Spiral

by Andy Remic

  Keyword SEARCH>>DURELL, QIII [lvlz], NEX [lvlz] SPIRAL_Q

  Carter peered out through the smoked glass as the engines whined. He grinned like a young boy - unable to contain himself - as he felt the power of the machine beneath him wind up like a turbine.

  The Sikorsky RAH-66 Comanche eased up from the snow, suspension bobbing as it was released from the aircraft’s dead weight, and Carter watched the Scottish mountains drop away beneath him. Exhilaration was his mistress and he licked his lips nervously - he hated flying, and yet drew some perverse pleasure from the stimulation such machines gave him. The pilot was ensconced in his HIDSS - a Helmet Integrated Display Sighting System -and looked somewhat alien as he eased forward and the twin 1380 shaft-horsepower LHTec turboshaft engines moaned like huge ferocious animals in pain.

  ‘Hey, Langan, you hear me in that ugly thing?’

  ‘I hear you, Carter.’

  ‘I thought these choppers weren’t in production yet?’

  ‘They’re not. Especially ones like this. It’s a MkIV. Very advanced.’

  ‘Is it fast?’

  Carter was slammed back, heart in his mouth.

  Stupid question, thought Carter as the engines finally returned to their ‘normal’ speed. His stomach churned and he regretted his fried breakfast. He made a mental note to keep his irrepressibly foolish questions to himself in the future.

  ‘You want to go over land, via the coastline or straight across the sea?’

  ‘Does it matter?’ said Carter.

  ‘Not to me.’

  ‘Down the coast, then.’

  Carter settled back as the Comanche hummed, settled into stealth mode and cruised down the coastline of England. He ran through the ECube’s instructions once more: protection in support of German Special Forces agents. Not even a full job. A support job. Break him in gently; ease him back into the Spiral fold ... and then he would feel Kade’s wings curl around him to obscure the light and the killing would begin...

  He shivered.

  He remembered the probing of the little ECube machine with some annoyance. Spiral testing him: physical and mental responses. Check he was still the same. Check he hadn’t lost his magic touch.

  ‘I should have retired,’ he mused, settling deeper into the uncomfortable seat; it was structured for combat, not sleep. ‘In fact, I thought I already had.’

  Carter managed to nod off as they flew low down the east coast of England, the cold dark waters of the North Sea below them as the Comanche weaved like a reigned-in predator between radar pulses and deflected the probings of other more sophisticated detection equipment. They left the southern coast of England, avoiding both Dover and Boulogne by flying straight down the centre of the English Channel as Carter remembered older, harder days, training in the mountains, running, sweating under packs, carrying logs, wading through snow, navigating blizzards ... He smiled amiably as the memories drifted through his mind. He had felt so heroic; at the peak of his physical and mental fitness. And yet it had been the beginning.

  The beginning of a new career with Spiral...

  ‘Can I smoke?’

  ‘No.’

  He slept, and dreamed only a little; it was a bad dream.

  It was a dream about Kade.

  ‘Why won’t you leave me alone?’ he muttered as he came awake to the sound of rain and the buffeting of wind.

  ‘You OK?’ asked Langan.

  Carter sighed. ‘Yeah. Sort of. Has this thing got a cigarette lighter?’

  ‘Like I said, no smoking, pal.’

  ‘Where are we?’

  ‘Just crossing the Ardennes. We won’t be long; touchdown will be just east of Siegen. Nice little pad we’ve got hidden away in the hills. A car will meet you and rush you off to whatever secret and heroic mission you’re destined to enjoy.’

  ‘Langan?’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Shut the fuck up.’

  ‘OK, boss.’ The pilot grinned, flicked a switch and the Comanche swooped down from the sky towards the flat-lands beyond the mountain range. Carter watched the landscape flicker below him in the approaching gloom like some ridiculous computer-game simulation - and thanked God that this unwanted adrenalin-injected journey was nearly over.

  ‘I’d like to thank you for a smooth flight, but I won’t.’

  ‘Any time, pal,’ Langan chuckled.

