2041 Sanctuary (Let There Be Light) (15 page)

The familiar wail of a siren halted his deliberations. Steiner rolled over to see a group of men entering the segregated compound that housed Samson’s cell and his own. Four of the group were military – ranking officers by the looks of their uniforms – and the other two men, dressed in the garb of GMRC officials, wheeled along a substantial square container. Curious, Steiner got to his feet and moved across his cell to watch these visitors pass by, his hands pressed against the clear walls of his prison.

One of the GMRC men glanced in his direction before disappearing from view around a corner and the opaque barrier that separated Steiner’s cell from Samson’s. Steiner sat back down on his bunk. He was sure he recognised the man, but he couldn’t place him. With a shake of the head, he lay back down to resume his ponderings of reality and the power of the mind to control it.

Half an hour passed before the sound of voices brought Steiner back to his surroundings. The group of men that had entered now departed. Once more the sensation of familiarity sparked in his mind; the GMRC official definitely rang a bell in his head, but Steiner had never been the best with names and faces and he’d seen so many GMRC officials … he could know him from anywhere.

The smell of something burning made him sniff to confirm its presence. He looked round and then up to see a waft of smoke drifting across the top of the enclosure’s transparent walls and the bars that supported them.

‘Hey!’ He waved his arms at the people leaving.

None turned, even though Steiner banged on the walls and shouted at the top of his voice. The smoke above continued billowing through. Coughing, he covered his mouth with a forearm before tearing a piece of cloth from his thin bed sheets to wrap round his face. Dark, acrid clouds flooded in through the ceiling to roll
down into Steiner’s cell in waves. Orange light flickered on the far walls and a sudden barrage of shouting and banging emanated from Samson’s cell. Steiner waved at the cameras he knew watched his every move, trying to get the attention of the guards. The fire burned brighter and flames licked at the ceiling. Steiner could feel the heat now and he backed away to the far wall.

A scream of agony pierced the air. Again and again Samson’s terror-stricken, horrific shrieks fell on deaf ears. No sprinkler system kicked into action and no help came rushing to the prisoners’ aid. The fire continued unabated and Steiner was forced to the floor in search of clean air. A final strangled screech ended in silence as Samson succumbed to the inferno that sought to smother Steiner with its black fumes. Seconds passed like minutes and minutes passed like hours as Steiner clung to life.

Finally a siren sounded, lights flashed and water cascaded down. The sprinklers doused the flames and giant fans whirred into life to extract the cloying smoke. Guards stormed into the compound and Steiner felt consciousness slipping as his eyelids slid closed.

♦

‘What do you mean, the system didn’t work?’

‘It was disabled; whoever set the fire wanted it to burn. In fact the fans had been activated in reverse to ensure the fire had enough oxygen. They also used some kind of accelerant. The flames were far hotter than a normal fire, hence the condition of the body.’

The warden peered down at the blackened carcass. The man’s ridged limbs had contorted into a fearful posture, his teeth bared in an animalistic grin of death. ‘Have the people responsible been found?’

The chief of security wagged his head. ‘They took a helicopter out, same way they came in. We’ve reported the incident and the FBI are en route. They’re not happy, questions will be asked.’

The warden cursed and rubbed his eyes.
As if I didn’t have enough paperwork already
. He gave a sigh. ‘How’s the other one doing?’

‘He’s still in the hospital wing, smoke inhalation. They say he’ll recover. The FBI said they want to speak to him as soon as they arrive.’

‘What about the military?’

‘The U.S. Army rep said they sent no officers to this location. We’re still getting the runaround from the GMRC, although the police were quick to distance themselves from the incident, perhaps too quick.’

‘I don’t think they’d pull a stunt like this, no matter how many of their number were murdered by Mr. Crispy here.’

‘Maybe,’ – the chief scratched his head – ‘I don’t know what to think, to be honest. This whole thing’s been a mess from start to finish.’

The warden swore. ‘And we’re the ones who’re gonna get it in the neck.’

‘There is an upside, sir.’

The warden looked at him, wondering if he’d lost his mind. ‘And what’s that?’

‘At least we won’t have to look after this fucker anymore.’

