2041 Sanctuary (Genesis) (37 page)

He paused in the quiet, waiting for someone to greet him. When no such occurrence came, he moved forward across polished tiles to approach the central feature: a twenty foot wide circular emblem wrought from precious metals; the great seal of Sanctuary.

Disorientated, he gazed around at semi-translucent walls wreathed in subtle carvings. He’d always thought it apt that the architects had decided to build humanity’s greatest structure with an Anakim tower at its centre, but due to the timeless grandeur and sheer enormity of the interior Joiner experienced a familiar sense of irrelevance, a sense that his very existence was as of much consequence as a flea to a dog.

When he’d last been summoned to experience the rarefied air of this most exclusive of inner sanctums, it was to be informed of the mission to come, a mission to secure an Anakim artefact capable of activating long-dormant technology. How that mission fared he didn’t know. Communication links with Samson’s expedition had been severed. For all he knew Sarah Morgan had been captured and the pendant device secured, although considering his recent run of luck, he realised such an assumption was just a desperate attempt by his mind to cling to some faint hope of redemption. The thought soured his mood even further, if that were possible, and he stood staring up at the internal aspect of the tower’s spire, which soared into blue skies above.

He frowned.
Blue skies?

Before he had a chance to pursue that thought, a whisper of sound drew his attention to a pair of dark, red doors that swung open on the far side of the antechamber, their gleaming, metallic sheen reflecting the radiance from above in a glittering cascade.

Joiner waited for someone to appear, but the entrance remained absent of movement.

As he wondered whether he should go through, the sound of footsteps approaching from behind made him turn to see the tall figure of a woman emerging from one of the many hallways that converged on the atrium.

The clip-clop of heel strikes echoed closer and Selene Dubois, the Committee member who’d been the source of all his problems, swept past without a hint of acknowledgement.

‘This way,
Intelligence Director
,’ she said over her shoulder as she continued walking.

Joiner noted the condescending tone she directed at his title and he stifled a cutting retort before following her toward the double doors.

Selene Dubois glided into the room beyond and Joiner increased his pace as the doors inched closed behind her. A moment later the entrance sealed shut with an audible boom, leaving the atrium empty once more save for the glimmering light of the Anakim skies above.

Chapter Sixty Seven

Joiner stared in trepidation at the immense hall laid out before him. On the furthest wall a magnificent frieze constructed of a weathered, pewter-like metal dominated the backdrop, its three-dimensional figures and strange design attesting to its non-human creators. Overhead, the internal aspect of the Anakim tower soared into infinity, its great spire angling to a distant point. Joiner couldn’t help but notice once again the strange vision of natural skies beyond its translucent gleam.

He continued walking forward, his vision drawn back down to the horizontal, the hall and the individuals seated within. Eight people – six men and two women – considered him from their position at a large, semi-circular table located on a raised dais at the centre of an otherwise empty expanse.

As he approached this daunting vision, Joiner realised he’d never seen so many Committee members in one place and when Selene finally joined their number, taking her seat at one end, eight became nine and he knew he was facing the power elite, the top echelon of the secretive organisation known only as the Committee.

Joiner moved to face the select panel, ensconced as they were in their position of elevation. Each wore plain, identical attire, the women, tailored white gowns, and the men, jet-black suits, red shirts and white ties.

One of the men got to his feet. ‘Malcolm Joiner,’ he said, ‘you have been a valuable asset to the Committee over many years, your service exemplary, and yet you find yourself here today under evaluation.’ He gestured with his hand. ‘Please, be seated and we shall begin.’

Still smarting, physically and mentally, from the knockout blow delivered by General Stevens, Joiner glanced round to see a single chair and took his position as directed.
How long was I out?
he wondered.
Minutes, hours … days?
His mind felt foggy and slow, as if he’d been drugged, and his vision blurred out of focus.
What was in that pill?!
He shifted in his seat in discomfort and concentrated on the people before him.
Now is not the time for weakness
, he told himself,
or has my incapacitation been engineered to induce just that?