  Carter watched the Comanche leap into the air, bank sideways and hurtle into the distance. He shook his head, lit a cigarette and inhaled. His boots crunched stone as he walked to the black Mercedes and climbed in. In minutes the hills were moving past on either side and the car soon drove into the gloomy sanctuary of a pine forest.

  Carter wound down the window and breathed in the pleasant scent. Rain spat through the gap and he revelled in the shocking coolness on his face. He saw himself imposed over the image of the speeding forest: Carter, reflected in glass - short brown hair, heavy stubble, pale blue eyes. A broad boxer’s nose that had taken one too many punches. A strong chin - he thrust it forward, then grinned weakly at his reflection.

  Ugly bastard, he mused, and lit another cigarette, reminding himself that he really should quit.

  The hotel was basic. Low-key. Cheap.

  Carter unpacked, then spent a half-hour familiarising himself with the room and then with the hotel. He walked around, smoking, checking out entrances and exits. He sat for a while in the lobby, watching the people coming and going, and being eyed himself by the two hotel guards armed with 7.62mm AK49s. A waiter approached and asked him if he required a drink. In fluent German he asked for a bottle of whisky to be sent to his room and then shook his head, telling himself off.

  You’ve one day left, he mused. The last thing you need is a hangover.

  Ignoring his own advice, he went back to his room to listen to the rain, drink, and pray that Kade would leave him alone.

  ‘You’re drunk,’ whispered the voice of Kade in his mind.

  Carter ignored the words and poured himself another whisky. It was a cheap blend and tasted burning, sour -evil, almost - on his tongue and in his throat.

  ‘Let me look at her. Just one more look at her.’

  ‘No,’ said Carter softly. His fist clenched the glass tightly and he looked across the room at the mirror. He always expected to see something - he wasn’t sure what. Maybe a spirit drifting over his head. Maybe a ghost standing behind his shoulder. But it was always the same ... nothing. Nothing there - no ghosts, no haunting, no floating spirits. He was alone - alone in body but not in soul...

  Am I going crazy?

  The same question. The same question a million times.

  He laughed, and downed the whisky. He felt Kade leave him and was thankful - thankful for the peace and solitude. Kade came to him much less these days and that was the way he liked it. But again the thought nagged at him, would not relinquish its alcohol-fuelled grip: crazy man, mad man, insanity ... Schizophrenia? Severe mental disorder? A fucked-up mind fried on the toxins of three wars and a thousand battles—

  Insane ...

  ‘You’re fucking insane,’ Roxi had shouted at him from across the room, fear in her face, in her eyes, in her stance. He could see her fingers trembling, could see the enticing pulse beating rapidly in her neck.

  And he could still feel the bulky grip of the 9mm in his hand as he pointed it at her, a full 13-round clip in its magazine. And Kade: there in the back of his mind. ‘Kill her. She will betray you - betray us. And we shall be nothing. We shall be ashes and dust. Do it - or, if you’re such a fucking coward, let me do it...’

  He had walked from the room, to the lake, and thrown the weapon into the cold waters.

  He had let Roxi leave. Without a farewell.

  But at least with her life.

  She had known there was a problem - a needle in his mind, a splinter through his soul - and she had begged him to tell her. But he could not. How could he describe Kade in mere words? How could he define his torture, his misery - and, ironical
ly, his saviour - in simple sentences?

  Yeah, Kade - his Saviour. His fucking God.

  Carter laughed drunkenly at that and refilled his glass, spilling whisky over his hand. He could remember the shame: like a brand scarring his brain and soul. He had almost let Kade have her; had almost given in to the raging fucked-up beast-demon-murderer roaming his soul...

  Shit, he realised, sometimes he had even welcomed that merciless unbidden intruder - at first: when he had discovered what Kade was capable of. He admitted to himself that without his dark twin he would now be dead, dead many times in bunkers, bullets in his skull, his corpse rotting on river beds and in sewers and lying in pieces on distant forgotten battlefields. Kade had saved his life, had pushed him on and murdered when Carter felt weakness and Kade was untroubled by fear or compassion or doubt or consequences and had maimed and slain and slaughtered on his fucking behalf and yet...