The warden looked down at the grim spectacle and realised he was right. A broad smile spread across his face. ‘And who said there were no silver linings?’

Chapter Thirteen

USSB Sanctuary, Mexico

GMRC Intelligence Director Malcolm Joiner sat in his office. In his hand he held the remote control for the three hundred and sixty degree immersive screen that covered every surface of his office walls, ceiling and floor. He’d been pleased when it was installed; it gave him a sense of control over his surroundings. At a flick of a finger he could be anywhere on the planet. He pressed a button and the wastelands of the Sahara filled his vision, its arid beauty seeming real enough to touch. He selected another view. The vastness of space resolved into being, the essence of the farthest galaxies giving him a yearning for the solitude such heavenly bodies enjoyed on an eternal basis. Beneath his feet the joys of the Milky Way rotated like a giant Catherine wheel, the celestial dance a visible reminder of how tiny the solar system and everything on Earth really was. Joiner frowned and switched to another image. Blossoming trees of a temperate forest swayed in the breeze. The crests of mountains stood tall on the horizon and low lying clouds nestled at their feet, while the setting sun sent rays of light dappling nearby meadows and streams. He stood up and walked around the room, savouring the simulated grass at his feet. The upgrades he’d added to the virtual system had been worth the money; Richard Goodwin’s screen, which he’d acquisitioned from USSB Steadfast, had been good, but Joiner felt it lacked in certain places.
A bit like the man himself
, Joiner thought, thinking about Steadfast’s deposed base director. He wondered where Goodwin and his Darklight and civilian entourage had ended up within Sanctuary Proper. Crushed beneath a mass of rock, perhaps, or dead at the bottom of a ravine, or just holed up in a cave, withered and dead from starvation or dehydration. Any which way, it was a relief to know that particular problem had resolved itself; having Goodwin and his merry men running around in Sanctuary could have proved quite detrimental to his work, and more specifically the Committee’s. The transition of power was at a critical point and any outside influence could put back their carefully laid plans by decades.

Thinking about the people who sought to control him, Joiner’s thoughts returned to the main focus of his desire.
What do they want to hide from me so badly? What is Project Ares really about?
He would have to remain patient until he found answers. Myers would no doubt turn up something, but for now he would have to make do with what he had. Joiner tapped at the keyboard on his desk. The dossier on Sarah Morgan popped up on a section of the wallscreen. He pressed a button on his intercom.

‘Sir,’ said the voice of his primary aide, Grant Debden.

‘I want a secure connection to the decryption department.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Joiner waited before another voice spoke.

‘Decryption, secure line delta, eight five two zero confirm.’

Joiner checked the spooling code on his screen. ‘Eight five two zero, delta confirmed.’

‘Very good, sir, how may I be of help?’

‘I sent down some files two days ago.’

The man on the other end of the line paused. ‘Sir, I’ve just checked our logs and we don’t seem to have them.

Joiner grew concerned. ‘Check again.’

A longer moment of silence ensued before the man spoke again. ‘My apologies, Director. The files had been sectioned into a digital vault as requested and weren’t showing up on the main system.’

‘And?’

‘We’ve been successful in removing the redacted sections, although due to the sensitivity of their nature we are relying on A.I. to inform us of the successful recovery of data. If you want human confirmation we can—’

‘That won’t be necessary.’ Joiner twizzled a pen with his fingers. ‘This artificial intelligence … is it also aware of the security protocols involved?’

‘It is, sir, yes.’

‘And as soon as the data is transferred from your system—’

‘They’ll be irretrievable. The only copies will exist on your personal system.’

‘Excellent. Transmit the files to my location.’

‘Very good, sir. They’ll be with you shortly.’

Joiner hung up and waited for the delivery of the digital packet.

Joiner’s intercom buzzed. ‘Director, there’s a woman from the central bank asking to see you, a Ms. Selene Dubois.’

Joiner froze.
Selene, here? A Committee member gracing me with their presence outside of normal channels? It’s unprecedented
.

‘Sir?’ his aide’s voice said.

Joiner shut down all his data windows and sat up straighter in his seat. ‘Send her in.’

