‘I spent the whole day chasing wild geese,’ complained Sykes.
‘And they hit a shedload more computer nodes.’
‘Waste of time! We can reroute quicker than they can blow ’em up.’
Kaspar sprawled on a sofa, listening intently as his friends recounted their experiences. He would have no trouble falling asleep tonight, that was for sure. Now if only he could guarantee it would be a dreamless sleep . . . The back of his neck began to tingle. Kaspar turned. From further along the sofa, Janna was watching him.
‘What?’ Kaspar frowned.
‘What do you think the point of today was?’ asked Janna carefully.
‘How on earth would I know?’ The room had gone strangely quiet. Kaspar looked around. All eyes were on him. ‘Am I missing something?’
‘It’s just . . .’ Janna picked at the words. ‘You have a habit of being in the middle of whatever is happening. Either that or you’re always one step ahead of the rest of us.’
A chill crept up Kaspar’s spine. Eyes filled with varying degrees of suspicion awaited his reply. Kaspar stood up slowly, pressing the thumb and index finger of each hand together until his bones must surely shatter.
‘Just what are you implying?’ he asked quietly. ‘And speak up so we can all hear you.’
‘Calm down, Kas,’ Janna soothed.
Pressing his fingers together wasn’t working. ‘Calm down? I want to know what the hell you mean!’
‘I don’t mean anything,’ Janna denied.
‘You think I’m the mole Voss was talking about, don’t you?’ Kaspar challenged.
‘No one thinks that, Kas. You’re over-reacting,’ said Janna. ‘I guess you’re just more observant than the rest of us, that’s all.’
Kaspar looked around again. The moment he caught anyone’s eye they looked away or found something else to do, but the very air in the break room was tainted with suspicion. Even Mariska couldn’t quite meet his gaze.
He strode out of the room without a backward glance.
34
Kaspar grabbed a snack from one of the vending machines and headed to his room. He knew everyone was frustrated and looking for answers but he had none to give. And he very much resented the way that his so-called friends thought otherwise. The mole in their midst still hadn’t been caught, but why suspect him? His best friend Dillon had been killed, for God’s sake. Or maybe that was part of the reason why he was under suspicion?
But Kaspar’s frustrations ran deeper. Something about this whole last series of attacks was off, at a profound level. Kas retrieved the research he had previously done with Mac. He wanted to add in what he’d learned today, plus he needed some help.
‘Hi, Mac, it’s me – Kaspar. Are you busy?’ he CommLinked her.
Her image appeared almost at once. ‘Hello, stranger.’ Mac smiled. ‘Social call?’
‘Not exactly. Can you come over to my room? I need you.’
‘Oh, really?’ There was a throaty chuckle. ‘Don’t I get a say in the matter? Or even a bunch of flowers?’
‘What? No. Sorry. I didn’t mean . . . I mean, I’d never ask you to do that.’
‘Never?’ Mac looked crushed.
Kas took a deep breath. ‘Mackenzie, stop torturing me! I was wondering if you’d help me out with some more computer research?’
Mac burst out laughing. ‘So you only want me for my mind? Ah well!’
‘Mac, please . . .’
‘Course I can help.’
Finally!
Mac chuckled again. ‘OK, I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
Kaspar had time to finish his snack and tidy up a bit before Mac knocked on his door.
‘Come in,’ he said, holding the door open.
‘So what’s up?’
‘I was just fiddling about and I thought of you.’
Mac smiled as Kaspar groaned inwardly, but luckily she took pity on him and let his comment slide. ‘Fine. What searches are you running?’
Kaspar relaxed. ‘OK, I’m adding in today’s attacks. We have the same two-way split between ninjas hacking the computer network and the phantoms just being hell-spawn. But today we had a new twist. Phoney attacks. Computer ghosts. Can we see them graphically?’
‘No problem. If I just do this . . . and that . . .’ Her fingers flew through the data screens with elegant efficiency.
