Day Zero

by James Swallow

  With a home-made predictor app, Olly could check around five hundred possible code combinations per minute. Another app sent a signal to the lock every fifteen seconds, resetting the failed attempt counter. A third redirected the alarm to his own display. Even so, he was still running out of time.

  “Under a minute left,” Liz said. “Better hurry.”

  “You’re not helping,” Olly snarled.

  Liz chuckled softly. Olly bit back a curse. A moment later, his Optik gave a flash and there was an audible click as the door opened. Olly scrambled to his feet in relief. “Done.”

  “Two minutes, ten seconds. Not bad.”

  Olly detached his Optik, and replaced the module. “You know, normally it takes around ten minutes to pick a lock.” He pulled the door open. “A bit better than not bad.”

  “Used to take thirty,” Liz said, stepping past him into the property room. “We had to take pictures, go away and build our own circuit board and counter, and then figure out a way to reboot the system so the alarm didn’t go off. Even then, it might still take an hour, depending on how fast you could crunch the possible code combinations.”

  “If you knew that why did you give me two minutes?” Olly demanded.

  “Like I said, it was a test. You passed. Good on you, mate. Now get in here and close the door before somebody sees you.”

  Olly closed the door as quietly as possible. He froze when he spotted the security cameras. Liz noticed him tense and said, “Relax. Those are Blume cameras. Remember, anything on cTOS can’t see us – that includes those.”

  He let out a slow breath. As he looked around, a thought occurred to him. “Used to take thirty, you said…”

  “What about it?” Liz said, as she looked through the boxes on the shelves. Each was marked with a number sequence: date, case, assigned officer.

  “You’ve done this sort of thing before?”

  “I’ve done a lot of things. I was a black hat cracker when you were just a script kiddie. I put myself through university by busting open digital piggy banks and taking what I needed. Here – here it is.” She pulled a box off the shelf and pulled out a plastic evidence bag. It had clothes in it, wallet, keys – the detritus of Alex Dempsey’s life. She stared at it for a moment, and then shoved it against Olly’s chest. “The Optik’s in there. Get it out.”

  Olly carefully opened the bag and fished the external unit out. It was an older model. He tossed the bag back into the box. “We need to get out of here. Get somewhere quiet, maybe get a cuppa while I figure out how to bust the encryption.”

  “Easily done. We just walk out the same door we–”

  The door opened. Two Albion operatives stood in the doorway. Neither was wearing a helmet, but both were armed. Their weapons were slung, not in their hands.

  “Bugger,” Liz said.

  “Who the fuck–” one of the newcomers began, his eyes widening.

  Olly lifted his badge. “Press?”

  Liz came at them from the side. Watching her, Olly wondered what they saw, if anything. Her elbow flashed up and out, connecting with one’s nose and sending him reeling back into the corridor. The second was turning even as she dropped into a crouch and scythed his legs out from under him with a kick. She looked at Olly. “Move it!”

  Olly’s paralysis broke. He leapt over the fallen men and out the door, rebounding off the opposite wall of the corridor before righting himself and sprinting for the exit. Liz followed. Someone shouted behind them. Liz caught Olly by the back of his shirt and propelled him through the doors at the end of the corridor as the Albion goons gave chase.

  “I thought you said they couldn’t see us,” he yelped.

  “I know what I said,” she snarled, pushing him along. “Now run!”

  We have a problem, Bagley whispered into Hannah’s ear.

  Hannah was careful to control her expression. “What sort of problem?” she murmured. Before Bagley could answer, she heard shouts and then a crackle from the Albion radios. Faulkner grabbed his and spoke into it quickly. His expression turned thunderous. “What the fuck is going on in here?” he snarled, his gaze fixed accusingly on Jenks. “Someone’s attacked my men! What’s the meaning of this?”

  They’re making for one of the other exits, Bagley said. But we need a distraction.

  Hannah frowned and pushed towards Sarah. A babble rose up as the reporters shouted questions, police hurried towards the property room, and Faulkner barked orders. “We should go,” Hannah muttered, tugging on Sarah’s sleeve. She said it loud enough for Faulkner to hear and he rounded on them, face flushed with anger.