The man who’d spoken sat back down and flicked through a paper document. ‘Tell us, Intelligence Director,’ he said, glancing up at Joiner, ‘in your own words, how is it that Professor Steiner still lives?’

Joiner suppressed the temptation to remove his glasses and rub his eyes; instead he sat up straighter and focused his attention on the speaker. ‘My—’ his voice broke and he cleared his throat. ‘My team had the matter well in hand before an outside intervention derailed its efforts.’

‘You refer to the cyber terrorist?’ a woman said. ‘The one known as “
Because I Can
”?’

Joiner nodded. ‘Yes, the hacker B.I.C.,
Da Muss Ich
.’

‘So,’ the man continued, ‘one man
derailed
the efforts of the GMRC’s entire Intelligence Division, a multi-trillion dollar organisation with near limitless resources?’

Joiner could see how this was going to play out. He’d long since mastered the art of dragging subordinates over hot coals and more often than not he’d left them there to burn. Such a review could go one of three ways. One, an admission of responsibility and full capitulation, also known as falling on your own sword. Two, a robust and unending defence resulting in humiliation and a loss of control; or three, the high risk strategy of an uncompromising, full blooded attack.

Of course
, Joiner thought,
there is always a fourth option, an amalgamation of all of the above
. ‘Regardless of the size of an organisation and its relative resources,’ he said, ‘unexpected events will always occur. I react as required. If you’d have given me more time—’

‘More time?’ The woman shook her head in disbelief. ‘Time was something you had plenty of, Director, along with ample opportunity.’

‘Forgive me,’ Joiner said, ‘I don’t know your name …’

The woman frowned at his tone and stared at him over the tops of her glasses.

‘You must have been well aware of the situation,’ Joiner said, unfazed. ‘Steiner was the Director General of the GMRC’s most powerful division and a singular force on the Directorate.’

‘Your point being?’ the woman said.

‘My point being he was also secured in a maximum security prison awaiting the death penalty. If you wanted him out of the way so badly, perhaps you should have utilised your own resources to hasten the process.’

‘If you refer to S.I.L.V.E.R.,’ she said, ‘they were engaged in other tasks. If we’d have known you intended to wait for the Director General to succumb to the natural course we would have intervened. But you forget yourself, Director; it is not our performance that is under review.’

Joiner felt his mind clearing as Selene Dubois raised her hand to beckon someone forward.

A man dressed in a plain grey suit approached her position. He passed her a portable screen and they exchanged a few words before he left her side and walked over to where Joiner sat.

‘Could you hold out your left arm, please, Director.’

Joiner studied the man before looking at Selene Dubois with suspicion.

‘Dr. Laurent is here to facilitate your evaluation,’ she said. ‘He was also responsible for your care during your … incapacity.’

‘You are in good physical health,’ the doctor said. ‘Now we need to know if you’re of sound mind.’

Joiner knew he had little option, so he raised his arm to enable the doctor to carry out his work.

Dr. Laurent tugged the sleeve of Joiner’s jacket up his arm, undid the cuff, and rolled back his shirtsleeve, before attaching a long flexible metal collar around his forearm. He then withdrew a wire from the instrument and secured it to a round patch, which he placed on Joiner’s left temple, a patch similar to the one Joiner had removed back in his place of enforced convalescence.

When he’d finished, the doctor fixed the apparatus to the arm of Joiner’s chair and activated a small screen on the metal device before retreating to one side.

Joiner looked down at the display to see a number of oscillating figures and a set of bars that rose and fell, much like a graphic equaliser on an audio system.

‘Don’t be alarmed, Director,’ the man on the Committee said, ‘we just need to be sure of your continued mental health, and that also means we need to know where your allegiance lies if you are to continue to be of use to us.’

Joiner’s pulse quickened. ‘I thought you said it was to determine mental acuity?’

‘That as well,’ Selene said, ‘that as well.’

Joiner thought he glimpsed a glimmer of satisfaction on her face and he recalled what the nurse had told him about the pill.
It will help keep your mind your own
.

