The Daedalus Code (2 page)

Cha
pter Two

The Cretian sat on a chromed exoskeleton chair, in the middle of a circular translucent tube, located in the center of a plush office. Deep pile cream carpet offset a rich red wall display. It shimmered gently, given the room a soothing, calm feel.

He wore scrubby combat trousers with the latest in entanglement field fabrics—which basically acted as near-field signal receivers, giving him a good few seconds’ warning on any stealthy agents or gangsters up to no good—and a faux-leather jacket with Fuck the System written in hex codes on the back. Quite the rebel.

“Welcome, agents. I’d offer you somewhere to sit, but you can see from the lack of furniture that I’m unaccustomed to receiving guests.” His hands and eyes moved synchronously as he manipulated his systems. The tube acted as a 360-degree monitor. It was divided into four sections with data streams flowing down each section. She watched him for a few seconds as he pulled out pieces of code seemingly at random before manipulating them and dropping them back into the traffic flow. He was rewriting viral code as it was executing.

Impressive.

Aegeus was unimpressed. He simply stared at the kid like he was a piece of dirt. But then he looked at everyone like that.

“Call me Mouse, please.” He stopped his code manipulation, stood from his chair, and joined them on the carpet. He wore a modified stereo PR unit. The extra chipset, hidden in a slight bulge on the frame, was a dead giveaway, and incredibly rare.

“I made it myself,” he said, touching it, obviously tracking her eyeline. He didn’t say it so much to brag, but simply answered her unspoken query. Behind the PR screens he had deep-set eyes, rich and dark. He was fit, too. His body muscled and slim, athletic.

Clearly he wanted his physical body to be as potent as his PR counterpart. Unlike Aegeus.

“Mouse,” Phaedra said. “Let me get straight to the point. I know you’re a busy guy and you can probably clear this up quickly.”

“I’ll certainly try.”

“A girl named Ariadne went missing three days ago. Just before her disappearance, her PR traffic spiked while in this club. Her interaction matrix crossed yours a number of times for a period of an hour before the spike. What can you tell us about the content of that interaction?”

“Who?” His face tensed as he looked at each agent.

“Ariadne,” Aegeus said. “I’ll send you her bio.” He pulled up the girl’s record and sent it across to Mouse’s PR screen. “Bright kid, with a bright future. Was working on AIs when she graduated from uni. Had a sweet job lined up. Next minute she’s discussing things with the likes of you. Seems out of character.”

Mouse’s eyebrows twitched slightly as he scanned her record. “I wasn’t here at that time. It wasn’t my shift.”

“Then why is your ID all over her interaction matrix like a cheap pornbot?” Aegeus said.

“Hang on a second.” Mouse walked back into his tube and indicated for them to follow. Phaedra and Aegeus stood behind him and watched the screens.

He pulled up the video feed at the time of Ariadne’s appearance at the club. 9:07 p.m. Wednesday.

“Is that her?” Mouse asked.

The video clip showed a tall, dark-haired woman in a form-fitting grey suit—clearly tailored by a post-tenth-level clothing supplier. She walked to the center of the dance floor and looked around.

Aegeus nodded. “That’s her. She’s a looker, all right.”

“She looks nervous,” Phaedra said, noting the way her body tensed and how she wrung her hands.

“She’s waiting for someone,” Aegeus added. “Can you scrub it forward?”

“Sure.” Mouse ran his finger in a sliding motion from left to right and the video double-tracked.

“Wait.” Phaedra pointed to a man sitting in a booth. “Who’s that she’s with?”

“That’s Mikos, my understudy. He works the early shift. Although he should have been in here doing his job instead of schmoozing hot girls in the private booths.”

Mouse pulled up another program and entered some dates and login credentials. “He signed in with my ID for some reason…that goddamned little fucking weasel.” Mouse kicked out at the tube. A dull thrum reverberated up the glass.

“How much do you know about him?” Phaedra asked after a few seconds.

“Nothing,” Mouse said. “All of us in the security industry keep our lives secret. Only things people know about us are the facts we choose to reveal. It’s imperative in our line of work to protect ourselves as much as possible. Information is our lifeblood, and information about ourselves is highly sought after.”

“By whom?” Phaedra asked.

“As if that’s pertinent to your investigation,” Mouse said.