  “What do you know, lady?” he growled, pointing at Sarah. “If I find out that this some sort of publicity stunt, I’ll–”

  “You’ll what?” Sarah growled back. “And get your finger out of my face, or I’ll bite the bloody thing off.”

  Hannah winced. It was almost guaranteed that a few news drones had caught that. There was no telling how it would play. She tugged on Sarah’s sleeve. “Let’s go. I’ll call the car around.” Again, she made sure Faulkner heard her. She needed to keep his attentions focused here, rather than on directing his men, and buy the others time.

  Faulkner’s gaze slid towards her. “You’re not going anywhere.” He turned to his men. “Lock this place down! No one in or out, except with my express permission.”

  “Hang on now, you can’t do that,” Jenks said, getting in Faulkner’s face, alongside Sarah. To his credit, Faulkner didn’t retreat in the face of the combined assault. At Jenks’ words, the other constables started pushing forward. Faulkner’s men were outnumbered, but better armed. They reacted like soldiers under fire, hunching up, waiting for orders.

  Sarah bared her teeth at Faulkner. “In a few moments, things are going to get very messy, Sergeant. Unless you do the smart thing and back off.”

  Faulkner rounded on her. “Is this what you wanted, woman?” Beyond him, Hannah could see that trouble was brewing. It wouldn’t be long before someone threw a punch, or got shot. Even as she shrank back, she hoped Bagley appreciated it.

  “What I wanted was a photo opportunity. And that’s what I’m getting, though perhaps not the one I expected. Call off your dogs, and we’ll see what we can do to fix things before they get out of hand.”

  Faulkner licked his lips. Hannah could read the violence in his eyes. She’d looked up Faulkner’s record, what there was of it, and knew he wasn’t the sort of man to back off from a challenge to his authority – not when he had the advantage. She could read the calculation in his expression. He was wondering if he could get away with an incident, perhaps blame it on the Met’s lack of training, or–

  “DedSec,” he said, abruptly.

  Sarah frowned. “What?”

  “It’s DedSec. Trying to hide their involvement…”

  “In the shooting?”

  “Yes,” Faulkner said, quickly. He didn’t really believe it, Hannah knew – or at least, he wasn’t certain. But he was looking for an excuse to back off. He’d realised that whatever happened, it wouldn’t help Albion’s mission in East London if he got into a firefight in a police station. “Got to be. There’s a cell of the insurgent bastards in Tower Hamlets, Ms Lincoln. Acting right under the noses of the Metropolitan Police,” he added, glancing at Jenks. The constable flushed and took a step towards him, but Sarah got there first.

  “Be that as it may, they’re not here now,” she began.

  “Do we know that?” he said, smiling nastily. “I don’t. DedSec aren’t all hooligans and spotty-faced shut-ins. Some of them are right hard bastards, pretending to be upstanding citizens. Maybe even officers of the Met.”

  “What the hell are you implying?” Jenks demanded.

  “You know damn well what I’m saying, Constable,” Faulkner spat. “Someone must have let them in. Why not you?” He looked past her, at the press. “Or them?”

  At his words, Sarah glanced at Hannah, and Hannah fought to give no sign she’d noticed. Si
lently, she cursed Liz and Olly, and Bagley too, for good measure. But Sarah said nothing to her. Instead she focused her attentions on Faulkner.

  “We can address potential leaks later. Right now, we need to ensure that no one gets shot. That includes whoever your men are chasing right now.”

  “Are you giving me orders, then?” Faulkner said.

  “That depends – are you planning to follow them?”

  Faulkner stared at her a moment longer, and then turned to bark orders. His men retreated, putting space between themselves and the constables. Sarah turned to Jenks. “That goes for you lot as well. Calm them down, or I’ll have them on report.”

  Jenks frowned, but nodded and turned to do as Sarah had demanded. Hannah let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. “That went well.”

