by David Barker
Mattias Larsson’s ears were burning. Not because somebody, on the other side of the world, was talking about him. The pain was very real and very deliberate. Precious Osundare was pouring hot wax from the tip of a candle onto his earlobes. He yanked on the handcuffs that secured him to the bed.
“Now, now Mattias. Relax. Embrace the sensations. Let them send little sparks to all of your extremities.” She held the candle upright and moved it over his naked body. She stopped it over his left nipple and tipped the candle, letting a few drops of molten wax fall onto his chest.
He writhed again. And smiled. “This is the worst part.”
“Oh, we both know that’s not true,” said Precious moving the candle lower down his body.
“Not this. The mission.”
“I’m not going to play if you’re not going to concentrate.”
“It’s all the waiting around, during radio silence. Hoping to hear the confirmation. Not knowing which day it will be. Or whether they’ve been captured. The plan might be in ruins.”
Precious shook her head. “Jenkins is your best soldier. He’ll get it done.”
“Any other news?” he asked.
She arched an eyebrow and poured hot wax over his crotch.
He bucked up and down on the mattress. “Will you fucking stop doing that?”
Precious sucked her teeth and threw the candle across the room. “ESCO operations are all fine. As always. Don’t I look after everything?” She rubbed her splayed hand over his torso and pulled at a piece of wax that had hardened on his skin.
“Who was that man I saw you interviewing the other day?”
“Just some temp we need to help cover the comms stuff for the next few weeks.”
“A bit unnecessary given what’s about to go down, isn’t it?”
Precious unlocked the handcuffs. “What I am thinking is, it will look pretty suspicious if ESCO operations cease the moment the bomb goes off. We don’t know how long we’ll have to wait, do we?”
Mattias sat up and rubbed his wrists. “You know I don’t like using temps.”
“Take it easy, we’re keeping close tabs on him. Besides, he cleared our security check. And you should know how impossible that is to fake.”
“Alright. Fine. What about the Yellowstone bunker?”
“The brochures went out a fortnight ago.” Precious smiled. “Got all the richest clients worried about the caldera in the national park. We’ve had five acceptances already, despite the price tag.”
“The ultimate insurance policy. Who wants to be the richest dead person on the planet?” said Mattias.
“More than enough to cover our costs. And it adds a plausible cover to our miraculous survival of the forthcoming shit storm.”
“Construction on schedule?”
“Of course, we’re already stocking up.”
“I want to inspect it all myself. Tonight.”
Precious sighed. “OK. I’ll let the pilot know. Take off in a couple of hours.”
“Just enough time for the rest of my session,” he said pulling her down onto the bed.
CHAPTER 30
Kiruna, Sweden
The driverless taxi pulled up outside Sim’s house just as his landlord’s clock was chiming midnight. He crept downstairs, not daring to turn the lights on and fumbled with the door lock. A third night in a row, not getting any sleep. He popped a stim pill in his mouth as he closed the front door as softly as possible. He made sure it was the right vehicle and got in the passenger’s seat at the front.
It pulled away and headed for the random address Sim had requested. Once around the first corner, Sim leant across and unzipped the cover on the driver’s seat. Beneath, where there should have been foam, springs and heating coils, there was a compartment. It went down through the bottom of the seat, making it just big enough to fit a small person. The mechanic at Venus Taxis had done her job.
Sim shifted over from the passenger seat to the defunct driver’s seat. It was not uncommon in driverless cars for all the original controls to have been left in place. Sometimes the owner wasn’t sure it they would enjoy being driven everywhere. Sometimes it was simply left as a back-up in case the automated software ever malfunctioned. Whatever the reason, Sim needed to clamber over the gearstick and squeeze his legs past the steering wheel while the taxi negotiated the junctions and traffic lights of Kiruna. Finally, he was in place and managed to zip up the cover from the inside. He tried to get comfortable kneeling on his ankles, which were being pressed into the cold metal floor of the vehicle.
