Authors: Simon Cheshire
Project Venom (4 page)
A burst of bullets tore into the walls and floor. The noise was deafening, and Alva and Dr Kirk immediately dropped to the floor and covered their heads.
The laser grid spluttered and switched off.
The soldier hoisted his gun on to his shoulder again, marched forward, and grabbed Alva by the front of his shirt. With an angry grunt, he hauled the scientist to his feet. The agent tore the Smith-Neutall ID badge from Alva’s top pocket and checked it.
“Pablo Alva,” he growled, “I am arresting you under the Prevention of Terrorism Act 2005, on suspicion that you are concerned in the preparation of acts of terror against citizens of the United Kingdom.”
The soldier spun Alva around as if he was a bag of potatoes, and hurled him into the arms of two MI5 agents standing nearby.
The soldier who’d fallen on Widow was now staggering to his feet. Widow struggled to turn
herself upright, but realized it would take her a minute or two to regain mobility. “Hive 2 to SWARM. Emergency,” she signalled. “Target apprehended.”
There was a three-note hum on the SWARM communications network, and Queen Bee cut in: “Widow! Can you follow them?”
“Negative, Queen Bee.”
Suddenly, Widow’s sensors detected Hercules the stag beetle flying low to the ground beside her. He had responded to the spider’s first distress signal and rushed from the power room.
“I’m at Alva’s location,” he transmitted. “Should I take Widow’s place?”
“Widow’s data shows no suspicious activity on Alva’s part, but we still don’t know the truth about that email,” said Queen Bee. “Until we uncover further leads, we should continue to monitor Alva. Don’t conceal yourself in his clothes. MI5 will scan him and you might be found. Place a tracker egg.”
“I’m live, Queen Bee,” confirmed Hercules.
MI5 agents were hauling both Alva and Dr Kirk away. Dr Kirk jabbered non-stop in alarm.
Alva simply looked terrified.
Hercules, flying barely two centimetres from the floor, swiftly closed in on Alva. Adjusting his speed and direction, he landed on the back of Alva’s shoe. A tiny tube shot out from the robot’s thorax and stamped a microdot on to the shoe’s heel. This was a miniature transmitter and listening device, designed by Professor Miller back at SWARM headquarters to be totally undetectable. Even the high-tech scanners used by MI5 and the CIA would never know it was there.
Hercules darted out of the way, and the agents dragged their prisoners out of sight. The beetle picked up Widow and carried her off. She hung awkwardly, her damaged legs twisted at odd angles.
“That’s a nasty dent you’ve got there,” said Hercules.
Widow didn’t reply.
Half an hour later, SWARM’s Data Analyst Simon Turing and Alfred Berners, the Computer Programmer, were both tapping at keyboards. They were surrounded by the scrolling displays and high-tech machinery that filled the SWARM laboratory.
Professor Miller was sitting at a workstation in the corner, examining Widow’s damaged components and making repairs. He held both hands inside a 3D-sensor array. The movements of his fingers translated into the motions of miniature tools that worked on Widow’s
circuits and mechanisms.
Their boss, Queen Bee, entered the room. “Ready?” she asked, walking across to Simon and Alfred. “MI5 are going to talk to Alva right now.”
“Perfect timing, Ms Maynard,” smiled Simon. “Alfred’s broken the encryption on MI5’s internal comms, so we can piggyback the signal from Hercules’s tracker egg on their own frequencies. They’ll never even suspect we’re monitoring them.”
“Excellent,” said Queen Bee.
“And is Mr Drake feeling pleased with himself?” asked Alfred, peering over the top of his spectacles.
“I’ve heard from the top level of the SIA that he’s as smug as a cat with a mouse dipped in cream,” said Queen Bee. “The one thing he got right was to get the Venom tightly under lock and key. There were armed guards on that bio-storage vault within two minutes. Nobody’s been inside since, and the company’s computer logs show that there were no visits at all to the vault in the past two days, not since before our robots’
night-time visit.”
“And he has no idea we’ve got Alva bugged?” said Alfred.
“None,” said Queen Bee.
Simon snorted with amusement. “I do love being one step ahead all the time,” he said. He tapped at his keyboard. A series of tones sounded, as the SWARM computer system plugged itself into MI5’s encrypted data streams. Moments later, they could hear footsteps echoing.
“They’ll be taking Alva to the interrogation rooms at MI5,” said Queen Bee.
