Project Venom (5 page)

“Go!” said Queen Bee. “Keep a close eye on everything going on down there. Dr Kirk especially! If he’s the one we want, this will be his last chance to snatch the Venom. Be prepared.”

“Logged, Queen Bee.”

Chopper buzzed through the building at high speed. In less than a minute, he’d made his way down through stairwells and rooms, and was on the ceiling of the area outside the storage vault.

Below him was a small gathering of agents and scientists, along with Smith-Neutall’s Chief Executive. All of them were wearing yellow biohazard suits and breathing masks over their ordinary clothes. A couple of the scientists carried a large metal container, about the size of a pizza box. This was the incinerator, into which the phial of Venom would be placed and burned away. Dr Kirk held a long pair of tongs, with which he would carefully take the phial from the glass cabinet inside the vault, and deposit it into the incinerator.

Chopper took sensor readings of everything around him. Deep inside his programming, he was still puzzled by human inefficiency. His CPU began to re-analyze the many terabytes of data he’d accessed in the past couple of hours, since the raid by MI5. He wondered if there was some tiny detail that the humans hadn’t accounted for so far.

And there was!

Instantly the dragonfly darted high above the heads of the scientists. He landed beside the small hole leading into the bio-storage vault, which Hercules had cut on the SWARM’s visit the previous night. Folding back his mechanical wings, he quickly crawled inside, sending an emergency signal back to SWARM HQ.

“Chopper to SWARM! Gap in data detected! MI5 sealed off the bio-storage within two minutes, but sensor logs are blank for ninety-seven seconds between arrival of soldiers at the building, and arrival of soldiers down here at bio-storage!”

Chopper emerged into the pitch dark bio-storage room. His eyes switched to the green
glow of night vision. He zoomed in on the glass case at the far end of the room, checking through the dozens of bottles and test tubes it contained.

“Chopper to SWARM! The phial of Venom is gone! Repeat, the phial is gone!”

At that moment, the security locks on the bio-storage vault were undone. A red light began to flash above the door. A recorded voice announced calmly, “Personnel must check protective equipment before entering. This is a biohazard area. Thank you.”

There was a hiss of hydraulics. The door swung back on massive hinges. Overhead lights blinked into life inside the vault. Unseen through the scientists’ cumbersome masks, Chopper buzzed back outside.

“I’m sure we’re all going to feel a lot safer once this is done,” said Dr Kirk, stepping into the vault, now brightly lit. There was a murmur of agreement from the others. “Thank goodness this terrible poison has been safely contained.”

Back at SWARM HQ, the alarm had already been raised. Action was already being taken.

The Venom was out in the open.

CHAPTER SIX

The laboratory at SWARM HQ in London was filled with secret service technicians. Professor Miller was directing a team who were tapping into communications and CCTV systems all over the world. Simon Turing and Alfred Berners were programming SWARM’s computers to intercept words, patterns or images that might provide a clue to the whereabouts of the Venom.

“It’s a hive of activity in here,” said Hercules.

Everyone ignored him. He and the other robots were clipped into their electronic frames, raised up from the surface of one of the long workbenches.

“That was a joke.”

“Was it?” said Nero. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“I’m practising my human interactions,” grumbled Hercules. “They’re surprisingly difficult.”

“Don’t bicker,” said Sirena.

“We’ve been ordered to add our processing capabilities to the search,” said Nero. “Needless talk wastes precious CPU cycles.”

Queen Bee swept into the room. She held a wad of papers in one hand, her phone in the other. She marched across to Professor Miller.

“Sorry to interrupt your work, Professor,” she said, “but I’ve got my SIA boss upstairs demanding to know what progress we’ve made.”

The Professor gave a sharp sniff. “The Smith-Neutall building is locked down, but Chopper reports his scans show no sign of the phial there. We have monitoring in place for a radius of a hundred miles. Cameras on streets and motorways, CCTV and ticketing systems at train stations, airports, ferry terminals, every possible transport link. We’re keeping a close watch on all credit card transactions and reported stolen
vehicles, and adding more data sources all the time. We’re still in the dark, but something has to turn up eventually.”

“And in the meantime, the Venom could have changed hands fifty times and be almost anywhere,” said Queen Bee.

