“The time has come,” he announced. “This is your final briefing before Operation New Age is put into effect.” He flashed his lizard-like smile at his audience, his dark eyes shining behind the thick lenses of his spectacles.
“Mr Bullman and his team will return soon,” he continued, “and the problem of cracking Whiplash’s code should be solved within hours. Once that minor inconvenience is overcome, we can begin!”
A ripple of approval went through the gang.
“I am a hard taskmaster, you all know that. But it’s because I care so passionately about Operation New Age and all it stands for. We are united as a group in our desire to see the world reborn.”
The group applauded.
Williams spoke more softly. “I’d like to thank each and every one of you. For your contributions to the project. For your time, your commitment and, yes, your money. Operation New Age has been largely funded, as you are aware, through our friend here…”
He extended a hand towards the Insider. There was more applause, which the Insider acknowledged with a nod.
“But all of you have given generously, to allow us to assemble the equipment you see around us now. Equipment that will, in due course, be dismantled and destroyed, once the New Age has finally dawned. We’ll burn it, when it’s no longer needed, when it’s useless in our new world. How ironic, how amusing, that the Earth will be changed forever using this machinery. Mankind’s technology will be the cause of its own destruction!”
There were cries of support and raised fists.
Williams eyed them all, smiling. “Here, then, is the plan. Phase One begins with the firing of Whiplash, from right where we are now. In here, we are safe from Whiplash’s devastating effects. This bunker is the only one of its kind – its construction was top secret and it has been designed to withstand atomic warfare. Our assembled equipment will amplify Whiplash’s power a thousand times. A massive EMP, a huge electro-magnetic pulse, will radiate out for almost eighty miles. All of Greater London will be hit, the whole south-east of England will feel Whiplash’s mighty hammer-blow, its shattering blast! And yet … no explosion, no heaps of rubble. The blow will be silent. Instant. No human being will even know it’s happened, until they see its effects. Every last electronic circuit, fried and useless. No more TVs spouting rubbish, no more cyber-bullying, no more cars and factories filling the air with filth.”
The gang cheered loudly.
Williams raised a hand for silence again. “You all know your individual tasks. Each of you is a trained scientist, that’s why you’ve been chosen for Operation New Age. Every last one of you has a vital part to play, either operating Whiplash’s amplifier, or monitoring its effects, or preparing Phase Two. This second phase is the most important. While the world outside is in confusion, our hideout will be the focal point for a global switch-off. This place has many rooms, it’s big enough for us to live in while our plans are carried out.”
One of the gang members spoke up. He was a tall, thin man with prominent teeth. “Mr Williams, how can we be sure the authorities won’t find us?”
“Phase Two will take about a week,” said Williams.
The screen behind him flickered and changed to a map of the world overlaid with large circles. “The chaos of Phase One will give the authorities so much to deal with that we can count on a few weeks of safety. They’ll have no phones, no vehicles, no nothing.”
“But what if the authorities have some kind of shielding against it?” asked the thin man nervously.
“Whiplash is the first and only one of its kind,” said Williams. “Asking if they’ve got shielding is like expecting a caveman to be wearing a bullet-proof vest! There is, as yet, no defence against Whiplash.”
“Except right here where we are?”
“Correct. And the authorities couldn’t make a Whiplash of their own anyway. The Insider has made sure that all Techna-Stik’s records of the project are computerized. Nothing exists on paper. So, when the weapon is fired: bang! Techna-Stik’s computers will be trashed, and anyone wanting to create a similar weapon would have to start from scratch. It took Techna-Stik ten years to develop Whiplash.”
Williams exchanged a knowing glance with the Insider.
“Phase Two,” declared Williams, the screen behind him showing a series of locations and statistics, “will see Whiplash targeted at every major city on earth, and then at the rest of the planet’s surface. The whole world will be switched off. The New Age will dawn!”
