by KC McLaren
“Maybe, but he can’t tell Strickland about this meeting, that would make him worth bugger all,” Egil replied.
“Yes, you are right. And I’m banking on it he doesn’t go to Strickland. He knows it will finish the relationship between the both of them. He also knows his career is over. It’s just how he wishes to end it. Unless, you fail. Either way, don’t underestimate the bastard, even his enemies owe him favours. Favours they can’t refuse.”
Egil looked at his godfather who he loved and admired with the utmost respect. But things niggled in the back of his mind. Jacobs may have the high IQ and the perfect survivor, but his godfather had a lot more experience and most likely a lot more skeletons in his closet. And above all that, he was not averse to doing what he needed to do, crossing the line, ignoring the rules to get what he wanted. Even at the cost of the others. The more he thought about the whole situation, the more he concluded his godfather was keeping more from him than he was telling him. Even Jacobs, there was more to him than what Bill was telling – he had this gut feeling not everything was what it was. He felt somewhat of a pawn in this game.
“I still feel you’ve kept me in the dark, Bill. You know I could have helped sooner,” he said
“You are right, but I have my reasons, one day I hope all will become clear and you’ll understand. However, now I’m throwing you into the deep end, and there is a lot of nasty sharks there too. To an extent, you’ll still be in the dark. We can’t afford to allow everyone in on this, only people you can trust with your life. And that is what you’re betting with from this moment forward.”
“Maybe you should give me my resignation letter and let me fly off into the sun.”
“What resignation letter?” The Home Secretary giggled again.
“You’re a rye old man, Mr Home Secretary. Very sneaky. Once a master spy, always a spy master. Why didn’t you just ask Jacobs where Beckett is?”
“Another simple one. He doesn’t know. I’ve been convinced for that last two years, Strickland is heading up this charade, but I’ve never been able get any real proof to stick. He has powerful friends in high places, and a lot of them have brought billions to his cause. Without doubt, I believe Strickland has Jonathan Beckett. He wouldn’t have trusted Jacobs with all of his plans. I’m convinced he used outside help, away from any contacts or people he knows in the government and elsewhere.”
“Namely the so called CIA guy who knocked me out in the car park at Canary Wharf.”
“Yes, a professional mercenary. And I have absolutely nothing on him. I don’t even know what country he originates from.”
“He called himself, Brad. Played his part very well, convinced me. I’m sure he is the same person who the PM described in the penthouse. He wore a mask of some sort, but I’m convinced it’s him.”
“Yes, I believe you are right, Egil. I have something else for you.”
The Home Secretary pressed the button on the intercom. “Bring in Sara for me please.”
“Yes, Sir,” came the reply.
“Sara, the girl from the penthouse,” Egil asked, “she’s Alan’s secretary or something? I thought she was in hospital recovering from a bump on the head.”
The Home Secretary smiled, “She is far more than any secretary you’ll ever meet, Egil. She has been tracking Jonathan Beckett for nearly two years. As well as working for Beckett or should I say his CEO, Alan. She works for me, and it’s not going to be the first time you’ve met her. I don’t want the conversation I’ve just had with Jacobs repeated.”
“Again, you talk in riddles but ok. This girl though, I’ve never met her before seeing her in the penthouse. With her looks, I assure you I would have remembered her.”
“Has the pepper spray totally gone away, Egil?”
Egil raised an eyebrow but before he could answer Sara walked into the room. “Hello Mr Home Secretary, thank you for bringing me in on this.” She turned to Egil, “Mr Finstad. Nice to meet you again, I’ve been meaning to apologise for the pepper spraying earlier today.”
“The girl with Beckett outside the internet café? That was you? Well I’ll be damned.” Egil replied, a shocked look on his face wincing at the thought of the kick to his genitals. “You play mean, Sara.”
“Oh, yes. Again, my apologies. Please forgive me.”
“Don’t worry about it. If the Home Secretary trusts you, so do I.”
