Cyber Terror (15 page)

“We’re tracking your GPS signal here,” Angel told him. “I don’t have backup in the area, so it’s up to you.”

“The signs say the A14’s just up here.”

“He’d be a fool to go on that. He’ll never outrun you on a dual carriageway. The Jag’s too powerful.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know I’m behind him,” Jordan replied.

“Thinking about it, maybe he does and he wants you on a fast road. If he’s Short Circuit, he’s controlled the Jag before. Maybe he’s expecting to do it again. He wants
you tearing down the road so he can make you swerve and cause an accident.”

Jordan swallowed. “Are you sure he can’t?”

“All the car’s main controlling systems are new. He might be able to flash your lights, start your wipers or whatever, but nothing important.”

Raven’s voice broke into the conversation. “You’re safe. What can he do to you while he’s driving?”

Going past the entrance to the Science Park, Jordan peered ahead and said, “He’s pulled over to the right.” Jordan eased into the same lane, three cars behind him, and followed
him around the giant traffic island. “Yes,” Jordan announced, “it’s the A14 east.”

“Good,” Angel replied. “You can catch him whenever you want.”

“Then what?” Jordan asked.

“Let’s see what develops. First, get behind him. Not too close, though. Don’t make yourself too obvious.”

Checking his mirror, Jordan joined the main carriageway and accelerated. As he closed in on the Nissan, he was well aware that there were several microprocessors inside him that Short Circuit
could probably disrupt. But, even if Eli Kennington was Short Circuit, he couldn’t possibly know that Jordan was enhanced. Until they stopped driving and came face-to-face, Jordan had no
reason to fear an electronic assault on his body.

Was he really so close to Short Circuit? Was that who he was chasing along the A14 towards Bury? When Kennington had seen the Jag outside his house, he’d taken off at speed and that made
him look guilty. But Jordan wasn’t convinced by a mere impression. After all, Dipak Hardikar had also tried to get away from him, when he’d left WT Gaming and Programming in a panic,
but it wasn’t because Dipak was Short Circuit. Perhaps there was some other reason why Eli Kennington had fled. Having once been investigated, convicted and imprisoned, maybe he was simply
nervous.

Overtaking a lorry effortlessly, Jordan could see that there was only one car separating him from the blue Nissan. He didn’t want to make it plain that he was tailing Kennington. Deciding
he was close enough, he eased off the accelerator and matched the Nissan’s speed.

After only five kilometres, Kennington swung his car on to a slip road at the last moment. Jordan barely had time to report the unexpected lurch to the left before doing the same himself.
“Taking next junction. A1303.”

The slip road led to another large traffic island. The Nissan hardly slowed at the give way sign but Jordan had to wait for three cars. “Left goes to Newmarket,” he told Angel and
Raven. “Right goes back to Cambridge. That’s the one he’s taken.”

There was a moment’s pause before Angel’s voice said, “Probably means he’s rumbled you. He’s playing games. Maybe trying to throw you off his scent. I bet he takes
a few turns as soon as he’s out of your sight.”

Jordan took off across the roundabout, streaked round the bends and onto the Cambridge road. As soon as it straightened, he let out a groan. There was no sign of the Nissan ahead.
“You’re right,” Jordan said as he pulled onto the verge. “He’s gone.”

He opened the driver’s window and listened carefully. He could hear the constant drone of speeding cars on the main road but, as well as that, he could just make out an idling engine
nearby. He got out of the Jaguar and turned his neck from side to side, pinpointing the sound. It was somewhere in front of him and to the left.

Walking down the road, the rumbling grew louder in his enhanced hearing. Smiling now, he moved towards a gap in the hedgerow. It was a dirt track leading into flat farmland. As soon as he
ventured into the field, an engine roared on his right. Kennington had hidden his car behind the high hedge. Before Jordan could dive out of the way, Kennington accelerated. The bumper took his
legs from under him and scooped him up. The car spun back towards the road and Jordan rolled off the bonnet. He landed with a heavy thud on the damp earth.

The Nissan didn’t speed away immediately. Eli Kennington opened his window and looked back. With an expression of surprise and intrigue on his face, he gazed in particular at the robotic
fingers of Jordan’s right hand which were twitching unnaturally. Then, without a word, he put his foot down and returned to the A14 roundabout.

