The Siren Project

by Renneberg, Stephen

A moment later, the road in front of them exploded in sparks as machine gunfire raked the street, then a helicopter banked overhead. Mitch looked up to see Bradick shooting through the chopper's open side door with an automatic weapon.

  “Where did that come from?” Christa asked surprised.

  Mitch swerved into another street and picked up speed. “When they figured out the elevator breakdown was a trick, they must have called for the chopper. It had to have seen us leave the hotel!”

  He pulled on the hand brake, spun the car ninety degrees, then planted his foot on the gas in a smooth motion, sending the rental car racing into an alley. Christa grabbed a hand grip, giving him a surprised look.

  “Secret Service driver training!” He grinned.

  At the end of the alley, Mitch braked, swinging out onto another street. He checked the mirrors for any sign of the chopper behind them, then heard the rhythmic beating of rotors grow rapidly louder. Bullets tore into the rear of the car, narrowly missing them, then tracer licked the street beside them. Christa wound the window down and fired three well aimed shots, each one hitting the chopper. The chopper lurched away a short distance, but stayed in sight of the car.

  “That won’t hold them long.” Suddenly, she grabbed her head, suppressing a scream as a directed energy beam struck the car. “Ugh!. . .”

  Mitch’s cell phone, lying in the coin tray, exploded in sparks, then the engine died as the car’s electrical system shorted out. The helicopter swept overhead, circling high over the buildings and passing momentarily out of sight.

  “Can you run?”

  Christa nodded weakly, unable to speak.

  He jumped out, ran to her side, and dragged her from the car. He could hear the helicopter coming back, but couldn’t see it. Mitch pulled her right arm over his shoulder, holding her around the waist, then drew his gun and fired three shots into the car's gas tank. Streams of fuel poured onto the road as he helped Christa toward a nearby department store, then he fired a shot into the expanding pool of gasoline beneath the car. The fuel exploded, engulfing the vehicle in flames.

  “Why?” Christa stammered as she breathed deeply, trying to clear her head.

  “Make them think we’re dead in the car. Buy us some time.” Mitch pocketed the gun and dragged her into the department store as the chopper appeared again, circling the flaming car. A rope line dropped from the chopper to the road, near the car.

  “They’ll be on the ground soon.” Christa said as she released her grip on Mitch’s shoulder and took her own weight.

  “Yeah, and I just lost my second damn phone to that thing. No way to call Mouse for back up now.”

  Mitch approached the sales counter near the entrance. A young woman served a long line of customers waiting to make their purchases.

  “Is there a back way out of here?”

  “One moment, sir,” the sales assistant replied as she scanned the bar codes of items a customer was buying.

  Mitch glanced at the security cameras scattered around the department store, then at the credit card reader on the sales counter. He produced his credit card, and offered it to the sales assistant. “Scan this card.”

  The sales assistant gave him an irritated look. “You’ll have to wait your turn, sir.”

  He turned to see Bradick sliding expertly down the rope to the ground, the machine gun slung across his back. Mitch turned to the female customer the sales assistant was serving. “This is your lucky day, ma’am. I'll pay for everything you’re buying, if you let her swipe my card now.” Mitch held the card in front of the woman’s face.

  The woman looked confused. “Sure mister.”

  Mitch handed the card to the sales assistant. “You heard her, swipe it.”

  The sales assistant looked confused. “She’s buying over two hundred dollars worth of merchandise.”

  “I don’t care if she’s buying a Ferrari. Swipe the damn card.”

  The female customer’s eyes widened greedily, then she glanced eagerly over her shoulder to the merchandise displays. “Do you mind if I get something else, there was a sheet set back there I wanted.”

  Christa watching the street, said. “There’s two on the ground now. They know we’re not in the car.”

  Mitch glanced through the glass doors. Bradick and another agent were beside the empty burning rental car looking up and down the street. Mitch motioned to the shop assistant, “Hurry, swipe it!”

  “Wait, wait,” the female customer said. “My sheet set!”

