“But isn’t there a lot of carbon in ash anyway?” said Benadir.
Professor Nuntovi nodded approvingly. “Carbon, carbon compounds, and all sorts of other material which was originally in the stuff that got burned. That’s ash for you.”
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” said Marion Palfrey in her most deadly voice. “Because you’ve found some carbon in some ash samples-”
“A significant amount of carbon,” said Nuntovi. “A statistically significant amount more than we would normally expect to find.”
“Therefore you have concluded that the fires are being caused by hordes of microscopic nanobots?” said Marion. “Because you’ve found a surplus of carbon in the ash?”
“Well, that and the fact that we found some nanobots,” said Nuntovi.
Everyone stared at him. “You found some?” said Doc.
“Oh yes. We’ve analysed them and examined them. They are definitely what’s causing the fire. That is what they are designed to do. Very ingeniously designed, I might add. And once they have caused the fire they are either supposed to return to whoever sent them, or self destruct, leaving no trace. But of course vast numbers of these tiny machines are involved, and some are bound to malfunction. And those are the ones we’ve found.”
“My god,” said Marion Palfrey. “You’ve worked out what’s causing these fires.”
Doc and Benadir was speechless.
“Yes,” said Professor Nuntovi modestly. “And we’ve also worked out how to stop them.”
For a long moment, no one in the conference room dared to say anything. Then Doc said, “You’ve worked out a way to stop the fires?”
Nuntovi shrugged. “Sure. Stop the nanobots and you stop the fires. So we worked out a way to stop the nanobots.” He reached under his chair and produced a large cardboard box which he set on the conference table. “Because they are tiny machines, using microscopic circuitry, they are vulnerable, like any other device, to an EMP or electromagnetic pulse.” He reached in the box and took out a shiny black box, flat and rectangular, about the size of a man’s hand. It reminded Doc of his LaCie Sam Hecht backup disc for his computer, except it had a red switch set in the middle of it.
“This is a highly effective, compact and portable EMP projector,” said Professor Nuntovi. “A marvellous piece of work, really. I wish I could take credit for it. In fact it was designed by Raoul Duval and we retrieved it from his house in Genoa.” He glanced at Doc. “You may remember that one of his operatives used it to knock out traffic cameras.”
Doc nodded. He remembered very well. The man had tried to kill him.
“This is Duval’s prototype.” The Professor took out a second, identical black box. “And this is the model we built, following his design. We only have these two at the moment, but my people are busy constructing more of them.”
“So we can use these to fight the fires?” said Doc.
“Yes,” said Nuntovi. “For the reasons you were outlining earlier, conventional fire fighting equipment is of little use to combat a blaze caused by these nanobots. But this device should be effective. Very effective indeed.” He smiled with satisfaction. “On a small fire, a hand held model will be sufficient. For larger fires the same model can be used, but its battery will drain quickly so I have designed a large outboard battery pack to be worn by the user, and once connected to the device it will provide extra power.” He took a black bag out of the box. It was bulky and heavy, about the size of a shoulder bag used by a dispatch rider, with a padded shoulder strap. “And I have also designed a charger, for the small device and the big battery pack, when they are drained.” He looked at Marion Palfrey. “I hope you don’t mind me making use of Raoul Duval’s design. I know how you felt about the man.”
Marion smiled. “On the contrary, if the bastard can help us, even from beyond the grave, I am only too pleased.” She looked around the table. “At last we can begin to fight back. We know how the fires are being started, and we know how to stop them. Professor, I can’t thank you enough, on behalf of all of us.”
Nuntovi was staring down at the table, and he looked oddly despondent. He shook his head. “I only wish poor Goldstein was still alive. I even miss having the ingredients for his damned smoothies crowding my refrigerator. He would have been an enormous help in this matter.” He looked up at them. “Nanotechnology was Goldstein’s area of special expertise. He would have discovered what was going on much more quickly than I did. Who knows how many lives would have been saved? I have been incredibly dense and slow on the uptake.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Professor,” said Marion. “You have done a marvellous job.”
Doc wasn’t listening to her. At the mention of Jacob Goldstein’s name, alarm bells had started to ring in his brain.
The door of the conference room opened and Cartwright looked in at Marion. “Excuse me, ma’am. They’re asking for you at Downing Street. The Prime Minister wants to see you immediately.”
“Their timing couldn’t be better,” said Marion jubilantly. “I just need to get some further details from the professor here. Tell them I’ll be along within the hour.”
Cartwright looked distinctly unhappy. “I’m afraid they really do mean immediately, ma’am. I was told to tell you to come at once, and if you don’t instantly comply then you will be collected and taken there. By force, if necessary.”
14: Arrest
Marion Palfrey sat opposite the Prime Minister. He was behind his desk and she was back in that godforsaken sofa. “Prime Minister,” she said. “I wish to protest about the manner in which I was summoned her.”
He stared at her bleakly. “Is that all you have to say?”
“Absolutely not. I also bitterly resent the manner in which I was searched on my arrival. I have never been subjected to that kind of humiliation before. What’s more, your security people confiscated a very important item which I wanted to show you. They seem to be under the impression that it might be some kind of improvised explosive device. I ask you, do I look like a suicide bomber?”
