2041 Sanctuary (Genesis) (48 page)

‘And what’s that?’

‘A subversion of everything we hold dear.’

Myers’ brow furrowed. ‘By who?’

‘They call themselves The Committee.’

‘And they’re responsible for sabotaging the Space Programme?’

Joiner hesitated before nodding his head.

‘Who are they?’ Myers said.

‘A large collective of power elites operating above the law and backed by limitless funds.’

‘You know their identities?’

‘Some,’ Joiner said, ‘and you helped locate others, but most are faces without names, or names without faces or pasts. Even the ones who operate in plain sight have an untraceable history – digital and paperless dead ends. It’s like they never existed. They are the ghost in the machine.’

‘And you thought I was leaking information to this Committee?’ Myers said.

‘I did, and if you had the full picture you might understand why I reacted with such violence.’

Myers stayed silent and Joiner took it as his cue to continue. ‘Do you remember why we had to remove Steiner from office?’

‘You said he wanted to evacuate Steadfast against the Directorate’s wishes.’

‘I did. He’d become a liability and a security risk. However, it has since come to my attention that the professor may well have been working with this Committee and I believe it was they who were responsible for the Steadfast explosion.’

‘You think they sabotaged the nuclear reactors?’

‘It makes sense,’ Joiner said, ‘especially as they’ve also infiltrated the Directorate itself, and if Steiner hadn’t escaped—’

‘They would have covered their tracks,’ Myers said. He shook his head. ‘Jesus, can’t you call an emergency summit?’

Pleased Myers continued to buy into his carefully fabricated tale, Joiner remained grave. ‘I don’t have the proof, which is another reason why I need your help.’

‘And it’s this same Committee who possess the Anakim technology, this so-called God Device?’

‘It’s as we thought,’ Joiner said, ‘they’re working with Sørensen and using the GMRC’s R&D Division for their own ends.’

‘Which is what?’

‘I have no idea. All I know is Project Ares needs to be stopped and this God Device destroyed.’

‘And that’s the purpose of this special taskforce you’re assembling?’

‘It is, amongst other things.’ Joiner could see Myers’ resolve wavering. And that was always going to be his trump card. Whatever Myers thought of Joiner, whatever grudge he held against him, he knew as well he what Ares represented; not just a threat to the United States and the GMRC, but to the whole of humanity.

‘Tell me,’ Myers said.

And there it is
, Joiner thought,
I know him better than he cares to believe
. ‘There’s another faction that knows of the Committee; it was they who were responsible for my abduction. Your mission will be to seek them out, along with the hacker,
Da Muss Ich
, and Professor Steiner. You’ll operate with total autonomy, zero oversight, no borders and no sanctions.’

‘Budget?’

‘Open book.’

Myers’ pupils dilated at the thought and he held Joiner’s gaze as he considered his options.

‘I have three conditions,’ Myers said.

‘Name them.’

‘One, don’t expect me to respect or trust you.’

Joiner had never cared what his agents thought of him before so the concession was a given. ‘Agreed.’

‘Two, I want full disclosure. Everything you know, I know.’

Joiner knew that was never going to happen, but he nodded anyway. ‘And three?’

‘You submit to a physical exam—’

‘Done.’

‘And,’ Myers said, ‘a full psych test conducted by myself … once a week.’

Joiner paused. Intelligence Division psychological assessments were a gruelling twelve hour slog where an agent was systematically worn down with targeted questions, sensory deprivation and enforced stress positions, all of which were sandwiched between a battery of scans and other neurological tests. They were gruelling, energy sapping affairs, as Joiner well knew – he’d helped design them. ‘Monthly,’ he said, ‘excluding modules seven through nine.’

Myers shook his head. ‘Fortnightly, excluding module seven, that’s my final offer.’

Joiner waited ten seconds to make it appear he was mulling it over before holding out his hand, which Myers shook to seal the deal.

‘You won’t regret this,’ Joiner said, as the noise from the surrounding crowd swelled louder. He reached into a pocket and handed Myers his agency I.D. and service issue sidearm.