Jordan regained control over his arm, but the pain in both of his legs stopped him getting to his feet immediately and rushing to the XJ. He managed only to stagger to the edge of the road and
watch Eli Kennington drive straight on at the traffic island, away from Cambridge and towards Newmarket.

“If he’s Short Circuit,” Jordan said into his phone, as he limped across the electronic cavern that was Eli Kennington’s living room,
“there’s going to be a note here somewhere – maybe on a computer – of everyone who put him in prison. I’m after his hit list.”

“And it’s important to get it if it’s there,” Kate replied, “but, first, what if he comes back?”

“I’ve scared him off for now. He went in the opposite direction,” said Jordan.

“All right. But are you okay?”

“Sure. I don’t think I’d be walking – well, hobbling around – if I’d broken something. I’m just bruised.”

There was a delay before Kate replied, “Angel wants to talk to you.”

Jordan waited.

Then Angel’s voice sounded in his ear. “Have you parked your car right outside again?”

“No. It’s round the corner, out of sight.”

“I don’t think it’ll be long before he heads for home,” said Angel. “I’ve been looking into his records. Very illuminating.”

“Like?”

“I haven’t got anything up-to-date. He hasn’t been to see a doctor in ages, but his medical history is fascinating. He’s got Asperger’s syndrome. Quite severe, in a
way.” Angel took a breath. “In a nutshell, he’s highly intelligent, socially inept and unaware of other people’s feelings. He has great difficulty in sleeping and he pursues
narrow interests single-mindedly – to the exclusion of everything else. It’s not a great surprise that his main enjoyment is computers and electronic gadgets.”

Jordan leaned against the table to ease his aching legs.

“His psychologist’s assessments and recordings are enlightening as well.” Angel was clearly reading as he continued, “He doesn’t seek, initiate or develop
friendships or share his interests or achievements because of failed social encounters in childhood.”

Jordan interrupted. “That’s sad.”

“It fits with Short Circuit’s threat to target everyone as well. Kennington doesn’t engage with society so he’d be happy to destroy it. His mother said he used to scream
until he went purple when he was a baby. She’d never seen such rage. There are some recordings of him when he was nine. I was so struck by this one, I remember every word. ‘When I get
stressed comes the anger. You have to understand, Asperger’s amplifies any emotion, making it ten times better or worse. Happy Asperger’s children laugh all the time. With me,
it’s anger. I go well past angry. I get totally furious. It consumes me. All I can see is darkness, and when it’s gone, I’ve wrecked something.’ And, yes, that came from the
lips of a nine-year-old.”

Jordan could still picture Kennington’s innocent-looking face, gazing at him as he lay hurt on the farm track. There was no sympathy in his expression. There was only curiosity. Jordan
asked Angel, “So, what makes you think he’s on his way back here?”

“Where else would he go? He’s a creature of habit, Jordan. He can’t cope with change. He’ll return and he’ll be upset – very upset.”

“You mean he’ll be angry.”

“He could be totally furious.”

“Are you saying I’ve got to get out?”

“Yes and no.” Angel explained, “It’s dangerous, but we need his hit list if he’s got one.”

“If he’s Short Circuit,” Jordan stressed.

“There’s not much doubt about that now. But unfortunately you could be wasting your time. He might not have a written list at all. He’s an obsessive. People like that amass
information in their heads.”

Jordan was surprised by the idea. “That’s a lot of stuff he’d have to remember. Like Paige Ottaway’s illness, when she was going into hospital, which hospital, what her
operation was going to be and that sort of thing. Then there’s Phil Lazenby’s flights and the award ceremony. And that’s just two of them. He’d have to memorize the names
and details of everyone who put him away.”

“I hope I’m wrong,” Angel answered. “I hope there’s a computer document or an old-fashioned notebook. That’s the evidence we need. And it might tell us what
he’s targeting on Sunday. So, give yourself a limit – like quarter of an hour. Then get out. And keep your hearing on maximum while you search.”

“Okay.”

