Cyber Terror

by Rose, Malcolm

  Jordan tried to log on to the Unit Red system, but his brain/computer interface was not responding. There seemed to be a black hole in his pounding head. Fearing the worst, he asked, “Have you destroyed my microprocessors?”

  “I have no reason to destroy the things I most admire. I need to find out what they can do. They are no good to me if they are broken.”

  “So, what have you done to them?”

  “They are in sleep mode. I can reactivate them any time – with my laptop.” Kennington jerked his head towards the computer on the back seat. “I left your mobile in Cambridge. I don’t want anyone using it to trace where I’m going. I am still wondering if you have an internal GPS system. If I turn you back on, you might start broadcasting my position. I need to check that first. I like to get away from people. I do not want them to find me.”

  Eli was speaking to Jordan but he was strangely detached. He hadn’t even asked Jordan’s name. And he didn’t seem to be curious about who might be monitoring Jordan’s location and why Jordan was pursuing him in the first place. Maybe he was so engrossed with the hijacking of Jordan’s technology that he hadn’t even thought of asking. Maybe it was simply irrelevant to him.

  He stopped the car and announced, “We have arrived.”

  Jordan narrowed his eyes. Outside, he could just make out something tall and round, like a wide chimney, but nothing else. “What is it?” he asked.

  “It used to be a windmill,” Eli replied, “but it lost its sails many years ago. I will take you in now.” His loud voice seemed entirely inappropriate in the silence of the night.

  “It’s late.”

  Eli shrugged. “I do not sleep much.”

  “Do you eat?”

  Eli looked puzzled. “Of course I eat. If I did not eat, I’d die. I’m not dead. I am alive.”

  “I was hinting.”

  “What are you hinting at?”

  “I’m hungry. And thirsty.”

  “It is better to say what you mean. I do not do hints.” Eli got out of the car, opened the back door and grasped his laptop and a plastic bag. “Come in nicely and I will give you some food.” He held up the bag and added, “I stopped on the way and bought sandwiches, chocolate and a drink.” Eli walked round the Nissan, opened the passenger door and unfastened Jordan’s seat belt.

  His arms held against his body by the plastic ties, Jordan wriggled awkwardly out of the car and stumbled towards the converted windmill. If his infrared vision had been working, the darkness would not have troubled him, but he could see very little. He knew he was in great danger, but he was not yet ready to try and escape because he still wanted answers from Eli Kennington. He was squirming like a hooked fish, willing to be played, but determined not to be reeled in completely.

  Eli unlocked the door, stepped into the cottage and turned on the wall lights. Inside, there was just one perfectly circular room, split into sections. Half was a living space, a quarter was the kitchen and another quarter was the dining area. On the far side, a door led to a bathroom that had been added onto the basic structure of the windmill. A tight spiral staircase led to the bedroom area. Looking up, Jordan saw an old and thick oak beam that ran across the diameter of the building. Smaller beams sprouted upwards from it and supported the conical wooden roof. Two bright spotlights attached to the main beam cast more light into the ground floor.

  Behind him, Eli locked the door from the inside and then slipped the key into his trouser pocket.

  Perhaps the holiday cottage was a little tidier than Eli’s home in Cambridge, but not a lot. Equipment was scattered everywhere. It looked like a computer company’s scrapyard.

  Eli removed some used plates from the dining table and put the bag of food in the middle. “I am eager to explore,” he said, glancing at Jordan’s arm, “but we will eat first.”

  “How?”

  Kennington hesitated, not sure what Jordan meant for a moment. “Ah, yes. When you are tied up, you cannot put food in your mouth.”

  Jordan replied with a smile, “You could feed me.”

  “I’m not going to do that!” Eli almost shouted. “It is not dignified.”

  “I didn’t mean it,” said Jordan. “I was joking.”

  Eli was clearly bemused. “If you don’t mean something, I suggest you do not say it. It is confusing otherwise. Now,” he continued, “I am going to cut the ties so you can eat on your own, but I don’t want you to run away with all those devices.”

