Bionic Agent (5 page)

And that was it. Jordan would have to be patient.

Jordan curled his lip as he looked at the computer monitor. It was showing a movie of a singing nun surrounded by little kids halfway up a mountain. “What’s
that?” he cried.

“A clip from
The Sound of Music
,” Angel said with a smirk.

“The what?”

“It’s a film. My grandma’s favourite. Things were different back then. What were you trying to get?”

Jordan sighed. “Music. But not that sort.”

“You’re nearly there,” Angel said. “You thought about the sound of music and you got
The Sound of Music
.”

“Yeah, but...”

“Try something else.” Angel tapped the computer and said, “In here, I’ve got a file on someone called Henry Quickfall. It’s like his police record. See if you can
get it up on screen.”

Jordan didn’t need a keypad to log on to the computer. He was in wireless contact with Unit Red’s network through his latest brain implant. It was called a brain/computer interface
or BCI. He’d already learned to think his password into the system. Then the network’s resources were his. To get precisely what he wanted, thinking the right thoughts should have been
as good as typing a phrase into a search engine. But it wasn’t easy.

He concentrated on the name.
Henry Quickfall
. The screen switched to a page posted by Wiltshire County Council. It celebrated the fact that Henry Quickfall had been voted the Cleaner of
the Year for two years in succession.

“Is that him?” Jordan asked.

Angel smiled broadly. “No. The Henry Quickfall I know wouldn’t win any awards.”

“What’s he done?”

“He’s a militant campaigner. And he lives in Southend, not Wiltshire.”

Jordan tried again.
Henry Quickfall. Campaigner. Southend-on-Sea
.

The screen went blank. Two irrelevant images flashed up, too fast to take in. Then Unit Red’s file on Henry Quickfall appeared. Like magic.

“There. I knew you could do it,” Angel told him.

Jordan was too pleased with his achievement to take in the information on screen. For him, it was enough that he could access it. But he did notice that Quickfall was listed as an animal rights
activist and environmental protester. One word caught his eye because it was in capital letters: POPE.

“It’s clever, but...”

“What?”

Jordan said, “It’s great that I can get online wherever I go but, unless I’m in front of a monitor, I can’t see what I’ve logged on to.”

Angel nodded. “I’ve got my computer people working on that. You know the cameras in your eyes send what they see into your optic nerve via the electrodes at the back of your eyes?
Well, when your BCI receives information from the computer, we’re working on feeding that to the same electrodes so it’ll go into your optic nerve as well. You’ll be able to see
the pages as if the screen was right in front of you.”

“Wow!” There were advantages to having probes inserted through the skull. An online brain was one enhancement that any school kid would wish to have. It would make exams a whole lot
easier.

Education was different for Jordan. It was nothing like the schooling of Ben Smith – and every other fourteen-year-old. Ben hadn’t been great at schoolwork. He
hadn’t had learning difficulties or dyslexia. It was just that he’d had better things to do, like music, tennis and hanging out with friends. Now, Jordan didn’t go to school. In a
way, school came to him within Unit Red. And his lessons didn’t follow any known curriculum.

Jordan’s tutor stopped his explanation of the Counter-Terrorism Act in mid-flow and put a hand to the side of his head. After a few seconds of listening to the voice in his earpiece, he
said, “That’s all for today. Angel wants you in the bunker.”

Jordan was pleased to get out of the rest of the day’s lessons. He stood by the sliding doors and thought about reaching out with his right arm, extending his forefinger and pushing the
centre of the button to call the lift. In an instant, his arm came up and his fingertip touched the button with pinpoint accuracy.

Within a few seconds, the doors opened and he went inside. At once, the cage plunged downwards. He could hear the steel cables slithering over pulleys. He could smell the warm oil that smoothed
the motion. The distant scrabbling noise might have been a rat at the bottom of the lift shaft. Jordan turned down both the volume of his hearing and his sense of smell with a couple of thoughts.
It had taken months and months of training to master his brain implants. Adjusting the power of his damaged sight, hearing and sense of smell wasn’t yet as easy and natural as standing up and
walking, but he was now in control of his unique body.

