Code Name Firestorm (5 page)

“He’s offline!” said Chopper.

“The circuit was booby-trapped!” said Morph. “Exactly like the briefcase Tim Jones had in the bank. It must have a hidden power source.”

The robots couldn’t detect any electrical activity in Hercules. All his systems were dead.

Folding back their wings, Chopper and Sirena wriggled through the hole in the speaker. Hercules was silent, surrounded by smoke and the smell of burning.

At that moment, a clunking sound came from the back of Tim Jones’s house. There was a scuffling and a series of bumps.

“Someone’s entering the house,” said Chopper.

“Scanning…” said Sirena. “It’s Tim Jones’s wife and their pet dog.”

“Get out of there,” said Morph. “Now!”

“Police confirm a third raid,” announced Simon Turing. “This time, Firestorm got away with almost half a million pounds!”

Every screen in SWARM’s laboratory was filled with scrolling information. Queen Bee narrowed her eyes as she watched the displays.

“Do we have any leads?”

“Sorry, Ms Maynard,” said Simon. “CCTV went down inside and outside the building. Some sort of signal blocker, I assume. We have no visual
on the attacker, apart from a verbal description. She vanished into thin air.”

Queen Bee turned to Alfred Berners. “Update?”

“My hacks into MI6 are holding. It seems that secret-service departments all over the world are starting to panic, not knowing who Firestorm are, or what their objective is. MI6 have put every agent outside the UK on full alert. Security forces worldwide are bracing for similar attacks: the CIA in America, the MSS in China, Russia’s FSB, everyone. They’re all very jumpy. Accusations and suspicions are beginning to fray nerves and shorten tempers. On top of all that, the media are going crazy now there’s been a third attack.”

Queen Bee took a deep breath. “We must handle this with extreme caution. The world could collapse into war even quicker than we feared. Simon, what can the robots give us?”

“Hercules’s signal just went down.”

“What?”

Simon tapped at a nearby screen. A beep confirmed that the SWARM network was live.

“SWARM HQ to Hive 1,” said Queen Bee.
“What’s happened?”

“Nothing we can’t handle, Queen Bee,” said Chopper. “Hercules has been damaged by a power surge. He’s fused to a circuit board and it will take time to free him.”

“Do you need Agent K or Agent J to intervene?”

“Negative, Queen Bee. The Firestorm situation is too urgent, they’re needed for the investigation. The logical thing to do is leave Hercules here until we can return for him. He is safely hidden inside this speaker, there’s no danger of discovery.”

“I agree,” said Queen Bee. “We need every agent we’ve got on this, human or robot.”

“A human has returned to the house now. Sirena and I will keep out of sight, exit the house and fly directly back to HQ.”

“Understood.” Queen Bee turned her attention to the second group. “HQ to Hive 2.”

“We’re leaving Burns’s flat now,” signalled Nero. “No problem here. We’ll proceed to the pick-up point.”

“Acknowledged. HQ out,” said Queen Bee.

She turned to Simon Turing. “Any good news?”

“Actually, yes,” said Simon. “The robots have
gathered a massive amount of data from the homes of Jones and Burns. I’ve just run it through our own computers. Look at what’s coming up on the 3D display. I think we may have exactly the breakthrough we need!”

On the display were detailed diagrams of the mysterious speakers. Beside the diagrams, streams of information were being divided into categories by SWARM’s computers.

“The robots identified those speakers as imported,” said Simon, “so we’ve compiled a full list of every shop and warehouse in the UK that bought that make and model. There aren’t many. Better still, the scans taken by the robots have given us an exact breakdown of the components used to make those weird added circuits: microchips, PCBs, memristors, capacitors, all that sort of stuff. We can identify everyone who’s bought those specific components too. A full cross-check of all this information gives us eleven places that have bought both the speakers and the added components. All of them are small electrical shops. One of them is sure to lead us to Firestorm.”

“Good work!” said Queen Bee. “We’ll start checking them immediately.”

“No need,” smiled Simon. “So far, all the attacks have taken place in London. There’s only one shop on the list within fifty miles of all three raids. That’s most likely to be our Firestorm link.”

