Code Name Firestorm Page 7

  “Seven seconds,” said Nero.

  “And that’s a good enough reason why I should keep trusting you, is it? Huh? … Well, that all sounds a bit hollow from where I’m standing, doesn’t it?”

  There was a click and a crackle on the robots’ communications network. Nero’s remote phone tap was online.

  “Just calm down!” said the voice at the other end of Blackwater’s call. It sounded warped and echoing on the robots’ network, but already they were running a voice-print test. “I’m working on it, OK? I’ll get them off our back, don’t you worry.”

  “You’d better!” said Blackwater. “And while you’re doing that, I’m bringing the timetable forward. Firestorm begins tonight!”

  “No,” said the voice. “Stay calm, and stick to the plan. Where are you, at the garage?”

  “I’m not revealing my location over the phone!”

  “All right, all right, Mr Paranoid. Just do as I say, right? Stay put and do nothing until I tell you. Stick to what we’ve agreed.”

  “Why should I?” cried Blackwater.

  “Because if you don’t, all our plans will be wasted, that’s why. I’ll sort this, OK?”

  A high-pitched, three-note tone sounded over the robots’ network. “ID is confirmed,” said Nero.

  “Call me back when you’ve got better news,” spat Blackwater. He stabbed angrily at the phone and the line went dead.

  “Contact identified as MI5 agent Morris Drake,” said Nero. “He is the one working with Blackwater from inside the secret service!”

  6:12 p.m.

  Queen Bee entered her office at SWARM HQ. Without bothering to sit down, she leaned across her desk and tapped at her screen.

  “Sirena, report.”

  In the SWARM lab, Sirena the butterfly was logged into the computer system. “No contact with the other micro-robots yet, Queen Bee,” she said. “I’ve been cross-referencing information downloaded from a number of databases. Since Blackwater’s shop is in central London, we can safely assume that his base of operations, or at least his current home, is within commuting distance.”

  “Yes, that’s likely,” said Queen Bee.

  “So, I’ve been working out where he went after he vanished from his last-known address. I’ve analyzed all records of housing across the entire city and checked those records against any possible link to Blackwater. Even if he used a fake ID, renting or buying a property would expose him to the risk of being tracked down. We know he’s extremely cautious and paranoid about that sort of thing. His most logical course of action would have been to conceal himself in the home of a friend or family member.”

  “I can’t believe he’s got many friends,” said Queen Bee.

  “I’ve traced none,” said Sirena. “But I have managed to track down an aunt of his, who lives in London. Her name is Margery Harris.”

  “Good work,” said Queen Bee. “Get out there and check on this aunt, immediately. Given the speed at which Firestorm has acted so far, we haven’t a moment to lose. Also, I’m worried about Agent Drake. We know he wants to take control of this operation. It’s not like him to call me, as he did earlier, and then go silent. He’s plotting something, I can feel it in my bones! Time could be running out for us, in more ways than one.”

  “Logged, Queen Bee. I’m on my way.”

  6:14 p.m.

  At MI5, Agent Drake was holding a video conference with the prime minister and the home secretary. Two large computer screens were positioned on his desk. Both the politicians looked nervous and angry.

  “You’re certain about this, Drake?” said the home secretary.

  “I am, ma’am,” said Drake. “While the secret SIA section that’s currently handling the Firestorm case has been… Well, we don’t know what they’ve doing, do we? While they’ve been busy, I’ve had my own staff making enquiries, and we’ve made a breakthrough. A suspect had been identified, and tracked to an address in London, owned by a relative of his. An aunt, I believe.”

  “Where did this information come from?” said the prime minister.

  Drake smiled to himself. “For the moment, sir, that must remain confidential. But the intel is good. I’d like permission to override … whatever this secret SIA section is called, and launch a full-scale raid on the address in question.”

  The home secretary turned to the prime minister on the other screen. “It’s your call, Prime Minister.”