  Carter couldn’t help wondering if he would rather be dead.

  What is it like to be normal?

  How would my life have been?

  How would I have turned out?

  He slept uneasily, images of the people that he - Kade -had murdered floating up from the depths of his mind. They accused him, fingers pointing, silent dead mouths open and screaming at him.

  Spiral Memo 1

  Transcript of recent news incident

  CodeRed_Z;

  unorthodox incident scan 545834

  Outbreak of malicious computing activity across the globe/a malicious virus Kleq5 -so far undetected on even the most powerful computing systems - has hit global networks in quick succession, striking 15,000,000 machines within 30 seconds.

  Not a single country in the world has remained unaffected - from America to France, from Africa to the Czech Republic. According to IT experts, the suspected virus detects sectors where operating systems reside and writes random blocks of data in short bursts, rendering any infected machine unusable.

  Because of its highly contagious nature, the virus and sample hard disks are being rigorously examined by leading anti-virus software companies. It is estimated that this Kleq5 virus has caused upwards of US$4.3 billion damage.

  Computing experts are fearful of a second payload which is expected shortly.>>#

  CHAPTER 2

  INFIL

  The Mercedes swept past three burned-out BMW’s, through the heavy iron gates and up the gravel drive to park beside the black iron fountain. Carter pulled free his ECube, weighed it in his palm, then accessed five codes; the ECube flickered at him with blue digits. Carter smiled - the tiny technical wonder would make sure he was not overheard; it would jam or scramble any listening devices in range.

  Carter got out, battered boots crunching on gravel, and lit a cigarette. He looked up at the home of Count Feuchter - Castle Schwalenberg, a magnificent structure of old stone dominated by a central tower with a grey-tiled spire. The windows were small, set back into the stone walls and flanked with traditional wooden shutters. Miraculously, the building seemed unharmed by the recent conflicts that had ravaged not just Germany but the whole of Europe. A few stray bullets from long-range rifles had peppered the shutters but no major damage had been done.

  The sun was out, glinting from the glass. Carter walked across the gravel and was stopped beside a crumbling stone arch by a German Special Forces agent.

  ‘You the special man? The one who was at the Siege of Qingdao?’ the surly German snarled down at Carter, who flashed his ID as his gaze took in the grounds beyond.

  ‘That’s me.’ Carter took a heavy pull on his cigarette and smoke plumed around him. He coughed. ‘Must remember to try and give up.’

  ‘We don’t need you here; we do just fine without you, special man.’

  Carter held up his hand. ‘Hey, I’m just here to observe, my friend. Now, I’d appreciate it if you got the fuck out of my way before I start to lose my temper.’ He smiled and blew smoke into the guard’s face.

  Holding eye contact, the agent used a comm to confirm Carter’s identity and allowed him to pass. Carter noted the sniper in the bushes as he moved towards the entrance.

  His stomach groaned at him - the bad whisky was haunting him. He reached the door. Ten men in the grounds, he thought. Good. He wasn’t meant to have seen five of them: even better.

  He lifted the huge iron knocker and allowed it to fall. It made a sound like rolling thunder.

  Carter watched Maria Balashev enter the richly decorated room. Her beauty stunned him. She wore her black hair long, to her waist, a softly shimmering silken fan; she moved with elegance and grace, and a light smile danced across her face when she saw Carter. She crossed to him without a sound, walking over the deep red carpets, and Carter felt himself swallowing hard as he gazed into those oval, beautiful, sorrowful eyes.

  ‘You know why I am here?’ he said softly.

  ‘I do, Mr Carter,’ she replied in smooth German. ‘And I am very grateful for your intervention. Natasha did not do you justice when she described you.’

  Her voice was like the gentle flowing of a river. Carter stood, smiled, and without speaking motioned to her earrings, bracelet and rings. She cocked her head questioningly and Carter made gestures for her to remove the jewellery. He walked around her, finger-testing the buckles at the back of her short red dress. Taking the items from her, he placed them on a low rosewood table inlaid with ivory, and then motioned for Maria to take off her shoes and follow him outside.

