Project Venom Page 7

  “Whereabouts?” asked the pilot.

  “Somewhere among the passengers,” said the co-pilot. “Can’t pinpoint the exact spot. It’s probably nothing, but I heard London had a security issue earlier today, so…”

  “You’re right, I’ll put the cabin crew on alert, get them to run a discreet search. Storage lockers, under seats, that sort of thing. Some sort of hidden device may be operating, maybe data gathering. Probably just a glitch, but better safe than sorry. If there’s trouble brewing we should find it, before it finds us. Call a flight attendant in here, will you?”

  With the minimum of movement, Vinski nudged Hernandez awake. He blinked and grunted at her for a moment. With her eyes, she pointed over his shoulder. Frowning, he slowly turned around, trying to make it appear he was having a yawn and a stretch.

  A female flight attendant was making her way slowly along the aisles of the First Class section. She was opening the overhead storage compartments as quietly as possible, peeping inside, then clicking them shut again. She kept stooping to peer under seats and between them. She smiled warmly at anyone who gave her a funny look, and asked them if they’d like anything to drink.

  Hernandez leaned close to Vinski and whispered. “What’s she looking for?”

  “I’ve no idea. Maybe someone just lost something?”

  “Then why be so secretive about it? Why not ask?” whispered Hernandez. “I don’t like this. Something doesn’t feel right.” The flight attendant was now carefully and casually sorting through a rack of newspapers and magazines at the front of the cabin.

  Beneath Vinski’s seat, the two micro-robots had also noted the flight attendant’s odd behaviour. “It looks as if she’s searching for us,” said Morph, “but how does she know we’re here?”

  “Their suspicions must have been raised somehow. Perhaps our recharge registered on the electrical systems,” said Nero. “They may incorrectly suspect some kind of sabotage.”

  “We can’t stay here, then,” said Morph. “She’ll see us as soon as she looks under the seat.”

  “We’ll hide in Vinski’s boots,” said Nero.

  The robots took cover inside one of the boots, which still lay discarded on the cabin floor. By now, the flight attendant had finished searching the magazine rack, and was progressing down the aisle towards Hernandez and Vinski. Hernandez kept a close watch on her. She drew level with him, her attention fixed on the area around the empty seats behind him.

  “Can I help you, miss?” he said with a smile.

  The flight attendant suddenly snapped upright. “Oh no, thank you. It’s fine.”

  “Have you lost something?”

  “Umm, yes. A passenger on an earlier flight left their, er, contact lens case behind.”

  Hernandez flashed a meaningful glance at Vinski. In whispers, they had been weighing up the possibility that their plans had been discovered by the authorities. They had also discussed options, in case their cover was blown and they had a fight on their hands. They decided they’d take one or more of the cabin crew hostage; they would hijack the flight and divert it. The look the two terrorists exchanged was filled with unspoken messages.

  The flight attendant was a little flustered. “All a bit embarrassing. For the airline, you understand. We like our passengers to—”

  “Here, let us help you,” smiled Hernandez.

  Hernandez and Vinski made a show of pulling their seats upright and looking around on the floor.

  “Oh no, really, thank you,” twittered the flight attendant, “I don’t want to put you out, I’ll be—”

  Vinski twisted around to get a better look at the area beside her seat, touching at her bun as she moved her head. Her feet swung to one side, and she accidentally kicked her boots. They were batted aside, hitting the metal supports of Hernandez’s seat with a clatter.

  Before they could react, both Morph and Nero were knocked out into the open. Morph instantly wriggled flat into the carpet and disappeared into the gap Nero had cut under Hernandez’s seat.

  Nero landed on his back. He had to flip his body over before he could scuttle away. His mathematical brain knew immediately that he was very likely to be spotted.

  “What’s that?” cried one of the passengers. “Is it a scorpion?”

  “A scorpion?” echoed the woman he was travelling with.

  The First Class section was suddenly filled with voices. Passengers who had been dozing, reading or watching movies all scrambled to get to their feet.

  “Please remain seated, ladies and gentlemen,” called the flight attendant. “I’m sure it wasn’t, er, anything to worry about.”

  “Are you joking?” piped up the passenger who’d seen Nero first. “That was a scorpion! They can be deadly, you know!”

  Nero had scurried for one of the air-ventilation ducts, located at floor level around the edge of the cabin. He ducked inside, safely hidden from view.

  “Nero,” signalled Morph, “stay put. I’ve monitored the flight deck’s avionics, and we’re currently heading west over Norway. It should only be a few minutes before we’re in UK airspace. SWARM will be on their way then.”

