Cyber Terror (16 page)

Jordan had heard enough. He still wasn’t sure whether this childlike grown-up was a murderer, but he wanted to escape or at least to regain control. Yet there was still that weighty
baseball bat swaying in front of his hazy eyes. Kennington jiggled it around constantly in his hand.

Jordan waited, hoping for an opportunity, hoping that Eli would drop his guard for a moment. Without a functioning right arm, though, Jordan wasn’t going to win a fight. His best chance,
he thought, was simply to run. As long as he was first out of the front door, he thought he could get away. If he failed, Kennington would probably treat him like a piece of equipment he could
strip of its valuable components.

“It was you controlling my car in Ipswich, wasn’t it?”

“No.”

Jordan was taken aback by the denial for an instant, but maybe Eli was acting like a child who refused to admit guilt even after being caught red-handed. “You’re lying.”

Eli looked offended. “I do not lie. I do not understand lies.”

“You went to prison once, didn’t you?” Jordan asked. “Why?”

For the first time, Kennington stopped moving around. He stared at the carpet for several seconds before answering. “The charge related to hacking. I found ways into government documents
and MI5. They told me it was wrong. But it wasn’t. I am not a terrorist or anything bad. I was doing it for fun. When there is challenge comes fun. I should never have been jailed.”

“It sounds rough on you.”

He lowered his eyes for a moment. “It was worse than rough.”

Jordan could tell from his manner that he’d had a terrible time behind bars. He probably didn’t have the temperament to thrive among prisoners. “You must hate the judge and
jury who put you there.”

“Yes.” Simmering, he looked down at the baseball bat in his hand.

Jordan hadn’t got proof that he’d found Short Circuit. Eli Kennington hadn’t admitted anything. But he did look distracted by thoughts of prison and that was Jordan’s
cue. He jumped up as quickly as his disabled body would allow and made a dash to the door. But he was too clumsy and lopsided. Eli’s temper erupted before he could escape. Jordan felt a crack
on his head and he lost consciousness.

When Jordan woke, he found himself in the passenger’s seat of a moving car. It was Eli Kennington’s Nissan. He wasn’t just pinned to the seat with the safety
belt. Strong plastic ties encircled his body tightly. His view of the outside world was limited by his impaired vision and the extent of the headlights. The road was narrow and the countryside was
utterly flat. They were probably driving through the farmlands of East Anglia.

Still groggy, Jordan asked, “Where are we going?”

“We are nearly there.”

“Where?”

“We are going to my weekend hideout,” Eli told him.

Jordan’s head ached and his mouth was dry. Slowly, though, he was regaining his senses. He decided that the best plan was to keep calm and take no risks. At least, not until he felt up to
it.

“I like getting away at weekends,” Kennington continued. “I like getting away from people. Mostly, people like to see the back of me.”

“But you’re taking me with you,” Jordan pointed out.

The car’s headlights picked out a dark creature scurrying across the road in front of them. Jordan couldn’t identify it.

“I am a loner,” Eli said. “So are you. You’re singular. I should think you are unique.”

“Singular?”

Eli stared ahead. Not once had he made eye contact with Jordan. “You are between human and the singularity.”

“The what?”

“That is the time when people merge with machines.” He changed down a gear to take a sharp bend in the road. “I took a look at you before dragging you into the car. You have
cameras in your eyes, at least two brain implants and maybe more things. You are part of the way to the singularity. You are privileged. When a human being and a machine become a single thing, the
hybrid will be really smart and live for ever.” He sounded gleeful at the prospect. “Now, I am privileged as well because I have found an early hybrid. I hope I didn’t damage your
brain implants when I got angry and hit you. I want them in working condition.”

Jordan gulped. It sounded as if Kennington was planning to remove them. Jordan dreaded to think how he might do that.

Eli’s hands made repetitive and unnecessary shuffling movements on the steering wheel as he drove. To the right, there were a few unfocused lights. Probably a village. Eli didn’t
take a right turn, though. He continued for a few minutes and then took a rough track on the left. The only lamps were dotted infrequently along the road behind them. Apart from the car’s own
headlights, it was pitch black in front.