“You’ve not told him who I am Mr Home Secretary?”
“No, I thought I would leave the introductions to you, Sara,” the Home Secretary replied with a devious smirk.
“OK. My name is Sara Jacobs and my father is your boss, Reginald Jacobs.”
Egil felt that pepper spray had just been sprayed again. “Really! You’ve got to be kidding me. How the hell does this work then?” Egil said thinking, out of the fire into the frying pan then. “Did you know who I was when you, err, attacked me?”
He watched her glance towards his godfather and was sure there was some sort of understanding between the two. More riddles his gut instinct told him.
Sara smiled back, “No, Egil. I did not. Indeed, I do believe your godfather has a wonderful sense when it comes to judging of character.”
Egil knew she was lying, but why? “Yes, the old sod has always had a tendency of living above us mere mortals. But I thought you were hurt badly?”
“Thankfully, no. A concussion, I’ll get over it. We have more important things to attend to than my health, namely the safe return of Mr Jonathan Beckett.”
“Does he know you covertly work for Bill?”
“I much doubt it. It was only this afternoon he found out I worked for him and his CEO, Alan. Who also knows and approves of my working relationship with the Home Secretary. It was he who brought us together.”
“I have to say this, even though I said I wouldn’t. How can I trust you?”
The Home Secretary replied. “That is easy, Egil. Like you, her loyalty for this country is absolute and she can’t be bought. Above all else, I trust her. And as I’ve stated there are not many people around, we can trust. We, or should I say you, have only one shot at this, everything else is academic. Sara can bring you up to speed on everything she knows.”
“I will, Sir,” Sara replied. “I can also do something much better than that. When Jonathan and I were in the pub at Canary Wharf, I managed to inject him with a small, advanced tracking device. Rather funny if you ask me, it’s made from his designs.”
“Why haven’t you told us about this beforehand, Sara?” Egil asked.
“Give the girl a break, Egil. She’s just come directly from St Thomas’s hospital, which in essence is where she should still be.”
“It’s ok, Mr Home Secretary,” Sara replied, “Egil has a point. The answer is, I don’t know if it is working. The device is controlled by computers set up in the penthouse. It needs switching on and I am sad to say, the only person I know of how to do that is Simon. The man who was killed in the attack.”
Egil looked over at the Home Secretary. “We need to get back to the penthouse. I want to take a team with me. Carl’s team. I know that means leaving you unprotected here though.”
“That’s not a problem, Egil,” The Home Secretary replied, “There are three teams here on site currently. Carl is your best choice. You have my authority to bring him up to date with everything going on. He’s your man now.”
“Thank you, Bill,” replied Egil.
“It’s still Mr Home Secretary to you,” he replied laughing, “Get going, get this sorted out and get Jonathan Beckett back.” The Home Secretary looked at Sara, “From this moment on you will report directly to Egil. Keep him out of trouble and protect him please, Sara. He is the nearest thing to family my wife and I have.”
Chapter 41 | Hello Genesis
JONATHAN STARED AT STRICKLAND, “I don’t have access to the security protocols. No-one has remote access to them, not even me. Not unless I am directly at the hub of ThornScope, in the same room.”
/> Strickland looked back at Jonathan, his face lightening up like a little kid on Christmas morning. “In the same room, eh? Interesting…”
That should get him thinking, Jonathan thought. Keeping the pretence up he replied, “I meant…”
“I know what you meant,” Strickland interrupted, “I’ll keep that gem of a nugget for another day. For now, it’s time for you to see my little surprise, just for you. I’ve waited so long. I think you’ll be rather impressed,” he nodded his head towards Brad. “We’ve been very busy whilst you’ve been away.”
Brad walked and stood behind Jonathan. “Stand up and put your hands behind your back.”
“That won’t be necessary, Brad. I’m sure Jonathan doesn’t have any plans to escape. After all, we’re three levels below ground.”
Jonathan felt a wave of panic come over. Dumbfounded, he couldn’t comprehend what Strickland had just said.
