State of Emergency

by Sam Fisher

  'Straightforward, right? Well, it would be – except for three things. One, you'll be up against the clock. You have 60 minutes to find the injured man and get him to the medical facility at Base One. Two, the only thing you'll have other than your cybersuits is a jungle knife – eleven inches of blackened carbon steel. And three, you'll need to avoid being eliminated from the exercise by any one of three Hunters who will be tracking you.'

  'Hunters?' Josh had asked.

  'Yep. This is a Hunter,' Mark had replied, lifting the cover from a spherical object about eighteen inches in diameter. 'They can move through the air, on the ground, even underwater. And they're fast. They're designed for rescue missions considered too dangerous for a human operative. They're equipped with sensors that can be programmed to seek out a target. In this exercise, they have been instructed to find three humans – two males, one female.'

  'I see,' Mai had said. 'And what do they do if they find us?'

  'You each have a sensor built into your cybersuit. If they are in range they can zap you and you're out of the exercise.'

  'Kinda like paintball.'

  'Precisely.'

  'This way,' Pete said. 'To the clearing – I'm picking up a signal.' He ran ahead, Mai and Josh came up fast behind him. They reached a small gap in the undergrowth and crouched down.

  'I'm definitely getting a connection,' Pete confirmed. He was looking at a small flexible screen wrapped halfway around his forearm, meshed into the fabric of his cybersuit.

  They had been trying to get a link with the satellite for the past fifteen minutes. They needed to get a fix on the target. Sensors in their cybersuits were supposed to hook up to a satellite directly over Tintara. This would connect them to the mainframe at Base One, and beyond that to the internet. The problem was, Mark had either built in some interference just to screw them up, or there was a network problem that wasn't part of the exercise. Either way, it was impossible to get a precise reading.

  'Okay,' Pete said, tapping at a soft pad beneath the screen. 'Something's coming through.'

  Thousands of miles overhead, a satellite monitored the island and the surrounding ocean 24/7. This was primarily for defence, but it could also be used to locate anything bigger than a dime. It could also monitor the body heat of animals. Pete was trying to scan for a stray trace, the signature of a human hidden in a secluded part of the island.

  He directed the detector on the satellite to zero in on the middle section of the island. That was where Base One was located. He could see the outline of the buildings above ground.

  'Switch to infrared,' Mai said.

  Pete ran his fingers over the keypad and the image instantly changed. The buildings disappeared, replaced by a smudge of light – the infrared signature of over 800 people and their machines. He guided the image away, and they saw a few dots of light close to the base, each of them moving along track roads. They needed to find a stationary signal somewhere off the main routes. Pete touched the keys again and the image shifted. He thought he saw a pinprick of light close to the southernmost tip of the island.

  The screen died.

  'Oh, hell!' Josh exclaimed.

  'Too much of a coincidence to be a network problem,' Mai said heavily.

  'It's irrelevant anyway,' Pete replied. He flicked off the screen and straightened up.

  They all heard a whirring sound at the same time and spun round to see a Hunter just above the trees to the west, ten yards away.

  There was nowhere to hide. The Hunter could detect them even if they were hidden from sight. But they dived into the undergrowth and started to crawl to an area of denser cover where it would find it harder to get a good shot at them.

  They lay still in the damp vegetation. The Hunter came close and hovered overhead. Suddenly, a sharp cracking sound came from the sphere. It missed their sensor pads.

  Josh was closest to the edge of the dense patch of undergrowth. Vines clambered over each other in tight knots. A huge beetle passed an inch from his face. The insect stopped, waved its antennae, then trundled off. Josh moved his hand half an inch and touched a hard, jagged object. A small rock. He worked the stone into his palm and gripped it tight.

  'Mai, Pete,' he hissed, 'I'm going to try something. On three, scramble away from me in opposite directions, but for heaven's sake keep under cover. One – two – three!'

  Josh sensed rather than saw Pete and Mai move away. Overhead, the sphere whirred. Josh glimpsed the machine through the undergrowth. It was hovering about ten feet above the vegetation. It spun towards Mai and then around 180 degrees to track Pete. Josh pulled himself up, and with all his strength he threw the rock straight at the Hunter.

