The lights were dim. Racks of terminals and servers lined the walls. Neat rows of cabinets, cables neatly tied, lines of LEDs along the edge of all the server racks. The lighting had a light blue hue to it. And it was chilly. Air conditioning kept the room at a steady sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit.
It took her five minutes to find a terminal that would give her the access she desired and couldn’t get from her own station. What she was doing required a technician to be physically present at a live terminal.
Her mobile got her past the login screen and from there it was simply a case of hunting through a few menus to find the correct command interfaces she required. From her jacket pocket, she fished out the USB stick and plugged it into the access point. Immediately, a warning message appeared on the screen, along with a countdown before security would be called.
Damn. She had failed to override the hardware activity monitoring agent. Rookie mistake. The terminal was in lockdown now. She wasn’t able to override it from there. Calmly, she entered commands on her mobile phone and held it against the wireless connection pad. The message disappeared and she had full control again.
Her actions had stemmed from concerns about Irulal’s plan to send new command instructions to the nanites already embedded in the general population. Irulal had made it clear that everyone was infected with Shun nanites and the signal she’d piggybacked through the mobile phone networks, was how she got the signal out there.
Linwood’s concern was that if Irulal had done this, there was nothing stopping anyone else attempting the same. The instruction program that Irulal had used was out there now. Copies of the signal would have been taken by the various telecoms companies and there was a danger they could be used again, accidentally or deliberately—it didn’t matter. Linwood would nip this potential problem in the bud before anyone realised what had happened.
She transferred the program she’d written into the security service terminal and checked it was sitting in the appropriate file system. From here, she distributed it across to the telecoms networks infrastructure using the backdoor protocols the government provided. Few people knew these backdoors existed, or that they were accessible from Thames House.
Linwood clicked the Enter button and watched her program transfer across to the networks. It would get executed as soon as the telecoms networks refreshed their connections to the cell towers’ subnetworks, and they did that every few days. By the end of the week, this problem would be dealt with.
Satisfied she’d completed her task, Linwood retrieved her USB stick, deleted any sign of her access, and pocketed both her phone and stick, before heading out of the network centre.
Finally, she’d be able to get a good night’s sleep.
11
6th May 2013
The car pulled up and deposited its guest on the pavement before driving off again at speed into the morning rush hour traffic. The passenger, a young man in his twenties, with bright blond hair, cut short, almost to a buzz cut, looked away at the departing car and sighed.
With a tightness in his chest, he gripped the battered leather briefcase in his hand and walked across the pavement to the club entrance.
The Diogenes Club was not his choice, but it had become their regular meeting place—several times a day if it became necessary but over the last month, he’d not been here at all. The others seemed to get along much better. Perhaps it was his youth that bothered them, and it wouldn’t help that his recollection of the events that had brought them here was sketchy. He’d had to rely on the others to fill in most of those gaps for him but whenever they spoke to him, he got the impression they were making up at least half of what they were telling him.
The door was opened for him by Giles.
Giles had been there as long as Erik could remember and seemed to be there morning noon and night. The guy never took a break. Erik could empathise. Since coming here, it felt like he was never given a break either. It didn’t help that he was the youngest and the most inexperienced, but he tried to push these thoughts aside as he entered the club.
With a nod to Giles, he wandered into the entrance hall and repressed a shudder. The wood panelling and low light in here always gave him the shivers. A stuffy building full of stuffy old men with shady pasts. No wonder his colleagues used this as their regular meeting space.
“The gentlemen are in the Aristotle Lounge. Shall I show you the way?” This from a man that appeared to emerge straight from the shadows. A tall sallow-faced man with a thin-lipped smile, thinning hair, and horn-rimmed spectacles. Erik had yet to learn the name of the host who always seemed to be available to greet him on arrival.
“First floor, room at the end of the north corridor?” Erik asked, and the horn-rimmed spectacles caught the scarce light from the high-level windows as he nodded.
“Quite right, sir. Shall I accompany you?”
Erik waved a hand. “No need. I’ll find it.” Erik didn’t need to find it. It was a regular block booking for the three of them and had been ever since they’ve arrived in this godforsaken city. Horn-rimmed spectacles operated on autopilot every day in much the same way as Erik. These pleasantries were an unspoken contract that were played out between every guest and the host every day.
Uniformity and predictability were cornerstones of the Diogenes experience. Why would anything else be tolerated?
“Shall I take your bag, sir?” The host had his hand outstretched and Erik smiled at the routine.
“No, I’ll take it with me.” He gripped the battered briefcase’s handle even tighter and felt his fingers dig into the broken leather before touching delicious fragments of the metal within.
As he walked up the stairs, he felt that same tingling sensation in his belly. It always happened when he met the others. He wondered whether they felt it too. An anticipation of sorts—something to be ready for. They were so similar, he wondered whether sometimes they might even be able to read his mind.
