Spiral (5 page)

Protection, Natasha had said. Carter’s mouth was dry and he realised that she - and Spiral itself - understood him perfectly. No more killing. No more demolition. No more destruction ... Those days were over. Gone. Dissolved into dust, just like Cairo.

Protection.

The protection of the niece of a senior Spiral weapons researcher.

No killing ... no bombs ... no cool collective violence...

‘Talk to me,’ he said to the ECube. Instantly it locked onto his voice pattern and linked with a
click
to the Spiral mainframe...

Spiral Mainframe

Data log #887

CLASSIFIED FFUCH/111/SPECIAL INVESTIGATIONS UNIT

Data Request 117554#887

Count Feuchter; German professor, born in Schwalenberg, educated in Munich, London and Prague. Great-grandfather killed by the Nazis during World War II after being tortured somewhere on the German/Austrian border. Mother and two sons fled to Italy, then to England for protection after the war was over; Feuchter comes from this bloodline.

Expert in computing systems, specialising in processor function and artificial intelligence. Currently pioneering military processor after setting up Spiral_Q, with co-programmer and system developer, Durell. Spiral_Q - currently based in Rub al’Khali, Saudi Arabia, also named The Great Sandy Desert. The technologically advanced research station has been set up with the knowledge of the Saudi government in what is a largely completely unexplored region of desert; the Saudi government has been bribed with technology and information to turn a blind eye on the operations there, and no satellite locks have been discovered: the station is, therefore, invisible to most of the snooping eyes of the world.

QIII Military Proc - classified; Level Z access required.

Caution activation: Feuchter has been the victim of various death threats; suspect terrorist activity, probably Middle Eastern influences with sights set on the ‘rumoured’ processor which is in development. German Special Forces are involved with protecting Feuchter on home ground. One weak link could be his niece, daughter of his murdered brother; she travels with him everywhere and could be a target for kidnapping, even murder in order to blackmail Feuchter or garner information on the QIII.

Keyword SEARCH>>DURELL, QIII [lvlz], NEX [lvlz] SPIRAL_Q

Carter peered out through the smoked glass as the engines whined. He grinned like a young boy - unable to contain himself - as he felt the power of the machine beneath him wind up like a turbine.

The Sikorsky RAH-66 Comanche eased up from the snow, suspension bobbing as it was released from the aircraft’s dead weight, and Carter watched the Scottish mountains drop away beneath him. Exhilaration was his mistress and he licked his lips nervously - he hated flying, and yet drew some perverse pleasure from the stimulation such machines gave him. The pilot was ensconced in his HIDSS - a Helmet Integrated Display Sighting System -and looked somewhat alien as he eased forward and the twin 1380 shaft-horsepower LHTec turboshaft engines moaned like huge ferocious animals in pain.

‘Hey, Langan, you hear me in that ugly thing?’

‘I hear you, Carter.’

‘I thought these choppers weren’t in production yet?’

‘They’re not. Especially ones like
this.
It’s a MkIV.
Very
advanced.’

‘Is it fast?’

Carter was slammed back, heart in his mouth.

Stupid question, thought Carter as the engines finally returned to their ‘normal’ speed. His stomach churned and he regretted his fried breakfast. He made a mental note to keep his irrepressibly foolish questions to himself in the future.

‘You want to go over land, via the coastline or straight across the sea?’

‘Does it matter?’ said Carter.

‘Not to me.’

‘Down the coast, then.’

Carter settled back as the Comanche hummed, settled into stealth mode and cruised down the coastline of England. He ran through the ECube’s instructions once more: protection in support of German Special Forces agents. Not even a full job. A support job. Break him in gently; ease him back into the Spiral fold ... and then he would feel Kade’s wings curl around him to obscure the light and the killing would begin...

He shivered.

He remembered the probing of the little ECube machine with some annoyance. Spiral testing him: physical and mental responses. Check he was still the same. Check he hadn’t lost his magic touch.