  “Why haven’t the SIA come to us with this?” asked the prime minister. He turned to Drake. “More to the point, why didn’t you take this to the section heading up the investigation?”

  “Forgive me, sir,” said Drake smoothly, “but officially I don’t even know they exist, do I? Time is a factor here. Far quicker to come directly to you than to waste hours arguing about who should do what and when. We have to act fast.”

  The prime minister shifted nervously in his seat. “Yes, I see. You’re sure of your facts? This raid will end the Firestorm threat?”

  “I am absolutely certain of it, sir,” smiled Drake.

  “Very well,” said the prime minister, “this Firestorm business is an emergency. The world is looking to us for results. We’ll sort out the protocols later. Get it done.”

  “Yes, sir,” grinned Drake.

  “Right, you have your orders, Mr Drake,” said the prime minister. “Carry them out.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  6:20 p.m.

  “Interesting,” said Nero. “Detailed sensor sweeps of this garage reveal that Blackwater has got hold of some classified MI5 equipment. Drake must have given him a number of gadgets, which he’s adapted, added to and built upon. He’s created his own, more advanced, devices out of existing technology.”

  “I think the phrase Agent J used earlier today applies here,” said Morph. “Curiouser and curiouser.”

  The robots were still safely hidden inside the speaker. Nero had now managed to cut Hercules free of the circuit he’d been fused to. The broken stag beetle lay on his side, his legs curled up beneath his body.

  Henry Blackwater was clattering around the garage, loading gadgets, papers and tools into a large metal trunk. As usual, he was muttering endlessly to himself.

  “He doesn’t trust Agent Drake,” said Nero. “He suspects that Drake may betray him to the authorities.”

  “We know for ourselves that Drake isn’t trustworthy,” said Chopper.

  “Blackwater is probably preparing to put his Firestorm plan into effect, no matter what Drake says,” said Nero.

  “Right, stuff packed…” muttered Blackwater to himself. “Now then, let’s see what happened to this speaker.”

  “Alert,” said Chopper. “Blackwater will find us as soon as he opens up the back of the speaker. Sabre, prepare a memory sting. He must not be allowed to discover that we’re robots.”

  “Logged,” said Sabre calmly. “Flight path calculated. I’ll fly out as soon as there’s a gap wide enough for me. When his recent memory has been wiped, I’ll also inject a freezer sting. Then he’ll be immobilized.”

  “The Firestorm plot will be at an end,” said Nero.

  “All we’ll need to do is get out of this garage and contact HQ,” said Morph. “Blackwater will be captured, and we’ve gathered enough evidence to have Drake arrested.”

  “Get ready,” said Chopper.

  Blackwater sat on a tall stool in front of the table. He pulled the speaker and a set of screwdrivers closer to him. Then he reached across and grabbed a long pair of thick black rubber gloves. He pressed a sequence of keys on his PC.

  Suddenly, there was a hum of power. A shimmering transparent dome slowly appeared over the speaker.

  “It’s a containment field,” said Chopper, “very similar to the one used in the SWARM laboratory, when that briefcase was opened this morning.”

  “Then we’re trapped,” said Morph. “Sabre won’t be able to get out to deliver a sting. We’re going to be discovered!”

  Blackwater’s rubber gloves w
ere held in mid-air by the force field. He could easily reach inside the barrier and work on the speaker, but nothing could get out. He flexed his fingers inside the gloves, then picked up a screwdriver and began to remove the speaker’s rear panel.

  “Does anyone have a brilliant idea at this point?” said Nero.

  None of the other robots answered.

  The back of the speaker lifted off. Blackwater set it down on the table and peered inside the speaker.

  The SWARM robots stared back at him.

  “Well, well,” he said, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “What have we here?”

  For a few seconds, Blackwater was fooled into thinking that the speaker was simply filled with actual insects. He sat back, puzzled, wondering if the speaker had been damaged by some sort of strange infestation.

  “No, no…” he muttered. “That’s a scorpion! And a dragonfly… What on earth?”