And suddenly Kaspar was looking at a map with all the confirmed attack locations in red, and all the spoof locations in blue.
‘Just as I expected,’ said Kaspar. ‘There’s no overlap or obvious pattern between the reality and the fiction. Pull the Guardians away on some fool’s errand before actually creeping in somewhere else.’
‘If you say so,’ shrugged Mac. ‘Tactical military stuff is your area of expertise, not mine.’
‘Let’s try something else. Can you categorize the attacks by death toll?’
‘What thresholds do you want?’
‘Oh, I dunno. Mindless phantom atrocities with civilian casualties at one end of the scale, down to bloodless ninja stuff at the other?’
‘OK, let’s try this . . .’ The screen cleared, then a new, more colourful display appeared. ‘I’ve plotted more than five civilian casualties in red, diversionary attacks where only Guardians got hurt in yellow and bloodless ninja jobs in blue.’
This time, the spread wasn’t so neat. Yellow markers were scarce. Some of the red markers were pretty close to blue. A couple in particular caught his eye.
‘There.’ Kaspar stabbed his finger at the screen. ‘Can you pull up the details for these two?’
‘Er . . . they’re actually from today. A tanker bomb detonated at an industrial park at the corner of Radial Nine and Kreil at 1417 hours, killing eight workers, and the other was . . . an unauthorized computer access from a node at 7675 Kreil at 1400 hours.’
‘How far apart are those two addresses?’
Mac did some more technical magic.
‘Two hundred and seventy-two metres.’
Kaspar paused. ‘What kind of moron sets off a diversionary attack less than half a click from their target and does it seventeen minutes after they achieved their objective?’
‘We already thought that the ninjas and the phantoms might be different groups. Maybe they didn’t coordinate and this was just a coincidence?’
‘No. Today was a big deal. The Insurgents made a concerted effort.’
‘A concerted effort to do what?’ asked Mac.
‘I wish I knew,’ sighed Kaspar. ‘Look at the blue markers. They hit data archive nodes, electrical nodes, database nodes. That feels to me like there’s a method, a plan behind all this. Now look at the red markers. They’re more random, an office block here, a car bomb there, and where those attacks happen near blue markers, they’re always after the event – not before. Believe me, the ninjas wouldn’t allow that kind of screw-up.’
‘Could it be stupidity on their part? My dad is always saying that they’re not too bright.’
Kaspar shook his head. ‘I don’t believe that any more.’
Mac regarded him. ‘A coincidence?’
‘I don’t believe in coincidences. Can you bring up a list of all high-casualty attacks over the past three years?’
Mac did as requested, and Kaspar peered at the results.
‘Anything?’ she asked.
‘Hmmm. These attacks were all spectacular and deadly, but . . .’ Kaspar was worried where his thoughts were leading. ‘They didn’t kill anyone who was . . . shall we say . . . significant. They didn’t do real damage to the infrastructure either. They were all soft targets in residential and industrial areas.’
‘What’s your point?’
‘The terrorists avoid government agencies, they don’t directly target Guardians, and they seem to target people who don’t count.’ Kaspar immediately felt guilty for expressing it that way. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like an elitist twat. It’s just that they target—’
‘People
who aren’t vital to the state,’ Mac finished for him. Her fingers were a blur as she summoned up more detailed data. ‘School children, suburbanites, factory workers.’
‘So my suspicion was right,’ Kaspar said grimly.
‘I don’t understand.’ Mac’s frown deepened. ‘Are you saying that there is another group at play here who have nothing to do with the Insurgents?’
‘Think about it. The cylinder of gas that got used at Loring Primary School weighed less than twenty kilos and these ninjas are super-fit. I know; I’ve had personal experience. And they could steal the sugar from your coffee.’
‘So?’
‘So why waste such a potent, transportable weapon on a primary school? Why not sneak it into somewhere . . . strategic? They could have killed hundreds of Guardians – or wiped out a government ministry. Why go for children?’
‘Maybe there was something else about the school?’ offered Mac. ‘Apart from the kids?’