“Humor us,” Aegeus said.

Mouse sighed. “Tech corporations, governments, information companies. Our skills are, or were, in high demand. We often have access to secrets, data and algorithms that could uncover huge revelations on seemingly abstract datasets. If we don’t protect ourselves, every two-bit hacker would be jumping us for an epic payday.”

“So how did this guy get your ID so easily?” Aegeus said. “I thought you were some kind of hotshot security hacker.”

“Well, give me a minute and I’ll find out.”

“Why’d he need to spoof your ID?” Phaedra asked.

Mouse shrugged. “Trying to cover his tracks, I suppose.”

He ran his fingers across the glass with a blurring speed. Code and graphical interface elements streamed as quickly as he could react. “There,” he said, pointing to a record. “He spoofed my login, must have had a key logger tracking my access. Nothing else seems out of place though. Obviously just wanted to hide his meeting with this girl.”

“Not very bright, is he?” Aegeus said. “What with the cameras and all.”

“He doesn’t know about this one,” Mouse said. “He knew about the main cameras, hence the private booth he chose. It’s obscured by a couple of architectural beams. To get round that, and add another level of security, I keep a few others hidden and on a completely separate network protocol.”

Phaedra pondered on the meeting. As far as they knew, this guy was the last to be seen with the now-missing girl. “Is there video of her leaving?”

Mouse scrubbed the video forward an hour. Ariadne left the booth and the club without so much as a handshake, hug, or wave good-bye. Mikos ordered a drink from a waiter and moved to the security area, presumably to carry out the rest of his work commitments.

“Is it possible to get an audio of that conversation?” Aegeus asked.

“It’ll be tricky with the music, but I’ll try.”

His fingers were off again, dancing across the glass like frantic ballerinas. An audio clip played scraps of dialogue between louder parts of music. “This is the best I can do.”

Ariadne: “…AI project?”

Mikos: “Metion Corp’s new…Daedalus Project…data vault.”

Ariadne: “Self-aware…installed…entire network?”

Mikos: “No one knows…look at their stocks.”

Ariadne: “My friend…missing…working on AI too…”

Mikos: “I can put you in touch…dangerous though…great rewards.”

The rest of the clip was marred by a heavy, driving bass track that obscured the dialogue.

Phaedra recognized the name
Metion—a fairly middling information corporation.
“Metion’s been doing well of late in the information game, right?” She remembered seeing an article on some new archival and curation technology they’d developed.

Mouse rubbed his chin. “There’s been a lot of chatter on the DarkNet about this. I know about the other kids going missing. All AI specialists. Rumor has it that Metion have their own AI that’s closing down great swathes of the Internet and MeshNet. Tech companies are hiring them to secure their data…and of course governments would love a system like that to hide data from the public. But as for anything being self-aware, that’s completely out of left field.”

Aegeus fidgeted his hands in his pockets, took a deep breath and sighed. “A government conspiracy theory? Really, Mouse? Is that best you’ve got?” He shook his head. “It’s always the first your kind reach for, isn’t it?”

“Screw you,” Mouse said. “I’m just telling you what I’ve heard. Why don’t you do your job and…you know, do some investigating or something?”

Sensing she could lose The Cretian’s cooperation, she stepped forward, placed a hand on his shoulder. “Ignore my oaf of a partner, he didn’t mean anything by it. We just hear it a lot. Doesn’t mean you’re not onto something.” She turned to her partner. “Aggy, run a query, will you? Search the Agency’s records and the news databases for anything connected to this Daedalus Project and Metion with a suspicious rating five.”

Rating five was the first rung on the
need to check these guys out
spectrum the Agency tagged to various keyword phrases and data patterns floating around the various networks.

“What do you know of it, Mouse?” Phaedra asked, keeping her voice calm and friendly.

He squinted his eyes at her for a bit as if to read her. “Nothing. Hearing Mikos mention it is the first I’ve heard.”

“Doesn’t that strike you as odd? Something like that from Metion would be all over your channels, no?”

“You’re absolutely right. It’s damned weird. Data blackouts like this aren’t common at all.”

“What does that mean?” Phaedra asked.

“Trouble. A big heap of trouble.”