The upstairs corridor was empty. Few people ever came upstairs to the north corridor, preferring to stay downstairs in the public areas.
Outside the door to Aristotle, he hesitated again. There were faint voices within and he recognised his colleagues. They were talking about him. Wondering whether he’d show today at all. He grabbed the door handle, turned and pushed.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Erik announced to the two men inside the room.
The older of the two men put down his glass of brandy and stood, quite irritated by Erik’s entrance. He looked a lot like Erik, but slimmer, white hair, thinning, a rumpled suit that had seen better days. “Glad you’ve graced us with your presence. We were about to leave,” he said.
The second man was sitting in a wing-backed armchair, and he peered around the edge of the chair to glance disdainfully at Erik. He didn’t even have the courtesy to appear angry. Erik would have preferred that. “Why do you keep doing this to us? It’s not like you’ve any place else to go.”
“I’ve lots of places to go,” countered Erik. “Just because I don’t want to spend my time hiding in hotel rooms, afraid to go out and experience life.”
“It would be safer if you stayed in your hotel room. You’re taking risks that aren’t yours to take.” The older man, the Colonel, sat back down in his armchair and picked up his glass. His feet nudged the briefcase tucked in against the side of his chair and he patted its battered leather like one would a faithful pet.
“You will ruin everything. Get us all killed at this rate,” the middle-aged man said as Erik took his seat in the third armchair. “I don’t appreciate my time here being wasted.”
Erik looked at his empty glass on the table between the three armchairs and wondered whether either of his companions would pour him a drink. He looked at the Colonel and the scientist before putting his own briefcase to the left of his chair. He noticed the scientist’s briefcase was also to the left of his own armchair and wondered whether he would dare to put it on the right-hand side today.
“I was speaking to a man at the barbers,” Erik began.
“Your hair didn’t need cutting,” the scientist announced as if this prosaic observation would win him an award.
Erik frowned then turned his face to the Colonel on his left. “You know we don’t all need to be here don’t you?”
“I know nothing of the sort.”
“And,” the scientist interrupted, “you’re hardly the most educated to make that assessment.” He sighed. “Can we get on with things? I’d like to get out of here. The host is being kind enough to let us keep our booking today.”
“After what happened you mean,” Erik said.
“Of course after what happened. Jesus, why do you always feel compelled to spell everything out? We know what happened this morning at Jodrell Bank. We know more than anyone what happened.”
“So, why aren’t we doing anything to help them?”
“That’s what we are doing.”
“By meeting up in a gentleman’s club in the middle of Soho? I mean, we should be out there, talking to Linwood. She needs our help.”
The Colonel was shaking his head. “We’ve agreed that we won’t interfere with the investigation. You know that.”
Erik did know that. They argued about nothing else. He just wished he was brave enough to go against the others and do more than debate.
“I was speaking to Omar on Lilliput Lane,” Erik said.
“What?” the scientist replied.
“You asked what I was doing. I’m telling you. I was in the barbers. I stopped in because Omar was entertaining a few extra people this morning. I don’t think they were all customers. Family maybe. And he had the news report on. The rolling news channel. They had footage of the incident.”
“What kind of footage?” the Colonel asked.
“It was shaky. Handheld footage I think. Maybe from one of their phone things. I don’t know. Anyway, it’s not important how the video was taken. It’s important that there is footage of the event at all.”
His companions sat and said nothing. Erik noticed the scientist glance down at his briefcase and wondered whether he was thinking of doing the same thing he wanted to do every time the three of them got together.
It was the Colonel that broke the silence. “There’s not meant to be any footage of the event.”
“Interesting that, isn’t it?” Erik mused, and then he picked up the whisky decanter and poured himself a large measure. In truth, he hated the stuff, but he equally hated being in the presence of these two and not being drunk.
“It changes nothing,” the scientist said carefully.
“Of course it changes things,” Erik replied. “There isn’t meant to be any footage.”
“There’s been a mistake then. Perhaps it was a forgery.”
“It looked like the real thing to me.”
“And how would you know what the real thing is supposed to look like?”
“I’ve seen it.”
“Enough,” the Colonel interrupted. “If Erik says he’s seen new footage, then we must accept that.”
The scientist sighed. He didn’t look happy. His eyes had narrowed, and he looked like he wanted to be someplace else. So much for dedication to the cause. One little hiccough and he got frustrated.
“What do you think it means?” Erik asked. This time he was more than interested in what the scientist had to say. If he had one useful function on this mission, it was his ability to analyse situations and determine appropriate solutions.
“I’d like to see the footage before I make any suggestions.”
“You still don’t believe me?”
“I didn’t say that. It would be foolhardy to change our plans on the basis of what you claim to have seen in a barbers.”
Erik tried to hide a laugh, but it spluttered out and he put a hand in front of his mouth to stifle it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh.”