‘I should have retired,’ he mused, settling deeper into the uncomfortable seat; it was structured for combat, not sleep. ‘In fact, I thought I already had.’

Carter managed to nod off as they flew low down the east coast of England, the cold dark waters of the North Sea below them as the Comanche weaved like a reigned-in predator between radar pulses and deflected the probings of other more sophisticated detection equipment. They left the southern coast of England, avoiding both Dover and Boulogne by flying straight down the centre of the English Channel as Carter remembered older, harder days, training in the mountains, running, sweating under packs, carrying logs, wading through snow, navigating blizzards ... He smiled amiably as the memories drifted through his mind. He had felt so heroic; at the peak of his physical and mental fitness. And yet it had been the beginning.

The beginning of a new career with Spiral...

‘Can I smoke?’

‘No.’

He slept, and dreamed only a little; it was a bad dream.

It was a dream about Kade.

‘Why won’t you leave me alone?’ he muttered as he came awake to the sound of rain and the buffeting of wind.

‘You OK?’ asked Langan.

Carter sighed. ‘Yeah. Sort of. Has this thing got a cigarette lighter?’

‘Like I said, no smoking, pal.’

‘Where are we?’

‘Just crossing the Ardennes. We won’t be long; touchdown will be just east of Siegen. Nice little pad we’ve got hidden away in the hills. A car will meet you and rush you off to whatever secret and heroic mission you’re destined to enjoy.’

‘Langan?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Shut the fuck up.’

‘OK, boss.’ The pilot grinned, flicked a switch and the Comanche swooped down from the sky towards the flat-lands beyond the mountain range. Carter watched the landscape flicker below him in the approaching gloom like some ridiculous computer-game simulation - and thanked God that this unwanted adrenalin-injected journey was nearly over.

‘I’d like to thank you for a smooth flight, but I won’t.’

‘Any time, pal,’ Langan chuckled.

Carter watched the Comanche leap into the air, bank sideways and hurtle into the distance. He shook his head, lit a cigarette and inhaled. His boots crunched stone as he walked to the black Mercedes and climbed in. In minutes the hills were moving past on either side and the car soon drove into the gloomy sanctuary of a pine forest.

Carter wound down the window and breathed in the pleasant scent. Rain spat through the gap and he revelled in the shocking coolness on his face. He saw himself imposed over the image of the speeding forest: Carter, reflected in glass - short brown hair, heavy stubble, pale blue eyes. A broad boxer’s nose that had taken one too many punches. A strong chin - he thrust it forward, then grinned weakly at his reflection.

Ugly bastard, he mused, and lit another cigarette, reminding himself that he really should quit.

The hotel was basic. Low-key. Cheap.

Carter unpacked, then spent a half-hour familiarising himself with the room and then with the hotel. He walked around, smoking, checking out entrances and exits. He sat for a while in the lobby, watching the people coming and going, and being eyed himself by the two hotel guards armed with 7.62mm AK49s. A waiter approached and asked him if he required a drink. In fluent German he asked for a bottle of whisky to be sent to his room and then shook his head, telling himself off.

You’ve one day left, he mused. The last thing you need is a hangover.

Ignoring his own advice, he went back to his room to listen to the rain, drink, and pray that Kade would leave him alone.

‘You’re drunk,’
whispered the voice of Kade in his mind.

Carter ignored the words and poured himself another whisky. It was a cheap blend and tasted burning, sour -evil, almost - on his tongue and in his throat.

‘Let me look at her. Just one more look at her.’

‘No,’ said Carter softly. His fist clenched the glass tightly and he looked across the room at the mirror. He always expected to see something - he wasn’t sure what. Maybe a spirit drifting over his head. Maybe a ghost standing behind his shoulder. But it was always the same ... nothing. Nothing there - no ghosts, no haunting, no floating spirits. He was alone - alone in body but not in soul...

Am I going crazy?

The same question. The same question a million times.

