Final Lap

by Malcolm Rose

  ****

  In need of new leads, Luke sat in front of the terminal in his own room. “I haven’t really looked into rival companies that missed out on the building work, Malc. Log on and do a search for all companies that put in a bid but got rejected. There’s a possible motive there.” He sighed. “And check Neil Gladwin’s files. Is there a rogue builder with a grievance? Has he or Libby refused a promotion or sacked someone? Something like that could turn a worker into Spoilsport.”

  “Searching.”

  “Give me a list on screen when you’ve got it.” He took a deep breath, trying to come up with more ideas. “I suppose someone in athletics might want to ruin the Games for another team. Maybe the plan’s to destroy Ford Drayton’s chances – and all Yvonne Chaplow’s athletes – if Spoilsport knows she’s trying to cheat with haptic kits.”

  “It is more likely that Spoilsport would inform The Sporting Authorities.”

  Luke nodded. “Good point. I’m not exactly buzzing. That noise you can hear is me scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

  “I have not detected such a sound. Additionally, you do not have access to a barrel in here.”

  One by one, names of building and architectural businesses had begun to appear on Luke’s monitor. Each company was listed with its address and the name of the individual who had made the unsuccessful bid to regenerate Hounslow.

  It was the fourth entry that caught Luke’s eye. The director of one architectural practice was called Hugo Twigg.

  “Hold on!” Luke almost shouted. “Hugo Twigg. Is that coincidence or is he related to Trevor Twigg?”

  “Searching.”

  Luke’s heart raced while he waited for his mobile to check through The Authorities’ birth register.

  “Hugo Twigg is Trevor Twigg’s twin brother.”

  “Interesting. I would’ve thought they’d both become historians.”

  “In a way, that is correct. Hugo Twigg submitted a plan based on the history of the region. It included time for an archaeological study of the area. He proposed that the new build should regenerate the styles of bygone years. The scheme was turned down for a number of reasons. Given the start date of the International Youth Games, the schedule was considered unworkable. Also, The Authorities want the venue to be state-of-the-art and not reflect old-fashioned ideals.”

  “That’s it, then!” Luke cried. “No wonder Trevor hasn’t said anything about his brother. I want to see both of them right away. Try and find out where they are.”

  Malc failed to confirm the task.

  Surprised, Luke was about to turn to his mobile when the computer screen went blank. A second later, it started flashing two words in large red letters. GAMES OVER.

  Luke swiped his identity card through the reader and hit the RETURN key again and again. Nothing happened. Mystified and muttering to himself, he said, “You know what this is, don’t you? Spoilsport knows I’m on to him. It’s a virus attack.”

  Unusually, Malc did not voice his own conclusion.

  Finally, Luke looked over his shoulder. To his amazement, his mobile was lying on the floor like a dead animal. The small red light that always flashed in Malc’s metal casing had gone out. Mouth open, Luke asked, “What’s going on?”

  Malc did not reply.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The virus had sabotaged every computer in the area. The sports stadium control and timing system, LAPPED equipment, Hounslow Residential’s workstation, the entire building site’s network. And Malc. To Luke, his computerized mobile was by far the most important victim of the virus.

  Aghast, Luke mumbled, “Now what do I do?” Without Malc, he was barely an FI at all. Without Malc to record and observe and analyse, there could be no case, no investigation. Without Malc, Luke couldn’t even communicate with The Authorities and alert them to his situation.

  He presumed that, somewhere in an office at the Houses of The Authorities, an alarm was ringing. He hoped an alarm was ringing. He knew that The Authorities kept track of all mobile aids to law and crime. They recognized when a fault developed. Luke had to trust that Malc had reported the virus attack in the instant before his programs failed. If he hadn’t been able to send out a distress signal, Luke had to hope that a siren would sound within The Authorities’ headquarters whenever a mobile went off air.

  Without a computer that would respond to him, Luke was also helpless to counteract the virus. He relied on The Authorities to know what was happening and send a technician to de-bug the whole system.