The Prime Minister seemed to decide he’d heard enough. “Dame Marion, I did you the courtesy of inviting you here…”
“You didn’t invite me. You summoned me, under threat of force.”
“I wanted you here to explain what is going to happen to you and Z5.”
Marion looked at him. “What do you mean, happen to us?”
“We have been in contact with this man who calls himself Faustus.”
“In contact? You mean negotiating with him? I thought this government had a policy of not negotiating with terrorists.”
“This government has a policy of existing in the real world, Dame Marion. And in the real world we are under threat from a man and his organisation who have the power to burn down our cities at will. So of course we are talking to them. And we are playing for time.”
“Well, you don’t have to do that anymore, Prime Minister. I was about to tell you about this device I brought with me. It is a kind of EMP projector, it transmits an electromagnetic pulse-”
“Mrs Palfrey, you will let me finish.” It was not a question. “We have been in contact with this Faustus and he has made certain requests.”
“By requests you mean demands.”
The Prime Minister ignored her. “First and foremost among these requests is that we deal with the matter of Z5.” He looked at Marion. “While I don’t deny that your group has been of benefit to this country in the past, I must admit that I have always had reservations about it. Considerable reservations. Any organisation that ignores national boundaries the way you do -”
“But don’t you see, that is our strength!”
“Any organisation like that must necessarily lack loyalty to this country, and its laws and ideals and aims. It must, in fact, represent a hazard to our national interests. And, to be frank, other governments feel the same way. So it falls to me to inform you that, from this moment on, Z5 is an outlawed body in every countr
y in the world where it has previously been operating. Its operatives are subject to immediate arrest and detention if they continue in any way to pursue its objectives. Its assets and property are subject to seizure and government control as of this moment, and key individuals are going to be taken into custody in…” he consulted his watch “… seventeen minutes time. This is intended to be a coordinated international operation.” He smiled thinly. “Although it does seem that the authorities in Milan have jumped the gun rather when dealing with your people there.”
Marion Palfrey stared at him. “You are doing this because the man Faustus has told you to?”
“We are doing what is necessary to protect our people.”
“And do you think his demands are going to stop there?”
“We are coming to a financial arrangement with Faustus, and we are convinced that this whole matter will soon be satisfactorily resolved.”
“You mean he’s blackmailing you, and you’re giving in to him. How much are you paying him?”
“I have no intention of discussing that with you.”
“And you think that will be the end of the matter? This is just the beginning.”
“We are building robust safeguards into our agreement with him. But that’s none of your concern. You are here because I am doing you the courtesy of telling you about your new status in person. Your activities with Z5 cease immediately.”
“Are you out of your mind? Z5 is your only hope.”
“You will excuse me now.” He must have pushed a button on his desk because the door opened and Ansell was standing there with two security men. “Show Dame Marion out, please.”
“Wait. Listen to me. You must listen to what I have to say. We can help you!” The security men were lifting Marion from the sofa by her elbows.
“You’ve done quite enough damage,” said the Prime Minister. He was turning his attention to papers on his desk.
“At least look at the device I brought in. You can stop the fires with it. They’re caused by nanobots-” But she was outside the Prime Minister’s office now, with the door closed behind her.
And a minute later she was out in the street.
*
Back at Digby Mews, Doc was sitting with Benadir in her office. “I’m sure that Goldstein is the key to this all,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“You heard what the Professor said. Goldstein was an expert in nanotechnology. I’m convinced that’s why he was killed. Someone wanted to make sure that when these fires started we had lost our best man for stopping them.”
“Everyone else seems to believe that Goldstein committed suicide.”
“Well, I don’t. Just think about it. When they started setting these fires, to demonstrate what they could do, where did they set them? In the forests of Australia and California and Germany. And a park in Milan. In every case they avoided urban centres. The one exception was Cambridge - why?” Doc took a much folded scrap of paper out of his pocket. He spread it out on her desk. It was his map of the area around Goldstein’s flat, with the yellow markings on it.
“I think they were trying to wipe out evidence,” said Doc. “They didn’t want me checking shops in this area.” He tapped the map with his finger. “Because if I had, I would have confirmed that Goldstein never bought the drugs that killed him.”
Benadir didn’t seem to be listening. She wasn’t looking at the map. Instead she was rummaging in a drawer of her desk. “I almost forgot,” she said. “What with all the excitement. This came for you this morning.” She took out a small padded envelope and handed it to him.
“What is it?”
“You remember you ordered this surveillance footage from the shops for the day when Goldstein was supposed to have bought the drugs?”
Doc opened the envelope and took out a memory stick. “But the shops were destroyed.”
“Yes, but the big chemists like Boots have their CCTV recordings dumped off the hard discs and stored centrally.” Benadir grinned at him. “Are you still interested?”
Doc jumped out of his chair. “Move over. Let me at your computer.”
He was just about to plug in the memory stick when the door opened and Cartwright hurried in. The expression on his face immediately silenced any question Doc or Benadir might have been about to ask.
