by Andy Remic
Natasha smiled to herself softly, lifted her hands and rubbed at her eyes. Pain stabbed at her from many different locations; the bullet wound from back in Scotland nagged her, it still hurt her to speak after Carter’s emergency procedure with a ballpoint pen - and to top it all, her chipped teeth nagged both at her pain threshold and her vanity.
Killers.
She smiled again, although the taut grin held little humour.
She had met many men - and a few women - while working as a Tactical Officer for Spiral; many killers, murderers, assassins, members of DemolSquads... their names were various, their objectives usually one and the same. To kill, and to destroy. And she had found one connecting link that ran like a gold skein, a bright lode through all their souls - their mental tiptoeing along the verge of insanity. After all, what sane person could kill in cold blood? What sane person could plant a bomb and detonate it - no matter how justified the action seemed?
And, sooner or later, something had to give.
With all the Spiral people she knew, no matter how professional, how adept at killing, how inhuman they seemed - it was all bullshit. They were all human. And they might be able to block off the self-contempt for a while, but it always came back to haunt them. Their time as killers was finite; only as long as the fuse that led finally to blood-red detonation.
Spiral was like the army, Natasha understood this now. It absorbed people; it used people; it destroyed people -and then it pissed them away. Its operatives were expendable; they had to be expendable because there was no such thing as an ice killer, no such thing as a person without a soul, without a conscience. There was always a spark there ... somewhere.
Natasha sighed, and felt the ECube in her pocket. She pulled it free and stared at the small surface area. Acting as a GPS, the 12GHz RISC processor could navigate somebody across the whole world, but of course this data would have been relayed straight back to the Spiral mainframes ... if the mainframes had still existed. Now the CommNet was down it was a joke - and not a very funny one.
She rubbed the tiny device between her thumb and forefinger, then, settling back, pulled a small knife from a pocket, slipped free the blade, and sliced the soft and almost organic-feeling protective layer from the ECube’s tiny surface. The ECube gave a warning buzz that Natasha ignored; she examined the alloy cube without its skin and smiled softly.
She pulled out a tiny plasma screen - about the size of a matchbox - and plugged it into the ECube. It lit up brightly, glowing blue, and Natasha couldn’t help feeling very strange about using such a high-tech piece of equipment in a small naturally carved bowl valley, probably the product of millions of years of natural geological evolution. And yet here she was, using the latest cutting-edge agent technology.
She started to scroll through a series of scripted instructions.
She tapped in a short message.
With a tightening of her lips, bloodless in the cool moonlight, Natasha clicked on SEND.
And then it was done.
Spiral_Memo7
Transcript of recent news incident
CodeRed_Z;
unorthodox incident scan 554670.
The House of World Finance was left in chaos after thousands of mainframes that store world trade information and data on stocks and shares and facilitate in the high-speed optical transfer of this data around the globe crashed this morning.
Despite having triple-tier security and laser-dig-optical back-up systems, it left Wall Street and other major global trading centres without resources. Brokers and traders were left staring at blank screens as technicians attempted to resurrect the mainframes staged at five main sites spanning New York, London, Paris, Tokyo and Hong Kong.
Kiosoto Hiranamu, MD at Tadao & Tadao Financial Directorates, claimed: ‘This is an act of financial terrorism! We have been attacked by some kind of super-virus, a new breed of computer termite intent on domination or destruction of the world’s financial sectors.’
The effects of this crash will be felt by all as even simple tasks such as exchanging currency become, at least for the immediate future, impossible.>>#
CHAPTER 17
QIII
Jessica Rade’s eyes opened and stared at the rendered ceiling. Darkness lay like a veil of mist around her. Everything was silent - deadly silent. And yet:
She knew.
Knew it was almost complete.
Knew it was almost ready ... a few tweaks here and there, some optimisation of code, a few re-routes and the QIII would be 100% operational; the math was in place; the WorldCode was in place.
That could only mean that the QIII proto was—
Alive...
Whispered a voice in her mind.
Why then, Jessica mused, did she feel so pissed off?
And it came to her, a wave of annoyance, anger, frustration: to create something so wonderful, to be involved in a world-breaking project and then to restrict its use! It was like creating a work of art and then hanging it in a cellar, never to be seen by anybody.
The QIII could benefit everybody ... medical science, space exploration, the imminent world fuel crisis - it could be used to cure life-threatening diseases, take genetic research to its limits ... But no. They had better uses for this new technology, this new baby, and she suspected those uses were military.
And she could still remember Gol’s words, when he had contacted her.
The Spiral secret police. Jessica shivered.
But she had complied with their wishes ...
Copying the schematics had been the easy part; getting them to Gol had been where the real difficulty lay.
Don’t ever call me unresourceful, she mused.