Angel was sitting at his desk, phone on one side, laptop on the other. That was probably all he needed. If someone brought him food and drink, he could probably stay in the bunker for ever.

Standing to his left was a woman Jordan had seen in the house before. With short startling blonde hair and a fantastic figure, she was hard to ignore.

Angel stood up when Jordan came in and, for the first time, offered his right hand.

Jordan looked into his face.

“Yes. Come on. Shake hands,” said Angel. “I trust you.”

It was a significant moment. There was a time when Jordan would have crushed a real hand completely. He still could if he wanted to. But he had learned to control the strength of his arm using
feedback from its pressure-sensitive artificial skin. He thought about it carefully, reached out and clasped Angel’s delicate hand with perfect pressure, and then released his grip.

Angel smiled and introduced the woman. “This is Winter.”

She stepped forward and also shook his robotic hand without a trace of nervousness. “How you doing?”

“Better than before.”

Angel waved him towards a chair. “Sit yourself down. Do you know what day it is?”

Jordan nodded. “It’s my birthday, in a way. I was born – sort of – exactly a year ago. New life, new name, new bits and pieces.”

Angel chuckled. “You’re big for a one-year-old. Very impressive. As I’ve said before, you’re incredibly lucky to be alive. But you’ve done really well. You put up
with all the operations and learned to manage all your enhancements. It hasn’t been easy, I know. For one thing, it shows you’ve got a tremendous thirst for life. That’s
good.”

Jordan was wondering why Angel was giving him a lecture that he’d heard many times before.

“We’re entering a new phase,” Angel continued. “It’s when you pay back the effort and money that’s gone into giving you extra time. Let’s face it.
We’ve invested very heavily in getting you this far.”

Knowing what was coming, Jordan nodded.

“A while ago, you asked me what Unit Red’s got to do with you. I imagine you know perfectly well. Have you got your terahertz vision switched on?”

“No.”

“To be honest,” he said, glancing at Winter, “it’s quite unsettling, knowing you can see through our clothes whenever you want to. But why did we give you it? Not because
it’s every schoolboy’s dream, that’s for sure. It’s so you can spot a concealed weapon at a glance. Your other wavelengths help in all sorts of ways, like seeing in the
dark.”

“But I’m not a spy.”

“You’re from a police family. Getting bad people off the streets is in your genes.”

“I’m fourteen!”

“Mmm. That’s one of the advantages.”

“How do you mean?”

“You don’t look like an agent.” Angel smiled at him. “But you are. It’s right there on your ID card. It’s a piece of plastic like any ID, but its number makes
it exceptional. The first four digits are the same as mine and Winter’s – and everyone else’s in Unit Red. It’s a code known only to us, the secret services and the police.
Don’t get me wrong. The police don’t know anything about us and how we work. They just know they mustn’t ask questions when they see that code.”

“But...” Jordan took a deep breath. “I think you’re mistaking me for some sort of hero.”

Angel disagreed. “Not all heroes look like Superman, you know. They come in all shapes and sizes. I reckon I’m pretty good at recognizing them. It’s little things – like
not giving up when the rest of the world has thrown the towel in.” He leaned forward on his desk. “What’s the downside? I’ll tell you. You can never contact your old friends
or relatives. They know Ben Smith’s dead.” He reached into a drawer, extracted a state-of-the-art mobile phone and handed it to Jordan. “It’s yours. I’m sure you
won’t call anyone you shouldn’t.” There was an edge to his tone as he stressed the word
sure
. “But what’s the upside? A new, powerful life that a lot of people
would envy. Winter here will be your handler and backup. She’ll provide all the guidance and support you need. You can trust her totally.”

Trust, Jordan thought, was earned and not stated as a fact. That was one of his mum’s many mottos. He shook his head.

“Don’t underestimate the feel-good factor,” Angel continued, “of going after bad guys, working for truth and justice.”

Jordan could see the point, but he was still wary. “Sounds dangerous.”

Angel smiled. “You’re equipped to handle it. And we’ll fit you with more enhancements as soon as they’re developed.”

Seeing an opportunity to get what he wanted, Jordan asked, “If I...you know...become an agent, does it mean I can find out who did this to me?”

“Investigate the Thames explosion?”

