Ed waved his hand and the view window vanished.
‘Isn’t there anything you can do?’ Louisa asked.
Ed though about it for a second. ‘I could monitor the realm to see if I can identify a flaw in their encryption. But...’
‘You don’t think it’s possible?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
The clan’s message framework must have been the encrypted communications Drew had been talking about. The NCA weren’t having any luck cracking it, even with all their resources. But then they don’t have Ed Cooley. He just needed a little push.
‘You know, Ed,’ Louisa said, ‘the NCA can’t access the clan’s communications either.’
‘You mean GCHQ are trying to infiltrate the realm?’
She nodded. ‘I imagine GCHQ are helping them.’
‘Well then.’ Ed cracked his knuckles. ‘I can’t have them beating me to it. Leave it with me.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Louisa rubbed sweaty palms against her pant legs. She swallowed, tickling a bone-dry throat and sparking a bout of rasping coughs. The two guards at the desk weren’t looking at her, but then, why would they? It wasn’t like last time when she’d turned up battered and bruised, refusing to identify herself. This time she’d signed in at security and now waited in the visitors’ zone on the Portal lobby’s fringe.
Most people with her were staring at the ceiling. The dome had been coated in sprayscreen since her last visit, turning its alabaster surface into a huge screen showing a park scene of neatly manicured lawns and couples walking hand in hand along winding paths. The ceiling curved down to the floor near where she sat and a hot air balloon was lifting slowly off the ground. Louisa felt like ducking as the basket passed overhead. She followed the balloon’s progress and within minutes it floated high above. The circular ring of lifts only marginally spoiled the illusion. From Louisa’s perspective, they appeared out of thin air and vanished as the glass cage ascended.
The ultra-thin sprayscreen membrane required very little power to operate and worked on any surface. She remembered when Portal first launched the product. The company’s share price took a tumble when the media discovered Portal was planning to terminate production of their entire range of standard screens. Simon Carlyle, the Portal CEO, decided to channel Adam Walsh’s brand of showmanship and switched the sprayscreen launch from a convention centre to the plaza in front of Portal’s HQ. Louisa smiled as she recalled Simon standing nervously before the assembled media. Everyone thought the presentation would tank, but then he made the Portal building vanish. He’d coated the entire structure in sprayscreen. He even left it that way for a few days until a flock of birds smacked into the invisible building and slid down its length to the ground, half stunned.
There was a time when a visit to the Portal offices would have resulted in her peaking on the gossip feeds. Her relationship with Simon certainly hadn’t helped dampen the media interest during Benoit’s trial. Guerrilla casters followed her every move and strangers shared scans of her at the shops or out jogging. The last straw came when the guerrilla casters turned their attention to Jess and Charlie, waiting outside their school and hounding them on their walk home. At that point she reached a decision. There wouldn’t be any more gossip. No more titillating feeds concerning the Portal CEO and the MET detective responsible for bringing down Benoit Walsh. Simon wasn’t keen to put their relationship on hold, but she insisted. Besides, her new job took up most of her time and Simon was busy fighting fires at Portal.
Now here she was, ready to face Simon once more, and she had to admit, she felt nervous. Butterflies in the stomach kind of nervous. When they split up she’d thrown herself into her work with a renewed vigour. It had been easy to ignore her feelings. Any free time was taken up by the kids. She wiped her hands again, berating herself for being such an idiot. She doubted Simon felt the same. He’d have moved on. Despite their separation she still followed his career in the media. Portal always made headlines. The company’s expansion across the UK has gone ahead, albeit months later than planned. The network was now available in all major cities and most large towns. The government made conciliatory gestures to the pro-privacy lobbyists, which resulted in bodies like the SIU Oversight Committee being formed. Benoit Walsh’s trial may have tarnished Portal for some users, but its wholesale abandonment and the resurgence of the Global Web never materialised.
However, one post-leak prediction did come true. Portal’s open sourced code base allowed other companies to bootstrap viable alternatives to the centralised network. Fortunately for Portal, the sheer number of clones springing up meant none of them ever attracted enough users to become a serious threat. Portal had succeeded because of its high adoption rate and free terminals. Even the most popular alternative in the UK barely managed a one percent uptake. Outside of the UK two foreign networks did find success. One in New York funded by a conglomerate of American Global Web corporations, and the other in Hong Kong, developed by the Chinese government. The Chinese network in particular gained popular support. Of course, it helped when the Chinese government cut off access to the Global Web everywhere they deployed the new network. Their citizens didn’t really have an alternative.
Across the lobby a descending lift caught Louisa’s eye. Simon exited the lift and walked toward security. Her stomach turned somersaults. He looked older, and he’d put on a little weight. The lines in his face were deeper, visible even from where she sat. He looked over and grinned, a hand raised in greeting. Louisa found herself unable to manage a smile. She waved a trembling hand instead.
Come on, girl, pull yourself together. She tore her eyes away and concentrated on the queue of people waiting before the security desk. The line moved slowly, branching at the top between the two guards. Her gaze drifted to a man halfway along the queue. She wasn’t sure at first what grabbed her attention, but after a moment she figured it out, he was wearing a long black trench coat. The sun beaming through the lobby windows had turned it into a vast greenhouse, the air conditioning struggling to cope. Everyone else in the queue had stripped to shirts and blouses.