‘I already am,’ Myers said. He checked the weapon, tucked it into his belt and attached the badge to his shirt. ‘Just know that I’ll protect you with my life, but I don’t do it for you, I do it for the people we protect.’

Joiner didn’t respond; he didn’t care what Myers’ motivation was, just that he had it. He put his glasses back on and surveyed the scene with a critical eye. A mass of sports fans remained in arm’s reach of Joiner’s ring of armed operatives, and many more hung further back as they waited for their pointless game to resume.
These people
, he thought,
what a waste of a life they lead
,
inconsequential in every way
. He didn’t know how they could stand it, to be so oblivious to everything around them.
They are like sheep
, he thought,
blind, dumb, directionless sheep
. But Joiner knew there was one life that was worth living – his own – and it was long past time to reclaim it. With Myers onside and leading his new taskforce, it would surely be only a matter of time before his current predicament was turned in his favour. In fact, he couldn’t envisage how it could not. He flipped down his sunshades and looked at Myers. ‘Don’t just stand there, Agent,’ Joiner said, ‘get this show back in the air.’

Myers expression switched alert and he stalked away to give out the necessary orders as if he’d never been away. Joiner watched him go with a sense of satisfaction, before his computer alerted him to an incoming call.

Joiner withdrew the device and put it to his ear. ‘Yes?’

‘Intelligence Director,’ said a voice, its tone distorted deep, ‘do you remember our last conversation?’

Joiner froze. ‘How did you get this number?’

‘That is the wrong question, Director,’ the voice said.

‘And what is the right question?’

‘How am I making this call when you’re jamming every signal for a half mile?’

Joiner searched his mind for an answer. ‘Because you’re overriding our system.’

‘That’s half the answer; keep going.’

Joiner suddenly realised what they were getting at. ‘Because you’re inside the stadium.’ He whirled round to search the crowd.

The voice laughed. ‘You won’t find me, Director, and if you’re thinking about locking everything down I’ll be long gone, as will half the people in here.’

‘What do you want?’

‘We wanted to speak to you somewhere the Committee couldn’t overhear us. We knew if we followed your agent long enough there was a chance you’d turn up, it just so happens it was later rather than sooner.’

Joiner’s eyes narrowed. He hated being predictable. ‘And how did you come to that conclusion?’

‘Because you need all the friends you can get. Now, before you do something stupid like trying to catch me, look underneath the chair Agent Myers was sitting on. You’ll find a sealed envelope. Open it.’

Joiner walked back to the seat in question, reached under and withdrew the envelope. Opening it, he pulled out a blank piece of card and a pen.

‘Are you still listening, Director?’ the voice said.

‘Yes.’

‘Then write down these numbers.’

The voice reeled out a series of digits which Joiner wrote down, but what the person behind the vocal disguise didn’t know was that Joiner had opened the channel up to his security detail. Even now the helicopters above and the men below searched for the source of the call.

Joiner saw Myers pointing into the crowd and Joiner’s operatives stormed forward. People screamed as the armed soldiers cut a swathe through the masses. Movement to the right caught Joiner’s eye. A man pushed his way through the throng in the opposite direction to his pursuers. A moment later he emerged from the stands, leapt over a railing and ran onto the pitch. More operatives moved to block his escape and he came to a stop as the trap closed in. He put something to his ear.

‘I told you not to do anything stupid, Director,’ the man said, his voice still distorted.

‘And I told you before; there’s nowhere you can hide from me.’ Joiner watched as his men bore down on their target. It was time to get some answers and he would make sure this individual suffered regardless of what he gave up.
No one controls me
, he thought,
no one!

‘Use the numbers, Director,’ the man said, ‘and our sight will become yours.’ He held his arms aloft. ‘
EGO SUM REX GLORIAE!!
’

The man disappeared in a blinding fireball and a massive explosion rocked the stadium. The shockwave whooshed past with a rush of dust and Joiner staggered back.