“You’ve got to get out of here. Right now. The police are moving in. Everyone in Digby Mews is going to be arrested.”
“Derek, what’s going on?”
“Z5 has been designated a terrorist organisation. The government has caved into demands from Faustus. They’re only waiting for your mother to come back from Downing Street, then they’re going to arrest everyone at once. You must leave now.”
*
A Ducati 1098 R comes without a passenger seat, but on request it can be modified at the factory to accommodate one. When Doc had ordered his bike, he’d also ordered a backup version, with just such a seat fitted to the back.
He been thinking of riding with Benadir when he’d bought it.
But he’d never imagined he’d be fleeing from Digby Mews with her, one step ahead of the law. Initially Doc had been planning to head to Battersea Heliport and take one of Z5’s helicopters. Then he learned that the police were already there.
So they just used the bike. It would be harder to trace them on it, anyway.
They rode out of London and down to Brett Hall, Doc’s family home. The police would look here, too, eventually. But it would provide a refuge for the next few hours at least.
As soon as they arrived they went into his office in the east wing. It was a big space with glass walls he’d nicknamed the Fish Tank, in homage to Sofia’s lair in Milan.
They switched the computer on and were just loading up the surveillance camera images when there was flash of red in the sky outside. “Oh no,” whispered Benadir. The light of the flames were reflected on her face from the trees that were burning. Doc grabbed his motorcycle jacket and dashed outside.
Benadir raced after him and found him pointing the little back EMP projector he’d grabbed from Nuntovi’s lab, along with the battery pack and charger, before they’d fled. Doc aimed it at the fire and pressed the red button on it.
And the fire went out.
Just like that.
Doc looked at Benadir. “Well, I guess that works,” he said.
They went back inside and started watching the CCTV footage. It was a tedious business, even fast forwarding it so that the time code flickered frantically across the image. Doc’s eyes remained glued to the screen. Benadir went and fetched them chicken sandwiches and bottles of lager. She kept glancing out the windows, expecting another fire.
It never came.
Then, after three hours of gruelling viewing, Doc saw someone he knew on one of the tapes.
“Oh no,” he said. “Oh Christ, no.” He kept watching until he was sure. Then he switched the computer off. He looked at Benadir. His face was pale. She wanted to ask him what he’d seen, but she was afraid.
Doc’s phone started to ring. And Benadir’s. They took them out. It was Cartwright calling. Calling both of them. Doc answered his.
“I’m sorry, Doc, but you’re going to have to give yourself up. Faustus has issued an ultimatum.” Doc put the call on speaker so Benadir could hear it.
“If you don’t give yourself up, he’s going to burn down the Isle of Dogs.”
15: Cull
The Isle of Dogs is a kind of swollen peninsula, a thick outcropping of land that is surrounded on three sides by a loop, or ‘meander’, of the River Thames. For many years it housed a thriving system of docks. After the Second World War the docks were rendered obsolete and the Isle became disused and run down, a derelict and abandoned wasteland.
All that changed in the late twentieth century when it was developed as London’s new financial centre. It became the precinct of banks and billionaires. Today it was the economic nerve centre of the country.
Today it w
as under threat.
Faustus had created a barrier of fire across the Isle of Dogs, where it joined the mainland, running along the A1261 road. This line of flames effectively cut off the Isle. Fires on the tracks prevented the railways and tubes from running. Attempts to evacuate via the river were proving chaotic and fragmentary.
The entire working population of the Isle was trapped.
And when Faustus gave the word, they would burn alive.
Unless Doc surrendered.
Doc wasn’t going to surrender.
Instead, he and Benadir climbed onto the Ducati, taking some handguns and the EMP device and its battery and charger. Benadir insisted on doing the driving. “You’ve already had a long ride down here, and now we’re going straight back to London again.” There was no arguing with her, so Doc reluctantly climbed onto the passenger seat.
They rode into London, heading north towards their ultimate destination. They crossed the Thames at Bankside, travelling over Blackfriars Bridge. Here they took a detour eastwards towards the Isle of Dogs. The city was in chaos and it would have been impossible to get through in a car.
But they made it on the motorcycle.
The wall of flames that ran across the A1261, cutting the throat of the Isle of Dogs, should have been an awesome sight. But to Doc it was less impressive than the curtain of fire he’d seen on the M25 only days before.
Maybe he was becoming blasé.
With Benadir’s help he attached the reserve battery pack to the EMP projector and they drove the length of the burning section of road, aiming it at the fire.
By the time they had finished, the batteries were all dead.
But the fire was out.
As they resumed their journey, heading north, the evacuation began behind them. By the time they’d reached the M25, everyone who wanted to leave the Isle of Dogs had left and the risk of a holocaust was over. With Doc back in the driving seat, they continued heading north. Towards Potters Bar.
Night was falling as they pulled into the old priory where Sir Frederick Lassen lived and worked. This time Doc saw the goats as he pulled up, pale and ghostly figures in the twilight. They were wandering around, peering hopefully over the chicken wire fences at the beds of thriving vegetables. Doc and Benadir climbed off the hot bike.
Hard Targets: A Doc Palfrey Omnibus Page 15