  “I won’t. I can’t. You locked the door.”

  While Eli cut the plastic bands around his arms and stomach, Jordan said, “Don’t you think at some point I’m going to put up a fight?”

  Surprised by the idea, Kennington simply shook his head.

  Taking the unexciting sandwich in his left hand, Jordan tried questioning the fidgety genius again. “Do you know Madison Flint?”

  “No.”

  Jordan thought he answered too quickly. He didn’t mean that he didn’t know her. His rapid response suggested that he wasn’t interested in thinking and then answering the question.

  Jordan had another go. “She used to work at HiSpec. Madison Flint. Do you remember her? Long black hair.”

  This time, Eli stopped eating and took a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, I do. She...” He frowned as he tried to find the right words. “She wanted to be my friend.”

  “Oh? Did it work out?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did you become friends?” Jordan asked.

  Not looking up at Jordan, he shook his head. “Not really, no. I think friends do more together than we ever did.”

  “What went wrong?”

  Kennington shrugged. “I don’t know. A relationship did not happen.”

  For a moment, Eli’s reply sent Jordan’s mind down a different course. If Raven felt sympathy for Kennington, she might feel angry that he’d been punished unjustly. She might strike at the system that had imprisoned him. There again, she’d told Jordan that she didn’t know Eli Kennington had been jailed. She couldn’t feel sorry for him when, at the time, she’d thought he was on holiday.

  Jordan changed the subject. “Do you like music?”

  Eli smiled to himself. “I don’t understand it, but I like rhythm. I find it soothing.”

  His answer wasn’t what Jordan was expecting. In his latest message, Short Circuit mentioned a dislike of music. “I’m a drummer,” Jordan said. “A keeper of rhythm. Or at least, I was.”

  Kennington kept his eyes on his food or on Jordan’s right arm. “They didn’t have any cans. I bought a big bottle of drink. I’m not supposed to have fizzy, but that is what I got.”

  “Thanks.”

  He took the bottle to the kitchen work surface and, with his back to Jordan, poured the cola into two identical glasses. He loped back to the table, slopping one of the drinks slightly, and put both of the glasses down. Clearly not satisfied, he switched them round, pushing one towards Jordan.

  At first, Jordan thought he was simply jiggling them round because he was restless and clumsy. But then he wondered if there was a different reason.

  Jordan glanced around the cottage again. There were two narrow windows downstairs, one over the kitchen sink and another in the living space. He wasn’t sure about the upstairs. He could just make out one small slot in the brickwork. Pointing to the door behind Eli, he asked, “What’s that?”

  Kennington twisted round in his seat. “A door.”

  “What’s behind it?”

  “It is a shower and toilet. Because of the round thin structure, it could not be fitted upstairs.”

  Jordan nodded and took a long drink of the cola. It wasn’t cold, but it was refreshing.

  Eli swigged his own back and, for the first time, glanced at Jordan’s face. He put the empty tumbler down and said, “It is almost time I started.”

  Jordan knew exactly what Kennington meant. Fearing for his enhancements, he shivered. With his arm and brain implants still inoperative, he wasn’t sure
how to make his escape. But he had to do something and he had to do it soon.

  “Do you really want to take me apart?” said Jordan. “You’d hold up the singularity for years. I’m a guinea pig for bionic bits and pieces.”

  Eli’s face crinkled with confusion. “You are not a guinea pig.”

  “No, I mean, my body’s used to test enhancements. I don’t think you want to get in the way of progress, do you?”

  “Certainly not, but...”

  “But what?”

  “The opportunity is impossible to resist. I want your components, not you.”

  “I’ll help you take a look – to satisfy your curiosity – if you let me go afterwards.”

  Kennington shook his head. “I cannot let you stay whole because you would be able to choose what to do and what not to do. Your parts don’t have a choice. Once I have worked them out, they will do what I want them to do.”

  “That’s crazy,” Jordan blurted out before he could stop himself.

