Third Transmission (32 page)

Beep. Beep.
Keys clacked up above. A thin electric whine rose through the air, like a recharging flash on a disposable camera.

Uh-oh, Six thought. What's that?

‘The device is set,' Sammers said. ‘Two hours until ascenscion.'

Six's pulse doubled in an instant. The nuclear warhead
was sitting on the desk, centimetres above his head – and it was counting down to doomsday.

‘Set up the webcam,' Sammers commanded. ‘We are fair, and pure, and honest servants of the Lord. We shall give the sinners fair warning, and a chance to repent before they are purified.'

Six knew that Sammers hadn't chosen this location just because of its proximity to the Seawall. He wanted to be at CVHQ so he could use the online broadcasting system to announce his intentions to the public. It was this announcement that had led the Deck to dispatch fourteen-year-old Agent Six.

Only a madman would try to kill everyone on earth, Six thought, but it takes a special kind of crazy to want to warn everyone first.

‘Get these heathens out of my way.'

Six heard the hostages cry out as they were pushed and beaten and kicked aside. There was a mass of shuffling – a migration into the corner of the server farm. Six tried to tell himself that was a good thing. If the hostages are far enough away from the ‘disciples', he thought, I might be able to get them out.

‘Bring me the digicam.'

Six needed to see what was happening. He prodded the top drawer, and it slid slightly ajar. Then he poked his knife through the gap, using the blade as a mirror.

Eleven of the disciples were standing in a semicircle around Sammers. The twelfth was holding a digicam, attached to one of the databanks by rewire cable. The digi cam featured a spotlight which shone on Sammers' face.

Six had seen this footage countless times over the years. Being here in the flesh to watch as it was made was nightmarish and surreal.

Sammers himself was looking into the lens of the camera with a disturbingly serene gaze. His platinum blond comb-over and large, square teeth were exactly as Six remembered them. He was holding a giant, jet-black weapon – a smoothbore APFSDS cannon. The muscles in his forearms bulged under its weight.

Armour-Piercing Fin-Stabilising Discarding Sabots were basically giant arrows made of depleted uranium and nickel alloy. Each one weighed so much and was launched so fast that they could punch straight through walls, or through the hulls of ships – in fact, they were originally designed to be fired by tanks at other tanks. In the event that an APFSDS collided with something too dense to smash through, it
melted
through as its kinetic energy became heat energy.

The massive hand-held version that Sammers carried looked like it had a 90-mm calibre barrel, which meant it would fire APFSDS rounds that were 2-cm thick and 40-cm long. It could easily take down a jet, or skewer an armoured car.

Other than its weight – 60-plus kilograms – the
cannon's only drawback was that it was tough to reload. But nothing ever survived the first shot, so that wasn't much of a problem for the user.

Neither Sammers nor any of his soldiers were looking at the desk, but none of them were looking directly away from it either. Six licked his lips, nervous. This was probably his best chance to climb out undetected. If he waited too much longer, they would point the camera at the warhead and then he'd be stuck there until they finished filming the announcement.

Six pressed his hand against the underside of the desktop, and the drawers rolled slowly forwards. He kept the knife in the gap, so he could see if any of the disciples was looking. But they seemed absorbed in their task.

‘When I say the word “salvation”,' Sammers was saying, ‘pan over to the device. Understood?'

Six paused, in case the cameraman decided to do a practice pan.

He didn't. After a moment, Six kept pushing. The drawers were nearly completely open.

‘And I want you to cut,' Sammers said, ‘after the phrase “See you in the heavenly kingdom”.'

‘Yes, sir,' the disciple with the digicam said.

Six stood up, very slowly. No-one glanced his way. Sammers' blazing green eyes were still fixed on the camera.

Six could see the warhead on the table – an unimposing grey cone with a keypad, a timer and a yellow sticker with the nuclear symbol on it. There
was an
arm
button next to the timer. There were no other keys. No apparent way to disarm it. Inside, Six knew, there was a capsule filled with fissionable plutonium-239, waiting for an electrical signal to split the nuclei so it could unleash enough gamma radiation and explosive energy to turn millions of people to toxic dust.

Don't look, Straje, he thought. Keep watching the camera – there's nothing happening over here.

He wanted to grab the nuke, but he couldn't – it had been on Straje Sammers' video. Taking it now would mean changing history.

Six lifted his right foot over the wall of drawer frames, and placed it on the floor. Blood thundered in his ears.

‘Is the direct upload ready yet?' Sammers asked.

‘Fifteen more seconds,' the cameraman said.

Six drew his left leg up, swung it slowly out of the desk, and lowered it next to his right.

He was out – but he needed to close the drawers. Otherwise the disciples would notice the change, and they would sweep the lab again.

Six put his hand on the top drawer. Slid it shut.

No-one looked at him. He reached for the next drawer down, not taking his eyes off Sammers and his men.

‘Ready in ten seconds,' the cameraman said.

‘Sir,' one of the disciples said.

Sammers glanced at him. ‘What is it?'

Six slid another drawer shut. Two to go.

‘I'd like to call my wife,' the man said. Six saw the Adam's apple bob in his throat. ‘To say goodbye.'

‘You will see her in the next life,' Sammers said. He turned back to the camera.

‘Five seconds,' the cameraman said, holding up an open hand.

‘But …' the disciple with the wife began.

Six closed the second-last drawer as quickly and silently as he could. Don't look, he thought. Don't you dare look.

‘Four,' the cameraman said, curling his little finger.

Sammers drew a pistol, put it to the temple of the married disciple, and fired. A painted sunrise of blood appeared on the side of the nearest server as the disciple collapsed. Six flinched.

‘Three.' The cameraman curled his ring finger, as though nothing had happened.

