Treasonable Intent

by C Shaw Hilton

  “What are you doing here?” he asked Ray. It was emotionless and intense. The gun barrel swung towards the Special Events officer. Ray almost fell over his own words as they tumbled out. He briefly covered the ambush and his abduction. He emphasised that he needed to urgently contact MI5 to reveal the conspiracy that was taking place. Nia shook her head from time to time at his account but did not interrupt. Olsson listened impassively.

  When Ray finished he asked for the ties around his feet and wrists to be cut. Olsson ignored him. “And your version of all of this?” he asked Nia.

  Nia looked at him intensely and ignored his question. “Have you just killed my men?”

  Olsson simply nodded.

  She sneered at him. “Then I don’t think I have anything to say.”

  Ray interrupted: “What about the two MI5 officers in the garage?”

  Olsson looked surprised. “I thought they must have been killed. I’ll go and deal with them in a minute.” He drew breath and looked Ray in the eye. “I’m sorry about this.” Immediately he fired a short burst from his gun. Ray fleetingly twisted up against the wall before his lifeless body collapsed to the floor revealing a splatter of smeared blood from the exit wounds. Nia Williams was frozen in horror at the scene.

  Olsson turned to her without a flicker of emotion. “I think, Mrs Williams that you are getting too old for this game. That little sod could have killed you.”

  Nia Williams struggled to her feet. “What the hell? Have you really killed my team?”

  Olsson smiled. “In short, yes.” With a sudden movement he span and struck her with the gun butt in the abdomen. Nia winced and flopped back onto the sofa as if the stuffing had been knocked out of her.

  “Why?” she gasped, fighting for breath.

  Olsson sneered at her. “They would only get in the way. Now where is the Major and just as importantly, where is her tablet?

  Nia took a few moments before replying. “She escaped. Probably reporting in to JCW as we speak. Fatima’s team have the laptop but I am afraid that is all. It has required a change of plan. They are relocating to Exmoor.” She spoke with resignation in her voice.

  Olsson looked at her, trying to detect if she was lying. After a few seconds he shrugged. “I have to say that Benning’s plan was inspired. Indeed, your Chinese colleagues have done their job very well in executing it. Until now. Now we should all be together here. Instead Alicia has gone to GCHQ, Benning himself had to go abroad, the Major is missing and you have sent half of our specialist agents off to the Devon countryside. It seems this is the point where things need a new direction.”

  Nia looked at him. A slow expression of recognition crossed her face. “You are working for someone else?” It was a question but she already knew the answer from the expression on his face.

  Olsson nodded. “I’m afraid this has been an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. My cover will be blown, but it will be worth it.”

  He checked the magazine of the machine pistol as he spoke. “My dear Nia, it was bloody obvious that something would go wrong. Trying to pull this off with a few hired guns and a dozen loyal followers was always going to stretch you.” He looked at her with a strange mix of pity and derision. “You and Benning are both naive. Neville and Beijing might have concocted this elaborate plot but from our perspective it was never going to work. What it has provided is an opportunity to strike at the UK meaningfully while their defences are weakened. The opportunity to severely damage and degrade Rose Garden cannot be missed.”

  Nia looked at him with loathing: “Our perspective?” She sighed. “Why don’t you just say it? Russia. You’re FSB!” She formed her next words carefully. “Section Fifteen must have been an ideal cover for you?”

  Olsson laughed. “Indeed. Access to the expertise in cyber warfare; the links with similar officers across all the main foreign desks and above all the chance to rise on the coat tails of Neville. It was perfect.”

  Nia hung her head in her hands. “Bloody Russia. I should have guessed.” She looked around the room as if for inspiration but none was forthcoming. She looked directly at him: “Killing Ray wasn’t necessary. We have taken a great deal of trouble to minimise casualties. Now three men are dead by your hand. I take it that you know what you are doing and that this is a deliberate escalation?”

  Olsson swung the gun towards her. “I usually do. I have already exposed Benning and now I will do the same with you. Both MI6 and MI5 will look complicit in these events. The question in my mind is whether you have any further use?” He moved towards her and pushed the barrel into her chest. ”Let’s face it, we are all part of a conspiracy against the British government. The three of us set up Operation Lightening so that it would fail. We all wanted to expose a cyber-warfare capacity that no nation should possess in isolation. I have just decided to go further and actually destroy it.”

  Nia was direct, “How long have you been a double agent?”

  Olsson breathed deeply. In his mind he had already made his decision. “Long enough to know it was the right choice.” he exclaimed. “At the end of the day, even with Rose Garden, you are just second best in terms of cyber warfare. The future rests with Russia.”

  She flinched as the single shot switch was clicked into place and the slide pulled back. Olsson had been the third leg of their triumvirate and played a key role. She winced inwardly that he had been playing them all the time. Even more, that she hadn’t recognised him as a Russian agent. “So, you’re going to destroy it?”

  Olsson thought about replying but decided it was a waste of breath. He pulled the trigger. The HK was set on a single shot and the 9mm bullet went straight through her heart. Without a backward glance he turned and went to the garage. Four further shots indicated the termination of the two MI5 officers tied up inside.