  For now, Luke was alone, unprotected, and unable to carry out his job. He couldn’t follow up his most promising lead. He had no way of finding out if the Twigg brothers were behind the sudden attack.

  Having lost his link to the rest of the world, Luke felt trapped in his room. But going outside would be dangerous without the security that Malc provided. Also, it would be dark soon and his mobile would not be there to light his way. Luke glanced again at Malc but he was still powerless, just a lump of metal sprawled uselessly on the floor. Plainly, the virus had mangled his operating system.

  It was no good. Luke could not simply sit and wait like a prisoner in a holding cell. Maybe The Authorities would expect him to lie low until agents could reach him but Luke thought that he was vulnerable if he stayed where he was. Spoilsport had already attacked him in his own room. Anyway, Luke had no guarantee that agents were on their way. He had no guarantee that cabs were working in the Hounslow area. The computer virus might have wiped out their automatic pilot programming. If cabs were still running, Spoilsport was just as likely to arrive as The Authorities’ agents. Leaving Malc, Luke opened the door, peered down the empty passageway and slipped out.

  A mobile crane was lifting sawn chunks of the conifer away from the accommodation block and stacking them safely on one side. It was an easy job that didn’t need a working computer.

  As Luke made his way past the indoor arena, a builder shouted gruffly at him, “Who are you?”

  Luke realized that, without his constant companion, he was no longer instantly recognizable as an FI. He held out his identity card. “Luke Harding.”

  Clearly harassed, the construction worker peered at the card. “Forensic investigator? Are you sure? You don’t look old enough.”

  “I’m on my way to Neil Gladwin.”

  Still suspicious, the man in the hard hat said, “Without a mobile aid to law and crime?”

  Luke nodded. “Computer glitch.”

  “Ah. That’s why it’s not a good idea to speak to Neil. Computers! He’s doing his nut.”

  Before Luke continued towards the manager’s trailer, he noticed Saskia Frame emerging from the arena. She was blowing her nose into a blue handkerchief. The gymnast spotted him, came to a halt and leaned against one of the huge pillars with a frown on her face.

  There was a sharp crack to Luke’s left and, out of habit, he asked, “What was that?” He looked over his shoulder but this time there was no one there to answer. He cursed the edginess that was threatening to grip him. No doubt, noises like that were perfectly normal on a construction site.

  A small flock of pigeons took off from the roof of the indoor arena and headed into the darkening sky as if they were abandoning a scary setting. Ahead, the giant arms of the wind turbines rotated evenly, unconcerned with computer viruses and saboteurs.

  Luke looked again at the entrance to the arena but the gymnast had gone. She was nowhere to be seen.

  Luke was aware that Spoilsport’s latest piece of mischief might simply be an attempt to cripple the regeneration scheme through its computer system. He was also aware that it could be much more sinister. Knocking out the network might be just the first step of a more serious strike. If Spoilsport thought that the investigation was getting too close, the real target would be Luke.

  The door of the manager’s office wasn’t locked so Luke went straight in.

  Neil Gladwin was mumbling to himself. He banged the central desk with his fist so viole
ntly that the keypad leapt off the surface.

  “Well, you’ve answered one question,” Luke said.

  Neil barely looked up. “What’s that?”

  “Your system’s down as well.”

  “Yes,” he snapped. “Games over! Very funny. This wouldn’t have happened if you’d arrested him.”

  Luke ignored the insult. “Are electric cabs still coming and going, do you know?”

  “I sent someone to find out. Yes. They’re about the only thing that works around here.”

  “Did you see Ian Pritchard today?” Luke asked.

  “Who?”

  “The vet.”

  “Ah. Yes. He said something about rescuing an animal from where the auto-carrier station’s going to be.” He shook his head and sighed. “Rescuing! He should be spending his time exterminating.”

  “You haven’t laid the foundations yet, then?”

  “Not with a vet down there,” Neil replied impatiently. “He said he’d be out of my way by the end of the day so I logged the job for first thing tomorrow morning. Not that I can get into the log now,” he grumbled. “What a disaster!”

