Gray Vengeance (8 page)

‘Gerald’s going to let me know what he needs,’ Harvey told her. ‘Whether or not we can get it here is another matter entirely.’

Chapter 14

15 December 2014

Weighed down by three carrier bags full of Christmas toys, Tom Gray wheeled his daughter through the doors of Inner London
Hospital
and down the corridor to the assessment clinic.

The nurses’ station was unusually empty, and Gray waited around for someone to register him for Melissa’s regular appointment. After a few minutes, a doctor rushed past, followed quickly by a nurse, and Gray asked her when he could expect someone to attend to him.

‘I’m afraid all non-emergency clinics are suspended for the foreseeable future,’ the doctor said. ‘We’re dealing with a major incident.’

Gray pressed for more information, but the medic was already hurrying away.

The missed appointment was no big deal. Melissa’s monthly visits had yet to reveal any communication problems, and his daughter’s vocabulary now ran to more than thirty words.

To his regret, none of them was
Mummy
.

‘Come on, darling. Let’s go home so Daddy can get these presents wrapped.’

He pushed her towards the exit, but stopped short when he saw a room full of people staring at a large, wall-mounted television. He recognised the BBC news channel, and saw an aerial shot of a motorway accident. Several vehicles appeared to be on fire.

He assumed that was the reason for the major incident the doctor had mentioned, but then the scene changed to show a train wreck, and a caption appeared on the screen:

Britain under attack

Gray pushed his way into the room and asked what was going on.

‘Sshhh!’

‘Them bastards are at it again,’ an old man said.

‘Who?’

‘Sshhh!’

Gray gave up asking and watched the drama unfold. The images on the screen changed every few seconds, as pictures came in from all over the country. Gray saw train derailments, motorway accidents, downed planes and fires raging in major city centres.

‘The emergency services are already stretched to the limit,’ the voiceover said, ‘with hospitals all over the country calling in extra staff to cope with the influx of trauma cases. So far, we have reports of over three thousand deaths, though that number is expected to rise sharply throughout the day.’

The scene changed once more, this time to a fire at a department store, and Gray recognised it as being only a few hundred yards from the hospital.

‘Come on, sweetheart, time to go.’

He reversed the pushchair out of the room and hurried to the exit. Whatever was happening, he was close to it, and his only thought was to get his daughter out of the danger zone.

He was ten yards from the double doors that led to the street when the fire extinguisher in the adjacent waiting room received its deadly signal.

Takasa was watching the latest news reports on his laptop whe
n t
he phone rang. He snatched it up as the presenter highlighted th
e cha
os in Newcastle following several explosions in the city centre. A view of the city’s railway station showed huge crowds of frustrated commuters being turned away from the turnstiles owing to damaged tracks.

‘What the hell are you playing at?’

Takasa recognised the person on the other end of the line, and in truth it was a call he’d been expecting.

‘Just as you ordered,’ he replied. ‘I hit Britain hard.’

‘Not this damned hard,’ the voice said. ‘You were supposed to launch a few attacks and outrage the population, not kill them all and destroy the bloody country!’

‘Well, I would imagine they’re pretty outraged right now.’

‘Don’t play clever with me, I’m warning you.’

‘Look,’ Takasa said, ‘you wanted the people up in arms, you got it. Don’t forget that there have been plenty of attacks in Britain over the years, and they’re all forgotten sooner or later. You said you wanted something that would stick in the memory, and I gave that to you. I didn’t question your motives, I just delivered what you asked for.’

‘You have to make this stop,’ the voice said, a hint of anxiety evident.

‘Oh, it’s too late for that. As of yesterday, all our operatives have gone dark. I couldn’t contact them if I tried.’

‘Then you have to give me some names. If we can bring one of them in, they could give up the others—’

‘Do you really think that’s wise?’ Takasa interrupted. ‘If you give the security services a name, the first thing they’re going to ask is where you got the information. How would you explain that? Are you going to tell them you had a cosy chat with the leader of DSA and he decided to turn over a new leaf ?’

‘No, of course not, but these attacks—’

‘Will continue until tomorrow evening. You said two days, and it will be two days. I can’t do anything about it now.’

‘I’m not going to forget this.’

‘I should hope not,’ Takasa said. ‘One day, you’ll be able to thank me personally for my contribution to . . . . What exactly was the overall aim?’

‘You’ll find out in due course,’ the caller told him. ‘I just want you to know that you went too far, and that’ll be a costly mistake on your part.’