He laughed, and downed the whisky. He felt Kade leave him and was thankful - thankful for the peace and solitude. Kade came to him much less these days and that was the way he liked it. But again the thought nagged at him, would not relinquish its alcohol-fuelled grip: crazy man, mad man, insanity ... Schizophrenia? Severe mental disorder? A fucked-up mind fried on the toxins of three wars and a thousand battles—

Insane ...

‘You’re fucking insane,’ Roxi had shouted at him from across the room, fear in her face, in her eyes, in her stance. He could see her fingers trembling, could see the enticing pulse beating rapidly in her neck.

And he could still feel the bulky grip of the 9mm in his hand as he pointed it at her, a full 13-round clip in its magazine. And Kade: there in the back of his mind.
‘Kill her. She will betray you - betray us. And we shall be nothing. We shall be ashes and dust. Do it - or, if you’re such a fucking coward, let me do it...’

He had walked from the room, to the lake, and thrown the weapon into the cold waters.

He had let Roxi leave. Without a farewell.

But at least with her life.

She had known there was a problem - a needle in his mind, a splinter through his soul - and she had begged him to tell her. But he could not. How could he describe Kade in mere words? How could he define his torture, his misery - and, ironically, his
saviour -
in simple sentences?

Yeah, Kade - his Saviour. His fucking
God.

Carter laughed drunkenly at that and refilled his glass, spilling whisky over his hand. He could remember the shame: like a brand scarring his brain and soul. He had almost let Kade have her; had almost given in to the raging fucked-up beast-demon-murderer roaming his soul...

Shit, he realised, sometimes he had even welcomed that merciless unbidden intruder - at first: when he had discovered what Kade was capable of. He admitted to himself that without his dark twin he would now be dead, dead many times in bunkers, bullets in his skull, his corpse rotting on river beds and in sewers and lying in pieces on distant forgotten battlefields. Kade had saved his life, had pushed him on and murdered when Carter felt weakness and Kade was untroubled by fear or compassion or doubt or consequences and had
maimed
and
slain
and
slaughtered
on his fucking behalf and yet...

Carter couldn’t help wondering if he would rather be dead.

What is it like to be normal?

How would my life have been?

How would I have turned out?

He slept uneasily, images of the people that he -
Kade -
had murdered floating up from the depths of his mind. They accused him, fingers pointing, silent dead mouths open and screaming at him.

Spiral Memo 1

Transcript of recent news incident

CodeRed_Z;

unorthodox incident scan 545834

Outbreak of malicious computing activity across the globe/a malicious virus Kleq5 -so far undetected on even the most powerful computing systems - has hit global networks in quick succession, striking 15,000,000 machines within 30 seconds.

Not a single country in the world has remained unaffected - from America to France, from Africa to the Czech Republic. According to IT experts, the suspected virus detects sectors where operating systems reside and writes random blocks of data in short bursts, rendering any infected machine unusable.

Because of its highly contagious nature, the virus and sample hard disks are being rigorously examined by leading anti-virus software companies. It is estimated that this Kleq5 virus has caused upwards of US$4.3 billion damage.

Computing experts are fearful of a second payload which is expected shortly.>>#

T
he Mercedes swept past three burned-out BMW’s, through the heavy iron gates and up the gravel drive to park beside the black iron fountain. Carter pulled free his ECube, weighed it in his palm, then accessed five codes; the ECube flickered at him with blue digits. Carter smiled - the tiny technical wonder would make sure he was not overheard; it would jam or scramble any listening devices in range.

Carter got out, battered boots crunching on gravel, and lit a cigarette. He looked up at the home of Count Feuchter - Castle Schwalenberg, a magnificent structure of old stone dominated by a central tower with a grey-tiled spire. The windows were small, set back into the stone walls and flanked with traditional wooden shutters. Miraculously, the building seemed unharmed by the recent conflicts that had ravaged not just Germany but the whole of Europe. A few stray bullets from long-range rifles had peppered the shutters but no major damage had been done.