Jordan nodded.

Angel took a deep breath. “The police never found out who did it. They tried hard, but...” He shrugged. “It’s a tough case and you’re too emotionally involved. So,
the answer’s no.”

Jordan stood his ground. “My answer’s no as well, then.”

Angel stared at him for several seconds. “Are you really saying you’ll join Unit Red only if I give you the estuary explosion case?”

Surprising himself with his strength of will, he replied, “Yes, I am.”

Again, Angel lapsed into silence. Then he sighed. “It’s against my better judgement but...”

Jordan’s eyes opened wider. “I can go after whoever blew me up?”

Angel nodded reluctantly. “The police investigated it for a year and failed. Now, it’s landed in my lap. I’ve got to delegate it to someone. I didn’t want it to be you,
but you’ve forced my hand. So, yes, it’s your first mission. At least you’ve got a good reason to succeed. You’ll need more training and plenty of briefings from Winter.
You’ll have to pass some tough tests. But then you can go out there and catch him.”

“Him?”

“I mean him or her. Or them. It could have been a group action.”

Jordan realized that Ben Smith had spent too long sitting and learning in school, and not enough time doing things that made an impact. That was because Ben thought he had plenty of time. But
Jordan knew that life could be snatched away in a moment. To make the most of his extra time, he had to live fast. He imagined a Unit Red agent would never be short of action. But the most
important thing was the desire for truth and justice.

The teams of officers that had worked on the case of the Thames Estuary explosion were not even sure what they’d been investigating. It could have been the work of a
crook. It could have been terrorism. It could have been something else, but it probably wasn’t an accident. A year after the
Richard Montgomery
blew up, their investigation had
stalled. Needing a fresh approach, it was handed over to a boy who died in the massacre and who was reborn as Jordan Stryker.

The novice agent sat quietly in the white Audi as Winter drove at speed towards Medway. No one in Lower Stoke would recognize Jordan when they got there. The passing of a year and the effects of
medical reconstruction would take care of that. Jordan hardly recognized himself. He imagined walking up to Amy Goss and watching her face. Zilch. Completely blank. Not a tiny spark of recognition.
Besides, she’d believe that he’d died. She might even have gone to his funeral.

Everyone in the affected areas of Kent and Essex had been placed in one of four categories:
Unhurt
,
Injured
,
Deceased
, or
Missing
. Unlike Ben Smith, Amy wasn’t
listed among the dead. When Jordan had checked, he’d found her name under
Unhurt
. But would he dare to go up to her? Angel had made him promise that he wouldn’t get in touch with
anyone who knew Ben Smith. Even so, he longed to see Amy and make friends all over again as Jordan Stryker. But he wasn’t convinced that he was a good enough actor to pretend he didn’t
know her. Maybe there would be a giveaway spark of recognition on his face. Anyway, she would have moved on. She would have new friends. Maybe a boyfriend.

Angel had called Jordan special, but he longed to be normal. It wasn’t possible. Jordan would never be normal again. He had agreed to become a Unit Red agent and a guinea pig for modern
medical technology. His body would be upgraded whenever there were other useful enhancements. And he would use his advanced body and brain to tackle tricky cases and untouchable villains. Starting
with the Thames Estuary bomber.

Jordan was determined to unearth the culprit. He wanted to come face-to-face with the person responsible and ask one simple question.
Why?
He needed to know what was worth so much loss of
life and his own pain. Then...Jordan wasn’t sure. Would handing the bomber over to the police satisfy him? Would he want to go further? In his right arm he had the power to snuff out a life.
But could he kill someone he hated? Was his thirst for revenge as strong as his thirst for survival? He didn’t know himself well enough. Ben Smith wasn’t built like that, but Jordan
Stryker was still a mystery. Really, he was a blank slate, waiting for life in Unit Red to define him.

He was sure about one thing, though. He wished that the bomber could go through the same pain and suffering as he had. That appealed to his sense of natural justice.

On cue, Winter said, “I suggest we give the bomber – or bombers – a name. It’ll make it easier to talk about him or her...or them.” She paused while she thought.
“Red Devil. The
Red
being short for river estuary destroyer. Okay?”