  “I’ll leave you to it,” said Luke.

  “Get whoever’s making my life a misery,” Neil called after Luke, “before I murder him myself.”

  Nightfall sucked the remaining warmth out of the air. In the cold clear sky, the full moon glowed brighter and brighter. The number of glittering stars multiplied while the workforce streamed away from the development. Many of the builders headed for Hounslow Residential. The rest went to the terminus for cabs.

  Luke did not linger for long at the Aquatic Centre or the clinic but, once again, he paused by the deep hollow when he reached the end of the channel that had been cut for the auto-carrier. For some reason, he felt uneasy about it. Perhaps he was concerned because he’d sent the vet down there. Luke hadn’t got a hope of seeing anything at the bottom of the hole. It was pitch black down there. Leaning over it, he could barely make out the steel cage. “Hello?” he called into the emptiness.

  Of course, there was no response. Ian Pritchard must have left long ago.

  Something fluttered over Luke’s head and made him jump. It took him a few seconds to figure out what Malc would have recognized immediately. Some bats were flying round and round in a circle, probably catching airborne insects that had been lured by the moonlight.

  Looking around, Luke realized that he was now alone. The builders had all gone but a few lamps were still on around the works. Above him were the comforting stars, the moon and the ominous circling of bats. He shivered. At least there was still enough light to guide him back to the residential block. If he delayed any longer, though, it would be treacherously dark.

  There was a quiet rustling near the ground a few metres away. It could have been a snake or a squirrel or some other creature with better night vision than his own.

  Telling himself not to be silly, he set off again.

  Almost at once, he felt a sharp prick in the calf of his right leg. For an instant, he imagined that a snake had struck right through his trousers. Yet, before his heavy eyes shut and he crumpled helplessly, he caught sight of something on the earth that told him exactly who Spoilsport was. In the moment before he lost consciousness, he knew with certainty and dread what had happened to Libby Byrne, and what was going to happen to him.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  A trainee member of staff put her head round the door of the supervisor’s office in Hounslow Residential. “We’ve gone from room to room. Everyone’s okay. But we found a mobile aid to law and crime in one apartment. It’s had it.”

  The supervisor shrugged. “That’ll be Luke Harding’s. Any sign of him?”

  “No.”

  “Just leave it, then. I’ve got my own chaos to sort out.”

  The trainee hesitated. “Shouldn’t we tell The Authorities?”

  The supervisor waved a despairing hand towards his computer. “And how am I going to do that?”

  Behind the worried member of staff, a small young woman coughed loudly and then briefly flashed her identity card. “No need to contact The Authorities. I’m a computer technician,” she announced.

  The supervisor didn’t bother to look at the identity card. He simply leapt at the opportunity. “Come in!” he cried. “You can have a look at...”

  The newcomer shook her head. “I heard you talking about Luke Harding’s mobile. Take me to it, please. That’s my priority.” She let out a ferocious sneeze and cursed the cold weather.

  ****

  It was nearly midnight before Jade’s computer in Sheffield managed to make a connection to Luke’s mobile. But when an image appeared on her telescreen, it wasn’t Luke. It was merely a mobile. Frowning, Jade asked, “Is that you, Malc?”

  “I am Luke Harding’s Mobile Aid to Law and Crime,” he answered.

  Taken aback, Jade said, “Where’s Luke? What’s happened?”

  “Luke Harding has vanished.”

  Jade gasped. “What?”

  “Luke Harding has vanished.”

  “But... what are you doing about it?”

  “I am waiting for The Authorities to supply an FI to investigate the disappearance,” Malc replied with maddening calm.

  “No! You’ll get out there and look for him, Malc. He’s your friend.”

  “I am a machine. I do not have friends and I am not programmed to operate on my own. I must have direction from a forensic investigator of from The Authorities.”

  “What’s your top priority, Malc?”

  “Upholding the law.”

  “All right,” Jade said. “What’s your second?”

  “Protecting Luke Harding.”