Six could feel the wood under his fingers. But the last drawer was stuck. Six's eyes widened. Come on, come on!

‘Two.' The cameraman held up two fingers.

Six jiggled the drawer slightly, trying to loosen it. It wouldn't budge.

Instead of saying ‘one' out loud, the cameraman held up one finger. Then he nodded to Sammers.

Six felt the drawer come loose. He slid it back along its rollers.

‘My friends,' Sammers said, his voice bold and theatrical, ‘I offer the key to your
salvation
…'

Six dived away from the desk, heart in his mouth, towards the cover of the nearest databank. His feet scrambled silently across the floor.

He pressed his back against the black obelisk. Had he got out of the way in time? Had they seen him?

‘The faithful among you already know of the many delights that await us upon our departure from this life,' Sammers continued.

Six exhaled softly. He'd made it.

‘Rejoice,' Sammers said. ‘For I am taking you to them. Not forty years from now, not tomorrow, but
right now
.'

Sammers was approaching, leading the camera closer to the warhead. Six padded away past the rows of databanks.

He had to find the hostages. He hadn't seen them when he was fourteen, but they were here now, which meant something must happen to them before his fourteen-year-old self arrived.

There! Huddled in the corner of the server farm, black bags over their heads, hands flexi-cuffed behind their backs – about twenty of them. Six approached them quietly.

When he was about a metre away, he whispered, ‘Be absolutely silent. I'm here to help you.'

The hostages stiffened. Six could see the outlines of their heads, turning under the bags. But they made no sound.

‘I'm going to take off your blindfolds,' Six whispered. ‘Stay still.'

He pulled off the bags of the nearest two hostages. They stared at him with absolute terror.

‘Who are you?' Six asked, as he reached for another bag.

‘Elean Dhaey,' one of the two whispered, almost inaudibly.

‘I mean why are you here?' Six demanded. ‘Why did he take you?'

‘We work here,' Dhaey said.

Six sliced through her flexi-cuffs with his knife. ‘Help the others,' he whispered.

She nodded, and started taking the bags off the other hostages.

Sammers' voice echoed out across the server farm. ‘To the unbelievers, I say: you brought this on yourselves.'

Six slit through another pair of cuffs. ‘Listen carefully,' he said. ‘In about twenty-five minutes, someone is going to break through that door.' He pointed at the barricade. ‘And he's going to go
that
way.'

‘How do you know that?' someone asked nervously.

Because it'll be a younger me, Six thought. ‘That's not important,' he said. ‘What's important is that once he's in, you sneak out the same way. But don't let him see you. Got it?'

‘Is he one of the good guys, or one of the bad guys?' Dhaey asked.

‘He's kind of a jerk, but he's on your side,' Six said.

‘Then why –'

‘Just trust me. Once you're outside, get to the Northmoon Shopping Centre. In less than two hours, ChaoSonic is going to bomb this whole postcode back to the stone age. Northmoon is one of the few buildings that will remain standing. Encourage everyone you see to go there too.'

‘No way. ChaoSonic would never do that,' a man said.

‘They will. They're sealing the area as we speak.' Six handed over the knife. ‘Get everyone's cuffs off. Then put some eye-slits in the bags and put them back on. Keep your wrists together, like you're still restrained. You don't want the soldiers knowing you're loose.'

Dhaey wasted no more time – she started sawing at the cuffs of the nearest person.

‘Thank you,' someone said.

‘Stay quiet,' Six replied.

‘This warhead has a yield of eight kilotons,' Sammers was saying. ‘Enough to smash the Seawall, flood the City, and deliver us all into the arms of the Lord.'

Six started to move back through the forest of databanks.

‘Where are you going?' one of the hostages demanded.

‘I'm going to steal that bomb,' Six said. He slipped away.

He caught glimpses of the disciples through the gaps between the obelisks. They were still standing around Sammers, too close to the nuke for Six to get at it. He hovered behind a databank.

He had to hope that once they'd finished making the
video they would move away from it. Then Six could take it, and – then what? How would he escape?

He could follow the hostages out. But they had a much better shot at escaping if he was elsewhere, distracting Sammers. If Six was with them, carrying the stolen warhead, they would be in a lot more danger.

‘Be at peace.' Sammers' voice was softer now. ‘The filth that has infested this City is about to be washed away. See you in the heavenly kingdom.'

‘And … cut,' the cameraman said. He unplugged the firewire cable.

There was a pile of backpacks propped up against one of the obelisks to his left. Must be where Sammers and the disciples had left their things.

He remembered talking to King and Vanish at the mission briefing.

He exploded. Right in front of me.

Six remembered the mist of blood that had sprayed the walls as Sammers spontaneously combusted. He remembered being blasted backwards, slipping, falling to the floor, shocked.

There was a small explosive charge in his backpack. I don't know who put it there.

He stared at Sammers' backpack. That explosive charge could be in there, right now. And Six couldn't stop it from going off – but he might be able to work out who planted it.

Six ran silently over to the pile of backpacks. He rummaged through until he found Sammers'. Unzipped it.

Inside there was a holy book, two pistols, and detailed schematics of both CVHQ and the bunker that had housed the warhead.

No bomb.

Impossible, Six thought. Then who –

I don't know who put it there.

Six looked down at the remaining lump of Semtex on his belt.

No way, he thought. It can't have been me. Can it?

Sammer's voice boomed throught the server farm. ‘Ninety minutes until ascenscion.'

I have too many lives on my conscience already, Six thought. But if I'm not the one who killed Sammers, and the bomb isn't in the pack yet, then there's somebody else in here. Someone with an unknown agenda. Someone who might want the warhead for themselves.