C
hapter Three

“I got nada from the search,” Aegeus said. “Diddly damned squat. Nothing about Daedalus at all. Plenty of news stories praising Metion for their excellent last quarter, as their profits soared by a couple of trillion compared to this time last year.”

Phaedra and Mouse both shook their heads.

“Man, that’s a big jump,” Mouse said. “Metion wasn’t a heavy hitter in the data storage game at all, just a midmarket company offering fairly routine services. Whatever this new tech is, it’s gotta be special.”

“Indeed,” Phaedra replied, deep in thought. “Do you have Mikos’s PR tracking number by any chance?”

Mouse smiled. “Lady, you really think I’d give up something like that for free? You know how closely guarded we keep that kind of information.
If
our PRs are even trackable.” He gave a slight knowing wink. It was clear the kid was running a hot unit.

He was good, she’d give him that. But fine, she’d track this Mikos’s ID across the Net and see if she got a pickup. Scanning her eye across the tracker-bot program of her own unit, she sent it out to find any trace of Mikos. They had his regular personnel info on file from his employment record at the club. A couple of long seconds ticked by but nothing else came back. A weight sunk in her guts. “This is worse than I thought,” she said to no one in particular.

“Wiped?” Mouse said, already one step ahead.

“Yup.”

“Okay, I’m not giving you his PR tracking number, but I’ll check it for you. I keep a couple of traces on hand for my friends and colleagues,” he said. “Just in case…you know, something like this happens, it’s handy to keep a track on things, ya know?” He winked again, and Phaedra found herself liking his roguish charm.

“Don’t trust many people, do you?” Aegeus asked.

Mouse turned to him. “With people like you out there, people can only trust themselves.”

Aegeus placed his hand by his holster. Phaedra gave him a stern look. “Chill out, both of you. We’re on the same side here on this. Mouse, please would you mind checking Mikos’s last PR recorded location?”

He went silent for a few seconds before saying, “Last known location was…”

“What is it?” Aegeus asked.

“Here,” Mouse said. “A few hours after meeting with Ariadne. Mikos’s entire records, PR database, log files, and interaction matrix has been completely wiped. I’ve only got a record of it because I…”

“Go on, it’s okay,” Phaedra said.

“I record them. Yeah, trust issues. I have them about everyone. Especially my colleagues.”

Phaedra gave Aegeus a look. She knew what he meant.

“There’s no way we’re getting anywhere near Metion,” Aegeus said. “We’d never get a warrant in a million years. Our hands are tied on this one.”

“Agreed,” Phaedra said. “What we need is a…”

She looked at Mouse, raised her eyebrows.

“A what?” Mouse asked.

“A hacker.” Phaedra flashed a smile at him.

Mouse snorted, shook his head. “And why would I go and do that for the Agency? You realize we’re not exactly the best of buddies, right?”

Aegeus cut in. “Think of the information at your disposal. If this Daedalus Project, and this data vault are as important as the rumor mill has it, you’d be a very powerful and rich person with the inside scoop. Especially with Metion’s competitors wanting to get in on the action.”

“Look. I’m good. Really good, but we’re talking about AIs here. Whole sections of the Internet and even the DarkNet disappearing and owned by Metion. That’s a huge damned risk. And it seems you guys will be getting most of the rewards. I imagine your careers would take a huge leap with this case in the bag. Maybe you, lady, would be able to retire and take your FT with you, huh?”

How the hell he did he know that? she thought. She wondered whether it was her demeanor, or whether he’d somehow seen her records, guessed that at agent like her, with her current circumstances would be looking to get out. It wasn’t as if she was the only one. Fifteen agents had retired since the turn of the year.

Despite herself, Phaedra twitched at the truth of it, quickly turned away to hide it from Aegeus. The old bastard was too quick.

“You’re thinking of retiring?”

“No, of course not. Not yet anyway.”

She knew it would be a huge bone of contention between them. No other agent would give him the time of day, let alone agree to partner with him. He only had his job because of her. And if she retired, he’d have no salary to pay for his lifestyle.

“So you’re not even the slightest bit curious of what you could find—with the Agency’s help?” Phaedra asked Mouse.

“Hmmm,” he said, stroking his chin. “Curious? Yeah. What kind of help are we talking about here?”

Phaedra pulled up his record again and scanned the list of misdemeanors and rumored crimes.