“Since we don’t yet know how that phial got out, we’re broadening our net to follow as many of the company’s employees as we can,” said Professor Miller. He paused for a moment, watching everyone around him bustling back and forth. He drew closer to Queen Bee and dropped his voice to a whisper. “We’re also following the MI5 agents who were assigned to the raid on Smith-Neutall. Given the seriousness of the situation, we have to consider the possibility that the terrorist is a traitor from our own side.”

“Very wise,” whispered Queen Bee. “Until we can track the phial down, our real enemy could be anyone.”

Simon Turing approached them. He was clutching a bundle of documents to his chest. “Ms Maynard, I’ve been checking through current information on EBLS activities abroad. MI5 and
MI6 terrorist watch… There’s no report of any EBLS sympathisers arriving anywhere in the UK recently.”

“How does this affect the search?” said Queen Bee.

“Well,” said Simon, “our terrorist will be aiming to hand the Venom over to them in person. Yes?”

“I see!” said Queen Bee. “If the EBLS isn’t in the UK, then our suspect will need to travel to wherever they are.”

“Right,” said Simon. “We should concentrate the search on airports, and other routes out of the country.”

“Good thinking,” said Queen Bee. “Send Agent J and Agent K down here. And get a couple of helicopters ready.” She turned to the robots. “Disengage CPUs from the mainframe computer. I want you all deployed at main international transport hubs. The SWARM can act faster and more efficiently than troops or other secret service personnel. More quietly too. There’s danger of widespread panic if agents or police start marching about, and the media get to hear about the Venom.”

“Whoever has the phial may be alerted too,” added Hercules.

“Exactly,” said Queen Bee. “I want the SWARM active, on the ground. Nero, Sirena, Morph, you’ll be at Heathrow airport. We’ll need three of you there because it’s the biggest and busiest. We’ll divert Chopper to Gatwick. Widow, Stansted. Sabre, you’re at Birmingham. Hercules, the Eurostar terminal at St Pancras. Go!”

“We’re live, Queen Bee!”

The cavernous halls of Heathrow airport were noisy and bustling. Passengers stared up at electronic boards, which clicked and blinked, announcing arrivals and departures. At lines of check-in desks, queues snaked back in long, controlled zigzags.

Up above, a network of fat heating pipes, electrical cables and air vents criss-crossed the ceiling. Perched on a cable, Nero the scorpion, Morph the centipede and Sirena the butterfly were hacking into the airport’s data systems.
Nero’s fibre-optic pincer probes stabbed into the wiring beneath them.

“I’m online with today’s check-in data and operations information,” said Nero.

“I’ve got CCTV feeds and recordings,” said Morph, his antennae twitching. “Anything happening down there?”

Sirena’s ultra-sensitive detection circuits were keeping a constant watch on people moving around below. Using X-ray sensors, she scanned luggage, bags and passengers. She downloaded closed-circuit camera images from Morph and used facial recognition software, cross-checked with official databases, to identify everyone who’d passed through the airport in the past twelve hours.

“Nothing suspicious,” she said. “That lady down there in the blue coat has got a pair of scissors in a sewing kit in her bag. The security gate will take them from her. There’s a boy with a toy sword, which will probably be confiscated too, but there’s nothing that isn’t routine.”

“Are you monitoring physiological states?” said Nero.

“Yes,” said Sirena. “Any increased heart rates, higher levels of perspiration or rapid eye movements might suggest agitation or fear. There are some nervous flyers down there, but nobody is trying to conceal their nerves, as a terrorist might. Someone carrying something as dangerous as the Venom would definitely show signs of that kind.”

They both continued to watch for several minutes, motionless and in silence. Their electronic brains sorted through terabytes of data, alert to everything going on below them simultaneously.

“Approaching the Air Weihan desk!” signalled Sirena suddenly. “Face recognition is flagging up a passenger!”

“Who is it?” said Morph.

“Double-checking with SIA and MI5 databases…” said Sirena. “It’s the Sales Director of Smith-Neutall, Peter Seede.”

“He’s already been interviewed by MI5, hasn’t he?” said Nero.

“They classified him Low Risk. He doesn’t have the technical or scientific knowledge to handle
the Venom. We already know that his schedule shows a business trip to Thailand today. It was booked eleven weeks ago, long before the Venom was even created.”

“He doesn’t sound like our terrorist,” said Morph.

“Scans of his luggage show nothing unusual. I would only have logged his presence, and let headquarters know we’ve tracked him, except for one thing – my sensors show he’s very nervous indeed.”

“Is he scared of flying?” said Nero.