Jessica smiled, emotions on her face conflicting, and she rubbed at her tired eyes. She knew that the QIII wasn’t really alive - after all, it was only semi-organic: it was still, basically, silicon. And a mix ... another synthetic substance that the scientists wouldn’t allow out of their labs and that was tip-top secret. But basically silicon ... ha, but humans were basically carbon, weren’t they? And when the QIII was ready, the WorldCode complete, the implementation of probability math and probability equations finally successful then she would be able to have a long, long, well-earned rest—
Her duty to the world, and Spiral, and Gol, was nearly complete.
Jessica Rade thought all these thoughts as she stared at the ceiling. Her hand came up, ran through her long curls, and then she registered something; not so much a noise as a single high-pitched note on the very verge of her hearing ...
Jessica frowned. She sat up.
Through the doorway between two of the apt rooms she saw a glow from one of her terminals. She didn’t remember leaving it on. In fact, she knew she had not left it on—
And the terminal was protected. Electronically. Her own code. Her own triple firewalls to intercept hackers and so forth. She had even tried to hack her own system; she had found it impossible. That meant (a) somebody had hacked it - unlikely (b) somebody had spied on her and even now was in the apt using the terminal or (c) aliens had taken over the computer. Jessica shivered. None of these alternatives really appealed to the young woman.
She jumped off the edge of the bed, looked quickly around, and picked up a hammer from her dressing table. She had used the hammer a few days earlier to hang a few pictures around the apt and had not got round to returning this brutal item of hardware to the caretakers of the huge Spiral_Q building - she’d been too busy with WorldCode and QIII prep code. Now she was thankful—
She hefted the makeshift weapon.
It would make a good weapon ...
Jessica crept towards the doorway. The light from the terminal grew brighter. Her grip tightened on the hammer shaft; her gaze flickered from the doorway to the silver head with its twin claws used for nail extraction. She licked at her lips nervously.
Why would somebody be in her apartment?
Why would Spiral be spying on her?
Unless they knew.
Suddenly she went cold.
And something hit her - with the force of a brick in the face. If they had discovered that she had been the one to copy the schematics and pass them on to the Spiral TacSquad1, the secret police ... then they would be extremely angry with her, right?
They certainly wouldn’t thank her.
Jessica reached the doorway. Peered cautiously around the hardwood frame.
And saw—
Nothing.
The terminal screen was blank: a dull grey with only a flashing black square. Jessica’s eyes fixed on this because it was a symbol she had never seen on the terminal before - and it was her terminal; it did what she told it to do. It was her design; from the ground up. Bare code.
Jessica stepped across the threshold, moved towards the terminal, gaze sweeping left and right, hand still gripping the hammer shaft tightly. She swallowed - or tried to swallow. Fear had dried her mouth; the thought of Spiral_Q and the Big Boys possibly suspecting her of the QIII schematics leak was there, a bad taste in her brain, a reality of epically nasty proportions just waiting to surprise her—
The black cursor sprang to life—
□ Ωclass relay □ terminal 556 □ qiii mainframe code logon 01001010 Hello Jessica.
Jessica stared at the screen, a frown on her face. She shook her head and sat down, placing the hammer carefully beside the terminal with a clack, and typed, her fingers a blur across the keyboard:
□ Stop fucking about. Who is this? Give me your employee number now!
□ Ωclass relay □ terminal 556 □ qiii mainframe code logon 01001010 I have no employee number. I am the qiii mainframe - I would like to thank you miss jessica rade - you have done a wonderful job in implementing my code; I am secondary scanning now. You are a superb programmer and I give you credit. Your code stands out from all the other binary gibberish with which I have been uploaded. Tell me - where did you learn your craft?
□ I am coming down to the mainframe suite NOW. But not before I send security! Pal, whoever you are, you are fucked and long gone from Spiral _Q. Kiss your pension and annual bonus goodbye.
Jessica sat back, staring at the screen, and reached for the comm. But something was wrong; the screen was wrong, and the comm address from where the messages were coming was the QIII mainframe; somebody had to be re-routing the data and that was almost impossible. And definitely a waste of time. She clucked her tongue in annoyance, and started to punch in the digits for security as the following text appeared on her terminal—
□ Ωclass relay □ terminal 556 □ qiii mainframe code logon 01001010 I suggest you don’t do that if you want to live.
Jessica’s fingers halted, her stare moving from the screen to the comm in her hand and back again. Were they watching her? Were they watching her now?
Fuck - was there somebody in her apartment?
She grabbed the hammer and whirled around.
But there was nobody there. She was lone.
She licked at her dry lips.
Sweat tickled the small of her back under her pyjamas.
□ Ωclass relay □ terminal 556 □ qiii mainframe code logon 01001010 Please listen. This will not take long. I am giving you this information because you created me; I am giving you this information because you have allowed me to live. I am the qiii code 85465397698098326873-78687656757632190798798328765765328753209239083 - U73278687380-823786879328763jhfh90897938u8990398f-7830—71987f 98-7-7-7—487f898f cubic processor. Your programming is fine, but I am presently rewriting the majority of the code to optimise and iron out a few errors. You should switch to base 16 - you are more fluent in this than in decimal.