“You’re right,” said Simon Turing, watching a nearby display. “The co-ordinates show he’s on their fifth floor, close to the holding cells.”
They heard scuffling, other movements, the scraping of a chair. The tiny tracking device Hercules had planted on Alva was beaming back a live audio stream, as well as his exact position. Alfred adjusted the stream to ensure that the voices sounded as clear as possible.
There was a bump, then a series of clunks and taps. Finally, MI5 agent Drake’s voice came through loud and clear. Queen Bee, Simon and
Alfred listened intently to the conversation:
Drake:
Evening, Mr Alva. Glad you could join us.
Alva:
You can’t keep me here, I demand to see a lawyer!
Drake:
Demand all you like, you ain’t getting nothing. Not till we’ve had a nice little chat.
Alva:
I know my rights!
Drake:
We’re not the police, Mr Alva. You’re on the green surveillance list. An active suspect.
Alva:
What am I supposed to have done?
Drake:
Well, that’s what we’re here to find out. Now then, from our earlier chats with your colleagues, it seems five people knew the poison existed. Is that right?
Alva:
Yes. Our Chief Executive, my boss, Dr Kirk, who’s Head of Science, the company’s Sales Director, me, and the other lab assistant, Emma Barnes.
Where is Emma? She disappeared.
Drake:
My men caught her on her way down to the bio-storage in the basement. She claimed she was going to make sure it was securely locked. She claimed she didn’t want my men blundering about in there. She claimed she was worried about the poison being taken away, or not handled correctly.
Alva:
If that’s what she says, then that’s the truth. Emma is completely trustworthy.
Drake:
That’s for me to decide. My men have got her just along the corridor, until we can investigate her further. Mind you, even a brief glance at her record shows she’s never been a foreign national, or a member of a terrorist organization. Looks like you’re still Suspect Number One.
Alva:
You don’t frighten me. I left my home country to escape from bullies like you.
Drake:
Let’s talk about your home
country, shall we? East Balboa. Lovely countryside, I’m led to understand. Or it was, until the EBLS started blowing it up.
Alva:
I’m no longer a member! I’m sure you know that perfectly well.
Drake:
I know perfectly well that you claim you’re not a member any more.
Alva:
I have never been a terrorist. I despise violence! The reason I left the EBLS was because they started threatening people. They were an organization dedicated to peaceful protest. We wanted justice and democracy for our country. Then evil men took it over. I was horrified, I left the EBLS behind, I have a new home here in the UK, and that is all. I have no involvement with terrorists, not now, not ever!
Drake:
Yes, well that’s what you would say, isn’t it? I mean, you’re not going to come in here and say “Yes, I’ve been plotting to poison
the world” now, are you? I mean, if you did, you’d be a pretty rubbish terrorist, wouldn’t you?
Alva:
If you know about the poison, you surely know it was an accident! We were working on a cure for the common cold. There were mutations in the genetic code of the serum.
Drake:
It doesn’t matter how it was created. It matters how you intend to use it.
Alva:
I don’t! Why won’t you listen to me? I have nothing to hide!
Drake:
Did you send an email to the EBLS last week?
Alva:
What? No, of course I didn’t, I told you I—
Drake:
Someone did.
Alva:
It wasn’t me!
Drake:
Someone using your email account, on your computer, at your workstation, in your lab.
Alva:
What? How? It wasn’t me, I tell you!
Drake:
Oh dear, we seem to be going around in circles, don’t we? I say you did, you say you didn’t. The thing is, who’s going to be believed? The ex-EBLS member who knew about this poison, who helped keep it a secret, who appears to have contacted his old terrorist buddies, who resisted arrest … or MI5? Who would you believe?
Alva:
I never sent an email! I haven’t been down to the bio-storage vault for days. I couldn’t even tell you what the poison is being kept in!
Drake:
An old yoghurt pot, I heard.
Alva:
You make fun of me? That poison is deadly! If you allow even—
Drake:
We know very well how deadly it is! Why do you think we raided the company in force, huh? Don’t you worry, there’s no way it’s leaving that basement, it’s safely guarded. As soon as our nerds can get in there, it’ll be destroyed. Should be later today, as a matter of fact.
Alva:
Good! Then this nightmare will be over.
Drake:
Over? It’ll be over, will it, sunshine? For you, it’s just beginning.
“Turn it off,” said Queen Bee. “That Drake idiot makes me cringe.”