  Picking up the keys, he left the front door open and climbed into the grey Range Rover, discarding the machine pistol on the front lawn. Within minutes he was heading east towards the M4 motorway and his rendezvous in London. He tuned in to Radio Two. The DJ had just introduced the next song by the Beatles. The notes and lyrics were familiar and raised an instant smile. “Back in the USSR…” Olsson turned the volume up a level. “Too right” he said laughingly, “too bloody right… watch out the Russians are coming!” He laughed loudly at the coincidence of the broadcast and put his foot down.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Trent Powell had hardly slept but it made his decision to proceed with the test all the easier. The restless imagining, the nightmares and the deeper need to make good the disappointment felt by Lauren gave him a new certainty. Jaded but determined, he left his apartment just before dawn and walked in a heavy parka coat across to the research complex. It only took three minutes but he enjoyed the crisp freshness of the mountain air and the almost complete silence. Punching in the key code to the main door he pulled it open and admitted himself into the granite and steel foyer. The two guards had seen his arrival on the CCTV and enacted a brief but thorough search before admitting him into the inner complex. It took a further four minutes to get downstairs and along the corridor to the main research unit. After a palm and retina verification he was allowed to insert his electronic key into the steel door lock and gain admittance.

  What he saw inside always took his breath away. The stunning interior of maple, pine and steel was supplemented by etched glass and ornate granite inlays around desktops and furniture. It looked like an expensive ski club lounge. The room curved towards what looked like a darkened observatory. In front of him was a single glass wall and to the right a secure steel door. Beyond the thick toughened glass was a larger room. Its walls glowed with thousands of small LED lights from tall stacks of computer file servers. In the middle was an operating table surrounded by all the latest equipment you would expect in an advanced surgical theatre. Behind the table lay a bank of controls which resembled a giant mixing deck at a rock concert. To his left he could just make out a deeper level containing controls, keyboar
ds and plasma screens connected to a large tank filled with bubbling liquid. In the dim glow of the lights it appeared to contain a contorted shape of what looked like brain tissue with wires trailing from it into the panels above. This was the interface. The technology had been years in the making but in recent months the learning from the collaboration with Haller, the Brits and the Chinese had accelerated progress. He just wished the Doctor had made it across the Atlantic in case things went wrong.

  He didn’t pretend to understand the science, although over the past year he had surprised himself at the level of conversation he could hold with his lead researchers. Lauren had grasped the detail quickly, as she often did. He had been forced to work hard at it with hours of study and observation. Looking at the room it wasn’t difficult to imagine the vast price tag attached to the technological marvel in front of him. Billions of dollars of investment hung on a slender thread of material. The interface was where the inorganic met the organic and the codes that could cross between the two. What had started as a project to provide the rapid access and storage of mass data had leapt into enhancing quantum processing and artificial intelligence. If a potential communication channel existed to somewhere, then they could find it and corrupt it with their own malware and trojans.

  The upshot of his disjointed thinking overnight had been to proceed with the trial against the ballistic missile system. If it worked it would buy a great deal of leverage with the NSA and federal government. If it didn’t he could argue more strongly that the NSA should retrieve Haller by force. This morning, in less than an hour, it would begin. Halfway across the world a medium range ballistic missile on a launcher in North Korea was being prepared. It carried no warhead but a small pod of scientific instruments designed to deploy in the upper atmosphere and take a number of air samples as it descended by parachute. It was part of a new détente programme of joint environmental science projects agreed between the two Korean states. The payload had been built in the south and the missile in the north. It was, however, protected by the same cyber defence system utilised on all North Korean ballistic missiles. No wonder Sidowski had been captivated by the idea.

  Trent went over to the nearest desk and hung his coat over the back of the chair before walking towards the group of scientists watching the monitors. The largest screen showed a satellite image of the launch site. Several vehicles, including the missile launcher, could be seen on the edge of woodland at the foot of a mountain. “Are we ready?” he asked. There were murmurs of assent and detailed descriptions of the preparations made. Trent looked satisfied. With any luck it would all go smoothly. The target was not the missile but the command guidance system on the launcher. Its communications relied on satellite transmissions for mobility, something provided on licence by the Chinese.

  Fifty three minutes elapsed before the satellite relay became active, giving the authorisation launch codes to the vehicle. Simultaneously the US Air Force satellite some 15 nautical miles lower and seven nautical miles south west began its pulse wave transmission. Inside the launch control nothing unusual registered with their final checks and enabling sequence. The countdown was short, just sixty seconds. At exactly the appointed hour and with much applause from the assembled dignitaries, scientists and military, the “missile of peace” as the press had nicknamed it, blasted off the launcher into the clear blue sky. At zero plus forty seconds the engines began to lose power and the trajectory veered 15 degrees off course. Red lights appeared all over the control panels and the command centre was transformed into a state of frenetic activity, bordering on panic. The missile was slowing and tilting off course but not in a manner that could be explained by simple engine failure. It was as if the guidance system had been reprogrammed but furious checks showed no trace of a problem. Then, twelve seconds later, just as suddenly as the problem appeared, the engines powered up again and the missile corrected itself back onto the planned trajectory. There were huge sighs of relief and finally ecstatic applause as the payload reached altitude and was successfully deployed. Public reporting of the project simply mentioned “a minor vectoring correction” had been made to what was otherwise a perfect launch.