“Mankind will revert to a simpler time, before technology took over our lives and our environment was ravaged by industry! Horse-drawn wagons for transport, everyone growing their own food, a healthier, quieter way of life for us all. No pollution, no energy crisis, no threat of global war. Now, as you know, when Whiplash strikes there will be problems. Lorries will crash, aeroplanes will fall from the sky, hospitals will lose power. There will be deaths. But remember our ultimate goal. In war, there are always casualties. Some will die, but the whole of mankind will benefit. Now, let’s get back to work.”
There was more applause and cheering. Despite the knowledge that Operation New Age would cause death and destruction, the group had persuaded themselves that they were fighting for a cause. They believed that someone had to create a better world by force!
As the gang returned to their preparations, Williams sat in the shadows beside the Insider.
“Very impressive speech,” whispered the Insider. “You almost had me believing it myself. Do we really need to tell them all that rubbish about a Phase Two?”
“We need them to work. We need to keep them on our side. If they knew that Phase Two isn’t going to happen, and that this entire operation is only a way of making money for you and me, do you really think they’d be here now? We need scientific experts to assemble and operate the machinery. They’re interested in helping the planet, not making a profit, so the deception is vital. By the time they realize they’ve been duped, we’ll be well away.”
“I’ve been talking with my people at Gylbut Gadgets,” whispered the Insider. “They’re nearly ready to start making Whiplash shielding. I’ll be able to switch the whole company over to shielding production once the Whiplash is fired. With the whole world terrified of another attack, we’ll be billionaires.”
“And in the meantime,” smiled Williams, watching the gang at work, “this bunch of gullible idiots will be left high and dry.” He looked at his wristwatch. “Bullman should be there by now.”
The grandfather clock in the hall ticked its way towards 11:30pm. The house was an old one, with low ceilings crossed by thick wooden beams, just outside a quiet little village, several miles from the nearest town.
In the downstairs study, Dr Madeleine Smith, lecturer in Applied Mathematics at the University of South Warwickshire, was working at a large antique desk. The study was lined with bookcases and filing cabinets. On the walls were paintings, photographs and academic certificates.
Dr Smith herself was elegantly dressed. Her cascade of brown hair fell around delicate features and large eyes. She was noting a long series of mathematical formulae on a tablet computer.
She sat back, eyeing her work carefully. Her mouth twisted into an uncertain expression. Pushing her chair back, she yawned loudly, stood up and left the room.
The moment she was gone, one of the paintings on the study wall appeared to come to life. It was a picture of a summer meadow, dotted with butterflies. One of the butterflies suddenly flexed its wings and fluttered off the frame.
Sirena sent out a signal. “All clear. She’s in the room across the hall, boiling a kettle.”
Three more SWARM micro-robots emerged from their hiding places. Hercules the stag beetle crawled from under the desk. Nero the scorpion emerged from behind heavy, patterned curtains. Sabre the tiny mosquito had been absolutely still, attached to the ceiling in one corner of the room.
“We should go after her,” he transmitted to the others. “Stick closely to her every mo
vement.”
“No, Sirena can monitor what she’s doing,” said Nero. “It’s very important that we remain undetected. Our job here is to guard Dr Smith in case the people who’ve stolen Whiplash arrive.”
“It’s lucky those crooks don’t know about us,” said Hercules. “Nero could crack that code in minutes. They wouldn’t need Dr Smith’s help.”
“Speaking of help…” said Nero. He scuttled across the desk to where Dr Smith had left her tablet covered in calculations. With one of his pincers, he deleted a “3” in the middle of the screen and changed it to a “2”.
“There,” he said. “The formula works correctly now.”
“She’s coming back,” said Sirena.
The SWARM robots retreated to their hiding places.
Dr Smith came in, sipping from a steaming mug. Sitting down at the desk, she ran a finger along the lines of calculations she’d written.
“Ah!” she said to herself. “It does work. I was right all along.” She picked up the pen and went back to work, clicking open a fresh page and scribbling rapidly across it.
Moments later, Sirena’s ultra-sensitive antennae picked up movement outside the house.
“Perhaps it’s just a visitor,” transmitted Hercules.