Jordan tried to log on to the Unit Red system, but his brain/computer interface was not responding. There seemed to be a black hole in his pounding head. Fearing the worst, he asked, “Have
you destroyed my microprocessors?”

“I have no reason to destroy the things I most admire. I need to find out what they can do. They are no good to me if they are broken.”

“So, what have you done to them?”

“They are in sleep mode. I can reactivate them any time – with my laptop.” Kennington jerked his head towards the computer on the back seat. “I left your mobile in
Cambridge. I don’t want anyone using it to trace where I’m going. I am still wondering if you have an internal GPS system. If I turn you back on, you might start broadcasting my
position. I need to check that first. I like to get away from people. I do not want them to find me.”

Eli was speaking to Jordan but he was strangely detached. He hadn’t even asked Jordan’s name. And he didn’t seem to be curious about who might be monitoring Jordan’s
location and why Jordan was pursuing him in the first place. Maybe he was so engrossed with the hijacking of Jordan’s technology that he hadn’t even thought of asking. Maybe it was
simply irrelevant to him.

He stopped the car and announced, “We have arrived.”

Jordan narrowed his eyes. Outside, he could just make out something tall and round, like a wide chimney, but nothing else. “What is it?” he asked.

“It used to be a windmill,” Eli replied, “but it lost its sails many years ago. I will take you in now.” His loud voice seemed entirely inappropriate in the silence of
the night.

“It’s late.”

Eli shrugged. “I do not sleep much.”

“Do you eat?”

Eli looked puzzled. “Of course I eat. If I did not eat, I’d die. I’m not dead. I am alive.”

“I was hinting.”

“What are you hinting at?”

“I’m hungry. And thirsty.”

“It is better to say what you mean. I do not do hints.” Eli got out of the car, opened the back door and grasped his laptop and a plastic bag. “Come in nicely and I will give
you some food.” He held up the bag and added, “I stopped on the way and bought sandwiches, chocolate and a drink.” Eli walked round the Nissan, opened the passenger door and
unfastened Jordan’s seat belt.

His arms held against his body by the plastic ties, Jordan wriggled awkwardly out of the car and stumbled towards the converted windmill. If his infrared vision had been working, the darkness
would not have troubled him, but he could see very little. He knew he was in great danger, but he was not yet ready to try and escape because he still wanted answers from Eli Kennington. He was
squirming like a hooked fish, willing to be played, but determined not to be reeled in completely.

Eli unlocked the door, stepped into the cottage and turned on the wall lights. Inside, there was just one perfectly circular room, split into sections. Half was a living space, a quarter was the
kitchen and another quarter was the dining area. On the far side, a door led to a bathroom that had been added onto the basic structure of the windmill. A tight spiral staircase led to the bedroom
area. Looking up, Jordan saw an old and thick oak beam that ran across the diameter of the building. Smaller beams sprouted upwards from it and supported the conical wooden roof. Two bright
spotlights attached to the main beam cast more light into the ground floor.

Behind him, Eli locked the door from the inside and then slipped the key into his trouser pocket.

Perhaps the holiday cottage was a little tidier than Eli’s home in Cambridge, but not a lot. Equipment was scattered everywhere. It looked like a computer company’s scrapyard.

Eli removed some used plates from the dining table and put the bag of food in the middle. “I am eager to explore,” he said, glancing at Jordan’s arm, “but we will eat
first.”

“How?”

Kennington hesitated, not sure what Jordan meant for a moment. “Ah, yes. When you are tied up, you cannot put food in your mouth.”

Jordan replied with a smile, “You could feed me.”

“I’m not going to do that!” Eli almost shouted. “It is not dignified.”

“I didn’t mean it,” said Jordan. “I was joking.”

Eli was clearly bemused. “If you don’t mean something, I suggest you do not say it. It is confusing otherwise. Now,” he continued, “I am going to cut the ties so you can
eat on your own, but I don’t want you to run away with all those devices.”

“I won’t. I can’t. You locked the door.”

While Eli cut the plastic bands around his arms and stomach, Jordan said, “Don’t you think at some point I’m going to put up a fight?”

Surprised by the idea, Kennington simply shook his head.

Taking the unexciting sandwich in his left hand, Jordan tried questioning the fidgety genius again. “Do you know Madison Flint?”

“No.”