Kaspar pulled up the report on the attack and Mac leaned forward for a closer look, her expression sombre.
‘Nope,’ she said. ‘Seems to be a fairly normal school with fairly normal pupils.’
Kaspar stared at the screen. That couldn’t be right . . . ‘Mendel?’
‘Who?’ asked Mac.
‘Mendel.’ He pointed at the screen. ‘The Guardian in charge of the Loring School investigation is Lawrence Mendel.’
‘You know him?’
‘Yes, from the Academy. He’s an instructor and a total moron. He has an encyclopaedic knowledge of Civic Code violations, but no common sense and zero forensic skills.’
‘And he’s in charge?’ Mac asked, appalled.
‘Exactly. Why entrust the investigation of a major terrorist attack involving weapons of mass destruction to a man who couldn’t find his own butt with both hands and a satnav?’
Kaspar and Mac stared at one another.
Mac whispered, ‘This is starting to look uncomfortably like . . .’
‘A conspiracy.’
35
Kaspar had an idea now. The schizophrenic nature of the Insurgency was starting to make sense. On the one hand there were the non-violent subversives – precise in their attacks, sneaking into strategic locations and military installations, using just enough muscle to achieve entry. This group avoided civilian casualties wherever possible while doing who-knew-what with the Alliance data networks.
And on the other hand there were the phantoms – the maniacs – killing and maiming indiscriminately, keeping everyone in a state of terror. At first glance – and viewed in isolation – the phantoms’ attacks seemed random, designed to create chaos and carnage and very little else. But studying the pattern behind them, the indiscriminate attacks hadn’t hit one single target of strategic importance. Not one. Only soft targets: schools, shopping centres, the odd travel hub. With all the intel they must’ve gathered over the years, what were the odds of the Insurgents not taking on and taking out one single vital node or hub that would bring the Alliance to its knees, even if only temporarily?
Kaspar suddenly felt sick. What he was thinking was horrible. The idea that school children could be sacrificed like pawns on a chess board in order to achieve some end was totally obscene.
But what else was there?
‘So let me get this straight,’ said Mac. ‘The Insurgency never make any demands. They steal weapons from secure weapons facilities and knowledge from our datanet without being detected. They pass up the opportunity to kill VIPs and Guardians, and yet they go for harmless children. Then someone from our side assigns an incompetent to investigate the affair. And some of the spectacular attacks we’ve had recently come within a hair of screwing up other Insurgency operations.’
‘It doesn’t make sense, does it?’ said Kaspar. ‘The only explanation that fits is that it really is two completely separate groups responsible for all this. And we all buy the line that it’s one and the same group responsible for the lot.’
‘And one group is deliberately causing mass destruction just to muddy the waters for the Crusaders?’ said Mac sceptically. ‘Or is it the Crusaders trying to muddy the waters for someone else?’
‘It doesn’t make sense that way round,’ Kaspar pointed out. ‘The Crusaders are already viewed as the evil scum of the planet for all the atrocities and the mindless violence their Insurgents carry out. But what if someone – some other group – is trying to make sure this war never comes to an end? That we in the Alliance never negotiate with the Crusaders because of the evil acts of their Insurgents. Except the evil acts aren’t theirs . . .’
‘But why?’ said Mac. ‘Why on earth would anyone in their right mind seek to prolong this war?’
Kaspar remembered one of his mum’s favourite sayings. ‘Mum used to say that there are only two reasons for continuing with any war – power or profit. I was too young to understand what she meant at the time. I’m beginning to get it now.’
Mac and Kaspar both paused to consider what they were saying; it seemed preposterous, outrageous, and yet it smelled strongly of something at least approaching the truth.
‘Brother Simon paid me a visit and said, “We are united in our opposition to these people. As long as we stand together, they cannot win.” Well, what if the phantoms are a tool to create unity within the Alliance so we all turn against the Crusaders?’ said Kaspar softly. ‘What if the phantoms are the Bogeyman, the monster under the bed, created to focus our hatred in the wrong place?’