The taxi arrived at its destination and asked for Sim’s wrist tab for payment. Shit, he hadn’t thought of that. The vehicle had pulled up near the centre of town. There might be people watching by now. He unzipped the cover a few inches and poked his wrist out, hoping it would get close enough to the machine’s payment reader. There was a beep and the taxi’s voice confirmed the transaction. Sim drew his hand back into the cover and waited.
His feet were numb by the time the vehicle moved off for its next customers. The mechanic had left a tiny patch of gauze near the top of the seat cover to help Sim breathe. He could just make out the street in front of the taxi and was relieved to see the vehicle pull up outside the Golden Antlers casino. After a few minutes, Sim felt the vehicle’s suspension react as several people got in the back of the car. He could smell the alcohol almost straight away. As the rear doors slammed, Sim heard the passengers shuffle into place across the two rows of seats.
The vehicle spoke: “Six passengers. All heading to ESCO headquarters, yes?”
“Yeah, yeah, same as always tin-man.”
“Hey, wait, did he say six?”
“Shit, there’s only five of us. Damn machine can’t count none.”
“Must be dodgy operating software, some cheap knock-off version.”
A German woman’s voice cut in. “Or Vindows 11.” There was a burst of laughter.
“Would sirs or madam like the windows open?”
“Hell no, tin-man, just drive. Just drive.”
There was silence for a few minutes. Sim tried to keep his breathing slow and soft, bracing himself against the inside of the seat as the taxi negotiated the junctions leading towards the main road and onwards to Old Kiruna.
One of the passengers started speaking again. “I ain’t ever getting tired of casino night.”
“Best part of the job, ja?” said the female comedian.
“Cruising the tables, picking one with a smug-looking guy who’s up a load of chips. Then watch his face as I clean up, at his expense.”
“Got to hand it to those croupiers, I still don’t know how they fix it.”
“It’s all in the dealing shoe, man, I’m telling you.”
“I don’t care as long as there is plenty of drinking. Prost!”
“Hah, well said Frida, well said.”
Sim’s heart skipped a beat as, for a moment, he thought his old OD partner was in the car. It didn’t sound like her, for sure. Must be just a coincidence. He wondered what she was doing right now. And then he wondered how long this journey would last. The cramp in his feet was excruciating.
When the taxi pulled up at the entrance to ESCO headquarters, Sim had to fight the urge to shift his weight or sit up slightly to alleviate his ankles. The bright lights of the security gate contrasted with the darkness of the countryside between the new and old towns. Sim hoped that the mechanic had used a heavy gauze to cover his tiny breathing hole. Would it show up under the guard’s scrutiny? He held his breath.
Sim could hear a window being lowered in the back of the car.
“Frederick, my man. Got the night shift again? We been working too, brudd.”
The other passengers giggled.
“Very funny. Hold on, the vehicle’s claiming six passengers. I only count five. You got a stowaway?”
“Course not, Freddie. Just a stupid error by the computer.”
“I better check the boot,” replied the guard.
“Lighten up, Herr Frederick. You want to give us Germans a bad name?”
“Boring, boring, boring Fred,” chanted the others.
Sim heard a click as the boot was opened and then clunked shut again.
“Alright, you lot, keep it down. Before I refuse you entry.”
Cue for theatrical shushing, louder than the talking.
“Bunch of idiots,” said the guard as he raised the barrier and let the vehicle pass.
The vehicle drove forward again. The lights of the security gate faded as the taxi weaved between dark old houses. The shadows receded once more as they approached the main building. The taxi dropped off the inebriated passengers at the front entrance to the headquarters. It sounded more like they were poured out of the car. Sim shifted his weight off his ankles but stayed out of sight. The vehicle did not move off and Sim realised it was waiting for him to disembark too. He had to think of something before the guards came to investigate the stationary car.
“I left something back at the Casino, can you take me back there please,” he said in a low voice to the onboard computer.
“Compliance.” The vehicle pulled away.