“I don’t think so,” said Sirena. “There are … four life forms approaching from the east. That’s across the back garden. Ordinary visitors wouldn’t come that way.”
Dr Smith carried on working. She’d heard nothing outside, and the robots’ transmissions were imperceptible to the human ear.
“Let’s get out there,” said Sabre.
“Wait,” said Nero. “We mustn’t take action unless we’re sure they’re hostile. Our orders are clear.”
Sirena’s antennae waved slowly. The life forms had stopped moving. She was detecting tiny vibrations and sounds. “They’re at the back door now,” she said. “I think they may be picking the lock.”
“That’s enough for me,” said Sabre. “They’re hostile.”
He dropped down from the ceiling and headed for the kitchen.
“Attack mode,” said Nero. “Prepare to disable intruders.”
As they crept through the back door, Bullman and his men switched on signal jammers sewn into their combat jackets.
Suddenly, the SWARM robots felt a slight smothering sensation.
“What’s that weird feeling in my sensors?” said Hercules.
“They’re blocking all outgoing transmissions,” said Nero. “They must be jamming all signals in case Dr Smith has got a personal alarm system. Sirena, try to alert the human SWARM agents waiting as backup in the village!”
“Too late,” said Sirena. “Contact lost.”
“We’re on our own,” said Nero.
“But we are still managing to communicate with each other,” said Hercules.
“We’re close enough to each other for our high-band frequencies to get through,” said Nero.
Suddenly, the study door flew open. Bullman rushed in, followed by Fraser and two others.
Dr Smith swung around, her eyes wide with fright. “What’s going on?” she demanded.
Sabre immediately darted across the study. Nero and Hercules paused for a moment, their programming confused by the signal jammers. Then they also sped towards the intruders.
Sirena had already made a positive identification of both Bullman and Fraser. She fluttered rapidly, taking sensor readings.
Bullman grabbed hold of Dr Smith, one of his arms gripped tightly around her throat. With a sharp cry, she jabbed him hard in the ribs with her elbow. He let go with a yelp of pain. She spun around and punched him across the jaw. He flew back into the nearest bookcase, toppling books on to him.
“Get out my house, the lot of you!” she cried.
The SWARM robots held off for a few seconds, surprised by Dr Smith’s fierce response. But the four intruders recovered quickly and overpowered her.
“Contact with HQ lost,” said Nero. “Proceed without orders. Calculation of probabilities indicates we should repel the intruders but not disable them. If we can follow them, we can find Whiplash.”
“Logged,” said the others. “We’re live!”
Sabre swooped down on Bullman. The mosquito loaded shock pellets into his needle-sharp stinger and jabbed through the hair at the back of Bullman’s neck.
“OW!” screamed Bullman, jerking as he received a sharp electric shock. “What the—” He swatted madly at the mosquito buzzing around his head.
With a flick of his body, Nero launched himself at Fraser and scuttled up the man’s trouser leg.
Fraser yelled, “Something’s crawling on me!” just before Nero delivered a series of stings from ankle to knee. Fraser buckled over in pain, smacking at the back of his trousers. Nero emerged at Fraser’s belt line and scurried for his neck. Fraser squealed in a high-pitched voice.
Meanwhile, one of the other intruders had trodden on Hercules. The man’s boot was sliced apart with a quick movement of Hercules’s saw-like claw. The stag beetle’s super-tough exoskeleton wasn’t even scratched, but the intruder leaped back with a cry of pain.
Dr Smith hadn’t spotted the SWARM robots, and she couldn’t understand what was happening. She was about to reach for her phone, which had been knocked off the desk, when Bullman reared up in front of her.
His face was red with concentration and pain. Sabre shocked him twice more, once in the back and once on the top of the head, but the stocky, scowling man somehow managed to shrug it off. With a snarl, he grasped Dr Smith by her arms and dragged her out of the study.
“Come on, you lot!” he shouted at the other three. “Let’s get out of this fleapit!”