“Your rap sheet is long, my friend.”

“I’m not even on a priority rating, I’m under no threat there. What else you got?”

Damn rogue knew he was in a strong position. They needed him more than he needed them. Unless…

“How about some information?” She looked over at Aegeus. He knew what she was talking about and gave her the nod.

“Go on, I’m listening.” Mouse leaned closer from his exoskeleton chair.

“Codes. Access algorithms. And…”

“And what?”

“Do you think you can infiltrate Metion and find out what this Daedalus Project is all about? Perhaps find out what happened to Mikos? He’s our only link to Ariadne, and as you know, we’re limited where our jurisdiction has authority.”

Mouse nodded confidently. “I guarantee the first bit. Who knows about Mikos? I can certainly look into it though.”

“Okay, this is the deal. You follow this line of inquiry and get into Metion. Tell us what it has to do with this Daedalus Project and whether there’s a link there. It seems Ariadne and her friends were interested in, or the interest of, someone or something within the company. If you do that, in return, we’ll make you a ghost. Untraceable ID and codes to the Agency’s database…limited privileges of course. Think what a guy like you could do in your career as a digital ghost…but only if you bring us the information. That’s your guarantee.”

“How can I trust you’ll deliver?” Mouse asked.

“How can we trust you?”

“I guess we’ll both have to see then?”

He held out a hand, and Phaedra shook it. “It’s a deal then.”

“Let me automate my work schedule, and I’ll get right on it. I’ll go and see if I can locate Mikos. As far as my tracking him goes, there are only a handful of places he could be, and you guys wouldn’t last two minutes there. As soon as people smelled you for what you are, you’d be smoked.”

“If you get in serious trouble, we can’t bail you out,” Phaedra said. “This is strictly off the record.”

“I understand,” Mouse said, as if this were just an everyday occurrence for him. He had the cool swagger of an experienced criminal. He flashed a cheeky grin, added, “I want a favor though.”

“Already?” Aegeus asked, clearly not impressed with the arrangement.

“Nothing big. I want the FT.”

“Hell no,” Phaedra said, spluttering out the words.

“No FT, no investigation.”

“Just give it to him,” Aegeus said. “It’s just a bloody car anyway.”

Phaedra bristled at the jibe. He knew how much that car meant to her. It had taken her years of hard work to ascend the ranks to where she could be trusted with it. Only five others in her department had won access to an FT. Aegeus was always jealous of it. Jealous of the status it brought her.

Phaedra sighed, dropped her shoulders. “Fine, but if you—”

“Chillax, lady. It’ll just be while I’m working this case for you. You won’t need it, after all—I’ll be doing your work for you. You can sit at home and fill your head with highs and pornbots. And besides, I’ll need a ride to the upper levels. I’m currently without vehicular transport. I’m assuming it’s unmarked?”

“Yes,” Phaedra said. “It’s completely unidentifiable as an Agency vehicle. And fine, you can take it, but the weapons are disabled and I’ll have a trace on it. Any fuckups and I’ll arrange for you to be arrested for auto theft…or worse.”

“I’m cool with that.”

Phaedra messaged him the access PIN code to the car, while also locking it down to civilian mode: ten percent engine capacity, no sport mode, and zero access to weaponry.

“I want regular updates,” Phaedra said. “And I’ll be tracking your every move.”

Mouse messaged his bosses his resignation, accepted the FT’s PIN, and left the room with a smile on his face.

“If this blows up in our faces, I’m not taking the rap,” Aegeus said.

“Well thanks. Nice to know my partner’s got my back,” Phaedra replied.

“I’m sorry, but I just don’t trust him. This whole thing stinks real bad. Rotten to the core.”

“I don’t trust him either, but what choice do we have? If we can’t wrap this up, well…”

Aegeus grabbed her arm and spun her round to face him. “Well what?”

“I didn’t want to have to tell you,” Phaedra said. “But if this goes badly, Ariadne’s parents have threatened the Agency with legal action and that means…”

“We’ll be totally screwed.”

“Something like that,” Phaedra said, pulling away from her partner and heading for the exit.

Aegeus followed her. “Let’s hope your little friend can save our asses then,” he said. “Otherwise we’ll be pushed down to traffic duty on level four. And I think I’d rather kill myself with Neuro-D than do that.”