Why hasn’t he taken off his coat? The man glanced to the side. She recognised him. It was Henry Booth, the young man who’d met Ben in the coffee shop. What’s a clan member doing at the Portal HQ? Her first thought was that he worked for Portal. It gave Louisa hope. Perhaps Simon could ask him about the clan, and about Ben. But why is he queuing up with the visitors if he works for Portal?
Henry’s deathly pale complexion stood out like a sore thumb amongst the perspiring red faces. Louisa followed his gaze. He was staring straight at Simon. She glanced back to Henry. He unbuttoned his coat and reached inside. He fumbled with something, then his hand steadied. He didn’t withdraw it. Something dangled below the hem of his coat. A blue wire.
Louisa’s skin stung with goosebumps. She stood, and with a smooth motion unholstered the pistol at her side and aimed it at Henry. ‘Armed police!’ Her shout echoed around the lobby.
Everyone stopped in their tracks and turned in her direction. Everyone except Henry.
She took a step forward. ‘Get down on the ground.’
A woman screamed. The security guards retrieved their own sidearms and pointed them at Louisa. They shouted for her to drop the gun. Henry’s face remained set, still staring straight ahead. Louisa glanced over at Simon. He was running toward the security guards, waving his hands and shouting something.
A bright flash.
Something punched into Louisa. She flew backwards and hit the ground, hard.
Louisa coughed. Smoke stung her eyes and tickled the back of her throat. She rolled onto her side and coughed again.
She pushed herself onto her feet. The smoke surrounding her dissipated, sucked away by the air conditioning. Everyone in the visitors’ zone appeared to be unharmed, if a little shaken, but the rest of the lobby was a scene of devastation. Bodies lay strewn across the marble floor. Some moving, others prone. She couldn’
t see Henry. Blood and gore covered the floor where he’d stood. Beyond the splintered remains of the security desk there was no sign of the two guards. A man on the far side of the desk, seemingly uninjured, but still covered in blood, tried to stand. He slipped and fell.
Louisa accessed Portal and activated a MET emergency beacon, then headed for the security barriers. A woman limped toward her. She emitted a keening cry when she caught sight of Louisa and staggered away in the opposite direction.
Louisa realised she was still holding her weapon. She holstered it. The glass security barriers had been shattered by the blast. On the other side a dozen or more people were on the ground, moaning and clutching at wounds. They’d all suffered lacerations, to their heads, limbs and torsos.
It took a moment to locate Simon amongst the fallen. She ran to his side. He lay on his back, unconscious, his white shirt covered in blood. She couldn’t tell if any of it belonged to him. She reached out, then froze. A pool of blood spread beneath his head.
In the distance came the wail of sirens.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Louisa accompanied Simon in one of the first ambulances as far as the Royal London’s A&E, then she’d been told to wait. The wards were at capacity and only relatives were being allowed through. That had been four hours ago and the walking wounded still continued to arrive in dribs and drabs. The seats surrounding Louisa were filled with victims nursing minor wounds and others anxiously awaiting news of loved ones. A palpable tension gnawed on fraught nerves, and had led to more than one frustrated eruption, like a covered pot of water simmering too long on a stove. Someone would demand to know why their injured son, daughter, husband, or wife wasn’t being seen while new arrivals were ushered through straight away. Each time a nurse would placate them with a soothing voice and explain how no-one received preferential treatment and everyone would be treated in time. The irate relative would inevitably return to their orange plastic chair, deflated, as if their anger was all that had been keeping them upright. Louisa was content to remain ignorant. At least while she waited she knew Simon was still alive.
Could I have prevented it?
The thought had surfaced repeatedly. The clan were undoubtedly dangerous, but a suicide bomb? It was hard to imagine a British citizen killing themselves for a cause, no matter how emotive.
She’d called Jess and Charlie to let them know she was safe and well, but also to tell them about Ben. She couldn’t put it off any longer. Charlie knew Ben had been invited to join the Sons of Babel, and it would only be a matter of time before the clan was identified as the group responsible. The kids had taken the news hard, especially Jess. They didn’t believe Ben was a terrorist any more than Louisa did. Jess wanted to call off her birthday celebration but Louisa persuaded her to keep the plans she made with her friends. Sitting at home worrying about Ben wasn’t going to help her.
She decided against letting John know. He’d want to come to the hospital, and Abigail wouldn’t appreciate her dragging him away. Especially now she was busy lifecasting their new baby. Abigail’s perfectly orchestrated family feeds had no room for an ex wife.
As for Simon, he had no immediate relatives. His parents were dead and he had no siblings. He was fighting for his life and no-one cared but her. It didn’t seem right, somehow.
‘How’s he doing?’
Louisa had been so wrapped in her own thoughts she hadn’t noticed someone sit beside her. The plastic chair creaked as Drew relaxed into it. His face was taut. Spread thin.
‘It’s too early to tell.’ She looked around. Drew appeared to be on his own. ‘Last time I checked he was in theatre. How did you know I was here?’