  Sarah reached for a nearby chair, and sat down heavily. “Did it?” she said, in a shaky voice. “That’s good.” Hannah realised she was trembling.

  “Sarah, are you – are you alright?”

  “Scared out of my wits, actually. Things got very close to going very badly there. Faulkner came here looking for an excuse to shut this place down and someone has given him one.” She looked at Hannah. “Those two reporters… where are they?”

  “I– I don’t know. They might be outside.”

  Sarah frowned. After several moments silence, she said, “You’d better hope Faulkner doesn’t find them, for their sakes if nothing else.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her brow. “Remind me again why I did this?”

  “Photo opportunity,” Hannah said, quickly.

  “Oh right, yes.” Sarah opened her eyes. “I do hope they got some good ones.” She took a deep breath and stood. “If this is a sign of things to come, it does not fill me with confidence, I must say.”

  “Rethinking your potential support of Albion?”

  Sarah looked at her, a slight smile on her face.

  “Let’s just say, their sales pitch needs work.”

  13: Escape

  Liz moved quickly down the hall, the blueprints for the police station overlaying her vision. There were two fire-doors between them and the secondary exit. The doors were new, but wired into the building’s security grid. Thankfully, that had been updated with all the rest of the Met’s network and now ran on cTOS programming. Her thumb moved automatically across the screen of her Optik, and the doors swung open ahead of them.

  Olly was panting in her wake, more from fear than effort. “What are we going to do? What are we going to do? They’re right behind us!”

  “Yes, Olly, that is what these sorts tend to do when someone runs away from them.” Liz tapped the Optik again, and the fire-doors slammed in their wake. The sound gave her an idea. Another tap, and the fire alarms started going off as she activated the building’s A-TACS – the automatic test and control system. Sprinklers spewed water as the fire-doors automatically locked.

  She paused, breathing heavy. She was in good shape, thankfully, but she was still pushing the limits of a no-longer youthful endurance. Gulping air, Olly said, “Maybe we should show them our badges again…?”

  Liz waved him to silence. “Shut up. Bagley, how far…?”

  Another few metres, and then you’ll have street access. It’s getting crowded out there however. And while I’m scrambling their communications, I can’t do it forever.

  “Understood.” She looked at Olly. “Ideas?”

  Olly looked at her. “We’re near the motor pool – if we can get to a car–”

  He was interrupted by a sudden banging behind them. The Albion goons would be through the fire-doors in a few minutes, if they gave it some welly. That didn’t give them much time. Liz glanced at him. “No time to get to the garage. We’re heading for the street.” If they could make it into the open, their camouflage system might allow them to slip away.

  “What if they call in drones?” Olly asked.

  “Drones can’t see us, if we’ve got our camo up and running. The problem is, once they triangulate on us, it won’t matter if they can see us or not. They’ll just hose the area down indiscriminately. Being invisible doesn’t mean we’re invulnerable.” Liz picked up the pace. “I’m more worried about Albion’s flesh and blood goon squad. If they figure out what we’re up to, they’ll turn off their displays and that’ll be the end of it – unless we can put some distance between us and them.”

  “Be easier to do that in a motor.”

  Liz ignored him. The door was just ahead. She hit it at a run and vaulted over the rail outside. She landed in a crouch and looked around. A car park, all but empty. The entrance to the garage was to her right, and she could hear the rattle-clank of its security gate opening. They were out of time. Olly hurried down the ramp, behind her. “Should we nick one?” he asked, indicating a car.

  “No. Better idea.” Every car in London was required to include a self-driving mode, networked to the new Smart City traffic grid. Government sponsored retrofit initiatives and buy-back schemes had ensured that almost every vehicle in the city now used cTOS programming. Which meant almost every vehicle could be hacked, if you had the right backdoor app installed.

  Liz flicked her Optik, and engines turned over. Olly looked at her. “What’s the plan?”

  “Confusion and chaos.” Another flick, and the cars started reversing out of their parking spaces. The only real issue with the autonomous car initiative was that vehicles lacked sensors and on-board programming. They weren’t smart cars – just puppets on digital tethers. If you bypassed the central traffic control AI, you had a multi-ton battering ram that went wherever you aimed it.