  The rock whistled past it. The machine spun round and fired at Josh. He dived into the undergrowth. The Hunter fired again and missed. Josh tripped and landed heavily against a boulder, winding himself.

  The Hunter came back into view. Josh scrambled away but there was no cover. The machine came closer. It was no more than a dozen feet away when there came a loud clang, and it wobbled. Then he spotted Mai ducking down. He hadn't seen her throw the rock but her aim had been better than his.

  The Hunter turned towards her, but then Pete sprang up and launched a rock at the device. It slammed into the sphere, knocking it aside. The Hunter emitted a high-pitched whistling sound and plunged to the ground.

  Josh gave Mai and Pete high fives. 'Sharp shooting,' he said.

  'Misspent youth,' Pete answered.

  'So, what now?' Mai asked. She was panting from the exertion. 'Am I mistaken, or was there a trace to the south just before it went down?'

  'I saw it too,' said Pete, suddenly excited. 'But it's a big area.'

  'Hang on,' Mai said. 'We lost the signal, but the images should still be in the system's memory.'

  'You're right,' Pete replied. He touched the pad on his arm and brought up the file browser. Scrolling forward, he found the final image just before the system had flicked off. They could see, to one side of the screen, an isolated, motionless infrared signature.

  'Freeze that,' Josh snapped. 'There. What're the coordinates?' He brought up the map of the island on his own screen, keyed in the coordinates and matched it up with the signature. Then he glanced at his watch. 'Zero point three four seconds west. Let's go.'

  The infrared signature was less than a hundred yards away, but between them and the target dense undergrowth covered a steep incline. The target appeared to be sheltered in a small cave at the top of a rocky outcrop. If the satellite was up they could have found the quickest path through the dense vegetation, but that luxury was lost to them.

  They set off, using the map on Josh's screen to guide them. Five minutes later they had only managed to get twenty yards closer to the infrared signature.

  It was approaching noon. The sun was almost directly overhead and the temperature on the ground was nudging 110 degrees with almost 100 per cent humidity. The cybersuits were keeping their bodies cool by circulating liquid nitrogen through the intricate network of capillaries woven into the fabric. But that luxury, too, was short-lived.

  Mai was the first to notice. 'Hey, guys, stop a sec.'

  Pete and Josh were a few steps ahead of her. They stopped and turned in unison.

  'Is it just me, or are you warming up too?'

  Pete and Josh had been too busy slashing through the undergrowth with their jungle knives to notice. 'Now that you mention it,' Josh said.

  'Oh, Christ!' Pete exclaimed. 'Don't tell me!'

  'Another little gift from Mark, I think. No more thermal control,' Mai said.

  Suddenly things got much worse. A subdued hum came from the three cybersuits and they flicked off simultaneously.

  'What the –'

  'The whole thing's down,' Josh snapped, staring in disbelief at the dead arrays, his screen blank on his arm.

  'I bet you the only things working are the sensors for the damn Hunters,' Pete said.

  Almost immediately they heard the familiar whir.
A Hunter was directly in front of them, inside the foliage. They dived into the undergrowth, but it was too late. The sphere emerged from a tangle of vines no more than five feet in front of Mai. It fired, and an alarm sounded from the back of her cybersuit.

  Josh and Pete were quick to respond. As the Hunter fired, Pete leapt up at the sphere, smashing his blade into the side of the device. The knife was sharp and heavy, and it sank at least two inches into the machine, crushing circuit boards and sundering components. The sphere emitted a low growl and fell like a stone, its lights flicking off.

  Josh and Pete pressed on, while Mai headed in the opposite direction, towards a track that would return her to Base One.

  It was exhausting work cutting through the foliage. They were sweating profusely, their cybersuits now useless and sodden. After ten minutes they stopped for a breather. Pete checked his watch. 'We've got nineteen minutes. It'll take at least ten to get the patient to the medical centre at Base One. Come on, man.' He helped Josh to his feet and they pressed on.

