“You went after the Desert Devils?”
She shook her head. “No, I took a wider view of the situation. The Devils were just a symptom. I decided to attack the disease itself.”
Doc felt his stomach grow cold. “And what was the disease?”
“The entire developed world. But America in particular. You see, it was the CIA’s involvement in the oil politics of this region that led to the sort of terrorism and insurgency that allowed the Desert Devils to flourish in the first place. So I decided that the developed world must suffer and America in particular would have to be punished.”
Doc found that he couldn’t meet the woman’s gaze. The uninhibited way she discussed her plans was chilling. It meant she thought there was no chance he’d ever be able to do anything to stop her.
“And now, after many years of hard work, my plans are finally coming to fruition.” She gestured at the room in which they sat. “We have this excellent laboratory run by Professor Adenhauer and staffed by expert chemists where the lizard’s toxin has been extracted and refined further.”
“And given to children.”
“Only the children of rich privileged people, from rich privileged nations. But for you to understand properly I must show you something else.” Therese reached into the pocket of her coat and took out a phone. “Zaki, could you come in now?”
The door of the laboratory opened and the man with the tribal scars came in. “Zaki will join us as your escort while we visit the Hive.”
Doc hardly registered her words. Seeing the scarred man brought memories rushing back to him. The basement. Benadir. He turned to the man. “What happened to the girl who was with me? When you hit us with the tasers. Is she here?”
Zaki smiled and shook his head. “No, just you. But you mustn’t worry about her. I just left her lying there and it won’t have taken your friends long to have opened the door and find her. The effects of the taser would have worn off after a few minutes and she’ll be fine.”
He had exchanged a quick look with Therese when he said She’ll be fine. Doc wasn’t sure what he should read into that look.
He stared at the man.
In the end, he had no choice but to believe him.
13: The Hive
Before they left the lab, Zaki secured Doc by strapping his right arm to his right leg. He then gave Doc a crutch to use with his left arm. It was an extremely effective method of hobbling him. There was nothing he could do with his right hand, and if he tried to do anything with his left — except use the crutch — he would topple over.
Therese and Zaki led him out into the blinding daylight of a desert afternoon. The heat hit him like the blast from the open door of a furnace. Doc looked around, blinking. He was in the midst of a complex of modern buildings in a barren wilderness wasteland. The buildings sat there, in the middle of the desert, like something in a Dali landscape. Most of the structures were low white rectangles, but the ‘Hive’ was a black dome.
All the buildings had their roofs covered with tan camouflage netting, which would have rendered them virtually invisible to anyone flying overhead.
In the Hive he was introduced to a handsome, hunchbacked man. “This is Raoul,” said Therese. “He is my partner. In every sense.”
Raoul bowed politely. “I knew your mother quite well.”
“Not as well as he would have liked,” said Therese, and laughed. The casual mocking cruelty of that laughter was startling. Raoul glanced at her in annoyance. Doc began to wonder if there was an area of conflict between these two that he could exploit — and maybe Marion Palfrey would be the key to it. He felt a sudden surge of gratitude towards his mother.
But before he could think about it further, Raoul began to tell him about the Hive.
It was a high tech command centre designed for flying remote controlled drone missions. But Raoul has gone one step further than the usual drone control, by employing a brain computer interface.
And using children as his pilots.
Children who had been drugged with the toxin to make them compliant, and to enhance their aggression and boost their reflexes in a combat situation.
“It was easy teaching them to fly the drones. All of them were adept at playing computer games, and to them this is just one more game. You see, children are ideal for this because their brains are still forming and can be shaped in the necessary direction to work with the interface. By the time a child becomes a teenager, the massive re-wiring that begins at puberty makes them unsuitable for the task. And adults’ brains are too rigidly fixed to be of any use.”
“In any case, we couldn’t use the drug on adults,” said Therese.
Raoul nodded and went on to lecture to Doc about the principle of collaborative BCI, using signals from two people’s brains to enhance the control mechanism. “Which is why identical twins, with identical brains, are particularly useful. We were hoping to have the bulk of our swarm of drones flown by twins.” Raoul gave Doc an accusing look. “But you rather spoiled that plan.”
“No matter,” said Therese. “The twins were just the icing on the cake. We managed to fill our quota very satisfactorily.”
Doc looked at the ‘quota’. The interior of the Hive was dimly lit. Its domed ceiling made it seem like a miniature planetarium. High on the ceiling was a screen with a map on it. Spaced in a radial fashion on the floor of the building were twenty units that resembled the control panels of flight simulators. In front each unit were a pair of low-slung leather chairs. In each chair was a child, apparently asleep but actually in a drugged trance. The chairs were designed for adults and the children looked small and lost, engulfed by them.
Doc’s heart pinched at the sight of their small faces, visible under the headsets that covered their scalps. Strands of cables ran from these headsets to the control panels.
Brain computer interface.
“And all these children have been kidnapped from Europe?” said Doc, suppressing his anger. He pretended to be interested in the answer to this question, but what he was really interested in was the map on the ceiling.