  Liz aimed them all in different directions, and let them go. Except for one – that one she aimed at the garage gate. It struck with a crash of abused metal, and she looked at Olly in satisfaction. “Now we go. Come on.”

  They raced across the lot, heading for the gates. Behind them, the doors busted open, and an Albion trooper stepped out – and stopped, confused by the vehicles racing in all directions, crashing into one another and the walls that surrounded the car park.

  With the cars running interference, Liz and Olly made it to the other side of the lot. They went over the brick wall with a modicum of difficulty, and into a second lot, this one belonging to the building next to the police station. Olly slumped, panting. “Do we keep going, or…?”

  “There’s a street entrance. We’ll hit that and make for the park. Think you can keep up?” She swatted him on the chest with the back of her hand. “On your feet. Bagley – give me a sit-rep!”

  Patching you in to the garage’s CCTV system now.

  A moment later, the lot spread out across her display as if she were looking down on it from above. She experienced a brief moment of vertigo, but quickly recovered. She could see three Albion operatives moving carefully across the tarmac, avoiding the weaving cars.

  “Three of them. Fuck.” Liz checked her pistol. She wasn’t a bad shot, but Albion employed hardened killers. She didn’t rate their odds in a straight up fight. Olly pulled out his stun gun and she looked at him. “No. Put it back.”

  “But–”

  “No. Ideas?”

  Olly stuffed the stun gun back into his hoodie. Brow furrowed, he looked around. “We won’t make it. Not unless we can… fly…” He looked up. “That’s it. That’s our way out!”

  “What?”

  “Drone,” he said. He tapped his Optik, activating a cracker app and aiming the signal upwards. A large Parcel Fox cargo drone wavered and then descended with a whirr of its fans. Olly forced it to release its cargo, to lighten its load.

  “It can’t carry both of us,” Liz protested. She could hear shouts. The approaching operatives had seen the drone and were hurrying towards the wall.

  “It can, just not far.” Olly said. “Hurry!”

  As they sprinted for the drone, two Albion goons climbed over the wall. Their rifles came up even as they dropped into the lot. Shots puckered the pavement and brickwork as Olly
and Liz clambered onto the drone, and it rose on straining motors. “Jesus! They’re actually bloody shooting at us!”

  “What do you think they carry those guns for? Decoration?” Liz twisted around and returned fire. It was awkward, but effective – both men went flat, seeking cover instinctively. By the time they’d recovered, the drone was on the move. “Fuckers were just waiting until we were clear of the station. Wouldn’t want to damage relations with the plods, after all.”

  Olly tried to keep the drone steady without much success. Taking control of it meant he had to override most of its autonomous controls, including its stabilisers. “Maybe we should have pinched a car instead,” he muttered, flinching as a shot came too close for comfort. Via the CCTV, Liz saw that the pair of Albion goons were hurrying across the second car park in pursuit. One was still in the first, speaking into his radio.

  “Head for Victoria Park,” Liz said. “We’ll lose them there.”

  They zipped along over the streets of Bethnal Green, and cut along Old Ford Road, heading towards Regent’s Canal. Traffic was light, but they bounced off a few car roofs and Olly could hear the motors straining. Drones were sturdy, but there were limits.

  “We’re too heavy, we need to put down somewhere,” he began, but was interrupted by the thunderous growl of an engine. On his display a flashing threat marker appeared. “Bagley, what the hell is that?”

  Tidis brand APVs – armoured pursuit vehicles. Like a cross between a tank and a four-by-four. Albion aren’t supposed to deploy them in the city. Oh well…

  “I thought you were scrambling communications,” Liz snapped.

  I was. Unfortunately, they unscrambled them.

  Olly’s display pinged. Someone was trying to get a GPS lock on the drone. “Shit, shit, shit – they’re triangulating on us, innit?” He urged the drone to greater speed, and it began to veer wildly as it skidded over the trees. Liz leaned towards him.

  “Slow down,” she shouted.