  “I am not mentally deficient or disabled. I just think differently. I think accurately. I give attention to detail.” Gazing enthusiastically at Jordan’s arm, he asked, “Does the skin unpeel?”

  “Yes,” Jordan answered. “But we’d need a technician to do it.”

  “I have a scalpel somewhere. That will suffice.” He got up and began to search for it.

  The chaos of the windmill gave Jordan time to think. He weighed up the evidence. Kennington had admitted that he hated the people who had put him away. He’d admitted that he’d made and triggered the hardware Trojans that had neutralized Jordan’s enhancements. And he’d kidnapped Jordan. He had the motive and the means to do everything that Short Circuit had done. The conclusion was obvious: Kennington was Short Circuit. But was that too easy?

  Jordan tried to remember Short Circuit’s messages, wondering if there was anything in them that would help him decide what to believe. When it all kicks off. That’s what Short Circuit had said near the end of his last recording. Jordan was not convinced that Eli would come up with something like that. He spoke literally. He’d associate a kick-off only with football. For the same reason, Jordan also doubted that he’d refer to Captain Lazenby’s credit having finally run out. When Short Circuit talked about Carlton Reed, he said that he didn’t care for music, yet Eli found it soothing.

  No matter how guilty Eli Kennington appeared, there was a chance he wasn’t Short Circuit after all.

  Glancing round the circular room, Jordan realized that Eli didn’t have a television. There wasn’t one in his Cambridge house either. “Do you like films and TV?”

  Bent over the clutter on the couch, Eli answered without interrupting his hunt, “I don’t understand what they are for.”

  So, Jordan asked himself, why did Short Circuit say that films were very helpful in his message following the Quito disaster?

  Eli stood upright with a small sharp scalpel in his hand. He smiled and advanced towards Jordan.

  19 TOP PRIORITY

  “Do you really expect me to just sit here and let you... do what you’re going to do?”

  Standing next to him with the blade in his hand, Kennington said, “I know you will.” Then he yawned, drew up a chair and sat down wearily. Surprised by sudden exhaustion, he muttered, “I am tired.”

  “It’s late,” Jordan replied, wondering if he knew what was behind Eli’s unexpected fatigue.

  “But I do not get tired.”

  “What are you going to do on Sunday?”

  Eli looked at the thin sharp blade in his hand. “I am dedicating the whole weekend to exploring your arm and head.”

  “Apart from that?”

  “When I get interested in something, nothing else matters.” His eyelids drooping, he looked oddly at Jordan and said, “Did you do anything to the drinks?”

  “Yes,” Jordan admitted. “I got you to turn your back for a few seconds and switched them round.”

  “So I drank yours!”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you do that?” Eli asked.

  “Because you seemed nervous about who got which drink. You wanted me to have a particular one. I thought it’d be interesting to see what happened if you drank it instead.”

  “But...”

  “Did you put something in it?”

  Eli yawned again and struggled to keep his eyes open. “I take a lot of medication. I am an expert in pills. I have one that makes people very drowsy and it lowers their resistance. That is what I gave you.”

  Jordan smiled. “Sorry, but I didn’t take it. You did. I’m not the one feeling dead beat.”

  Eli flopped in the chair.

  Jordan seized the opportunity. He grabbed the scalpel and threw it awkwardly across the room with his left arm. When he stood up, Eli didn’t react. He remained sprawled in his seat. His eyelids had closed.

  Jordan leaned close and said, “You haven’t murdered anyone, have you?”

  Eli’s eyes flickered open for a moment. “Murdering is not nice. It would not be a good thing to do.”

  Jordan delved into his trouser pocket and extracted the key. Squinting, he crossed the room, grabbed Eli’s laptop and made for the front door. There was no challenge from Kennington. He seemed to be asleep. Jordan unlocked the door and left. Before making his getaway, though, he locked Kennington in his own holiday cottage.

  Jordan decided not to take Eli’s car. With little eyesight and only one ungainly arm, he doubted that he could drive safely. Instead, he walked back down the track, towards the main road and the village that he’d seen earlier.