“Excellent, where is it?”

“In a side street off Tottenham Court Road, a small audio sales and repair place called Trendi Soundz.”

A buzzer sounded over the Trendi Soundz shop door as the old lady entered. Her eyes were still slightly glazed.

The shop was small and cluttered. Shelves and racks were stacked full of boxes of audio equipment, cables, speakers and modems. There were flash-shaped signs cut out of bright orange card with handwritten text in black marker pen advertising “Lowest Pricez” and “Best Bargainz”.

There were no customers inside and the shop’s owner sat behind a dusty wooden counter. He was a middle-aged man in a tatty denim jacket and a black woollen beanie. A radio was in pieces on the counter, and he was working on it with a screwdriver. He looked up as the buzzer sounded. He had piercing pale blue eyes.

“Ah,” he said quietly. “Success.”

The old lady said nothing. She placed the shopping bag on the counter. He glanced inside to check that it was filled with money, then tucked it away out of sight. The old lady placed her coat, hat and gloves on the counter too.

“Code name Firestorm, Part Three,” said the shop owner. “Go across the street. Take the next bus, go three stops. Sit outside the nearest coffee shop. Memory wipe will take place one minute after you sit down.”

“Confirmed,” she said flatly.

“Good,” he grinned. “Now go. You smell of drains.”

CHAPTER FIVE

SWARM’s Agent K drew up her car outside a coffee shop close to Euston station. She had received an update by phone from HQ, then collected Widow, Nero, Sabre and Morph from the pick-up point near Sally Burns’s flat. The robots were back in the travel pod underneath the car. Now Agent K had been diverted here, to pick up Firestorm’s third innocent victim.

“You’re sure that’s her?” said Agent K.

Nero’s voice was relayed through the car radio. “I tapped into the city’s traffic-control CCTV network. I checked every camera inside Greater London. Her age fits the verbal description given to the police. Visual analysis of her facial expression and body language show she is in a confused state of mind, and sensors currently indicate she has a raised heartbeat. All factors, taken together, logically suggest she is the one.”

A moment later, Agent K sat down at one of the coffee shop’s outside tables, beside the old lady who’d just delivered the bag of money to Trendi Soundz.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said. “Are you by any chance wondering how you got here?”

“I am,” said the old lady. “I don’t even like coffee. Who are you?”

“I’m working alongside the police.” Agent K showed her ID, which identified her as a member of the secret services. “Have you heard of Firestorm?”

“Those robberies earlier on?” Her eyes widened. “You’re not saying they got me to do one, like the other two people, are ya?”

“I’m afraid I am,”

“Those rotten… Oh dear, am I under arrest?”

“No,” smiled Agent K. “The police will want to talk to you, but we know you were acting under some kind of hypnosis. You’re not in trouble. What’s your name?”

“Eileen. Eileen Parkins.” She sniffed. “Can you smell drains?”

“I’ll call and arrange for the local police to collect you in a few minutes. You can give them a statement. The earlier suspects have just been allowed to go home, so you shouldn’t be kept long. One last question, Eileen. Do you know a shop called Trendi Soundz?”

“I do,” said Eileen. “I got a sound system there – it was a really good deal. Why?”

“Just a routine enquiry.”

Agent J’s car was parked in a long, narrow street off Tottenham Court Road, at a position that allowed a
good view of Trendi Soundz. Chopper and Sirena were on the headrest of the passenger seat.

Agent J tapped his smartphone. “Agent K, what’s your status?”

“Less than a minute from your position.”

“Acknowledged,” said Agent J. He opened a channel to HQ. “Hive 1 to SWARM HQ, we’re in position.”

“Anything happening there?” Queen Bee’s voice sounded tense.

“Negative, Ms Maynard,” said Agent J. “Nobody’s come in or out of the shop. Sirena’s keeping her sensors focused on the back of the building. No movement there either. Only one person inside. Do we have an ID yet?”

“Simon Turing’s working on it now,” said Queen Bee. “Trendi Soundz has been registered as a private company. The shop itself is a perfectly ordinary, legitimate business. However, the name of whoever owns it has been deliberately covered up. Several databases that ought to list the owner have had all record of Trendi Soundz deleted. Others have been changed, to list fake companies or fake identities.”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” muttered Agent J.

