Urban Outlaws (10 page)

‘Right, stop. You’re at the door.’

Jack reached out his hand and his fingers touched the painted surface. Slowly, silently, he stood up. He turned the handle, praying it wouldn’t make a sound, and slipped into the hallway.

Gripping the edge of the door, he closed it again silently.

How long would the agents be groping around in the dark before they realised he wasn’t in there?

Running his fingers over the rough concrete wall of the hallway, Jack jogged towards the glowing exit sign.

•   •   •

It was only when he’d made it safely back to the bunker, and saw that everyone else was OK too, that Jack allowed himself to relax.

He nodded at Obi. ‘Thanks for getting me out of there.’

Obi had a triumphant look. ‘Told you Proteus was real.’

The others grinned at Jack. Well, all except Wren, who was sitting at the dining table with her arms crossed. She stared straight ahead and didn’t even acknowledge his return.

‘What’s wrong with her?’ Jack muttered as Charlie tossed him a can of lemonade.

Charlie looked over at Wren, then back. Keeping her voice low, she said, ‘She’s upset because you didn’t let her do anything on that last mission.’

Jack frowned. ‘There wasn’t anything for her to do. We didn’t need a decoy. I walked straight into their trap.’

‘I know you’re protecting her, Jack. I feel the same way but –’

‘I’m not protecting her.’

Charlie glanced over at Wren. ‘You need to give her more responsibility.’

‘She’s new. Hasn’t had any training. Anyway, she’s only ten years old.’

‘She’s clever.’

‘I know that,’ Jack said, feeling a little defensive. ‘She’s the one that came up with the idea of how to get Slink past the cameras. Still doesn’t mean I’ll have something for her to do every time we go on a mission. She played her part in the Richard Hardy one.’ He took a pull of the lemonade. It felt cold and sweet sliding down his throat, and eased some of the sting from Charlie’s comments.

‘Guys.’ Obi looked like he was about to wet his pants with impatience.

Jack and Charlie gathered around him.

‘What’ve you got?’ Jack said.

‘The link to Proteus.’ Obi clicked the trackerball and brought up a window filled with scrolling code.

‘That’s not processing very fast.’ Jack was expecting Proteus to outstrip anything he’d seen before. It had about the same computational capacity as a slug.

A drunken slug.

A drunken slug after having its brain removed. But he expected more from Proteus.

Jack sighed, unable to hide his disappointment.

‘What programming language is that?’ Charlie said, leaning forward. ‘Python?’

Jack leant in too. ‘Looks like a hybrid code. Python mixed with . . .’ He straightened up. ‘Nothing special.’ The disappointment was now sinking into his stomach. He walked over to the living area and dropped on to one of the sofas.

All that effort. For what?

They’d nearly got into a lot of trouble. Not to mention that Agent Connor guy now knew what Achilles and Pandora looked like. Jack thought about that. So what, if Connor could link Jack and Charlie’s hacker names to their faces? It didn’t matter. It made no difference – Connor still wouldn’t catch them. He didn’t know about the bunker.

‘Jack?’ Charlie beckoned him over.

He got to his feet and rejoined the group. ‘What?’

‘Look at this.’ Obi pointed at the screen. It showed a folder with three video files. Each had the name
Prof. J. Markov
, followed by a date and time.

‘What are those?’ Jack said.

‘I think they’re from the guy who designed Proteus,’ Obi said. ‘Some kind of diary.’

‘A what?’

‘Look.’ Obi clicked on the first video file dated 18 March, and a window opened.

A grey-haired man, his face drawn and lined, his skin pale, was staring straight at the camera. He had bags under his eyes and wore a pair of thin-rimmed glasses. He looked like he hadn’t slept in months. Behind him was Proteus, though it was in a different location. This room had smooth plastered walls painted pale yellow.

Obi hit Play and Professor Markov began to talk. His accent sounded either Russian or East European. It was hard to tell. ‘Despite my best efforts, Proteus remains stubborn. Refuses to operate anywhere near design parameters.’ He removed his glasses and glanced away.

Professor Markov had the look of a man who’d poured his soul into what he was doing, and wasn’t likely to ever get it back.

He slid his glasses back on, blinked a few times and looked at the screen again. ‘Our first task is to dismantle Proteus and check for design flaws.’ He reached to the keyboard and the video ended.

Jack gestured for Obi to play the next file. This one was dated 3 April.

The window opened and again Professor Markov was sitting in front of the camera. Though Jack would’ve said it was impossible, Professor Markov looked even more drawn. His skin seemed waxy under the harsh lights.

Professor Markov took a long, laboured breath. ‘I have dismantled and checked every millimetre of the Proteus machine and have found nothing that should cause this anomaly. I rechecked all key areas and have ascertained it is not a hardware problem. As a precaution, I also added extra shielding from electromagnetic interference.’ He looked past the camera for a moment, as if someone else was stood there watching him, then returned his attention to the camera. ‘So, my next task is to run through the algorithms. The only explanation left is there must be an error in the programming code.’ He looked up again and his eyes were vacant, as if drained of all life. Without another word, he leant forward and turned off the camera.

The last video file was dated 19 July.

Obi clicked the Play icon and, once again, Professor Markov’s image filled the display. ‘All lines of code have been independently verified. I have found no obvious flaws.’ He looked off camera, clenched his fist and – with what seemed to be a supreme effort of will power – said, ‘In conclusion –’ He looked at the camera, jaw tight, eyes narrowed. ‘In conclusion, I am forced to abandon the Proteus project.’

There was a clicking sound. The professor’s eyes snapped up, and a look of defiance swept across his face. ‘I have told you,’ he said, keeping his gaze locked on whoever was stood off camera. ‘We have exhausted all –’ His eyes went wide and his voice shook. ‘Let me go. I have done everything you asked of –’

The image went dark.

