and around his jaw had once again become tight, and the lines on his forehead and around his eyes had started to disappear. His skin was fresh and clear, and on the top of his bald head, dark black stubble had begun to appear in the middle of his scalp.
Energy coursed through his body. His muscles were growing tighter and firmer by the day, his eyesight becoming sharper.
His nurse had been right when she had told him that the fatigue would pass.
He owed a lot to her: for personally supervising his exercise programme, for monitoring his body's response to the exercise she gave him, and encouraging him whenever he felt weak, or when doubts set in. Thanks to her, the results had been outstanding.
The Orlando File Omnibus : (Omnibus Version-Book 1 & Book 2) Page 24