  Well beyond midnight, it was a clear and quiet night, but the cold wind blowing across the fields made Jordan shiver. He seemed to be the only person awake. No ghostly lights moved along the tarmac that divided the farmland. As he walked, he thought more about Eli Kennington. If he was simply a strange and innocent man, who was guilty? Who was Short Circuit? Jordan’s mind turned again towards his fellow agent. But he wasn’t convinced. Even though Raven had tried to befriend Eli Kennington, she could not be acting out of sympathy for him because she hadn’t known about his conviction. She had no reason to target everyone responsible for jailing him. It just didn’t add up.

  Maybe someone else involved in the court case was out for vengeance on Eli’s behalf. Jordan didn’t know a lot about trials, but there could have been a solitary juror who thought Kennington was innocent, but who’d been outvoted. Perhaps one of the officials who had defended Eli was now taking the law into his or her own hands.

  Jordan froze. There was a faint rustling noise to his right. Someone or something was moving by the hedge. He could no longer pinpoint sounds, but he realized that the noise was coming from low down in the verge. He took a breath and moved on. He’d probably disturbed a bird or a rat.

  He reached the village after an hour of brisk walking. But it was as quiet as a graveyard. With relief, though, he noticed that the pub was still lit. The main door was shut and refused to open. He could not even force his way in with his bionic arm. It still hung limply, like a dead weight attached to his shoulder. Instead he knocked on the wooden door panels with his left fist. Getting no answer, he banged again and again. He refused to give up. After a few minutes, someone arrived on the other side and grumbled, “All right, all right! Do you know what time it is? We’re closed.” It was a woman’s voice.

  “There’s been an accident,” Jordan shouted back. “I’m hurt. I need help.”

  There was the sound of a bolt being withdrawn and a key turning, then the big door swung open. The woman was middle-aged, dressed in jeans and a blouse. She looked him up and down. “What’s happened?”

  Jordan pointed to his right arm. “I can’t move it. It’s broken. And my eyes are blurry. I can hardly see.”

  “You’d better come in and sit down,” she said, standing to one side.

  “Thanks. I just need to make a phone call really. I know someone who’ll get me home.”

  She was still suspicious
of him, but she said, “All right.”

  Even with a damaged sense of smell, Jordan recognized the beery aroma of a pub recently emptied of its customers. He stepped inside unsteadily and asked, “Where am I? What’s this place called?”

  Angel sent an engineer to Cambridge to retrieve Jordan’s stranded Jaguar and his phone. He also sent a taxi to bring Jordan back to Highgate Village.

  In the bunker, Jordan reported everything that had happened. He also handed Eli’s laptop to Raven. “Kennington said he could reactivate all my microchips with that. Maybe you can instead.”

  At once, Angel said, “Get on to it, Raven. Top priority.”

  “All right,” she replied. “But...”

  “What?”

  “It’s tricky. I might be out of my depth.”

  Angel frowned. “I’ve never heard you say that before. I’ll get our computer technicians in to help. That’ll speed it up.”

  “Okay.” Looking at Jordan, Raven added, “Before I check it out, just tell me. Was it Short Circuit you locked up in his own windmill?”

  Jordan took a deep breath and then shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  Angel, Raven and Kate all looked astonished. “But he’s a dead cert,” said Raven.

  Kate exclaimed, “He was going to pull you apart.”

  “Yeah, but that’s just how he is. I don’t think he’d murder anyone.”

  “He ran you over,” said Raven.

  “Maybe he didn’t mean to. Maybe I was just in the way. I don’t know. But, for some reason, I like him. He wasn’t... complicated. He just said what he meant. And some of the things he said were the exact opposite of Short Circuit’s messages.”

  “We need to know who else was involved in his trial,” Angel decided. “Give me the key to his cottage and I’ll send an agent to interrogate him. Maybe he can remember – if he’s not Short Circuit himself.”