For a long while, no one spoke. Jack wasn’t sure what they had just witnessed. It looked like someone had threatened Markov. Had someone killed the professor? It seemed so unreal.

Finally, Obi said, ‘What do we do?’

What we should do is disconnect from Proteus and stay away
, Jack thought.
Never talk about it again. Move on.
But here it was again – that
need
to know what was going on.

He glanced at Charlie and, sure enough, she had the same look on her face.

Jack cleared his throat. ‘We need to see what the problem with Proteus is. We just need to be careful. There’s something not right about this.’

Obi quickly moved through the folders, searching for anything that would hint at what the problem with Proteus was. Eventually, he found what they were looking for, not in the files, but in the direct link to Proteus itself.

Every time Obi tried to send Proteus a simple command, he’d receive a nonsensical answer. Jack was right – a slug could way outperform this thing.

Charlie frowned. ‘It could be random interference.’

There was no sense to the returned data. It was like something external was messing with Proteus. But Professor Markov had said they’d increased the electromagnetic shielding around the computer. So, they could eliminate external interference like mobile phone or radio signals as the cause. What else could it be?

Obi found the files containing the design blueprints on Proteus’s hard drive and Charlie set to work. Jack hadn’t seen her so excited in months. She pored over the designs, working out what each component did.

Although she had to admit she didn’t understand it entirely, she said she admired the genius level of thought that had gone into the design. The workmanship. The
craft
.

After an hour scouring Proteus’s hard drives, looking for clues, Jack, Charlie and Obi were no closer.

Obi sat back. ‘This is stupid.’

‘What’s the matter?’ Jack said. ‘Proteus not living up to your expectations?’

‘It should work, Jack,’ Charlie said. ‘Well, as far as I can tell. I ain’t no genius or nothing.’

‘Jack is,’ Obi said. ‘Maybe he can work it out.’

Jack gave him a look.

‘I just don’t get it,’ Charlie said. ‘It seems like it’s interference that’s stopping Proteus from working, but it can’t be.’ She threw her hands up. ‘I don’t know what else to tell you.’

‘Can you isolate the interference?’ Jack said. ‘I want to see it.’

Obi opened a few windows and, a couple of minutes later, a live feed of the interference signal was scrolling down the screen.

Jack watched the screen for a long time and was about to give up when he spotted something. ‘Wait a minute,’ he breathed. He took the keyboard from Obi, brought up a dialog box, and started to write a new program.

Five minutes later, it was done. He typed
RUN
and the code started. He handed the keyboard back. Jack had written a program to turn the interference into something they could hear and they listened to a series of pops and squeaks coming from Obi’s computer speakers.

‘That’s the interference?’ Charlie said.

Jack nodded, closed his eyes and listened.

At first, it still sounded random but, after a few minutes, tones emerged, increasing and decreasing in pitch, accompanied by an assortment of whistles that reminded Jack of dolphins.

Deep beneath it all, something else was there too, faint, spaced a long way apart – a deep humming.

Jack’s eyes flew open. It was a multilayered code of some kind. Definitely
not
random. ‘Copy the code across to our servers,’ he said.

Obi muted the speakers and a few mouse-clicks later the download started. ‘Wow,’ he said, ‘it’s coming fast.’

‘Only stop when you have it all,’ Jack said. ‘I want to look at as much of it as possible.’

Obi shrugged. ‘Sure.’

‘What do you think it is?’ Charlie asked.

‘Time for some fun,’ Slink called. He dropped several custom made, hard-shell backpacks on to the dining table.

Wren looked curious. ‘What’s going on?’

He slid a backpack to her. ‘Your supplies, young lady,’ he said and bowed.

Wren looked curious. ‘For what?’

Slink’s eyes sparkled. ‘We’re going
rak
ing.’

‘What’s “raking”?’

‘You’ll see.’ Slink walked over to Charlie and handed a backpack to her, then held one out to Jack.

‘I’m not going.’ Jack glanced at the displays of code.

‘Yes you are,’ Slink said, shoving the backpack into Jack’s hands.

‘No I’m not. I want to figure this out.’

‘You’ve been looking at it too much,’ Slink said. ‘All work and no play –’

‘– makes
Jack
a dull boy,’ Charlie finished. She smiled. ‘He’s right, Jack, you need a break. Obi can stay and keep an eye on it.’

Jack let out a breath. ‘Fine. Whatever.’ He looked at Slink. ‘You’ve got the list of targets?’

Slink pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and held it up. ‘Of course.’

•   •   •

An hour later, Jack, Slink and Wren ducked behind a battered skip opposite a block of flats. They had their hoods and bandanas pulled up, and just their eyes showed.

They were almost invisible in the shadows.

Benning was a rundown council estate. Rubbish littered the streets and everything looked dirty and decayed. This was a part of London the mayor either didn’t know existed, or just chose to ignore. It wasn’t the kind of place you saw in tourist brochures.

‘What are we doing?’ Wren asked for the hundredth time since they’d left the bunker.

Slink put a finger to his lips. ‘I told you, “
rak
ing”.’

‘Yeah,’ Wren said, exasperated, ‘but what is it?’

‘Jack?’ a voice said in his ear. It was Charlie. She was hiding further up the street. ‘Target approaching.’

Jack looked up and sure enough, a woman with a pushchair walked around the corner. Jack guessed she was in her early twenties, though she looked a lot older. Her clothes were tatty and worn. She’d tied her hair back in an attempt to hide how matted and dirty it was. She walked with a limp, and was so thin she looked as though she’d snap in a light breeze.

She stopped outside her flat door and fumbled for her keys.