Perhaps this device does more than find the truth in my words
, he thought,
perhaps it’s designed to make the Committee’s desires my own
.

The notion that they might be trying to rewrite his mind, to control his very being and sense of self, made him want to wrench the contraption from his wrist, but he fought down the desire with an iron will.
You have contingencies for this
, he told himself,
relax
.
If they do manage to insert something into your subconscious, Debden and Myers are trained to notice the signs
.
Except Debden is dead and Myers is … I don’t even know if he lives
, he realised.
In any case, I can never rely on him again
.
Who else could conclude I’d become a security breach?
He wasn’t due another psychological review for months; Debden had rearranged his schedule and asked if the mandatory tests could be pushed back due to his heavy workload. Something connected in his mind. Two and two became four and Joiner realised why Debden was dead.
He was my leak! And they killed him for it. He’d served his purpose and that was his reward.
Joiner had seen it happen before, and on occasion he’d even been the one to implement it on the Committee’s behalf.

‘So,’ Selene said, ‘let’s start again, shall we? Tell us, Intelligence Director,’ – she pressed a button on her screen – ‘in your own words, how is it that Professor Steiner still lives?’

Joiner glanced down at the readout on his wrist and realised the first question was a control to test his baselines. Now came the real test.

‘As I said before, my team had the matter in hand before the hacker intervened.’

‘So the failure was not due to any desire on your part to see the professor live?’

‘No.’

‘And you are not working with Professor Steiner?’ the man said.

‘No, of course not.’

‘And your goals are aligned with the Committee’s?’

‘Of course.’

The graphics on the device inched higher, turning from blue to red.

‘Answer yes or no, Director,’ Selene said.

‘Yes.’ Joiner felt the device on his arm tighten and a tingle of pain bit into his temple.

Selene exchanged hushed words with the member next to her, while Joiner began to fear the worst. Even if the pill ensured his will was his own, it didn’t seem to be able to trick the device into believing he was telling the truth.

The device on his arm eased and the fluctuating bars on its display dropped back down to their previous levels.

‘On a scale of one to ten,’ Selene said, ‘where ten is very high and one is very low, how optimistic are you that the expeditions will locate Ms. Morgan and retrieve the stolen Anakim artefacts?’

Joiner tensed as the graphics on the device crept higher.

‘Answer the question, please, Director,’ one of the men said.

Joiner switched his gaze back to the Committee. ‘The communication link with Colonel Samson’s force was lost; we have no way of knowing the outcome of their efforts until the second expedition reinitiate contact.’

‘If you seek to evade every question, Director,’ Selene said, ‘we are all going to be here for a very long time. We require a one word answer, is that so difficult to understand? I repeat, on a scale of one to ten, where ten is very high and one is very low, how optimistic are you that the expeditions will locate Sarah Morgan and retrieve the stolen Anakim artefacts?’

‘On a scale of one to ten? I would say … seven.’

Miniature motors whirred to life. The device on his arm squeezed tight and another tingle of pain lanced into his temple.

‘Would you care to answer again?’ Selene said.

‘If S.I.L.V.E.R. were in charge, then I’d downgrade that to four.’

The metal band constricted further and Joiner suppressed a gasp of pain.

Selene raised an eyebrow. ‘Director?’

Joiner gritted his teeth. ‘Three if Samson leads, two if Nexus does.’

The pressure reduced and Selene noted something down on her screen.

‘I’d point out,’ Joiner said, ‘that I voiced my concerns over the success of the mission at the outset, and installing Samson ahead of Nexus was only done to ensure the best possible outcome for all involved.’

No one on the Committee responded and Joiner felt his anger swell.

‘Malcolm Joiner,’ said one of the men who’d not previously spoken, ‘can you tell us why you saw fit to shoot one of your intelligence agents at near point-blank range?’

Joiner pondered the question, desperately seeking a way to answer truthfully, while at the same time not revealing the real reason for his actions. ‘Agent Myers was a potential threat to GMRC security; when I disarmed him I was forced to act in order to prevent further conflict.’