  The woman hurried off to get her sheets while the sales girl slid the card through the scanner. Mitch turned the small LCD screen so he could see it. After a moment, the ‘Transaction Complete’ message disappeared and words typed across the screen.

  I AM HERE. EB.

  Mitch looked at the card scanner, but there were only numbers on the key pad. “Damn. No way to communicate.”

  LOOK AT ME.

  Mitch read the words on the small screen, then looked up to see the security cameras on the floor were turning toward him. He waved his gun at the doors.

  “We need help, they’re outside.”

  I KNOW.

  He knows? How? “I thought you couldn’t read lips!”

  I LEARN FAST.

  The next customer in line glanced from the security camera Mitch was talking to, to the replies appearing on the LCD read out. “Who are you talking to?”

  The two agents were approaching the glass doors. Mitch faced the camera and yelled.

  “Lock the doors!”

  SPEAK SLOWLY PLEASE.

  “Lock! . . . The! . . . Doors!”

  Bradick reached the glass doors first, gun in hand, eyes glued to Mitch. Mechanical clicks sounded from the glass doors as the electronic locking system was activated. Mitch turned to see Bradick push on the glass door firmly, then again harder.

  “Who is Echelon?” the sales assistant asked.

  “What?”

  The girl pointed to the LCD screen which now held a new message.

  ECHELON IS TASKED AGAINST YOU!

  Mitch felt a chill roll down his spine. “Shit!” He looked up to the security camera and spoke slowly and clearly.

  “Are we all in the dictionary?”

  AFFIRMATIVE. MITCHELL. WARTENBURG. SZILINSKY. MALLESON.

  Christa was backing away from the glass doors. “Mitch, what are we doing?”

  Mitch ignored her. “What intensity?”

  GLOBAL DEPLOYMENT WITH PRIMARY KEY ASSIGNMENT.

  Mitch nodded, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “We need a way out of here!”

  I WILL LEAD YOU.

  The female customer came running back to the counter with her arms full of sheets. “These too!”

  Mitch snatched his credit card from the sales assistant’s hand, and smiled at the customer. “Too late,” he said, as the fluorescent ceiling lights in the department store went out, except for a row of lights forming a path across the store’s ceiling.

  “Christa, that way!” Mitch pointed to the aisle under the path of fluorescent lights, as he started running.

  Bradick fired at the electronic lock, but the glass doors shuddered and held firm. The second agent fired at Mitch. Bullets punched tiny holes through the thick security glass and crashed into the display stands as customers screamed and ran for cover. Mitch and Christa crouched as they raced along the aisle beneath the path of fluorescent lights. Several times, they changed aisles as the fluorescent path overhead snaked through the department store to another set of glass doors, which unlocked and slid open as they arrived. Mitch saw a security camera following them as they ran out into the street.

  “Now what?” Christa asked.

  The lights at the corner turned from green to red, no amber. Cars screeched to a stop, taken by surprise at the sudden change. Pedestrians half way across the street, suddenly faced red 'Don’t Walk' signs and scurried to safety.

  “That way,” Mitch said, pointing to the green 'Walk' sign facing them, wondering at the
speed with which EB had taken over the department store's security system and the city’s traffic lights.

  They ran across the road and continued on down the street. They'd gone a block when the sound of helicopter rotors grew behind them, although the aircraft was still hidden behind buildings. At the next intersection, the lights again turned green to red, and a 'Walk' sign flicked on in front of them.

  “EB’s good,” Christa panted with admiration.

  “Yeah, or too good to be true.”

  They ran along the street, then as they passed another department store, the illuminated sign over the entrance began flashing and the automatic glass doors slid open and stayed open, even though no one was passing through them. Mitch grabbed Christa’s arm and pulled her to a stop. He could hear the helicopter approaching now, very close. Covering the door was a security camera which swiveled slowly toward him and stopped.

  “In here?” Mitch said slowly for the security camera to read his lips.

  The department store sign stopped flashing.