When the air cleared, he found himself staring out at a large crater at the side of the pitch. Chunks of turf and dirt crumbled down from around its edge, while the bodies of his intelligence agents lay strewn in all directions, many of them disassembled into multiple parts. Somehow the helicopters had escaped unscathed.

‘Sir,’ an operative said, running up to him, ‘are you hurt?!’

Still in shock, Joiner shook his head.

Agent Myers approached, gun in hand. ‘We’re clearing the stadium; local emergency services are en route.’ He glanced round. ‘I’ll issue a GMRC Alert for the media and our forensics will be here within the hour.’

‘Good,’ Joiner said, ‘very good.’

‘Do you have the numbers?’

Joiner held up the piece of white card and Myers removed it from his hand to inspect.

‘It looks like a server address,’ he said.

‘That’s because it is.’ Joiner brushed a piece of dirt from his shoulder. ‘And maybe an access code.’

Myers handed back the card. ‘What did he shout before he went up? I didn’t recognise it.’

‘It was Latin. It translates something like,
I am king of glory
.’

‘What does it mean?’

‘It means he’s a fanatic.’

‘And the numbers,’ Myers said, ‘he said “
our
sight will become yours
”. Do you think the code links to a camera somewhere?’

Joiner took one last, lingering look at the carnage. Just when he thought he had these people cornered, he was left empty-handed – again. He looked down at the card.
Well
, he thought,
not completely empty-handed
.

As Myers waited for a reply that would never come, Joiner clenched his fist and crumpled the card. He was tired of reacting and defending, of the explosions and dead agents.
It’s time
, he thought,
to change the game
.
It’s time … for action
.

Chapter Eighty Two

Malcolm Joiner strode through the foyer of the GMRC’s Washington building, with Myers and his armed operatives in close attendance. It had been some time since he’d last visited the Intelligence Division’s D.C. branch and since the incident at the baseball park it was all systems go. As they emerged from the elevator agents scurried hither and thither, and the wallscreens were awash with data and footage of the stadium explosion and the terrorist at its heart.

A senior agent that Joiner knew well approached.

‘Report,’ Joiner said, as the woman fell into step alongside.

‘Eight dead, ten more injured, three of them critical.’

‘Profile?’

‘We’re working on tracing the terrorist’s history, his route in to the stadium and his base of operations.’

Joiner stopped in front of the main wallscreen, which spanned one end of the office, and gave the agent his full attention. ‘Identity?’

‘We’re working on it,’ the woman said, her voice stressed.

Joiner withdrew his computer from a pocket and spoke into it. ‘Patch me into the local speaker system.’

‘Certainly, Director,’ said the artificial intelligence.

A moment later a green light appeared and Joiner held the device before him like a microphone. ‘Agents,’ he said, his voice booming loud.

The office tumult died down and everyone paused to look in his direction.

‘You know who I am, you know what I expect. I want this terrorist’s movements traced to birth. I want to know what he ate, who his friends were, who he worked for, what he stood for, what he thought, where he went. All leave is cancelled, all agents recalled. You will work all night, you will sleep at your desk, and no one gets paid until I have the answers I seek. This is priority one; make it happen!’

Joiner switched off the mic and strode to his office suite, while behind him the department erupted back into organised chaos.

Joiner moved to his desk and motioned for Myers to close the door. Two armoured agents stood guard outside and Myers turned the transparent walls opaque.

Joiner dropped the piece of white card on his desk and flattened it out, then scanned the numbers into his computer. ‘Identify and locate,’ he said.

‘Numerical values accepted,’ a computerised voice said. ‘Searching …’

The office door opened and an agent handed Myers a suit of grey body armour.

‘Data input verified, Director,’ said the A.I. assistant.

‘Put it on the wall.’ Joiner turned to face the screen as the room’s lights dimmed.

The display glowed into life and a central window appeared showing the numbers Joiner had written down at the terrorist’s instigation.

> Server Address: 152.789.665.5.10.99

>
VERIFIED

> Wireless access code: 345990-888552

>
VERIFIED

> I.P. Device

>
ACTIVE