  “Have your sensors picked up where the terrorists are hiding the Venom yet?”

  “Negative,” said Morph. “It’s well shielded, wherever it is.”

  “I’ll stay as close to the terrorists as possible,” said Nero.

  “Logged,” said Morph.

  Nero recalibrated his eyes and looked out into the cabin, between the thin metal slats of the ventilation duct. The flight attendant had managed to calm the passengers. However, all of them were sitting in their seats as if they expected to get an electric shock at any moment. Hernandez and Vinski seemed nervous for the first time. Nero’s analysis of their movements showed that they were jittery and uncertain.

  The micro-robot considered the current mission status: the Venom was still hidden, the aircraft’s crew suspected sabotage, and now every pair of eyes on board was looking for what they thought was a dangerous scorpion. Not an ideal situation.

  At SWARM headquarters beneath the streets of London, the 3D display in the laboratory glowed into life. Data Analyst Simon Turing and Professor Miller, SWARM’s Chief Technician, both looked up sharply from what they were doing.

  A stream of data and graphics appeared on the screen.

  “The aircraft is sixty-four kilometres off the coast of Norfolk,” said Simon. “It’s about to enter the area run by Heathrow air traffic control at Swanwick.”

  “I’ll call Ms Maynard,” said Professor Miller.

  Within a minute, Queen Bee was in the laboratory. “Those EBLS operatives could do any number of things, if they think they’re cornered,” she said. “We have to treat the situation aboard that aircraft as the highest level of emergency. Current status of our human agents?”

  “Agent K is already in the air, piloting the stealth jet,” said Professor Miller. “The remaining SWARM robots are with her, active and online. Agent J is at Heathrow.”

  “Agent K is twenty-two kilometres from the Chinese aircraft,” added Simon. “She’s ready to use the experimental G-Launch device.”

  “Excellent,” said Queen Bee. “Remain on alert. Looks like action will be taken within minutes!”

  “This is Flight AW92 Air Weihan to London Heathrow, come in LHR.”

  On board the plane, the pilot spoke calmly and clearly into his headset. He adjusted controls on the flight-deck dashboard in front of him.

  “Swanwick tower, acknowledge that, AW92,” buzzed the reply from the airport’s air traffic control centre.

  “ETA at outer marker is seventeen minutes,” said the pilot. “AW92 out.”

  He turned to the flight attendant, who was standing behind him.

  “Well?” he demanded. “Have you caught that thing yet?”

  The flight attendant paused for a moment. “No. Sorry, Captain. We’ve got every member of the cabin crew on it, I assure you.”

  The pilot growled wit
h frustration. “Do you have any idea how bad it would look if one of our passengers got bitten? We’d lose our jobs, you can be sure of that!”

  “Stung,” said the flight attendant quickly.

  “What?”

  “Stung, Captain. Scorpions don’t actually bite.”

  “Oh, get out! Find that insect!”

  In First Class, Nero was keeping watch on Hernandez and Vinski, who in turn were keeping watch on the aircraft’s crew, who were searching the cabin from top to bottom. One of them was questioning Vinski about the “scorpion”. Had she known it was there? Had she brought it on board the flight? How did it get inside her boot? Was she playing some sort of prank?

  Nero could tell that Vinski was very irritated by this attention, but the terrorist continued to smile politely. She protested that she had no idea how anything of that kind could have happened.

  Hernandez was becoming more anxious by the minute. He kept glancing up and down the cabin, reacting to every movement.

  “Where are you, Morph?” signalled Nero.

  “I’ve crawled up into one of the overhead lockers,” said Morph.

  “I think I may have to render Hernandez unconscious, with a sting from my tail,” said Nero. “He’s losing his nerve. When humans become agitated, their ability to think clearly is impaired. Everyone on this aircraft could be in danger.”

  “Be careful,” said Morph. “I’m continuing to scan for the Venom. Any clues you can give me would be welcome.”

  “Logged,” said Nero.

  Meanwhile, Hernandez shooed the flight attendants away and spoke quietly to Vinski. “If these idiots think you’ve deliberately brought a dangerous animal on board, we’ll both be detained at Heathrow. We cannot put our fake identities at risk. I’m going to collect our insurance.”

  He stood up and walked away down the aisle towards the Business Class and Economy Class sections. Nero dashed out of the ventilation duct.