Simon Turing tapped a couple of keys and the tracker switched over to “record only”.
“Alva is telling the truth,” he muttered. He pointed to a series of readouts on the display beside him. “The stress patterns in his speech indicate it. Lies show up as specific changes in pitch and tone, and he’s shown none.”
“Yes,” said Queen Bee in a low voice. “That conversation reveals three important facts. Firstly, theories about Alva have been wrong. He didn’t send that email, and isn’t involved with selling the Venom to the EBLS. Which means that, secondly, whoever is involved has enough technical skill to hack into Alva’s account. Thirdly, SWARM’s focus must now switch to the other people who knew about the Venom.”
“MI5 are only interested in Alva,” said Simon.
“My guess is that this Emma Barnes is now the likeliest suspect. She was heading for the bio-storage, and she’d have had the technical knowledge.”
“At least if MI5 have her, we can concentrate on the final three staff,” said Queen Bee. “We must stay on our toes. This situation is now completely open, anything could happen.” She thought for a few moments. “Contact Chopper.”
Chopper the dragonfly had taken over from Sirena on surveillance duty at Smith-Neutall. He was keeping well out of sight, darting from room to room, his highly tuned sensors and advanced eye cameras watching and recording everything.
Most of the staff had been questioned and sent home. The bio-storage was being guarded by a squadron of soldiers armed with machine guns, to ensure nobody went anywhere near it. There were more soldiers and MI5 agents on permanent patrol around the building.
The lab where Pablo Alva, Emma Barnes and Dr Kirk normally worked was filled with an array of MI5 agents, science advisers and bio-weapon experts. They were sifting through the company’s records, piecing together the experiments that had accidentally led to the poison’s creation.
“They’ll soon be ready to destroy the Venom,” reported Chopper, who was positioned above a filing cabinet in one of the offices.
“Do they have the necessary equipment?” transmitted Queen Bee.
“From what I’ve observed, yes,” said Chopper. “MI5’s science personnel are well aware of the risks. The job will be done thoroughly.”
“At least that’s one piece of good news,” sighed Queen Bee. “I want an update on the situation there. Hack into the computers, see if you can link an employee called Emma Barnes to sending that email to the EBLS.”
“Accessing now, Queen Bee,” said Chopper. His circuits tapped into the probes left inside the computers by Nero. “Data is downloading… Cross-checking… Information established.”
“Go ahead,” said Queen Bee.
“Keystroke data shows that the email was typed and sent at time index 6:22 p.m. However, the security camera on the outside of the building shows Barnes leaving to go home, time index also 6:22 p.m. The email was written and sent at exactly the time Barnes was walking across the car park. She was not the sender.”
“OK,” said Queen Bee. “Check against three others: the company’s Chief Executive, Gwen Stirling, Head of Science, Dr Kirk, and Sales Director, Peter Seede.”
“Accessing… None are logged as being in the building at the time. However, if Alva is innocent, we know that the guilty person can interfere with the computer systems. This data is not conclusive.”
“Understood. Good work, Chopper,” said Queen Bee. “Where are these three suspects right now?”
“I intercepted a conversation between an MI5 agent here and MI5 HQ less than twenty minutes ago. They are accepting the claim that the Venom was an accidental creation, and are allowing our three suspects to remain free, for the time being,
although under close watch. Internal sensors show that the Chief Executive, Gwen Stirling, is currently at her desk. The Sales Director, Peter Seede, has been allowed to continue with a business trip to Thailand. Dr Kirk, the Head of Science, is in the lab, assisting MI5 with their enquiries into the Venom. Can I ask a question, Queen Bee?”
“Of course.” Queen Bee sounded surprised, but pleased that one of her robots was thinking for itself.
“We have proven to ourselves that Alva is innocent,” said Chopper, “and that Barnes is innocent, within a matter of minutes. Of the remaining suspects, only Dr Kirk is likely to have had the technical skills needed to hack Alva’s email. He’s now the key suspect.”
“Yes, I think you’re right…”
“So, why are the humans of MI5 still questioning Mr Alva? It’s not logical.”
Queen Bee chuckled to herself. “You’ve got a lot to learn about humans.”
At that moment, a tinny voice sounded around the Smith-Neutall building. “Assigned agents to
basement storage vault, please. Assigned agents to bio-storage.”
“They’re about to destroy the Venom,” said Chopper.