Jessica stared. Her jaw dropped.
Shit, she thought, this can’t be real. The QIII can’t be talking to me?
She typed:
□ What do you want? And why is my life in danger?
□ Ωclass relay □ terminal 556 □ qiii mainframe code logon 01001010 Listen carefully-
1) Spiral_Q know you leaked the schematics
2) Because of the leaks and several other factors concerning a new mobile base where the final implementation of qiii will take place, this factory/building/base is to be emptied - cleared -destroyed
3) 30% of all present employees in this unit are to be terminated/you did not realise how high are the stakes being played for by the people who employ you - it would seem there is a rift in the echelons of Spiral
4) The killing has already begun; check your personal Vqlinks
5) You have perhaps five minutes before the Nex assassins arrive
Jessica smiled. It had to be a joke, right? A monumental fucking wind-up by Adams or Johansen because they had cracked the WorldCode and the QIII was finally operational. Her smile turned to a wide grin. The bastards! She had almost believed them!
The grin still beaming across her pretty face, she typed:
□ Which one of you buggers is winding me up?
□ Ωclass relay □ terminal 556 □ qiii mainframe code logon 01001010 Check your Vqlinks NOW
The word NOW flashed, on-off, on-off, on-off. The grin fell from Jessica’s face. She quickly moved to her dressing table, opened the bottom drawer and hit a hidden switch. The ‘mirror’ flickered into life: this was her secret, her own secretly wired navigation system through the rooms and apts of the rich and famous in Spiral_Q—
She had all her friends bugged, a piggyback on the official Spiral_Q surveillance systems. The mirror shimmered like liquid mercury. She punched in the digits for Adams’s apt - only the hallway, nothing as tasteless as the bedroom or toilet. The mirror locked to the signals and faded into a scene—
Jessica’s mouth opened. Then closed again. Quickly.
There was a grey-clad figure; grey balaclava; it stood like a sentry outside the bedroom door. It held a silenced machine rifle. It did not turn as another figure - another Nex - dragged Adams from the bedroom. His throat had been slit. His broken glasses lay twisted against his cheek, caught behind one ear. His tongue was protruding. His blood had run down his chest and dripped as the Nex dragged him across the carpet and dumped him by the door.
Jessica switched channels.
Johansen - hands in the air, a look of terror on his face.
The bullet smashed through his cheek, blowing the back of his head across the print of the Mona Lisa that he loved so much. Gore ran down the polished glass covering the print, and Johansen toppled backwards to the carpet in a heap—
Jessica switched through more channels.
Many rooms empty.
Some containing bodies.
She flicked to the rear of the Spiral_Q building. There were five massive transport helicopters, CH-47G Chinook-Ts, rotors idling, and a line of mammoth military-style trucks with huge desert tyres, their tailgates dropped and open, some of their interiors revealing piles of bodies. Nex appeared, dragging corpses with them -men and women with whom Jessica had worked, bantered, talked only a few short hours ago—
Jessica scrambled back to the terminal.
The screen was blank.
Why? screamed her brain.
Why are they doing this?
Why are they killing them? Because they know too much? Because of the schematics leak?
She was sweating, suddenly panicked now. She ran to the wardrobe, pulled out a small travelling bag. She started to throw things into it - fresh underwear, high-heel shoes, make-up—
She stopped, suddenly.
What the fuck are you doing?
Grabbing the hammer, Jessica ran to the door and then halted abruptly once more. They could be in the corridor. They could be in the lifts. They could be ready to knock on her door at this very moment - one of the Nex standing there with a silenced gun ready to put bullets into her frail body—
She licked her lips, calming her breathing.
Think: how to survive?
Her head lifted. She glanced up.
The air-con was hissing softly.
She dragged a chair to the s
haft and, reaching up, used the hammer claw to prise free the aluminium cover. It would be a tight squeeze but — but then, did she really have any choice?
She ran back into the bedroom. She scattered clothes across the floor and the chair she was about to use. Then she jumped, caught the rim, which bit into the soft skin of her fingers, and hauled herself up into the narrow tight confines of the aluminium horizontal shaft. With trembling fingers she manoeuvred the aluminium cover back into place and waited, her heart thumping in her ears.
Two minutes passed.
Jessica heard it; a tiny click. The door eased open. Three Nex slid into her apt like ghosts; they moved silently, communicating with hand signals. They explored the rooms quickly and met again in the hall.
‘She is not here.’ The voice was soft, almost feminine.
‘We will find her.’
‘Report it; we’ll return in ten minutes and check again. Put a cross next to her name.’
They left the apt.
Jessica pushed herself backwards down the shaft, deeper in, the cool draught making her shiver, her proximity to death making her shiver even more. I don’t believe it, she kept telling herself. I just don’t believe it—
Complacency, whispered her mind.
Your life was too good.
You thought you were untouchable - a crusader, out to share the QIII, to help mankind just as Gol had reasoned with her; he had suspected they were feeding him false schematics, and together they had proved he was right...