“Yeah, I’d join you.”

***

Mouse approached the FT, whistled as the door opened and settled into the snug sports seat.
I could definitely get used to a vehicle like this
, he thought. He accessed the ignition and the H-core fired up. Even with limited power it purred like a satisfied tiger.

Despite the danger he was potentially putting himself in, he had to admit it felt kind of cool to be an investigator. Usually he put his hacking skills to use for either liberating information to a paying party, or for doing the opposite; making sure something hidden stayed that way. Now, he was doing something solid, corporeal.

Over the years, he’d gained a reputation for his meticulous approach. Honing his skills with the dedication of a Samurai, he’d spent many years immersed in all levels of society’s strata within New Crete’s tower system, and yet when he looked back through Mikos’s tracked PR unit, he knew instantly he wouldn’t find him here in the central part of the city.

Mikos, and people like him, existed like shadows. They shunned the sun, always living leeward behind the so-called real world. What with the Internet, the MeshNet and the DarkNet all intertwining, creating an almost infinite society, ghettos and hideaways, the Mikoses and others of his ilk could slip through the gaps easily, but this time, he’d got sloppy, left a clue.

The coordinates of Mikos’s last tracked whereabouts, before the trail ended at Metion, was a place called the Saint’s Quadrant—so named after a battle during the great Euro-Uprising, during which a religious order managed to quell a full attack by the Combined Baltic Forces. The coordinates confirmed what Mouse suspected. It was a few hours outside of the city. And for a reason: the SQ was a hive of information trading.

It was lucky he was on the case. If the agents traveled out to those kinds of places, they’d be hosed before they even got out of the FT.

“Okay, let’s see what kind of power your mummy has left for me to play with,” Mouse said, punching in the coordinates of Mikos’s out-of-city location and launching the vehicle into the traffic.

Despite only having ten percent of the engine’s power, it still pushed Mouse back into the supporting seat as it sliced through the air like a dart with its long, perfectly aerodynamic shape. The autopilot did a fairly decent job of negotiating traffic, but as soon as they reached the city limits, Mouse took over the controls.

Where he was going, there were no airways or official roads; he’d have to wing it.

The fly out to the Saint’s Quadrant was as nerve-wracking as the last time Mouse was there. He flew out there for what should have been a routine deal: getting some files metadata wiped, but he didn’t realize the information was in high demand by a number of the gangs there. He only just managed to escape with his life, with the help of one of the dealers there, a woman called Cynthia. The very same person he was now going to ask for another favor.

At least because of that experience, he now knew the lay of the land, and the ways of the people. It’s the kind of intelligence a bushwalker needs; know the snakes and all the other animals that’ll kill you if you so much as look at them, and you’ll survive—maybe.

Mouse negotiated through the last of the city towers and through the wide, panoramic windshield. He marveled at the beautiful Aegean Sea. Rich, royal blue speckled with the silver tips of the gentle waves. The sun was bright, still low in the morning sky, casting long shadows below on the rocky tip of the island. Below the stunning scenery was a maze of tunnels and hideouts.

Occasionally, as he flew towards the coast, he spotted the old, disused gun turrets that were used to fight off the Turks and Russians. They stood now like rusting sentinels, keeping watch like ghosts who didn’t know they were dead.

They signaled the start of the SQ.

Following the GPS hologram, he spotted what looked like a safe place to park the FT—a small crevasse between two large upright rocks ascending at least fifty meters into the sky. The deep shadows between them, and the rock’s density should buy him enough time to get in and out without being detected.

He dropped the FT in auto-park mode after assigning the destination and switched his PR into cloaked mode. Given the types of people scurrying around in the tunnels below, he didn’t fancy broadcasting himself for all and sundry as an outsider.

The FT parked, he stepped out into the cool morning air.

A quick scan of the area with his frequency scanner highlighted a number of anonymous proxy nodes and massive amounts of traffic. The SQ was humming with activity, which was good. The more people around—trading, thieving, killing—meant he had more cover, and more potential useful information regarding Mikos.

The first woman he wanted to see was Cynthia. She ran a small data-cleaning company within the Quadrant, stripping DRMed metadata off
appropriated
digital files. So much went through her she was like a local hub of information, connecting goods with those who wanted them.