2041 Sanctuary (Dark Descent) (65 page)

♦

With Eric by her side, Jessica skimmed across the Stuttgart skyline on board the GMRC drone controlled by the hacker, Bic. In the moonless sky, the snow laden streets and buildings seemed picture perfect, the lights in and around them shining clear and bright. As far as the eye could see powdery white ice crystals created beautiful, smooth, mushroom-topped sculptures from otherwise mundane, lifeless drudgery. In the air, however, this idyllic setting was brutal, the bitter wind stealing away the breath of those travelling through it unprotected.

The craft banked left to avoid a tall tower block, making Jessica grimace when Eric’s weight threatened to break her hold on him. With her hands and face going numb, relief washed over her when the drone decreased its forward trajectory and flew down to hover over a single storey structure draped in a white cocoon of innumerable snowflakes. The turbine-esque rotor blades, channelling their concentrated vortices downwards, cleared a convenient path for Jessica to jump down onto. Eric, looking pale and weak, slid off the drone, barely keeping his feet as he settled next to her on the flat rooftop. No sooner had they disembarked than the drone’s blades spun up faster, launching it up and away, to disappear into the night.

Jessica, half-carrying Eric, guided them towards a rectangular structure which contained a door. Pulling her coat over her exposed hand, she pulled the metal handle down, a digital lock that had been showing a red light clicked to green and the door opened. They entered and closed the door behind them, then made their way down some stairs and into a cosy apartment. Heaters had pre-warmed the rooms to a degree over toasty. Jessica’s first responsibility was to dress Eric’s injury. A few hours later she’d managed to stitch his leg with supplies she’d found in a medical cabinet, before putting him to bed to rest. Whose home this was she had no clue, but it was currently unclaimed and right now she felt too tired to care. Sitting down on a comfortable sofa, she plopped the touchscreen onto her lap and closed her eyes.

♦

Jessica woke to a persistent vibration, unaware of how much time had passed. The portable computer had slipped from her lap as she slept and now lay next to her leg, the display flashing in time to its alert. Picking it up, she read a message from Bic.

We need to talk _

I wondered when you’d get back in touch
she wrote, before remembering she could speak into the screen. Selecting the button Eric had shown her previously, her expression turned angry. ‘I don’t appreciate being thrown to the wolves; those terrorists could have killed us both!’

I am sorry Jessica Klein. Truly. They were the only people willing and capable of taking you to Franz Veber _

‘I’m beginning to wonder whose side you’re really on.’

I am against the GMRC _

‘You called the GMRC!’

I had no choice _

On seeing those words she had an epiphany. ‘You alerted the GMRC to our presence at the library, didn’t you? There was no hidden programme on Eric’s system, it was you all along.’ Jessica waited for the response, her anger increasing with each passing moment.

Please don’t tell Eric. He will never forgive me _

And there it was; an instant confession. Jessica ground her teeth and looked heavenward. She’d been played this whole time. Returning her gaze to the screen, she spoke again. ‘I won’t tell him, but not for your sake. Has anything you’ve said been true? Was Martin really murdered? Was I really classed as a suicide risk? Are you even who you say you are?’

I am who I am. But you are right to question me, you were not deemed a suicide risk; but your old producer was killed _

‘Why? Why did you manipulate me?’

I need you Jessica Klein. You are my eyes and ears. You are my conduit to the people. I had to get you to go to Berlin and I then had to make sure you went to Stuttgart. You would not have listened otherwise _

‘I might have done and if you need me so badly you’re going the wrong way about earning my trust.’

The hacker didn’t reply and Jessica wondered if he’d logged off the system. His silence served to add fuel to the fire of her simmering fury at having been deceived. A minute later the screen pinged and a new message appeared.

Did you enjoy your visit to EUSB Deutschland?

‘Unbelievable,’ she muttered to herself, ‘Where? Oh, you mean the place you got me to visit under false pretences?

Your tone suggests you are still angry with me _

‘No shit, Sherlock.’

I have something which may cheer you up _

No sooner had she read Bic’s message than a picture materialised onto the screen, instantly altering her mood. Framed at the doorstep of a house she vaguely recognised was her husband, Evan, and peering out from behind him, the beautiful faces of her daughters, Victoria and Daniela. The photo fluctuated, the scene rewinding before beginning to move – it was footage from a TV camera, along with an audio track.

‘—and you don’t know where your wife is?’ someone was saying, a microphone thrust forwards under Evan’s nose, Victoria and Daniela no longer in the shot.

‘Not at this time,’ he said, ‘but she has reassured me she is completely innocent of the crimes attributed to her. My wife is the most honest, law abiding and hard working woman I know; the sheer notion of her taking money to slander the GMRC is preposterous. The video evidence has clearly been falsified in attempt to discredit her claims—’

Jessica watched, her heart soaring in pride and love for her husband as he defended her honour.
He must have decided to speak to the press to clear my name
, she realised.

‘I see,’ the reporter said, ‘but what do you say to the majority of people, and I class myself as one, who say that your wife’s claims about some kind of conspiracy are, quite frankly, absurd and her disappearance an affirmation of guilt?’

Jessica’s heart sank as Evan floundered on air against the biased interviewer. Near the end of the recording, her daughters came into view and Evan was quick to shepherd them back inside what she now saw was her in-laws’ house. The footage ended and Jessica received another message from Bic.

Your loved ones are safe and well _

His motives may be questionable, but a brief glimpse of her family had indeed tempered her mood, regardless of the continuing difficulties they faced.

‘Thank you,’ she said grudgingly. ‘As to EUSB Deutschland, it was an enlightening experience. I now know the truth.’