The scientist glanced across at the Colonel and unsaid words passed between them. Erik knew what they were thinking. Ever since their arrival, they’d been concerned about his wellbeing. It was an unnecessary concern, and it pissed him off. He knew they treated him differently because he was the youngest of the three of them, the least experienced. But that was no excuse. They couldn’t operate without him. He was an integral part of the mission and he was with them one hundred percent of the way whether they liked it or not.
“You should go now. I think our business is almost concluded for the day,” the Colonel said to Erik.
Erik frowned. “You’re sending me away?”
“I don’t think you’re adding to the discussion. We might get along faster if you weren’t here.”
“Is that right?” A dull warmth rose in Erik’s cheeks. “Is that right?” he repeated.
Suddenly, he stood and before the others could stop him, he’d darted around the armchair of the scientist and had grabbed the man’s briefcase.
Erik lifted the briefcase before him and took a step back towards the door he’d come into. The others froze, apart from the eyes. Erik saw the Colonel’s eyes darting between the briefcase, and the scientist, and back to Erik.
“You don’t want me to be here,” Erik repeated. “Then I’ll be going.”
“Put it down, Erik,” the Colonel said. “You don’t want to do this.”
“Don’t I? It’s clear you don’t think I’m helping. I think you could maybe do with less to worry about.”
“You are helping. If we’ve given you that impression, then I’m sorry.” The tone was conciliatory. Erik thought that despite the obvious fear he’d induced, the man was being genuine.
Erik’s attention flipped to the scientist. His expression was cold and scathing. This man was a different breed altogether.
“And what about you?” Erik asked the scientist.
“Put it down, Erik.”
“You’d like me to go, wouldn’t you?”
The tiniest hesitation then.
“Take a seat. Let’s get things back on track. It’s clear we’ve got more work to do than we first thought. I’d like to hear what you’ve got to say about this.”
Erik met eyes with the scientist and saw something of himself behind those steel grey eyes of his. He was lying. The scientist was not interested in Erik, the look he could see on his face was nothing short of embarrassment. But, as he looked over at the Colonel he saw a different expression. Pity.
He had them then. He knew there had been a shift in power between the three of them, however slight, that he might be able to use to his advantage. And as with most of his desires, it paid to keep this knowledge to himself. There would come a time when he would be able to take full advantage of this.
He lowered the briefcase and deposited it on the floor on the opposite side of the scientist’s chair than where it had been, then walked back to his own chair.
The scientist quickly moved his briefcase back to its original position before settling back into his seat.
“Thank you, Erik,” the Colonel said. “That was the sensible thing to do.”
Erik smiled and looked from one to the other of his colleagues. Appreciating that he’d done some good today. He knew that they needed him. It made no matter that his story about waiting in the barber shop was a complete fabrication. He’d cut his own hair short himself, just like he’d always done. The footage he’d seen on the news channel existed though. He’d seen it. Hell, he’d recorded it. Against their express directive to steer clear of the official investigation, he’d wanted to see the schism with his own eyes. Hear the roar of the space-time fabric being ripped open. And he had. He’d seen Linwood and Harding and Payne. Watched from enough distance that he wouldn’t get caught up in the immediate drama of the aftermath, but close enough so he’d get some good footage. Leaking it to the news networks was the next obvious thing to do. The people had a right to know what was waiting for them on the other side. It was the only way to prepare them for what was to come.
Internally, he thought thi
s. Externally, he took his glass in hand, and clinked it against first the Colonel’s and then the scientist’s glass before downing its contents.
The fire burned his throat.
12
7th May 2013
Linwood had woken up after a night’s restless sleep. This time, it hadn’t been the usual dreams that returned to haunt her darkest hours, but new images. Trapped beneath the ground, in the Tombs complex with a maniacal Irulal. After two dreams like that, she’d stayed up and watch a documentary on iPlayer about the rising cost of doing business with the EU.
The drive back to Jodrell Bank had been uneventful and had given her plenty of time to get her thoughts lined up. It had been several hours since she’d deployed her payload onto the telecoms networks and there had been no report of any service going down. She took that as a win. The new code was designed for one thing only, and as long as it didn’t draw attention to itself by bringing disruption, she thought it would sit there undetected, doing its job quietly.
So, why was she so nervous?
Linwood assumed it was the shock of learning that the alien she’d thought had been destroyed over twenty years ago had survived. And now, she was heading back to work with Jacqueline Petro at Jodrell Bank. Jaq was a strange woman, and she’d always found it difficult to get along with her. But Kingston was adamant they would work together, so she had little choice but to do as she was told. She needed access to the same information that Department 5 had and she would not get it without cooperation.
As she approached the entrance to Jodrell Bank, it was clear that the place was under tight security. A checkpoint had been erected at the entrance to the car park, and a line of security fencing had been run along the grass verges to prevent anyone on foot getting through undetected.
She showed her security pass to the plump guard positioned at the car park checkpoint and he consulted a list of names before allowing her in.
The Faceless Stratagem Page 7