  He leaned closer again and poked at the robots with the end of his screwdriver. Their electronic eyes stared back at him.

  “Perhaps if I fly at full speed,” said Sabre, “I can break through the energy barrier?”

  “Negative,” said Nero. “Sensors show it’s almost as powerful as the one at HQ. You’d only bounce off it!”

  To Blackwater, the insects remained still and silent. He prodded at Nero with the screwdriver. “I don’t believe it,” he gasped. “Mechanical! This must be what Drake was on about…”

  The expression on his face slowly turned from amazement to fury. He hopped off the stool and backed away.

  “This proves it!” he cried. “That scumbag has double-crossed me. ‘Stay put and do nothing until I tell you,’ he said. Meanwhile, they’re closing in on me! Well, he can forget our agreement… Firestorm is all mine now!” He chuckled to himself. “I was going to turn him in anyway, sooner or later. Right, first things first… I need to buy myself a little time.”

  He crossed over to his PC and searched through the hard drive for a preprepared video file, then set it to upload.

  “Isn’t there anything we can do?” said Morph.

  “For the moment, no,” said Chopper. “Our cover is blown.”

  Blackwater returned to the force field. He slipped a hand back into one of the gloves and picked up the screwdriver again. With the other hand, he slid a tall, bulbous machine across the table, until it loomed over the force field and the speaker inside.

  At one end of the machine was a long tube. It was attached to the main part of the machine by a set of hinged rods, rather like an office desk lamp. Blackwater twisted the arm around so that the tube pointed directly down at Hercules.

  A large magnifying glass, on a long flexible metal arm, was pulled across the desk too. One of Blackwater’s piercing blue eyes suddenly loomed over the robots, huge and glassy. He prodded the damaged stag beetle with his screwdriver.

  “Very sophisticated little robots, these,” he mumbled. “No wonder they’re kept secret. Not sure even I could make something similar. Hmm, good thing they’re sealed off in here, I bet they’re just packed with communications devices…”

  He poked at Nero and Chopper. “Eh?” he said, raising his voice. He talked to them as if he was a small boy talking to a helpless mouse he’d caught in a trap. “I’d love to pull you all apart, bit by bit, to see what makes you tick. But I haven’t got time right now, and I daren’t try to keep you or you’ll be buzzing off the minute you get the chance, telling the world where I am. I knew keeping that signal jammer with me at all times was a wise move, you’ll all have been out of touch with your base for ages, thank goodness. Thought I’d be jamming bugs of a different kind, though, eh?”

  He grinned at them. His features looked weird and distorted through the magnifying glass.

  “I bet you’ve got some nasty little weapons, too, hmm? Scorpion, dragonfly, spider, centipede, mosquito… And this broken one’s a beetle. Looks like he interfered with my circuits, and they zapped him right back. Still, we’ll soon have him put to rights.”

  Blackwater switched on the machine. Parts of the tube began to glow in sequence. A sharp, bright beam of blue light shot down through the energy barrier and engulfed Hercules.

  Slowly, his legs began to straighten. Power pulsed through his circuits. His systems began to run through a rapid self-repair cycle.

  “What’s happening to him?” said Morph.

  “I detect energized particles inside that light beam,” said Nero. “They’re triggering his circuits to break down and then redirect the molecules in his mechanics. In short, he’s being repaired.”

  “Not even Professor Miller at SWARM’s lab can do that!” said Sabre.

  Suddenly, the robots heard a crackle on their communications network. It was Hercules.

  “R… R… Reboot…”

  6:40 p.m.

  “Ms Maynard, you’ve got to see this!” cried Simon Turing.

  In the laboratory at SWARM HQ, Queen Bee turned towards the large screen on the wall. Simon clicked a link on his tablet. The display showed an online video-sharing site.

  “This was uploaded to GoggleVox a few minutes ago,” said Simon. “It’s Firestorm.”

  The video began to play. A silhouetted figure sat in front of a moving image of the Earth revolving inside a ball of flame. A slow drumbeat and the sound of a howling wind played in the background.