  Sidowski had watched the monitor relay from the US satellite in the main incident room at the Pentagon. There was a sense of smug euphoria. The secure phone rang. It was Trent.

  “Congratulations” the words were conveyed with genuine feeling by NSA agent. “Not just a successful test but one that only we recognise actually took place.”

  Trent absorbed the compliment. It would make his next conversation with Lauren much easier. “Thanks” he drawled, “it has been a real challenge but worth it. That said it wasn’t perfect. The intervention was programmed for nine seconds but went on for twelve and the vector variation was three degrees greater than we anticipated. This is the point where we could do with Haller in the facility to unpick why that happened.”

  Sidowski sighed: “Well you know the call we had to make on that and why. If you need more resources let me know. I can see here that the military top brass and those grey suits from State are rubbing their hands in glee. Sec of State for Defense has already gone to brief the President with the National Security Adviser. Esterhazy are going to make a lot of money from this. Speak to you later.” The phone call was abruptly cut short.

  Trent called Lauren. He knew she would give him the “I told you so” lecture but that the success would buy him more credibility and reward. Unfortunately it would cement in her mind the idea that Haller was expendable. Whatever he said about the problems with the trial would be dismissed. The NSA and the federal government were happy and they would pay unimaginably large fees to utilise the interface technology. Esterhazy would have a power and influence in the USA formerly reserved for Microsoft, Apple and Google but without any of the attendant public spotlight. “The quiet giant.” Trent muttered as he dialled her cell phone number.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Fawzia and Alicia were left together alone for nearly half an hour. Although they didn’t like each other, the circumstances dictated a truce which they were both astute enough to recognise. They rehearsed everything that had happened and worked through all the new information they had been given. For Fawzia it was as shocking as it was unnerving. The idea of a cyber-weapon with autonomous action was frightening. She began to understand the motive of Benning and the others although she felt they were despicable for plotting against their own country. The main question in her mind, however, was what to do next. Indeed whether, in the circumstances, she would be allowed any further role.

  The door opened and Louise wheeled through it, followed by the duty officer. She looked hot and flustered but her voice also conveyed a sense of excitement. “Good news and bad news, I’m afraid,” she enthused. “On the positive side the Americans have told us Benning was in Amsterdam. They think he has returned via Hull on a false passport with at least one accomplice. The NSA believe he has abducted a scientist but aren’t giving much away about who or why. A Dutch registered car was abandoned in Castleford in Yorkshire and recovered CCTV is being scrutinised to identify its passengers and any vehicle they may have transferred into. It will, believe me, only be a matter of time before we catch up with him.”

  Alicia looked relieved. “Good” she muttered.

  Louise continued. “You will also be delighted to know the gang that tried to kill the Major and robbed the tablet have been found. They left in a blue Mazda CX5. Stupidly they did not switch plates nor vehicles. It was caught by an ANPR police camera. A completely lucky break but it is about time we had one. We have now tracked it to a cottage on Exmoor. The Brigadier has ordered that you be dispatched Major, with a sixteen man team from the Dark Squadron. You are to capture them and recover the tablet. You leave in the next few minutes.”

  The sense of excitement was infectious. For Fawzia, the fact she was being involved directly, came as a relief. She admitted to herself that the retina recognition technology on the tablet probably dicta
ted she was present as soon as it was retrieved. It could then be remotely examined from GCHQ as soon as it was unlocked. In any event, she was back as part of the operation.

  Alicia was more circumspect: “And the bad news?”

  Louise looked slightly uncomfortable. “The safe house didn’t report in as scheduled. We sent out a team. It is a slaughterhouse. There are six dead on site. Your two SE house officers, two counter terrorism officers, Ray Singh and Nia Williams. Olsson is missing.

  Alicia was stony faced and spoke in a low, forced whisper: “What the hell is going on? Why would Ray and Nia be there? Dead…are you sure?” Suddenly a wave of raw emotion swept over her and she broke down in tears. Louise went to comfort her.

  Fawzia hadn’t reacted at all to the news but her face bore an expression of bafflement and disbelief. After a few moments she simply muttered “Poor Ray”. Then, looking at Louise, she asked: “No trace of Olsson?”

  Alicia pulled away from Louise and began to try and compose herself. The latter turned to Fawzia as she spoke: “Whatever vehicle Ray and Nia arrived in, it isn’t there, so it looks like Olsson survived and fled. Sadly all the CCTV for that period has been wiped and cameras disabled.”

  “Olsson escaped?... or are you saying he killed them?” exclaimed Alicia.

  Louise shrugged. “It’s a possibility. Only one weapon used and then discarded on exit. We are confirming fingerprints now.”

  Fawzia suddenly felt sick. The images of Ray, the memories of Olsson in Afghanistan, the thought she had been set up to be ambushed. She went to the water cooler and poured a glass. Her hand was shaking. Louise was looking at her with concern. She straightened and took a sip before saying; “Just the shock…I’ll be ok in a minute.