  “This is it,” Mitch declared to Christa, leading her inside. The glass doors shut behind them, returning to automatic, as once again the department store lights went out, except for a path of ceiling lights that led to the down escalator. They followed the path to the lower level, where another series of fluorescent lights showed them to an elevator. The elevator doors opened to reveal five people inside who breathed a sigh of relief, thinking they'd been trapped. They stepped out of the elevator, as Mitch and Christa pushed past them.

  One of the escaping passengers said. “Hey man, don’t get in that one, it’s broken. We’ve been trapped in there for five minutes. Even the emergency phone doesn’t work.”

  “Thanks,” Mitch said, “But we know the driver!”

  The elevator took them down to the underground parking area, where they found a cab waiting. The cab driver stuck his head out the window.

  “Mr and Mrs Eb? I got a booking for Mr and Mrs Eb? Is that you?” He tapped the digital readout mounted above the steering wheel that displayed the job.

  Mitch grinned. “Yes, that's us.”

  They climbed into the cab. Christa gave the driver their hotel's address, but Mitch put a restraining hand on her arm.

  “We can’t go back there,” he whispered, then he spoke louder to the driver. “Head north on Wisconsin Avenue. We'll tell you where to stop.”

  The cab driver drove up to street level, sliding into traffic unseen by the helicopter circling above. Mitch fell into a deep silence, his mind plagued by EB’s dazzling skill, and worse, by what he'd told him.

  Echelon was tasked against them!

  Chapter 8

  They walked to a small diner after the cab dropped them off, then Christa accepted the risk of calling Knightly from a public phone, informing him that Senator George W. Fraser was a senior figure in the Siren Project organization, and more importantly, he was not conditioned. Knightly listened, then told her to attend a meeting he'd planned for that night.

  “Mitchell has the address memorized,” he said, then hung up. The call had lasted no more than fifteen seconds, but a transcript would be on Senator Fraser's desk within twenty four hours.

  “Okay Mitch, what's Echelon, and why couldn’t I tell Gus about it?”

  “What’s your security clearance?”

  “Higher than yours.”

  Mitch sipped his coffee thoughtfully. “Then how come you don’t know about it?”

  Christa hesitated, genuinely puzzled. “I don’t know. Should I?”

  “You’ve been working in the intelligence community since you were fifteen, and you don’t know about Echelon? You sure they trust you?”

  Christa pondered the question for a moment, then offered a possible solution. “I’ve been in Metapsych for much of that time.”

  “Meta what?”

  “It’s one of those things I’m not supposed to talk about.”

  “If you Monitor guys lose out, whatever this Meta thing is, may not exist. But it might come in handy for me to know what it is.”

  She considered his comments, then nodded. “It was started by Gus, years ago, long before I joined. Initially it was a kind of university research project, until he started getting clinically provable results.”

  “What kind of results?”

  “He proved the mind has capabilities beyond merely thinking, beyond memory, beyond running our bodily functions. He found there are senses we don’t use yet, like sight, or hearing, but on a higher level.”

  Mitch listened attentively, but could not hide his skepticism. “Brain sight?”

  “You asked. Should I continue?”

  “Sorry. It sounds flaky, but go on.”

  “Most of our brain’s capacity is unused. Gus figured out techniques to unlock some of that extra potential. Enough to get the attention of the intelligence community. The next thing he knew, Metapsych was a very well funded, very secret, research center.”

  “When we met, you said you did tests at a university. That was to get into Metapsych?”

  “Kind of. You see, my mother was already in Metapsych. She was Gus' star student. She’d already noticed I had some of the same talents she had, when she was a child. She thought, maybe if I started the training younger, I’d go further. So she got Gus to give me the tests.”

  “It’s hereditary?”

  “Maybe. It’s stronger in women than men, because men control their emotions and have more logical minds. That inhibits sensitivity. Men still have the potential, they just suppress it. Women are more inclined to listen to their intuition. That's the key.”

  “So what exactly are these extra senses?”