‘We’re interviewing everyone present at the scene. Portal had you registered as a visitor.’
‘And you want to know what I was doing there, I suppose?’
‘I do need a few blanks filled in.’
‘Am I a suspect now, Drew?’
He chuckled. ‘Hardly. You’re lucky to have escaped serious injury. You were positioned behind the bomber when the explosion went off, yes?’
‘How did you know?’
‘The suicide vest’s blast projected forward. The bomber’s body absorbed the rest of the explosion, shielding you in the process. Two security guards were killed instantly. Five others are in ICU in a critical condition. Simon wasn’t one of those five, the last time I checked.’
Louisa nodded her thanks and took a deep breath, feeling a little tension dissipate. She hadn’t been able to glean any details from the hospital. They were reluctant to disclose anything to non-relatives. She understood the policy. She was sure a few of those asking after patients were guerrilla casters. They hadn’t stuck around after being rebuffed by the staff.
‘I went there to see Simon,’ Louisa said.
‘Why?’
She didn’t see any point in lying. ‘I was hoping he could help me locate Ben.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘You’re not surprised.’
‘I didn’t think you being were there was a coincidence.’
‘I was expecting more of a lecture. You’re not angry with me?’
Drew pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. ‘It’s not like Simon could tell you something we don’t already know.’
She wondered why Drew had come in person. He could have sent any one of his cronies to question her. ‘What have you found out about Henry Booth?’
Drew’s head jerked up. ‘Who?’
‘Henry Booth?’ She lowered her voice. ‘You know, the guy who blew himself up this morning in the Portal lobby?’
Drew glanced around. No-one seemed to be paying them any attention. They were too wrapped up in their own worries. ‘He’s a clan member, but I’m guessing you know that already. How did you ID him?’
Louisa hesitated. The last time she saw Henry he was chatting with Ben, the pair seemingly the best of pals, but she wasn’t going to tell Drew that. ‘I saw him on the sense logs entering Brandon Parade. What do you have on him?’
Drew shook his head. ‘I can’t say any more, Louisa. You know I can’t.’
‘So tell me why you are here, Drew.’
Drew leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. ‘I made a promise to you last night, about Ben.’
‘Yes. You did.’
‘Things are moving very fast now. The Portal bombing has changed everything. There’s a COBRA meeting in a few hours. They’ll be deciding the official line we take with the clan.’
COBRA stood for Cabinet Office Briefing Room A. A rather forced acronym used to signify a meeting between the Prime Minister and a select group of senior advisors. They came together to form government policy in times of emergency.
‘What line will the NCA take?’ she asked.
‘We’ll be pushing to designate the Sons of Babel a proscribed group under the Terrorism Act. Every member will be viewed as a terrorist and treated accordingly.’ Drew looked at the ground. ‘I’m sorry, Louisa.’
*
Simon’s post surgery recovery ward was a haven of calm compared to the rest of the hospital. Before she could approach the nurses’ station two men in dark suits moved to intercept her.
‘I’m here to see Simon Carlyle,’ Louisa said.
One of the men shook his head. ‘No visitors allowed.’
‘It’s okay. Let her through.’ Louisa spied Simon through a glass wall, propped up in bed. The two men stood aside.
She stopped at the doorway; her elation at seeing Simon was tempered by his appearance. Simon’s smile failed to detract from his sunken cheeks and blanched lips. Spots of blood had leaked through a bandage encircling his forehead, staining the pillow. A nurse stood by the bed, checking a dressing high on his left side.
‘Don’t look so worried,’ Simon said. ‘I’m fine. Come on in. It’ll take more than a bomb to stop me.’
You have two minutes,’ the nurse said on her way out of the room, ‘then he needs to sleep.’
Louisa judged Simon’s bluster wi
th the skepticism it deserved, but she entered all the same and took a seat beside the bed.
‘How come we only find time to see each other when I’m in hospital?’ Simon asked.
Louisa winced, remembering how close to death he’d come after Benoit’s attack. ‘The bang on your head hasn’t improved your sense of humour.’
He laughed weakly. ‘The doctors said it’s a good thing I have a thick skull, otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’
‘Please.’ Louisa shuddered. ‘Don’t say that.’
Simon relaxed into his pillow and let out a slow breath. ‘Maybe now you can tell me why you wanted to talk?’
Even before she saw how banged up he was, Louisa had decided against telling Simon about Ben. The nurse was right; he needed rest. ‘It’s nothing.’ She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter any more.’
‘It didn’t sound like nothing when you called.’ He gestured around the room. ‘You have my full attention.’
Louisa felt herself wavering. She walked over to the window. A tenth floor corner room, it overlooked the Whitechapel Road. She could see the tip of the Portal offices’ slender spike in the distance. ‘They’ve given you a nice room.’
‘You know, Louisa.’ Simon sounded tired, but his voice remained good humoured. ‘The last time you kept secrets from me I ended up in hospital too.’
She spun to face him. ‘That’s not fair! I didn’t know Benoit would attack you.’
One Life Remaining (Portal Book 2) Page 11