“Don’t look so surprised… You’ve seen nothing yet,” Strickland said chuckling. “Come on, it’s time for the tour.”
Jonathan walked out of the door and into a long and narrow corridor which felt just as confiding as the closed space of the room. A heavily armed guard stood to his left with another standing further up the corridor. He realised Strickland, walking a few yards ahead, in every sense of the word had him cornered.
Jonathan felt Brad walking close behind, so close he could feel his breath on his neck. Not a pleasant feeling at all. His thoughts were on his sister. If he did carry out what Strickland was asking there was no guarantee of his sister’s safety or indeed, his own. Think God damn it, think.
His thoughts were interrupted as saw the guard up ahead, hand pressed to his ear, quickly walking towards Strickland. Some sort of comms, Jonathan thought.
“What’s up?” Strickland said to the guard.
The guard leaned over and said something into Strickland’s ear. Jonathan couldn’t catch it but whatever it was Strickland turned around and looked at Jonathan. A look of anger.
“Brad. Get up here now,” commanded Strickland.
Brad pushed past Jonathan barking out his own orders to the other guard down the corridor to come up and ‘look after Jonathan’.
The guard quickly walked up and placed a heavy set hand onto Jonathan’s shoulder. A firm grip.
“It’s not as if I can go anywhere. Get your hand off me now,” Jonathan said.
“Shut up,” was the only reply he got.
“What a way to treat a special guest,” Jonathan replied. “If you don’t mind, just move your hand down a little further? I’m sure there is a trapped nerve you can massage for me,” he chuckled, much to the surprise of the guard who relaxed the firm hold on him.
He turned back to where Strickland and Brad were standing huddled close together. They were in some sort of heated discussion. Not so much heated. More like Strickland barking in lowered tones to Brad and Brad saying yes Sir, no Sir three bags full Sir. Shame he couldn’t hear all the conversation. Sounded like everything was not going to plan.
He could catch snippets of the conversation though. ‘Get a team together and sort this out… You were supposed to make sure… We need that mobile…’ he heard Strickland say.
Jonathan didn’t catch the end of the sentences and thought, sort what out? Make sure of what? My mobile? He had forgotten about his mobile. It had been left in the penthouse after the fighting. He realised, it may also hold the key in getting him out of here.
He tried to move a towards them. No such luck. The guard holding onto him dug his fingers tight into Jonathan’s shoulder and pulled him back.
Strickland looked over at Jonathan, “I’ll be with you in a minute, please don’t be impatient. Plenty of time…”
‘I can be there in thirty minutes…’ Brad said.
‘Get going then and keep in contact…’ Strickland replied
He could see Strickland’s facial expression but that was the last Jonathan could hear from the two as Brad walked up the corridor and out of side door.
Thirty minutes, thought Jonathan. To where? Back to London? A definite clue, something Brad had let out speaking a little too loud. He knew Strickland had an estate in Buckinghamshire. If Jonathan had been taken there, using a helicopter Brad could easily be back into London within thirty minutes. For what purpose though? For whatever reason, it seemed it was some sort of unexpected change in plan. Something Jonathan felt he could take advantage of. An idea started to form in his head.
His thoughts were interrupted as Strickland walked back over to him.
“I suspect you heard most of that conversation, Jonathan,” he said.
“I didn’t hear a thing,” Jonathan replied.
Strickland smiled. “I’m sure you didn’t. Never the less nothing changes. Follow me.” He looked at the guard holding onto Jonathan. “Take your hands off Mr Beckett, he isn’t going anywhere.”
With the guard following close behind they walked up the corridor and exited into a small foyer like room. A stark contrast to the one Jonathan had been kept in earlier and although quite bear it felt bright and airy. To his right a lift with a keypad and palm reader. The only way in, or out. Jonathan thought. Glancing upwards the clinical white walls gave way to high ceilings with three large fans that hummed away. He could feel the cool air being drawn in.