It showed the Arabian Sea, and the position of a fleet of ships was marked on it.
“Europe and America, or from European or American families in Africa,” said Therese with satisfaction. It seemed revenge was sweet.
“They will be most lethal thing in the skies,” said Raoul, proudly surveying his domain. “There is no defence system capable of preventing our drones from hitting their objective, providing we launch them in sufficient numbers. It’s a numbers game. And each of these pairs of children you see before you will have a flight of a hundred drones under their control, making up what we call our swarm. This swarm will be so dense, and so agile — moving with the intricate split second precision of a flock of birds — that no counter measure can stop it from destroying its target.”
“Of course, not every child proved suitable for piloting the drones,” added Therese. “But we managed to find work for all of them in some way or other.” She looked at Doc. “Like poor Philippe whom you met in the seaside villa.”
Doc remembered the boy with the knife, falling into the ocean. “He drowned rather than let himself be taken prisoner.”
Therese nodded. “He was a good little soldier.” She took her phone out of her pocket and studied it. “Ah, Professor Adenhauer is available now. You must come and meet him.” As they walked towards the door she looked at Doc with concern. “Are you sure you can manage all right on that crutch?”
“Yes,” said Doc. “I’m fine, thank you.” After what he’d seen in the Hive, her politeness seemed the final obscenity.
*
Back in the laboratory Zaki took Doc’s crutch away from him but did not unstrap his arm from his leg. “You travels aren’t yet at an end,” explained Therese. She politely invited him to sit down on his cot again. When he was comfortable, Therese resumed her perch on the stool, Zaki standing behind her, arms folded.
“I saw you looking at ou
r map in the Hive,” said Therese. “You must be wondering about our plans, about the ultimate objective of our project. Well, to be honest it has evolved over time, although the basic impulse has always remained the same — to punish America. I told you what the CIA did to me, my family, to this whole continent. Anyway, originally I wanted to sink the entire Fifth Fleet.”
She said this with great casualness, as if she was making small talk.
“Unfortunately that didn’t prove entirely practical. The number of drones involved, the number of control units, the number of children… it simply wasn’t feasible. We only have enough drones to saturate the defences of one large vessel. One very large vessel. So it looked for a long time as if I would have to settle for merely sinking an aircraft carrier, the flagship of the fleet, so to speak.”
She leaned towards Doc, her voice low and soft. “A Nimitz class aircraft carrier has around six thousand souls on board. I could send every one of them to hell. And yet, somehow, I never really felt that that was enough.” Smiled. “But then a wonderful bonus came our way, something which will make it all worth while. Something which has led us to move our plans forward.” Her dark eyes gleamed and her hands drifted up to her hair, to toy with the silver comb that glinted there.
“You see, Carrier Strike Group Nine is led by the aircraft carrier Abraham Lincoln. And there is going to be a very special visitor to the Lincoln. As a result of the growing tension between the United States and Iran it’s been decided in Washington that a decisive display of strength, commitment and solidarity must be made in the region.”
Doc felt his flesh begin to crawl in horror. He had a premonition of what he was about to hear.
“So in a few hours the President of the United States will be paying a visit to the Abraham Lincoln. It is a highly secret visit, of course, because no one wants anything to happen to the President.”
Therese laughed and Zaki laughed with her.
“And thus we have our target,” concluded Therese.
Before Doc could say anything, the door of the laboratory opened and a man in a white lab coat entered. He was middle aged, with a fringe of grey hair around a shining bald head. He had a kindly, fatherly look to him and he smiled at Doc as they were introduced.
“This is Professor Adenhauer,” said Therese. “Is everything ready, Professor?”
“Quite ready, yes.” The Professor took a syringe from the pocket of his coat. As he removed the protective plastic cap from the syringe, Therese gazed hungrily at Doc.
“As we told you,” she said, “the drug derived from the lizard invariably kills anyone older than a child. Something to do with hormonal interaction, isn’t it, Professor?”
Professor Adenhauer nodded, tapping the syringe to check for air bubbles.
Doc began to tense his muscles. He was going to have to try something, anything—
Zaki stepped to the cot and fixed Doc in a wrestling hold, immobilising him. Doc tried to hit Zaki but the man blocked his blow effortlessly, twisting Doc’s arm behind his back so that he was entirely helpless. Therese kept speaking as though nothing was happening.
“The Professor thinks he may have solved this particular problem. And you have the privilege of being the first to try our new formula.” Therese smiled at Doc.
“If it works, you will be our obedient servant. If not…” she shrugged. “You will be dead.”
Zaki murmured casually to Doc, “By the way, your friend in the basement in Genoa? You remember when I told you before that she was going to be fine?”
He leaned so close that Doc could smell his aftershave. “Well, I was lying. I actually shot her and killed her before we left.”
Blind with rage, Doc made a final, superhuman effort to break free of the man’s grip, to get hold of him, to smash him, strangle him, destroy him.
It was hopeless.
“Really, Zaki,” said Therese as Doc thrashed on the cot. “That was unnecessarily nasty!” She spoke as if reprimanding a child.