  “Exactly. He might be hurt, Malc. You’ve got to go and find him. It might be too late by the time you get reinforcements.”

  “That is valid reasoning.”

  “Luke’s always working on a lead. His latest one would be a good place to start.”

  “Before a computer virus stopped my systems, he identified a new and strong suspect.”

  “Get on with it, then,” Jade urged him.

  “Not all of my resources are operational following physical damage and electronic assault. In particular, my range of scans is limited to standard infrared, visible and low-power ultraviolet radiation.”

  “Look. When Luke got injured, did he stop working till he was fully fit?”

  “No.”

  “So, you owe it to him to do the same.”

  “Processing.”

  “Good.” Jade jumped up. “With a bit of luck, I’ll meet you in Hounslow in a couple of hours or so.”

  “I am not programmed...”

  “Shut up, Malc. Luke calls me his assistant forensic investigator, doesn’t he? The best way to find missing people is to team up with someone who cares about them. I’m on my way.”

  ****

  Malc understood the principle of friendship. It was a state of mutual kindness between human beings, independent of family or romantic love. It offered pleasurable companionship and shared esteem. A form of friendship could also occur between a person and a pet. Malc could not participate in such a relationship but he recognized the need in law to discover and defend Luke Harding.

  He did not understand the bond between Luke Harding and Jade Vernon but it was evidently strong. If Luke Harding died, Malc reasoned, Jade Vernon would be disappointed even though very many other potential friends were available to her. Despite this, she acted as if Luke Harding were special and irreplaceable. As a result, Malc agreed that she was well motivated to find him. He told himself to welcome her assistance when she arrived in Hounslow.

  With the virus banished from most computers and power restored, Malc logged on to the network and conducted a search. He needed to establish the location of each of the suspects.

  Brooke Adams; swimmer; confirmed in Hounslow Medical Centre.

  Libby Byrne; first site manager; victim or suspect; whereabouts unknown.<
br />
  Yvonne Chaplow; athletics coach; whereabouts unknown.

  Saskia Frame; gymnast; whereabouts unknown.

  Neil Gladwin; second site manager; confirmed at work on computer in manager’s headquarters.

  Royston Klein; Libby Byrne’s partner; engineer; confirmed at home.

  Venetia Murray; nurse; thought to be at home.

  Holly Queenan; bandit, protester and suspect; whereabouts unknown, likely to be Hounslow.

  Frank Russell; protester and suspect; whereabouts unknown, likely to be Hounslow.

  Hugo Twigg; historical architect; thought to be in Birmingham.

  Trevor Twigg; historian; thought to be in Brighton.

  William Underwood; retired biologist; confirmed at home.

  Unable to come to an unambiguous conclusion, Malc examined an aerial map for the Hounslow development. He calculated that a wide infrared scan of the entire area, looking for the characteristic warmth of a human being, would take two hours and seven minutes.

  Malc compared the merit of scanning for two hours and seven minutes with the option of stalling until an alternative forensic investigator arrived. The search might achieve the desired outcome of finding Luke Harding while waiting would waste time. On that basis, he made his decision.

  When Malc slid the door open via its electronic control and made his way out of the building, it was the first time he had acted under his own initiative.

  He started the scan at the cab terminus on the eastern side. Rising to a height of three metres above the tallest object below him, Malc turned on his wide infrared beam and slowly drifted towards the site manager’s office on the extreme west. He had to change his elevation when he came across the Aquatic Centre, medical centre and indoor arena. Of course, he could scrutinize only the outside of the structures but he had already checked that FI Harding’s card had not been used to enter any of the buildings since the time of the virus attack. If Luke Harding was still on the site, it seemed likely that he would be outdoors.

  At the end of an unsuccessful sweep, Malc moved slightly northwards and began a second run from west back to east. This time, he had to rise to the highest altitude and hover very slowly to survey the entire main stadium. His search gave a positive result. There was a human-shaped red-yellow glow walking between the seats in the completed south stand. As Malc fixed on to the signal, he did not feel hopeful or excited because he could not feel hope or excitement.