  “For one, I can sense when someone’s mind is tampered with. You’ve seen that already. That’s a ‘sight’ type sense. Another sense makes me aware when someone is close, it’s kind of a ‘hearing’ sense.”

  “Are you saying that no one can sneak up on you?”

  “It’s not perfect, but that’s one use for it. Of course, if my emotions are highly activated, then I’m blinded. Or deaf, depending on the sense. I have to be emotionally tranquil for it to work. There are other faculties, some I have, some I don’t. No one really knows why someone has one sense, and someone else has another. Gus hopes to figure it out one day. He’s really the genius, not me.”

  “But you’re highly intelligent?”

  “Yes, far above average.” She looked like she was holding something back.

  “And?”

  “Gus thinks it's kind of an evolutionary thing. Some people are further along the evolutionary path than others. If you’re further along, you can get access to these higher senses.”

  “Ah huh, and if you’re a Neanderthal like me, you’re stuck with a malfunctioning brain.”

  Christa patted his hand sympathetically. “Don't worry, you'll be okay in another million years.”

  Mitch smiled, accepting his humble place on the evolutionary ladder. “So you’ve been in this Metapsych thing since you were a kid, wrapped in cotton wool, learning how to see and hear with your mind, instead of your eyes and ears. And they taught you to shoot and do other spook stuff along the way.”

  “Yes, that’s about it. Gus was always very careful to control my education. Every piece of information I received was carefully designed to stimulate my development. I guess knowing about Echelon wouldn't have helped.”

  “So how many field assignments have you had?”

  “Including this one?” She asked with a smile. “One.”

  “I knew it! You’re a highly trained, psychically gifted, rookie!”

  “Don’t underestimate just how highly trained I am. And I really do have faculties you don’t, so I’m not as much a rookie as you might think.” She sat back. “So what’s Echelon?”

  “It's not as exotic as Metapsych,” Mitch said. “The foundations of it started back in the Second World War, when the English speaking democracies formed the closest alliance the world had ever seen. I’m
talking about the US, Britain, Canada, Australia and New Zealand. The alliance included intelligence gathering operations all over the world. After the war was won, a secret treaty was formed between the United Kingdom and the United States called the UKUSA agreement, which also included the other three countries. It’s an exclusive, very secret club, where the members work together to spy on the rest of the world. UKUSA is the true core of the Western Alliance, not NATO.”

  “UKUSA?” Christa said thoughtfully. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “They don't exactly publicize it. Officers from each member country are stationed in the other’s intelligence agencies, to ensure the highest level of cooperation. The geographic locations of Britain, North America, New Zealand and Australia mean that the English speaking world is able to electronically monitor most of the rest of the world from within its own territory. There are some listening posts in other countries, but those countries don't really know what's going on. The UKUSA stations are highly automated, intercepting communications from satellites, undersea cables, radio, microwave, cell phones and fiber optics. The works! It cost billions to build, all in total secrecy. It’s called the Echelon System.”

  “That's a lot of calls. How do they know which ones to listen to?”

  “No, no, you’re thinking too small, Princess. They don’t pick and choose. They listen to everything, everywhere in the world, all the time. Millions, maybe billions of communications per second. Super computers in the intercept stations search every telephone call, fax, email and text, for keywords. The keywords are recorded in five dictionaries, one for each UKUSA country, so they can target the intelligence they're interested in. When a keyword is detected, the communication containing that keyword is recorded, then automatically bounced back to that particular country’s signal intelligence organization for analysis. Basically, there are five NSA’s, all working together, busily reading the rest of the world’s communications. And they can crack any code ever invented, so there’s no place to hide.”

  “That’s strangely disturbing.”

  “If they have a recording of your voice, they can search for your exact voice print. It’s easier than you might think. A digitally recorded voice is nothing more than a string of numbers. It’s easy for computers to match one set of numbers with another. It’s a great system for winning a Cold War or hunting terrorists. We know what the bad guys are doing, as soon as they do, and they don't know we know.”