Professor Adenhauer stepped forward with the syringe and bent over Doc.
The needle went into his arm and the drug flowed into his veins
Blackness closed over Doc.
14: Abraham Lincoln
“How is Benadir?” said Marion Palfrey. She was sitting with Sofia in the Aquarium. She was in the same chair she always chose when she visited here; in some ways Marion was a creature of habit.
“She has a sternal fracture and some broken ribs,” said Sofia. “She is going to experience considerable discomfort for many weeks to come, but she isn’t in any danger.”
“What saved her was wearing her vest under her street clothes,” said Marion.
“Precisely. If her assailant had known she had a vest, he would have tried for a head shot.” Sofia shuddered at the thought.
“Have you told her about Tom yet?” said Marion Palfrey. It was the first time she had mentioned her son, and in a way it was a relief to Sofia. Marion had been unnaturally calm ever since Doc had been taken. She had been all business. Cold steel. This was the first time she’d so much as acknowledged the situation.
“No,” said Sofia. “We thought it was best not to.”
“Because if you told her, she would climb out of her hospital bed and try to find him,” said Marion Palfrey.
“Something like that.”
“Well, give her my regards,” said Marion. She glanced at her watch. “I believe my flight is ready now.” She stood up.
Sofia rose from behind her desk. “I’ll see you on board.”
“No, please don’t bother. I insist.”
Sofia sank uncertainly back into her chair and watched Marion Palfrey march across the office towards the door. She paused before she reached it, however, and picked up one of the items confiscated from Raoul Duval’s house in Genoa.
It was the photograph of herself, taken a few months earlier.
“I can’t believe, after all these years, this man is still obsessed with me.”
Sofia smiled. “It’s a passion worthy of Dante.”
Marion looked at her bleakly. “Well, I certainly know which circle of Hell Raoul Duval should be consigned to.”
“The second?” The second circle of Hell was allotted to those damned for lust.”
“The ninth.” The ninth belonged to those damned for treachery. I saved that bastard’s life. I wish I’d let him die.”
Marion Palfrey went through the door and down the glass steps to the floor of the hangar. A lonely, ageing, defiant woman.
Sofia turned back to her computer and studied one of the other items confiscated from Duval’s house. The hard drive from his TV recorder. Every other hard drive and piece of computer memory in the place had been either removed or wiped clean.
But they had forgotten the television.
Sofia watched the most recently viewed programs.
They were all news items about the recent manoeuvres of the Fifth US Fleet, and its new assignment in the Middle East.
When Sofia had brought this material to Marion Palfrey’s attention, Marion had immediately made the disturbing but inevitable connection — the threat to the Fleet that she’d been investigating actually emanated from Raoul’s people.
And their drones.
The two investigations, hers and Doc’s, were one and the same.
And the stakes had just been raised to an unimaginable level, because Z5 had received word that the President of the United States was imminently scheduled for a clandestine visit to the Fifth Fleet.
Sofia glanced at her watch and paused the image on the screen. She got up and walked to the wide window of her office that overlooked the runway.
She watched the jump jet containing Marion Palfrey lift off, bound for the Arabian Sea.
*
Most planes landing on an aircraft carrier require special customised structures on their undercarriage to enable the arresting cable to slow them down sufficiently for a safe landing.
Being in a vertic
al take off jet simplified matters considerably. And within two hours of leaving Linate Airport in Milan, Marion Palfrey was standing on the deck of the USS Abraham Lincoln (CVN-72) being greeted by a senior member of the President’s personal Secret Service detail. He was a young man half Marion’s age and he had never heard of her before this day.
He was still reeling with disbelief at the notion of a middle aged Englishwoman of no apparent political persuasion who had the clout to demand — and possibly even get — an audience with the President of the United States of America.
The young man had heard of Z5, however, and that went some way to dispelling his sense of unreality as he led Marion Palfrey, clad somewhat absurdly in a flight suit and helmet, towards the ‘island’ on the aircraft carrier which housed the command centre for flight deck operations and the ship as a whole that was currently playing host to the President and his entourage.
“I need to warn you, ma’am,” he said, “I’ve read the communiqué you’ve sent and I have to say that, although obviously we take security issues very seriously indeed, I’m afraid there is no chance of the President cutting short his visit to this carrier.” He sneaked a sidelong glance at Marion Palfrey. The old battleaxe looked like she could be a real handful. He braced himself to deliver the worst of the bad news. “We can’t even guarantee that you will have any opportunity for personal contact with the President. As you will understand, there are numerous time pressures and he is incredibly busy.”
Marion didn’t seem surprised or taken aback by any of this. “Fine,” she said. “But since I’m here anyway, do me one favour.”
The young man felt a wonderful sensation of relief. “If I can,” he said.
“Before the President delivers his speech, put me where the television cameras are certain to see me.”
“We should be able to manage that,” said the young man. And since Marion Palfrey was gazing away from him, out to sea, towards the distant invisible coast of Africa, he allowed himself the luxury of shaking his head in wonder.
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