But it turned out to be longer than quarter of an hour. The living room alone was so messy that it would take hours to sift thoroughly. Jordan unearthed a working computer, but he couldn’t
get past a password that protected all of the stored documents. The icons that littered the screen were almost all unfamiliar to Jordan. They activated programs he’d never seen before and he
didn’t know what they did.

On a long shelf, Jordan recognized a butchered PlayStation, several mobile phones, two SatNav devices, an iPod and a DVD player. They lay around like patients with open wounds and their innards
showing. There were memory sticks and computer CDs everywhere Jordan looked. Any of them could contain vital information. Really, he needed a specialized team to help him search for evidence.

There was less paperwork to browse. The sheets that he did find were puzzling. There were pieces torn from newspapers, a manual that bore the HiSpec MicroSystems logo and a few scraps of
incomprehensible notes in untidy handwriting. Nothing seemed to relate to Short Circuit’s activities.

Jordan stood in the middle of the electronic jungle and wondered if he’d tangled with a very odd but harmless character. He wasn’t even certain that Kennington had meant to knock him
down on the dirt track. The face that had peered out at him from the driver’s window belonged to a man of about thirty years of age, with stubble from his mouth to his ears, yet there was
something about his expression that was naïve, almost endearing. Maybe it was because he had the bright, pure eyes of a baby.

Jordan’s robotic arm felt heavy. It twitched twice, reminding him of when it was first fitted, before he had it under control. He guessed that the random movement was down to his mind
wandering or an electronic glitch.

Jordan was overwhelmed by the size of his task. He needed more time and help. He didn’t want to leave without a clear sign of Kennington’s innocence or guilt. But he also knew he
should have left by now.

He looked back at the computer. Next to it was a printer/ scanner that was stained with coffee. Jordan reached out for the paper tray, but he misjudged the distance and direction. His right arm
clunked instead against the side of the machine. Suddenly he wasn’t seeing properly. His eyesight ran through its bewildering wavelengths, making him dizzy. The edges of his vision collapsed
to a red blur. He seemed to be looking at the printer through a glowing crimson tube.

Then his right arm fell uselessly to his side.

Knowing that the fault could be an electronic attack, he turned round frantically and looked out of the windows. Everything seemed to be getting darker as if a heavy storm cloud had gathered
over Cambridge. Turning on the lights would not make a difference, though. The gloom was in his visual system. His audible range was also dwindling alarmingly. His ears could have been plugged with
cotton wool.

The high-tech apparatus that made his life bearable seemed to be in terminal decline. He felt like a candle flame, flickering unsteadily as it consumed its final supply of wax. He slumped into a
chair.

Jordan barely noticed Eli Kennington entering the room. His eyesight had weakened alarmingly. It was as bad as it had been straight after the explosion that had mangled his body. Eli was a fuzzy
figure standing by the door, looking at him inquisitively. In one hand he carried a laptop, in the other a baseball bat.

“This is more than I hoped for,” Eli said, coming forward with a bouncy walk. “At first, I thought you were a normal human being, but I saw this from the car.” He put
down the laptop, reached out and touched Jordan’s artificial hand. “Now I see your whole arm is artificial. And there’s more. You are nothing like normal. My hardware Trojans have
done much more than put one limb out of action.”

With his damaged hearing, Jordan had to concentrate to pick up Kennington’s rapid-fire speech. Luckily, his voice was unusually loud.

“Your car is special as well,” Eli continued. “I have disabled it.”

“You can’t have.”

“I am not stupid. Parking it two streets away is not adequate protection.”

“But you can’t get into the new circuit boards.”

Eli shook his head. “When I need creativity comes creativity. I let the tyres down.”

Kennington wasn’t furious. He might have been seething inside, but his curiosity was probably keeping a black mood at bay. Still wielding the baseball bat as a weapon, he grabbed a pair of
ultra-sharp scissors and slipped one blade between Jordan’s right wrist and his clothes. Then, in one swift movement, he sliced the sleeve up to the elbow. The material flopped open to reveal
Jordan’s flawless and hairless forearm.

Eli nodded. “That is very nice. I am looking forward to seeing the technology behind it. Is it controlled by your mind, with help from smart circuitry?”

“Yes.”

“I want it,” Eli said bluntly, like a toddler who had just seen a fantastic toy. “I am going to dismantle it, but not here.”