Moments later the internal mirage of a setting sun broke in two as the doors to his office opened to reveal the woman he’d seen in the Anakim tower on his arrival at Sanctuary. By her side was the dread form of S.I.L.V.E.R.’s leader, Ophion Nexus, still encased in his chrome armour like a medieval knight lost in time. Behind him were two of his team, similarly garbed in gleaming metallic panels with their weapons attached to back-plates visible above their shoulders. Unlike Ophion, who held his distinctive helmet in the crook of his arm, these individuals wore sculpted headgear which was much like that of the Terra Force commandos, only these were sleeker and, if anything, even more formidable than their U.S. Army counterparts.

Joiner rose and moved round the table, and felt the disturbing and unfamiliar sensation of being amongst people taller than him. ‘Ms. Dubois, this is unexpected.’

‘Is it?’ She walked past him to observe the scenery on display.

Ophion held Joiner’s gaze before the intelligence director returned his attention to the Committee member, who continued to gaze out into the 3D imagery.

‘You’d like a progress update?’ Joiner’s tone was uncertain.

Selene remained with her back to him. ‘You thought I wouldn’t?’

‘Of course, but—’

‘I made you well aware of the importance of this task and you have proven as ineffective as those you replaced. What do you propose I should do to solve this indifference? Ophion, perhaps you have some ideas.’

‘I have one,’ Nexus said, in his deep rumbling voice.

Joiner approached Selene. ‘My preparations are nearly complete, as Ophion well knows.’ He flashed S.I.L.V.E.R.’s leader a look of fury. ‘The personnel have been assembled, along with all the equipment needed to ensure the fastest route through Sanctuary Proper. No expense has been spared. The track is nearing completion as we speak and the first shuttles will be out within the next twenty-four hours. I was going to provide you with an update as soon as we’d launched. If you’d have waited another day then this inconvenience would not have been necessary.’

‘Inconvenience.’ Selene turned to face him. ‘You think I’ve been inconvenienced?’

Joiner didn’t know what to say. He glanced at Ophion, whose enigmatic expression showed no hint of humour, though Joiner could tell the assassin was enjoying his discomfort.

‘This is beyond inconvenience,’ Selene said. ‘That you think otherwise compounds the issue. It was decided for you to take the lead on this most important of acquisitions. It seems our trust was misplaced, once again.’

Joiner cleared his throat. ‘If you—’

‘Enough!’

Joiner clenched his jaw, cowed by the anger in her eyes.

‘You have one day, Malcolm Joiner, one day to rectify your mistakes. Make another and it will be your last as a functioning member of the GMRC Directorate. Do I make myself clear?’

Joiner felt his blood boil, his top lip curling into one of displeasure. It was all he could do to contain an outburst, his nails biting into the palms of hands, the pain serving to quell the rising tide of anger as red rage distorted his vision.

The Committee member and her armed retinue swept from the room, the doors closing behind them. Joiner snatched up a glass and hurled it at a wall. The crystal shattered in an explosion of glittering shards, leaving behind a fractured crater on the high-tech screen.

Chapter Fourteen

Joiner glowered at the doors through which his tormentors had departed, his sense of self threatened beyond toleration. The infuriating and excruciating irony was that Joiner had compromised his own position by delivering to the Committee a means by which to destroy him. Now they had subverted the majority of the Response Council’s Directorate, he could be voted off like any other.
I should have seen this coming. How did I not see it?

‘Because you’re a wretched fool,’ he said aloud.

He’d been manipulated, pressurised and bombarded with work, he could see it now, a choreographed assault designed to swamp him, ensuring he was too busy to realise what transpired under his very nose. The manufacturer of his own vulnerability. If he’d played such a hand himself he’d have seen it as a defining conquest, a sculptured attack of subtle yet simple beauty. That he had been the recipient of it, a victim – he shuddered at the thought – only served to fuel a desire for vengeance so powerful he felt it in his bones. All his years of graft, long hours and sacrifices had led him to this point.
And I’m damned if I’m going to let it slide now
.

Returning to his desk, he reached out to his keyboard. His hand trembled from the surge of adrenaline caused by the confrontation. He shut his eyes and breathed deep, in and out, deep slow breaths like his physician had taught him.