The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Whatever the Insurgency did, it was augmented with some greater violence – like at Loring School. Anytime there was a danger of a swell of public opinion crying out, ‘Let’s put an end to the violence and sit around a table to negotiate a peaceful outcome,’ there would be a bloody outrage and everyone would rally around the cause of fighting a monstrous enemy.
It was horrible, but it felt like more than mere theory. Kaspar hated the idea, but it fit the facts. He risked a glance at Mac. Her expression was sombre but no longer sceptical.
‘You think I’m right, don’t you?’ he said quietly.
Mac looked directly at Kaspar. ‘I’m desperately trying to come up with another theory that works, but I can’t.’
They regarded each other, the full import of what they’d discovered hitting both of them hard.
‘OK, we need to figure out how to prove or disprove all this,’ said Kaspar. ‘Firstly, we need to find out who had access to the gas. The thieves had been and gone before anyone knew anything about it.’
Mac sat back in her chair. Kaspar was grateful that she didn’t challenge his use of the word ‘we’.
‘We also need to know who could get access to the school without raising suspicion,’ he added.
‘Hmmm . . . maybe we could also follow up the forensics on the explosives in the truck that went off today,’ said Mac. ‘And determine where the truck came from.’
‘The one thing that convinces me more than anything else that I’m right is that someone had to have enough clout to influence the assignment of Mendel to the investigation of the Loring School gas attack. An attack like that should have our best people on the job, not our worst,’ said Kaspar.
There was another long pause. Kaspar’s mind was racing.
‘I could run a correlation study of terrorist events against Guardian trackers,’ Mac said at last.
‘You’re talking “geek” again,’ Kaspar sighed.
‘Take the truck bombing as an example,’ said Mac. ‘We know the truck was stolen from behind a supermarket at 0800 hours this morning, parked at the target at 1330 and exploded at 1417. Well, the bots can find which Guardians were near the shop between 0750 and 0805. Then they can determine who was near the target between 1320 and 1340 hours. We can also ask them to determine the nearest Guardians to each outrage and ask them to tell us which Guardians were on shift when the crimes were committed.’
‘Or off shift but within the vicinity maybe? If you?
??re driving a huge bomb across the city, you probably don’t want to be interrupted by a call to rescue a cat from a tree.’
‘Good point. We’ll run it both ways. If it works, and we get lucky, then we’ll get some statistics telling us which Guardian or Guardians were within a kilometre of all the bombings.’
‘Great. Of course, all this is academic,’ Kaspar noted sourly. ‘If I’m right and there really are high-level Guardians involved, then they’re going to notice what we’re doing. We already know that they monitor bot-searches.’
‘There are ways round that.’ Mac winked. ‘We make our enquiries in the form of bot-parasites. We infect some bots, ask them some simple questions like where to buy pizza – and initiate the search. Our bots will tell us where to get pizza – and the parasites will tell us what we really want.’
‘Yeah, but surely they’ll find them too when they run their activity trace or whatever?’
Mac was offended. ‘I know what I’m doing, thank you. A routine activity trace consists of trapping a bunch of bots and asking them what they’re doing, who they’re doing it for and how many other bots they are chatting with. Our bots will simply say they’re hunting for pizzas.’
‘But your parasites are not innocently looking for pizza.’
‘Nope. But when the bots are trapped, the security protocols strip out all viruses and parasites automatically.’
‘So they can’t detect what we’re doing?’
‘Well, er, under normal circumstances, no . . .’ said Mac.
Uh-oh! ‘What aren’t you telling me?’ asked Kaspar.
‘I just described a routine activity trace. A full trace is much more thorough. If they do a full trace, then we’re screwed.’
‘When and why would they do a full trace?’
‘If they suspect we’re up to something.’
Kaspar considered for a moment. ‘You realize that if we are right and they catch us . . . ?’
‘I know.’
‘I don’t just mean you lose your security clearance. We could end up . . .’