“That’s a quotation,” said Chopper. “Lewis Carroll,
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
, 1865, Chapter Two.”

“This adds to our suspicion that Firestorm has been getting help from inside the secret service, doesn’t it?” said Agent J.

“Absolutely,” said Queen Bee. “Only someone with access to a large number of official records could have hidden information about Trendi Soundz in this way. Politicians or senior police officers could have done it, but not without signing various pieces of paper. Only someone in the secret service could have done it on the quiet.”

“So, do we have no idea who the shop owner is?” said Agent J.

“For the moment, no, but Simon and Alfred are confident they can track back through the affected databases and ID them soon.”

“Is that why you want us to tread carefully, and not simply raid Trendi Soundz?”

“That’s one reason, yes,” said Queen Bee. “The other is our knowledge of Firestorm’s tactics
so far. They’re using technology that’s almost beyond what even we’ve got. They cover their tracks and they pack booby traps into everything. We have to handle things with the utmost care. That’s why I want the robots leading the way. They can watch and act with more stealth than anyone else. Now we know about Trendi Soundz, we can nip any further attacks in the bud.”

“Have you managed to keep Agent Drake and MI5 at arm’s length?”

“So far, yes,” said Queen Bee. “The prime minister and the home secretary are still giving SWARM full control of this crisis. But MI5 will be allowed to take over the investigation if we slip up. Agent Drake is grinding his teeth, waiting for a chance to take charge.”

“Alert,” cut in Sirena. “Adult male approaching the shop. It’s Tim Jones.”

“The teacher Firestorm hypnotized for the bank raid?” said Agent J. “The police only let him and Sally Burns go a little while ago. What’s he doing here?”

“He may be involved with Firestorm after all,” said Queen Bee.

“Chopper, listen in!” said Agent J.

“Logged,” said Chopper.

The micro-robot dragonfly’s wings buzzed into operation. He darted into the air, and out through the gap at the top of the passenger window.

At that moment, Agent K’s car appeared at the end of the street. Without slowing down, or even acknowledging the presence of Agent J, she clicked the switch on her dashboard. The hatch on the travel pod fixed beneath her car opened, and Widow, Nero, Sabre and Morph dropped neatly onto the street. The car headed back towards SWARM HQ. Nero and Morph scuttled along the gutters. Widow fired an ultra-thin line at the closest building and swung up into the air. Sabre zipped over to Agent J.

“Looks like we got here at exactly the right time,” he said, his voice routed through Agent J’s smartphone.

Tim Jones was carrying a plastic supermarket carrier bag. There was a chunky rectangular shape inside it.

“One of the speakers,” said Sirena. “Scanning… It’s the one Hercules is in!”

“Stand by, everyone,” said Agent J quietly.

Chopper landed on the shop’s cluttered front window. Tim Jones went in. The buzzer above the door sounded automatically as he entered.

A tiny video probe jutted out from the underside of Chopper’s head. It stuck itself onto the glass. Everything that went on in the shop could now be seen and heard on the SWARM network. Agent J watched on his phone.

Tim Jones approached the man at the counter. Eileen Parkins’s coat, hat and gloves had been stored away, as had the shopping bag full of money.

“Yeah?” said the shop owner. At first, he barely looked up. As soon as he did, he made an almost comical double-take. He recognized Jones instantly. His piercing eyes darted past Jones’s shoulder, checking that the man was alone.

“Hi,” said Tim Jones. The tone of his voice registered on the robots’ sensors as annoyed and irritable. “We bought a pair of these speakers from you a couple of weeks ago. This one’s stopped working.”

The shop owner didn’t reply for a moment.

“He’s wondering if this is a set-up,” muttered Agent J. “He’s wondering if Jones has remembered something, or worked out what happened to him.”

“Why would this man have let those speakers remain in the homes of Jones, Burns and Parkins?” said Sabre. “The modified circuits in them are evidence. After all, they led
us
here. Why wouldn’t he have set them to self-destruct, or something like that?”