Tell me _

‘The world’s stockpiles of food and water are being transferred to colossal subterranean facilities all around the globe,’ she told him. ‘Franz says there are six in Europe alone and I find it hard to believe the Americans and Chinese haven’t done likewise. Everyone on the surface will be left to fight it out in a survival of the fittest, while below the lucky few will continue to live in relative safety until the dust cloud dissipates and the planet’s ecosystems return to normal.’

But do you know why? _

‘Because the fallout from the asteroid AG5 was worse than forecast or greater than they would have us believe.’

Good. You have done well _

‘So what happens now? You do a global hack and release your Playground software thingamajig and then I tell the world what’s really happening?’

It’s not as simple as that _

‘Why not?’

There is something missing. My computations don’t add up. This is not the whole truth _

‘What other truth could there be?’

I’m unsure. That is what is concerning me _

‘I thought you knew the whole truth?’ she said, infuriated.

I know one truth. Not all truths _

‘Oh, for f – heaven’s sake. This truth is enough; we need to tell people now, before it’s too late!’

No. We wait. The GMRC are gearing up for something, something soon, something big. I am close to finding out what. Since AG5 impacted even the GMRC are finding it difficult to keep information contained _

‘Can you at least help me contact my family? I need speak to my husband.’

You seek to warn him. I understand, but it is too risky, dangerous even. The GMRC will be watching them; even for me it would be impossible to instigate contact without them knowing _

Jessica’s thoughts were bitter. ‘So you say.’

I know you no longer trust me, but what I say is true _

‘So what’s with you and the GMRC anyway? When did you first realise something wasn’t quite right?’ she asked, changing the subject for her own sanity. ‘Franz said you’ve been working with him for ten years, he said you are extremely motivated and dedicated. That kind of commitment comes from somewhere.’

Bic didn’t reply at first, the cursor on the small screen blinking on and off as she waited for an answer; the screen bleeped and another message appeared.

I have always known something – as you put it – wasn’t quite right. As to my motivations, they are many but my goals are few _

As ever, Bic revealed no more than he wanted to, the hacker’s enigmatic persona remaining firmly intact.

‘So what do we do next? If you want to wait, how long for? I’m not hanging around indefinitely on your say so. I know enough to at least help my family.’

No. What you now know puts your family in far greater peril. The information you hold is something the GMRC will kill for to keep hidden. If they don’t already know of your involvement in Germany, it will only be a matter of time before they do. You have never been in as much danger as you are now _

‘Great, so I’ve got to stay here until you say otherwise? If you think that’s going to happen, you don’t know me at all.’

I know you better than you think Jessica Klein. Get some sleep. I have something for you to see in the morning _

‘Like what?’ she said, but the screen had gone dark, the power turned off remotely by Bic. ‘Wonderful.’ She slumped back in her chair in defeat. ‘Just wonderful.’

Chapter Forty Three

FBI Special Agent Brett Taylor held a cocked and loaded gun to her abductor’s head. Behind them, unconscious and tied up on the floor, lay his partner in crime; a man directly responsible for the murder of over fifty of Taylor’s colleagues and countless more police officers and civilians, a man she also knew as – father.

The aging man before her, sweat glistening on his bespectacled and bearded face, appeared to be in some kind of catatonic shock, having seen his picture and learned of a fifty million dollar reward for his capture on the news. Becoming the FBI’s most wanted could dampen anyone’s day.

‘Final chance,’ she told him between clenched teeth, pressing the gun harder against his head, ‘tell me what you know – now!’

The man focused on her, a look of defeat stealing across his features. ‘I cannot.’ He closed his eyes. ‘Do as you will.’

The hand holding the gun trembled and then shook as an internal battle raged within Taylor. The thirst for vengeance for her dead friends screamed at her to pull the trigger.
Pull it!
While her duty and training begged, pleaded with her not to.

‘Fuck!!’ She pointed the gun at the wooden ceiling and fired off three shots in sheer frustrated anger; the deafening noise in the enclosed quarters of the cellar made her ears ring. Unleashing a stream of curses, Taylor kicked the computer displaying the TV feed to the floor and walked away to lean against a wall. Hanging her head, her chest heaving, she sucked in great gulps of air to reduce the pent up tension and masses of adrenaline that now coursed through her veins.

Regaining some semblance of composure, she looked back to see the man she’d nearly killed watching her, his expression unfathomable. She knew with distressing certainty she’d been a hair’s breadth away from ending his life; far too close to a line she’d promised herself never to cross, the reason for such a promise lying only a few feet away, bound and still comatose .

Knowing the old-timer didn’t represent any physical threat, Taylor moved to the other side of the room to retrieve her handcuffs. Returning with them, she grabbed the man’s wrists and secured his hands behind his back, ratcheting the mechanism up nice and tight.

‘Brett,’ said a groggy voice, its familiarity freezing Taylor on the spot, ‘release me.’

Turning slowly in trepidation, her gaze inexorably came to rest upon those unforgiving, penetrating and disturbing ice-cold, blue eyes. Eyes she hadn’t seen since she was twelve years of age. Eyes that she’d hoped never to see again.

‘Release me,’ her father repeated, the ropes that held him creaking and groaning as he fought against them. Taylor’s hand went to the gun tucked in her belt, the security of cold steel comforting in its dense solidity as her fingers wrapped around the grip. Aiming the weapon at Samson, she felt an overwhelming compulsion to shoot.

‘Don’t do something you’ll regret,’ the old man said from behind her, ‘he’s still your father.’

‘Shut your mouth,’ she told him, but she lowered the pistol all the same. ‘You don’t deserve a quick death,’ she said to Samson. ‘Like your friend, you’ll be tried and then, God willing, your final days will be spent waiting for a lethal injection.’

Samson glared at her, one eye bleary and bloodshot from the blow she’d dealt to his head. ‘You’re making a mistake,’ he slurred, still clearly concussed, ‘your life – in danger.’