  A series of names began to scroll up the left-hand side of the screen. Underneath each name were brief descriptions of top-secret spying operations carried out in the past three years.

  The silhouetted figure spoke. His voice has been heavily disguised and it came out as a deep, terrifying growl.

  “Governments of the world, please listen carefully. The names you can see are MI6 agents operating in Western Europe. You know what was taken from MI6 headquarters in London. You know this is real. You also know that this is just a tiny sample of the data I possess. These names will cause severe embarrassment for the UK government. They reveal who Britain has been using to spy on her friends in Europe. Think how much worse it’ll be when I reveal the names and activities of every MI6 agent in China. Or every spy mission carried out by the West in North Korea.”

  Professor Miller and Alfred Berners came to stand beside Simon Turing and Queen Bee. All of them stared in horror at the screen.

  “If any move is made against me,” continued the voice, “all the data will be released. If any attempt is made to take down this video, the data will all be released. If MI6, or anyone else, tries to silence me, the data will all be released. I hope that’s clear. The Firestorm is here! The countdown to your destruction has begun!”

  6:45 p.m.

  Blackwater dragged the trunk he’d filled across the floor of the garage. He paused to tap a series of commands into his PC. From inside the speaker, none of the SWARM robots could see what he was doing. The final command read:

  Then he looked over his shoulder at the table. The repair beam was still shining brightly into the domed energy barrier, busily fixing Hercules.

  “Pity,” he said to the robots trapped inside the speaker. “I wish I could have kept you.” He looked around at all the equipment in the garage. “And I wish I could have kept more of this too. Still, there’s only so much room in one car, I guess.”

  “What exactly has he got in that trunk?” said Morph.

  “Scans would suggest some kind of basic survival kit,” said Chopper. “There’s a small but powerful electrical generator, compressed food rations, clothing, some kitchen equipment and other essentials. There’s also a large collection of his gadgets and weapons, plus computers. He’s carrying all the data that was stolen from MI6, and all the money stolen earlier on.”

  Blackwater dragged the trunk from the garage and out of sight. Meanwhile, the beam that was focused on Hercules appeared to have almost finished doing its job. The micro-robot stag beetle’s toughened exoskeleton was looking as shiny as new, and his razor-sharp claw was beginning to twitch with life.

  “Reboo
ting,” he said. “Full systems check… Online.”

  “His voice sounds slightly different,” said Morph. “I wonder why?”

  Outside the garage, Blackwater was dragging the trunk across the courtyard towards the house. He didn’t take any notice of the butterfly that was fluttering high above his head. Grunting with effort, he heaved the trunk over the back step into the kitchen.

  Flying above the garage, Sirena signalled to SWARM headquarters. “Hive 2 to HQ, Blackwater’s presence at this address is confirmed. He appears to have assembled a survival kit. It looks like he’s preparing to leave for good.”

  “Any contact with the rest of the SWARM?” asked Simon.

  “Negative,” said Sirena, “but the garage at the rear of the house is heavily shielded. Power drainage scans show it’s soaking up a lot of electricity. That’s almost certainly his base of operations, and where the other robots are.”

  “An ordinary garage?” said Simon.

  “Should I try to find a way in?” asked Sirena. “The others may need help.”

  “Queen Bee’s orders are to stay close to Blackwater,” said Simon. “If you get the chance, then—”

  “Wait,” interrupted Sirena. “Long-range sensors are picking up a lot of movement… Approaching from the north, west and south-east.”

  “That’s quite a densely populated street,” said Simon. “Are you sure you’re not just picking up local residents?”

  “Negative,” said Sirena. “Movement patterns indicate stealth and coordination. They’re still seventy-five metres from Blackwater’s house, but closing in slowly.” She flew up slightly, allowing her highly sensitive antennae to detect every possible piece of data. “They are heavily armed, and wearing bulletproof jackets. Weaponry, uniform type and tactics indicate an MI5 assault squad.”