Takasa smiled. He’d known a long time ago that this moment would come, and the precautions he’d taken were now proving invaluable. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a
compact
tape recorder.

‘If you’re thinking of . . . terminating our relationship, I suggest you listen to this.’

He clicked the play button and held the recorder next to the phone for thirty seconds.

‘I think you’ll recognise that conversation,’ he said. ‘That was the first time you approached me. Trust me when I say I have every one of our subsequent chats on disk, with the usual precaution of multiple copies dispersed internationally. Anything happens to me . . . . You know the drill.’

Takasa could almost hear the caller panicking. Prior to that meeting, he’d been screened for recording devices to prevent just this situation. What they’d failed to appreciate was that he had considerable knowledge of the systems they used, and that meant being able to easily circumvent their protocols.

‘I wasn’t suggesting anything of that nature—’

‘I’m sure you weren’t,’ Takasa said, ‘but I want you to know that it would benefit both of us if I were to disappear forever once this is over, and that means not having to look over my shoulder.’

‘Agreed.’

‘Good. I’ll cover my tracks at this end. I’m sure I don’t need to explain the importance of ensuring I’m never implicated in this. It’s in your own best interest to ensure I outlive you.’

Takasa ended the call abruptly and returned to watching the news feed. A mother was explaining that she was so scared that she’d taken her children out of school in case it was the next target.

I wouldn’t sink that low,
he thought to himself.

But you have every right to be terrified.

Chapter 15

15 December 2014

Prime Minister Andrew Reed entered the COBRA meeting and dumped his jacket over the back of his chair.

‘What the hell’s going on?’ he demanded, taking his seat.

‘At this moment, we’re not sure,’ Juliet Harper, the home secretary, said. ‘We lost communication with the security services just after this kicked off, and we’re working to get them back online as soon as possible.’

‘They took out Five and Six, too?’

‘Yes, Prime Minister.’

‘Who’s behind it?’

‘I sent a representative to Thames House, and all they have so far is a video claiming to be from Da Sunan Annabi, or DSA.’

The home secretary gave the room an abridged account of the group’s history, beginning with their formation in 2001 and their exploits to date.

‘They began as a Muslim organisation, but their ideological roots have been diluted over the years. Previously, they’d never strayed far from their home in northern Nigeria, so that put them pretty far down our threat list.’

‘Well, they’ve strayed now,’ the secretary of defence said.

Harper let the remark go. ‘The sheer number of incidents is overwhelming the police and fire services. I’ve issued orders to cancel all leave, but we’re going to need more people.’

‘Jim,’ Reed said, looking at the defence minister, ‘we’re going to need troops. How many do you have at your disposal?’

‘Across the entire armed forces?’ James Hanratty asked. ‘I can have fifty thousand ready to go within twenty-four hours.’

‘Do it.’

The defence secretary pulled out his mobile and made the call, while the Chancellor of the Exchequer added his own thoughts.

‘The snow flurries we had in January last year cost the UK economy around half a billion pounds a day, and that was just th
e res
ult of people not being able to get to work. In December, the software glitch that affected air traffic control caused some flight cancellations and delays, costing millions more. At the beginning of the year, storms and flooding along the southwest coastline caused damage running into the hundreds of millions, and it took the best part of three months to get things back to normal. Multiply that by a hundred, and you’ve got economic meltdown.’

The projection was greeted with grim faces.

‘And it’s not just about transport,’ he continued. ‘Power lines up and down the country have been destroyed, and shopping malls have been targeted, as have office buildings from Carlisle to
Brighton
. Tomorrow, millions of people will be unable to get to work, and those that can won’t want to. Tourism is going to take a big hit, too. This is all happening in the run-up to Christmas, which can make or break many firms.’

‘Give me a figure,’ the prime minister said.

‘As you know, GDP is nudging seven billion a day. I think we can kiss a large chunk of that goodbye for the foreseeable future. On top, there are repairs to infrastructure that are going to make seven billion look like chicken feed. The power companies will
be com
ing to us for help, as will just about every major industry in Britain. The bailout will make the banking crisis look like pocket change. And that doesn’t even account for the financial market. I’m afraid this could bankrupt us.’

Harper leaned in close to the prime minister. ‘We may need to launch Brigandicuum,’ she whispered.

‘Brandy-what?’ The chancellor looked back and forth betw
een them.