Jordan thought he answered too quickly. He didn’t mean that he didn’t know her. His rapid response suggested that he wasn’t interested in thinking and then answering the
question.

Jordan had another go. “She used to work at HiSpec. Madison Flint. Do you remember her? Long black hair.”

This time, Eli stopped eating and took a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, I do. She...” He frowned as he tried to find the right words. “She wanted to be my friend.”

“Oh? Did it work out?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you become friends?” Jordan asked.

Not looking up at Jordan, he shook his head. “Not really, no. I think friends do more together than we ever did.”

“What went wrong?”

Kennington shrugged. “I don’t know. A relationship did not happen.”

For a moment, Eli’s reply sent Jordan’s mind down a different course. If Raven felt sympathy for Kennington, she might feel angry that he’d been punished unjustly. She might
strike at the system that had imprisoned him. There again, she’d told Jordan that she didn’t know Eli Kennington had been jailed. She couldn’t feel sorry for him when, at the
time, she’d thought he was on holiday.

Jordan changed the subject. “Do you like music?”

Eli smiled to himself. “I don’t understand it, but I like rhythm. I find it soothing.”

His answer wasn’t what Jordan was expecting. In his latest message, Short Circuit mentioned a dislike of music. “I’m a drummer,” Jordan said. “A keeper of rhythm.
Or at least, I was.”

Kennington kept his eyes on his food or on Jordan’s right arm. “They didn’t have any cans. I bought a big bottle of drink. I’m not supposed to have fizzy, but that is
what I got.”

“Thanks.”

He took the bottle to the kitchen work surface and, with his back to Jordan, poured the cola into two identical glasses. He loped back to the table, slopping one of the drinks slightly, and put
both of the glasses down. Clearly not satisfied, he switched them round, pushing one towards Jordan.

At first, Jordan thought he was simply jiggling them round because he was restless and clumsy. But then he wondered if there was a different reason.

Jordan glanced around the cottage again. There were two narrow windows downstairs, one over the kitchen sink and another in the living space. He wasn’t sure about the upstairs. He could
just make out one small slot in the brickwork. Pointing to the door behind Eli, he asked, “What’s that?”

Kennington twisted round in his seat. “A door.”

“What’s behind it?”

“It is a shower and toilet. Because of the round thin structure, it could not be fitted upstairs.”

Jordan nodded and took a long drink of the cola. It wasn’t cold, but it was refreshing.

Eli swigged his own back and, for the first time, glanced at Jordan’s face. He put the empty tumbler down and said, “It is almost time I started.”

Jordan knew exactly what Kennington meant. Fearing for his enhancements, he shivered. With his arm and brain implants still inoperative, he wasn’t sure how to make his escape. But he had
to do something and he had to do it soon.

“Do you really want to take me apart?” said Jordan. “You’d hold up the singularity for years. I’m a guinea pig for bionic bits and pieces.”

Eli’s face crinkled with confusion. “You are not a guinea pig.”

“No, I mean, my body’s used to test enhancements. I don’t think you want to get in the way of progress, do you?”

“Certainly not, but...”

“But what?”

“The opportunity is impossible to resist. I want your components, not you.”

“I’ll help you take a look – to satisfy your curiosity – if you let me go afterwards.”

Kennington shook his head. “I cannot let you stay whole because you would be able to choose what to do and what not to do. Your parts don’t have a choice. Once I have worked them
out, they will do what I want them to do.”

“That’s crazy,” Jordan blurted out before he could stop himself.

“I am not mentally deficient or disabled. I just think differently. I think accurately. I give attention to detail.” Gazing enthusiastically at Jordan’s arm, he asked,
“Does the skin unpeel?”

“Yes,” Jordan answered. “But we’d need a technician to do it.”

“I have a scalpel somewhere. That will suffice.” He got up and began to search for it.

The chaos of the windmill gave Jordan time to think. He weighed up the evidence. Kennington had admitted that he hated the people who had put him away. He’d admitted that he’d made
and triggered the hardware Trojans that had neutralized Jordan’s enhancements. And he’d kidnapped Jordan. He had the motive and the means to do everything that Short Circuit had done.
The conclusion was obvious: Kennington was Short Circuit. But was that too easy?