  She obeyed, and Carter led her barefoot out into the grounds. The sun was high, the smell of the gardens fresh after the heavy rains of the previous night.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Indulge me for a moment, Miss Balashev. Round here, through the arch.’

  She laughed then, and Carter heard the crack in the laughter; the fear was there, well hidden - especially considering the girl was only nineteen years old - but still there.

  They walked, Maria a step behind Carter.

  He stopped suddenly and turned. He took her hand.

  ‘Your uncle has received death threats and he considers them to be very real - not a hoax, but linked to the development of a powerful ground-breaking processor with which he is intimately involved. Your uncle fears that those making these threats may attack you, as a soft alternative target, while both of you are visiting Germany, either to kidnap you or to ... well, I am sure you understand the situation as well as I do. Now, there are many agents here whose job is to protect you - I am here merely to back them up. To be your personal bodyguard, shall we say. But I would like you to agree to something.’

  Maria had gone white. Carter could feel her fingers, cool and smooth, against his own.

  ‘Yes, Mr Carter?’

  ‘I want you to do everything I ask. I want you to trust me implicitly. I am beyond being bought - I am a multimillionaire in my own right and money means nothing to me. But I need to know that you will do what I ask, when I ask - if you want to stay alive. Will you do this?’

  She paused, then smiled softly. ‘Yes. I will do what you ask. But I too have a question.’

  ‘Hmm?’ Carter was looking around the garden.

  ‘Why did you make me remove my jewellery and shoes?’ ‘Bugged. By the guys here - only doing their job but I wanted a bit of privacy. The ECube is notoriously efficient at blocking and jamming, but I hate surprises. I trust myself a whole lot more than I trust technology. Better cautious than dead’.’ He savoured the word.

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Tell me, why do you think you have been threatened?’

  ‘My uncle, who treated me like his own child after my own father ... well, died... my uncle is devoted to his work. He is a genius. All I know is that we suspect a terrorist organisation wants him to stop.’

  ‘Why are you here?’ asked Carter. ‘Your uncle knows that you are the soft target - his niece and only close family ... the daughter he never had. You should be somewhere safe, away from the possibility of danger.’

  Maria turn
ed away, then stooped and picked a small flower. She held the white petals to her nose and, her eyes lowered, said softly, ‘My uncle is a man of iron principles and I admire him for that. He will stand by what he believes. He did not want me here; but I will not have my life dictated by what might or might not happen. I am my own person, Mr Carter.’ She met his gaze then. ‘I will do what I wish. And let us be honest - if they can get to me here, then they can get to me wherever I chose to... hide.’ She spoke the word with contempt.

  Carter nodded slowly. ‘I want you to know that I have never lost a protection,’ he said. He reached out and tilted her chin up. ‘So you do what I say and we might get through this alive. OK?’

  ‘Yes.’ Maria smiled, a beautiful smile. ‘Here, a present.’

  Carter took the flower, sniffing it gently as he followed the girl back towards the house. He watched the agents in the bushes and, as clouds gathered overhead with the threat of yet more drenching rain, did not envy them. He chuckled to himself - and remembered Kade from the night before. The smile fell from his face.

  He walked across the drive.

  ‘Count Feuchter.’

  Carter stood up and watched the older man approaching him. He was well built, with black hair, iron-grey sideburns and a grey-flecked beard. His eyes were harsh and intelligent, his dress smart. Carter shook the offered hand - a powerful grip.

  ‘A drink?’

  ‘Water,’ said Carter.

  ‘It was good of you to agree to this. I understand that you are virtually retired but you come, shall we say, very highly recommended.’

  ‘Lots of experience.’ Carter smiled wryly. He took the glass and watched Feuchter slump into a wide upholstered chair and light a cigar. The man fixed his gaze on Carter who sat back down and glanced over at Maria, who was seated at a small oak bureau.

  ‘Do you think we are in a lot of danger?’ asked Count Feuchter.

  Carter shrugged. ‘From the reports I have read and the other info, I would say yes. You have been working for Spiral_Q, if I understand this correctly. It would seem your work has gained you many enemies.’