  After two more minutes of slashing through vines and dense foliage they reached a clearing. From here they could see the jungle stretching like a green and brown fog hanging low over the rocky terrain. It was thickest to the northeast, thinning out to the south-west. In the middle of the thinner covering they could just make out a rocky hill. It was probably the highest point on the island. Half of it was covered with more dark undergrowth and two large acacias that were smothered with vines. Looking closely, they could see a rough, dark circle – a cave entrance.

  They moved quickly through the clearing, all the while watching for the last of the Hunters. They made it to the first outcrop of rock unmolested, and slashed at the vegetation to find an opening in the trees. No more than 30 feet above them was the entrance to the cave.

  'How long have we got?' Josh asked.

  Pete glanced at his watch. 'Four minutes to reach the patient.'

  Josh didn't answer but threw himself into the task with renewed gusto. He slashed at a web of slender vines that gave way almost as soon as the blade touched them, and suddenly they were through.

  They were both panting, leaning forward with their hands on their knees. Josh was wincing. 'Stitch,' he gasped, as Pete looked at him. 'It'll pass.'

  Pete put his hand on Josh's sodden back. 'It's right ahead – at the end of the path.'

  Josh looked up to see a narrow opening between two jutting rocks, and beyond that the absolute black of a cave mouth.

  For a few seconds they felt very exposed as they plunged into the gap between the rocks. They both knew it was a perfect moment for the last Hunter to strike, and they brandished their knives as they dashed forward. Once through the gap, they followed a path with a rock wall to their left. An impenetrable mesh of vines and lianas lay to their right. Six paces on and they reached the cave.

  The cool of the shade felt like a panacea, but they had no time to enjoy it. 'We've got a minute, at best, to find him,' Josh said, stepping deeper into the blackness.

  It took a few moments for their eyes to adjust, but gradually shapes materialised. There were large rock projections on either side. The floor was soft with a carpet of rotting vegetation. It stank.

  Josh stopped for a second and leaned forward, his hand on his side.

  Pete thought he looked on the point of collapse. 'You okay, man?'

  Josh nodded weakly but couldn't speak.

  They both heard a rustling sound from further inside the cave. A torch beam cut through the semi-darkness and they saw a figure standing on a shelf of rock. His features were obscured by the dazzling light.

  The man stepped down to meet them, the torch bobbing. He switched it off. 'I'm so glad you've found me,' he said, lifting his hand. It held a small metal box. He took another step towards Josh and Pete and they finally saw the man's face.

  'Mark!'

  'Game over,' Mark said. He pushed a button on the device in his hand and the sensors woven into the back of their cybersuits went off. The sound reverberated around the rock walls.

  'Great try, guys, but no cigar,' Mark said, handing them each a water bottle. 'And the moral is – trust no one!'

  17

  CIA headquarters, Langley, Virginia

  The tall man in a grey suit and blue tie and wearing spectacles with Armani turtle-shell frames was seated at the head of a long, walnut table reading a report. His assistant – younger, shorter and in a black suit and grey tie – tapped on the glass door to the room and walked in. He strode the length of the room to the head of the table. The taller man indicated the assistant should sit.

  'What is it?'

  'This, sir. Just in from MI5.' The assistant slid a piece of paper across the smooth walnut.

  The taller man read silently, then leaned back in his chair and removed his glasses. 'Sounds like horseshit to me,' he said, fixing his assistant with hard, black eyes.

  'The Brits appear to be taking it seriously, sir. They've gone to orange.'

  The taller man gave his assistant a sceptical look. 'And you think they know something we don't? Something planned on American soil?'

  The younger man shrugged. 'There's more.'

  The taller man's face was impassive. The assistant handed him another sheet of paper and the boss put his glasses back on. 'From the Bureau an hour ago,' the assistant said as his superior read in silence.

  A minute passed and the boss placed the paper on the table. 'More speculation.'

  'Perhaps, sir. But it comes from a field operative, Freddie Neilson.'

  'Neilson? Well, that settles it. It is horseshit!'