Sim unzipped the cover and as the car passed through the shadows of a decrepit house, he opened the driver’s door and tumbled onto the ground. He had tried to leap, but his leg muscles would not react after being squeezed for so long into that tiny space. Fortunately, the car was not going fast. Sim rolled a couple of times in the gravel and came to rest up against the crumbling sidewall of an abandoned home.
He lay there for a moment, wiggling his toes to get some blood pumping again, listening out for the signs of any approaching guards. When he sure there was none, Sim got up and half running, half crouching, he made his way through the shadows. He glanced at his watch. Nearly 2am. The base was quiet. He got as close as he dared to the front entrance of the main building and watched. Nobody. He took a tiny collapsible telescope out of his pocket, pulled it open and scanned the building. The night vision picture in green showed another door, on the far left, hidden in darkness.
Sim hesitated before using his new ESCO security pass. Even if it worked, somebody surely would notice the strange hour that he was entering HQ. He did not have much choice. Trying to hot-wire his way in might take too long and could easily trigger an alarm. He would have to come up with an excuse if somebody stopped him and started asking questions. He brushed the dirt off his clothes and ran a hand through his hair.
Sim pressed his card up against the sensor on the door and waited for it to turn green. For a moment nothing happened. He tensed, ready to sprint back into the shadows if an alarm started flashing. The panel changed to green and he pushed the door open, letting out a long breath.
Sim had memorised the layout of all the subterranean layers of the headquarters as best he could. But even after Captain Hamilton’s briefing, and Sim’s introduction to the place yesterday with Linnéa, it was confusing. Especially using this side entrance. There were still big gaps in his knowledge. Blank spaces on the map, like the sea-faring explorers of old had to navigate. Here there be monsters. Sim nodded to himself. It took nearly an hour to orient himself properly. Partly because of the labyrinthine nature of the corridors and stairways but partly because Sim was still keen to avoid meeting other staff.
He descended to a couple of levels below ground and made his way to the laboratories where the biological work was being done. If ESCO was caught up in the new Ebola strain and had been responsible for the attack on Moon Lab One, surely there would be evidence here. Sim could see a light on. Even now, 3 o’clock in the morning. Damn. He sneaked as close as possible to the observation windows and darted a quick look into the lab. Just one person. Man or woman? Hard to tell with the protective mask covering their features. The scientist had their back to the gallery and was looking down at a petri dish.
Sim’s hand hesitated, with his ID card hovering next to the door panel. There were no excuses for a junior comms analyst to be visiting the labs, especially at this hour. If he went in now, he would have to subdue whoever was under that mask. And then his cover would be blown. There would be no turning back. But what choice did he have? It might be his only chance of getting the evidence to nail these bastards to the wall. He wanted justice for his son.
He pressed his ID card against the reader and waited for it to turn green. Nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing. Shit. There must be different levels of clearance. He wondered about breaking in, but then heard somebody approaching from down the corridor. Sim hurried off in the opposite direction to think again. He pressed himself flat against the wall in a darkened recess and suddenly felt a wave of fatigue hit him. He yawned and reached for another stim pill. He couldn’t remember how many of these he was allowed to take in one night. The department’s medical officer had given him some warning about over-dosing but not with any sense of real peril. Sim had not been concentrating back then and was struggling to do so now.
He decided to retreat to the safety of the office where he was supposed to work. He would have to hack his way into the filing system. Other experts at Overseas Division and GCHQ had already tried. But not from here, inside the building, with a staff login. Surely that gave him a fighting chance. He passed a drinks machine in the corridor and grabbed a can of coke. Just like an all-night online gaming sesh, he thought to himself. Shame he couldn’t order in pizza.
Sim sat down at his desk and logged into the system. He pulled out a cord from his wrist tab and plugged it into his desk glass. He delved into the servers on the ESCO intranet. Heavily password protected. But the software on his wrist tab made short work of most of these. He opened up dozens of files at random hoping for a eureka moment. None. Half an hour wasted.