“Why
not
leave them?” said Nero. “He couldn’t possibly have predicted that micro-robot insects would investigate them. He could safely have assumed that his modified circuits would never be discovered. Remember, we don’t yet know exactly what those circuits do.”

“Hello?” said Tim Jones.

“Huh?” said the shop owner. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, mate. What was it?”

“I said, this speaker’s stopped working.”

The shop owner was clearly nervous. As he stood behind the counter, Chopper’s eyes took a detailed close-up photo of him, and relayed it back to SWARM HQ to help Simon Turing ID the man.

“That’s a BebKo-X1,” he said.

“Yes, I know,” grumbled Tim Jones. “You said they were top quality. I wondered why you were selling them at such a knock-down price. Was it a faulty batch, or something?”

The shop owner eyed Jones carefully. “He’s still not sure what’s going on,” muttered Agent J, “but he’s realized that Jones really does have a faulty speaker.”

“When that circuit blew up and damaged Hercules,” said Morph, “it must have damaged some of the speaker’s other components too.”

“Mr … Jones, right?” asked the shop owner.

“Yes,” blinked Tim Jones. “That’s well remembered.”

“I like to look after my customers,” said the man.

“Yes, well, I’ve been having a terrible day, and I got home—”

“Terrible? Why terrible?” said the shop owner casually.

“Umm, it doesn’t matter, but I got home not long ago and I tried to put some music on, to calm my nerves, and this nearly new speaker
had simply stopped working. I’ve had it up to here today, I really have.” He plonked the carrier bag containing the speaker onto the counter. “I wouldn’t have bothered bringing it straight round like this, but it was the last straw.”

The shop owner slowly opened the carrier bag and lifted out the speaker. He looked it over, but didn’t appear to spot the small access hole made by Hercules.

“You haven’t done anything to it, have you?” he said.

“Like what?” said Tim Jones.

“Dropped it?” shrugged the shop owner. “Put it close to a strong magnetic field? Taken the back off and poked around inside?”

“No, no, no, it’s been sitting on the same shelf, undisturbed, since we got it,” said Tim Jones.

“And your other one works?”

“Yes, it’s fine.”

Suddenly, Simon Turing’s voice cut into the SWARM communications network. “HQ to Hive 1, we’ve got a match on the photo Chopper just sent us. The man’s name is Henry Blackwater. We’re delving into records now, but it looks like he’s on
MI5’s current watch list, so he must be a known criminal of some kind. We’re sending Agent K to his home address.”

“Logged,” replied Chopper.

“Thanks HQ, Hive 1 out,” said Agent J.

Henry Blackwater sniffed and placed the speaker behind the counter. “Yes, well, I’ve still got some of these in stock, I’ll give you a free replacement.”

“Oh,” said Tim Jones, raising his eyebrows slightly at Blackwater’s sudden change of heart. “OK. Thank you.”

Blackwater sorted through a pile of boxes on a rack behind him. He pulled one out and handed it over. “There.”

“Thanks,” said Tim Jones. “Bye.” He put the box into his carrier bag as he left the shop.

Blackwater watched him go. He moved to the far edge of the counter and craned his neck, to check that Jones was walking away and not reporting back to someone outside. He stood there for a few moments, eyeing the street outside. Agent J’s car was well out of his line of sight.

He returned to the broken speaker. He put it
back on the counter, and turned it round a couple of times.

“Well now,” he mumbled to himself. “What happened here? Lucky you didn’t go wrong yesterday, eh?”

He fetched a set of miniature screwdrivers and spread them across the counter. He flipped the speaker over, turning its rear side upwards.

“Alert!” signalled Chopper. “It looks like he’s going to open up the speaker. Hercules will be discovered.”

“Already on it,” said Agent J. He was out of his car and across the street in seconds. He dashed over to the shop, the rest of the SWARM robots scuttling and buzzing by his side. “Sirena, maintain a full sensor watch outside.”

“Logged,” said the butterfly. She fluttered down and landed on the wall above the shop’s window.

Agent J marched into the shop, whistling loudly. The buzzer sounded. The noise and movement were enough of a distraction to allow the remaining five robots to enter the shop unnoticed.