He looked down and to his left surveyed a pair of double heavy set doors, another keypad and palm reader set into the wall. Above the doors, more fans hummed away, four CCTV cameras pointed down at them. He knew they were no ordinary surveillance cameras. Jonathan felt pangs of panic rush through his body. An all too familiar set-up with the sound of the air conditioning units and their low soft bass humming tone. After all, he had been instrumental in the unique design. They should not be here.
Strickland turned to him, the ever sickly smile spread out on his face. “Ah, Jonathan. I see you recognise the familiar sounds.”
Jonathan didn’t reply.
“Lost for words? You’ll certainly will be in a minute or two,” Strickland walked over to the double doors, typed onto the keypad and pressed his palm onto the reader. An audible click sounded as the doors unlocked.
“Good morning, Mr Strickland. All systems are in sentinel mode, awaiting your instructions. I can see you have a special guest with you. Hello Jonathan Beckett, it’s been a long time. Nice to have you back home.”
Jonathan was taken aback. The words echoed around the room, the exact same words of hello he saw on the computer screen in the internet café. My God what the hell has Strickland done?
“Come along, Jonathan. Time to see the promised surprise I told you about, or should I say, surprises. Let me introduce you to Genesis…” Strickland chuckled as the doors opened.
Genesis? Jonathan’s sense of intrigue, surprise and quest for knowledge got the better of him. He instinctively walked towards the doors. Lights on the other side started to flicker on. He felt the much cooler air push itself out of the room and wash over him. The hum of air conditioning units became louder. Units that had been uniquely designed for one purpose and one place only – to help cool ThornScope’s main server. The only known fully working Quantum Turing Computer System. The shock to Jonathan became evident – it should be another decade or so before anyone else got their hands on this sort of technology. So what the hell did Strickland have?
Jonathan walked through the doors, Strickland followed behind. As soon as they were in the room, the doors automatically closed behind them, a hiss of air escaped as the room became sealed again. Jonathan couldn’t help but being in awe of the view. Not a room at all. Warehouse size, half the size of a football pitch, from floor to ceiling at least twenty meters he gauged. Even more shocking, the room was almost a replica of ThornScope’s.
“It’s beautiful, is it not?” Strickland said interrupting Jonathan’s thoughts.
Directly in front of Jonathan stood the main focal point. To call it a computer server would be akin to be describing a jumbo jet as a mo
del aeroplane. It was the width of a cargo container and at least another two meters higher.
“Yes, Jonathan,” Strickland said. “As you can see, the Quantum System is in standby mode…”
Jonathan walked over. A low metal fence like guard rail ran around the entire black array. He climbed over and placed his right hand up against the metallic covering. It was cool to the touch. He closed his eyes feeling his heart pumping faster. It may have been a lot cooler in the room, but he felt warm.
“I won’t lie to you,” Strickland continued, “unlike ThornScope, it can only run at short periods of time. But a lot longer than anything else out there.”
Jonathan turned around stepping back over the railing and walked around the entire box. On either side stood more servers, a lot smaller. Behind the box a vast array of even smaller servers, computer boxes, computer switching gear, telecommunications equipment and more besides filled up the entire room. Above him in the ceiling an array of fans and specially modified air conditioning units churned away keeping the room cool. All running and working without the need of any human interaction. Everything dedicated to managing and monitoring the core Quantum Computer – Genesis, as Strickland referred to it.
“My goodness,” Strickland said. “I do believe Jonathan Beckett, coding genius, the first to develop a functional Quantum computer, billionaire Howard Hughes tycoon type – has been left speechless.”
Jonathan walked back to the front of the room. Strickland was not wrong, he thought. At present, there were very few words that could describe his feelings, let alone comprehend the sheer complexity of the possibilities and meaning of what stood in front of him. Never in his wildest nightmares did he ever consider the existence of another ThornScope.
“Let’s go to the control room,” Strickland said, “It can get cold in here.”