Sim took a slurp from his can and decided to focus on all the most recent files. There was an extra layer of security on a folder labelled YB. It had been created only a few weeks ago. About the time that Sim was up on the moon and James was… Sim sniffed and took another big gulp of coke. The screen went blurry for a moment. He blinked a few times and the poor vision passed. It took even longer for the code to break into this section of YB files. Once in, Sim began reading.
He glanced down at his watch. Another forty-five minutes gone somewhere, it was well after 4am now. He shook his head and began reading again. Yellowstone Bunker. There was a bunch of corporate bullshit about this being the ultimate insurance scheme. This place was bomb-proof, nuclear-fallout-proof, disease-proof and isolated to boot. Not even on any maps. No marauding mobs trying to muscle in on this sanctuary if the world started falling apart.
Sim looked at how much clients were being asked to pay for a lifetime guarantee of entry and indefinite stay in the safest six-star hotel in the world. He whistled. Why are they building this now? So they can release a pandemic? Use this new Ebola strain to wipe out humanity? He still needed proof of their involvement with the disease.
He found out where this bunker was. An island in between Norway and Svalbard. Bjørnøya. Maybe one of Wardle’s other agents could check it out while he finished this mission.
Sim woke up when his slumped body pushed the empty coke can over the edge of the desk. He sat up quickly and wiped his mouth. Rubbing his eyes, he realised that Linnéa was in the office too. Standing still, just watching him with a puzzled look on her face.
“You’ve been here all night, yes?”
The adrenalin pumping around his body had forced him wide awake instantly but Sim pretended to yawn to give himself time to think. He hunched his shoulders. “Just wanted to make sure I was on top of things. Understood all the systems.”
“I’m impressed. But.” She looked him up and down. “You might want to freshen up before we get stuck into the day’s routine. I’ll get us some coffee.”
Sim tried to brush the remaining dirt off his trousers as he went for a shower. He wondered about asking Linnéa for help. Maybe she had no idea what went on here, behind the scenes. She had sounded so pr
oud of the company when she’d showed him around the day before. Maybe she would be appalled if she knew the truth and would offer to help him. Could he risk telling her the truth? As a desperate last effort, maybe.
Back in the office, he tried engaging Linnéa in more conversation, asking about her education and her route to working at ESCO.
“I did social media studies at university. I thought it was going to be so cool, so relevant. What a waste of time. How do you say in English, empty?”
Sim thought for a moment. “Vacuous?”
“Yes,” said Linnéa. “I wanted to do something good, something useful. I thought social media was supposed to help society. Here, I can keep people safe.”
“Only if they pay, right. What about the masses who can’t afford it?”
“That’s a pipe dream, Lucas.” Linnéa shook her head. “When will I ever get the chance to help that many people?”
“You never know. You never know,” mumbled Sim.
CHAPTER 31
Freda was fiddling with her control panel, trying to get the window blind on her business class seat to raise. The plane was taking her from Beijing to London. She looked out through the tiny portal, trying to figure out whether the route would take the aircraft over the Russian prison that had briefly held her, Rabten and Gopal. She glanced back at the video screen in front of her. For a moment she thought she heard Sim telling her about which films he liked. A replay of a conversation on a plane many years ago. She gripped the armrest and squeezed her eyes shut. I can’t believe he’s gone. Escaped death in a Himalayan crevasse. Survived a knife through a lung. Several narrow misses up on Moon Lab One, judging from the accounts she had read. All that and then some shithead within Overseas Divisions had betrayed him to the Terror Formers.
She passed the hours catching up on the briefing notes from Sim’s investigation into the Ebola attack. Captain Hamilton’s aborted investigation of ESCO. The foiled attempt to grab Terror Former ring leaders in the Canary Islands. She looked through the glossy ESCO brochure – the public face of this security company. It claimed a perfect track record at keeping its client safe from terrorists. Not difficult to do if you are also masterminding the Terror Formers. But how to prove it?