Dr Smith kicked her legs wildly, but Bullman lifted her off the floor and carried her out.
Meanwhile, Sirena was keeping track of the other SWARM robots. Now it was clear that the intruders wouldn’t simply be scared off, Sabre was flying close behind Bullman and Nero was on Bullman’s shoulder. Both of them quickly slipped into the side pocket of Dr Smith’s jacket. Hercules appeared, flying low to the ground, then he swung upwards in a smooth arc and also tucked himself away in that pocket.
“Sirena,” signalled Nero, “the three of us will stay with Dr Smith, and find out where she’s being taken. We’ll report back as soon as we can. Get clear of the jammers and inform SWARM HQ.”
“I’m live,” said Sirena.
Fraser and the other two kidnappers staggered after Bullman, limping and rubbing their sore limbs.
“Move it!” Bullman shouted as he carted Dr Smith out to their car, which was parked along a dirt track to one side of the house. Dr Smith kicked and cursed angrily all the way.
Sirena hovered high above them all. She kept testing her connection to headquarters, and to the human SWARM agents in the nearby village, but still could not get through. She turned and flew in the opposite direction. With those jammers switched on, she was the only one who could get news to SWARM about what had happened. Just as soon as she was out of range of the interference that was blocking her signals!
As the car sped away into the distance, Sirena found she could finally sense the outside world again. She flew on into the darkness of the night.
“Sirena to SWARM! Sirena to SWARM! Come in, SWARM!”
Hours later, Bullman’s car turned off the main road into a secluded lay-by. It slowed to a crawl while he checked that there were no other cars about. With the coast clear, the car revved up and bumped on to a narrow track, which led down to a sloping patch of land. To each side of the muddy track, reed-like grasses grew tall and wild. It was still dark, but the first red streaks of dawn were showing on the horizon.
They were in East London, in an area beside the Thames that had once been a stretch of small factories and industrial units, but was closed down and abandoned years ago. Now, the decaying shells of small office blocks and warehouses rose up out of the grass as far as the eye could see, like dead whales surfacing on a pale green ocean.
The car was long out of sight of the road. Its headlights were switched off. It descended the slope towards what had once been a busy dockside.
On the back seats, Dr Madeleine Smith was squashed between two of her kidnappers. Bullman and Fraser had managed to tie her wrists and her ankles with rope, but nothing stopped her fighting back.
She headbutted the thug to her left and he howled. The one to her right was pressed against the car door. She wriggled down, pulled up her legs and gave Fraser, sitting in the front passenger seat, a hard kick.
“Stop doing that!” whined Fraser. “Bullman, are we nearly there yet?”
“Nearly,” said Bullman, concentrating on his driving. He was as keen to get away from Dr Smith’s continued onslaught as the rest of them.
Still inside the darkness of Dr Smith’s pocket were the three SWARM micro-robots.
“Can either of you link to SWARM HQ yet?” signalled Nero.
“No. The kidnappers must still have those signal jammers switched on,” said Hercules.
“We should attack again,” said Sabre. “Disable the kidnappers and transmit our data back to headquarters.”
“No, we wait,” said Nero. “Logic says they’ll be taking Dr Smith back to whoever is in charge, who will probably be at their hideout. We need to find out more. If we attack now, we may lose that chance.”
“Agreed,” said Hercules.
“Our motion is slowing. I think the car has stopped,” said Sabre.
Bullman parked the car in the entrance to an old warehouse so it wouldn’t be visible from the air. The four kidnappers cautiously manoeuvred Dr Smith out of the back seat. She scowled at them, her eyes ablaze with fury.
Hazy daylight was just beginning to filter across the sky. The kidnappers carried Dr Smith across a short patch of grass to what looked like a little hut. It was a squat grey structure, built of concrete. Its entrance had a large metal wheel to seal the door.
Dr Smith was carried, struggling and cursing, into the strange structure and Bullman sealed the entrance behind them. “You can turn off your signal jammers now,” he said. “We’re inside the bunker.”
Operation Sting Page 5