“Accessing personnel and interview files…” said Morph. “MI5 assessed him as arrogant and ambitious, with normal intelligence. He’s thirty-seven and he’s worked for Smith-Neutall for six years. He complained to the Chief Executive last year about his salary, although it’s well above average. He was injured in a car accident at the age of eighteen and lost part of his left hand. He isn’t married, has no children, drives an Alfa Romeo, is a regular at Persephone’s Italian eatery. Nothing about flying, in fact he regularly goes abroad on business.”

“Let’s take a closer look,” said Nero.

While Sirena fluttered in a wide circle towards the check-in desk, Nero and Morph scuttled quickly along a series of cables and conduits to reach floor level.

Peter Seede was joining the back of the queue at the check-in desk. He was wearing a pristine blue business suit with a matching tie. He placed his small suitcase on the ground while he waited in line, pushing it along with his feet every time he moved forward. He looked around the concourse with an air of casual boredom, but one of his polished shoes kept up a rapid tapping against the floor tiles. Gradually, he edged closer to the front of the queue.

Nero and Morph hid under the conveyor belt beside the check-in desk. Sirena alighted on the airline logo hanging above it.

“The computers at Smith-Neutall say he’s flying to a sales conference in Bangkok, Thailand,” said Morph. “They also register a receipt for the cost of the air fare.”

Nero made a quick check of the airport’s data. “It looks like he’s changed his plans at the last
minute. This airline doesn’t fly to Thailand. Scan his ticket.”

Sirena located Seede’s travel documents and passport in the inside pocket of his jacket. “That confirms it,” she said. “His ticket is for Shanghai in China. A flight leaving in less than an hour.”

“See if you can get closer,” said Nero.

The smartly uniformed check-in attendant gave Seede a bright smile. “Good afternoon, sir, may I see your ticket and passport?” she said in a clipped Chinese accent.

Seede smiled at her and reached into his jacket.

Sirena fluttered to the lower edge of the checkin desk, from where she could scan Seede in more detail but remain hidden from view.

“Quickly,” said Morph. “This may be our only chance to run a close-up check on him.”

“I’ll ignore the suitcase,” said Sirena. “If he’s got the Venom, he wouldn’t leave it to get put in the aircraft’s baggage hold.”

“Thank you for travelling with Air Weihan, Mr Seede,” said the attendant, looking at her computer terminal as she swiped his ticket
through a reader. “Do you have luggage to check in today?”

“Just this one,” said Seede. He placed the suitcase on the conveyor belt beneath which Nero was hiding.

“Scan active,” said Sirena. “Beginning shoes… No hidden compartment…”

The attendant quickly slipped a tag around the handle of the suitcase. “Your flight is currently timetabled to depart on schedule, Mr Seede.”

“That’s good news.”

“You’ve just made it in time, we’re closing check-in in two minutes. You’ll need to hurry!”

“Quickly!” said Morph.

“Legs, trousers…” said Sirena. “No concealed pockets… Jacket, shirt… Nothing…”

“Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr Seede?”

“No, thank you.”

“Please proceed to the security gate, and have a pleasant journey.”

“Skin surface, nose, underwear…” said Sirena. “All negative.”

“I’m sure I will.” Seede smiled at the assistant
and walked away. His suitcase bumped out of sight on the conveyor belt.

“I’ll have to risk direct contact,” said Sirena. “If he’s got the Venom, finding it will need a high-intensity probe.”

“Be careful!” warned Nero.

Sirena landed delicately on the back of Seede’s jacket. Nero and Morph kept up with them, scuttling along underneath a line of luggage trolleys. Sirena recalibrated her sensors to take readings of everything from the chemical compounds in the gel on Seede’s hair to the fibres in the cotton and wool mix of his socks.

“You say he lost part of his left hand in an accident?” said Nero. “I can see his left hand from here, and it doesn’t appear to be damaged.”

Sirena moved to the back of Seede’s left arm.

“Refocusing high-res imaging… He has a prosthetic section attached to his hand!” she said. “The last two fingers, and a small section of his palm. It’s designed to look natural.”

“Didn’t you spot it earlier?” said Nero.

“Even now, I can only detect it at the far range of my sensors. It seems to be shielded with a
fake chemical signature that reads as normal flesh. Even the most sophisticated airport or other security scanners wouldn’t pick it up… There’s a shape lodged inside his little finger! The missing phial! He’s carrying the Venom!”