Reed sat back in his chair with a sigh. ‘Brigandicuum is a joint intelligence-gathering venture between Britain and the US,’ he told the assembled ministers. ‘It is designed to infiltrate our enemies’ communications at the earliest possible stage, no holds barred. And it doesn’t require tens of thousands of man-hours or people on the ground to identify those who would do us harm.’

‘It sounds like PRISM,’ one of the ministers said. ‘We can order internet service providers to hand over details of communications that match specific search terms.’

‘It’s similar,’ the PM agreed, ‘but much more proactive. The main difference is, we don’t have to wait until a communication is sent between two parties.’

‘
Pre
-communication? How is that possible?’

‘I don’t know the technical details,’ Reed said, ‘but essentially, it plays on the fact that almost everyone these days has a PC,
laptop
, tablet or mobile phone. We—or, more specifically, the
US—
have developed a small program that sits inside the kernel of the operating systems for these devices.’

‘Kernel?’ the justice minister asked.

‘It’s the fundamental core of any operating system, the basic functionality that provides interaction between software and hardware. Anyway, this program has been hidden inside the kernels of all major operating systems for a couple of years, and it just requires activation.’

‘How does that happen? How is it activated?’

‘I’ve been told it’s as simple as placing a text file in a folder on one of the NSA servers. Once the device finds the file, we effectively have complete control over it.’

‘I’m amazed the software vendors agreed to go along with it,’ the justice minister said. ‘If this ever gets out, they can kiss their customers goodbye.’

‘Why do you think they turn over six billion a year and pay two million in tax?’ Harper asked. ‘Think about it. Besides, all of these companies are registered overseas, which means whenever someone uses their software it is essentially an act of external communication and intercepting the data doesn’t require a warrant signed by a minister.’

‘So who knows about this?’

‘Up until this morning, Juliet and me,’ Reed said, looking at the home secretary. ‘I don’t need to tell you how sensitive this is, so it doesn’t leave this room. If it goes online, only those I deem necessary will have access to it.’

‘What do you mean if ?’ Justice asked.

‘Our legislation doesn’t yet allow us to use such surveillance techniques,’ the home secretary said. ‘Turning it on now would be technically illegal, if morally right.’

‘So when were you planning to unleash it? This isn’t
something
you can just put to parliament and expect it to sail onto the stat
ute books.’

‘We set this up so that in the event of a major attack, we would have the ability to strike back almost instantly,’ the PM told t
he hea
lth secretary. ‘In times of crisis, the people will unde
rstand th
e need to be able to react effectively and apprehend those behind such atrocities. An amendment to the Regulation of Investigatory
Powers
Act will enable us to bring Brigandicuum online instantly, and we should be able to identify whoever is behind this.’

Reed turned to the home secretary. ‘Has the amendment b
een drafted?’

Harper nodded. ‘I’ll have a copy on your desk in a few minutes. No mention of the how, just the ability to intercept any and all electronic material when it’s vital to national security. A bit vague, but I anticipate no objections from anyone, considering the threat we’re facing at the moment.’

‘Pity this wasn’t online a few months ago,’ Justice said. ‘We might have ended this before it started.’

‘Well, it wasn’t,’ Reed said.

He didn’t add that it had been his decision not to implement Brigandicuum at a more opportune moment. Although he
recognised
it as a powerful tool against terrorism, and potentially organised crime and other evils, the very idea of such invasive surveillance went very much against his grain. It wasn’t that he was afraid of losing the privacy-group vote; it was more the betrayal of trust. He’d always tried to be as open with the public as
possible—
national security matters
notwithstanding—
and Brigandicuum would destroy any trust he’d managed to build up. Given the political fallout if the public ever learned the details, he would have been staring career suicide in the face.

The health minister’s phone chirped, and he took the call. After speaking in a hushed voice for a few moments, he placed the handset on the table, the colour having drained from his face.

‘That was NHS England. These bastards are targeting
hospitals
throughout the country. We’ve lost A&E capability in the capital, and forty-three other trusts are reporting explosions. We don’t know the exact number of casualties as yet, but we’ve lost a lot of medical staff and vital equipment. There’s no way we’re going to be able to cope.’

Reed sat back in his chair, wondering again how such devastation could happen without warning.

‘Juliet, get Veronica Ellis up to speed on Brigandicuum. I want our people at Haddon Hall as soon as possible.’

He rose, signalling an end to the meeting.

‘I’m going to have a word with President Lomax.’