  The assistant allowed himself a faint smile. Neilson was famous in the FBI – and infamous among the conservatives in the CIA. Perceived as a hero by some and a fool by others, to say Freddie Neilson was no team player would have been like saying Bill Gates was comfortably off. But he had more scalps to his name than any other serving operative, and that was just about the only reason he had kept drawing a pay cheque from the Bureau.

  'Apparently, Neilson was following his own leads, deep under cover. Wouldn't say anything to anyone about it, following his own agenda.'

  'Yeah, that sounds about right. I've never understood why our friends at the Bureau suffered the man.'

  The assistant nodded. 'Looks like he was onto something big, though, sir. He dropped out of sight three days ago – simply vanished. Then yesterday he filed this report. He was in southern California. Said he was close to the source. Asked for backup to be prepped for his next call in.'

  'Ha! And?'

  'Freddie Neilson's body was found washed up on the beach in Santa Barbara this morning.'

  18

  Base One, Tintara

  E-Force training, week twelve

  'Abort! Abort!'

  'Okay, okay!' Stephanie brought her hand down hard on the joystick and threw herself back in the chair. 'I will never, ever get the hang of this thing!' she shouted into the helmet mic, so loudly that Mark and Maiko in the control room yanked off their headsets simultaneously.

  'Okay, Steph. Take five.' It was Mark's deep voice coming through her comms.

  Stephanie emerged from the simulator seething. She had been trying to land the Big Mac on a shelf of rock not much bigger than the base of the vehicle, and every time she had misjudged the altitude and slammed the VTOL aircraft down so hard that the undercarriage buckled and they plummeted 2000 feet into a digital ravine. 'I'm sorry, Mark,' she hissed, stomping towards the control room. 'I just –'

  'Look – chill, okay?' Mark took her by the shoulders. 'I died at least a dozen times before I got it right.'

  Maiko was at the door to the control room as Stephanie and Mark reached it.

  'Your turn,' Mark said.

  She was pulling on her comms headset when the central computer, known affectionately as Sybil, interrupted. 'Mark,' it intoned, in a soft female voice, 'perhaps you've forgotten – the team are due to meet in Cyber Control at 15.00. Peter and Josh are on their way. Tom is
there already.'

  'Thanks, Sybil,' Mark said. 'I had forgotten.'

  They reached Cyber Control a few seconds after Pete and Josh. The two men looked freshly scrubbed in new jumpsuits – the standard uniform for everyone at Base One. Made from polycarbon fibres, each suit weighed only a few ounces but was as strong as silk, with a similar texture. The two of them had just completed Survival Training Course 6M, one of the toughest – and messiest.

  Tom gave Josh and Peter high fives as they came in. 'Good day at the office, guys?' he enquired.

  'Can't complain, Tom. It must have been hell slaving over a hot keyboard all day,' Josh replied.

  'Right, everyone,' Mark said. 'It's just the weekly check. How're we all feeling?'

  'Apart from crashing six times today, just fine,' Stephanie replied.

  Josh looked at her in amazement. 'You still haven't landed the Big Mac?'

  'No, I haven't, smartass. I'm sorry to disappoint you.' Stephanie caught herself and took a deep breath. 'Oh, look, I'm . . . Not a good day.'

  He had his hands up. 'Hey, I'm sorry.'

  'Actually, there is something I want to pass on.' It was Tom Erickson. He was at a computer terminal. A holographic image floated in space in front of his eyes. At the apex of red and green converging lines was a paragraph of text. 'Sybil,' he said. 'Project the global map onto the big screen, please.'

  Tom spun his chair round and the others turned as the wall behind them lit up.

  'I don't want to panic anyone, but we've been picking up some strange intelligence traffic.'

  'What does that mean, exactly?' Josh asked.

  'Well, as you know, Sybil monitors all transmissions on the planet. Then, just like a search engine on the net, she sorts the stuff according to a set of pre-programmed criteria. The most useful sources are secret-service and military transmissions.' The screen lit up in clusters around Washington, London, Moscow and Beijing. 'During the past couple of days there's been increased activity from the US and European intelligence agencies. A lot of crosstalk. Sybil's picked up no fewer than 1800 communications between the CIA and MI5 since Tuesday. They obviously suspect something is about to go down.'