  “Morph, it sounds like they’ve hidden the Venom somewhere else in the plane,” he signalled. “Hernandez may be fetching it now. I’m going to disable him.”

  The robot scuttled rapidly underneath the line of seats beside the cabin’s port-hole windows. He overtook Hernandez, and zipped across the floor. He aimed directly for the terrorist’s right ankle.

  Suddenly, Nero’s motion sensors and vision circuits registered a flash of movement. He was trapped, surrounded by glass.

  “Got it!” cried one of the First Class passengers. “Look, it’s a scorpion all right! I saw it crawling under those seats, so I got ready to pounce!”

  The others craned their necks to see. Nero had been caught under a large upturned glass. The passengers cheered with relief, and gave a round of applause. The nearest flight attendant bustled over, gushing congratulations.

  “Well done, sir! I’ll tell the captain at once. And I’ll fetch something to hold that pesky little so-and-so in until we land.”

  Nero’s claws and tail were dotted with drips of the lemonade which the glass had contained. He could easily have thrown the glass aside, or cut a hole in it, but no real scorpion could have done that. To maintain secrecy, the SWARM robots had to look and act like real insects. With many unauthorized humans gawping at him, Nero had to maintain his cover.

  Meanwhile, Hernandez had entered the toilet cubicle at the rear of the First Class section. In the dull glow of the overhead light, he crouched down beside the tiny wash basin. He pushed at a rectangular panel at its base.

  The panel gave way. He reached far inside, searching along the water pipe with his fingers. At last he found what he was looking for, and wrenched it free of the sticky tape which was holding it in place. Earlier that day, he’d arranged for his contact at Shaghai airport to do two things. The first was to monitor Seede when he arrived from London. The second was to disguise himself as one of the airport’s maintenance crew and secretly place this item on Flight AW92, for Hernandez to retrieve if needed.

  Hernandez withdrew his hand. In it was a fully loaded gun.

  SWARM’s Agent K was at the controls of a stealth fighter jet, designed to be invisible to radar, infrared and other detection systems. The fighter’s dark, angular shape swooped through the cloud cover five hundred metres behind Air Weihan Flight AW92.

  Agent K pulled the fighter up to within twenty metres of the huge airliner, flying precisely underneath its tail. A complex display of information shone across the visor of her flight helmet. It blinked as she activated a control beside her right shoulder, and a target sight appeared in the centre of her vision.

  “Ready to deploy G-Launch,” she said into the microphone suspended in front of her.

  “Fire when ready,” said Queen Bee at SWARM headquarters.

  Agent K flipped open a cover to reveal a tiny joystick. She clicked it and it bleeped into life. On the nose of the fighter, a squat, barrel-like nozzle suddenly appeared. The target sights on Agent K’s helmet display shifted as she moved the joystick with her thumb.

  She took careful aim, then tapped the end of the joystick. The nozzle fired a large, dark blue ball. With a wet thump, it hit the closed bay doors on the underbelly of the 767, behind which were tucked the aircraft’s landing gear. The ball stuck fast to the metal skin of the plane, warped by the impact into an upside-down dome shape.

  “Queen Bee to SWARM, get moving.”

  “We’re live, Queen Bee,” signalled Chopper the dragonfly. “Sensors and power levels are at maximum.”

  Chopper, Widow, Hercules, Sabre and Sirena were all contained inside the blue blob.

  “Hercules, get us inside,” said Chopper.

  The stag beetle cut into the plane’s metal skin, using his serrated claw. Within seconds he’d made a neat, exact circular hole, 1.2 centimetres in diameter.

  “The gel around us will dissolve in less than five minutes,” said Chopper. “Let’s go.”

  The five micro-robots climbed through the tiny hole one by one.

  “We’ll work our way through the electrical and air circulation systems. Come in, Morph and Nero, what is your current status?”

  “Online! As humans would say, it’s great to hear from you!” signalled Morph from the First Class section. “I’m concealed in the overhead lockers. Nero has been moved to the cabin crew’s area, between First and Business Class, and placed in a sealed plastic tub. He’s being watched and cannot act. Vinski is still in her seat. Hernandez is now returning from the toilet cubicle. Wait, scanning… He has a hand gun in an inside pocket, fully loaded, database check identifies it as a Smith & Wesson Model 645.”

  Hernandez walked back to his seat with an arrogant swagger. He sat down and gave Vinski a brief smile.

  “If we’re left alone,” he whispered, “then I’ll put our insurance back where I found it before we land. Otherwise, get ready. We’ll aim to divert this plane halfway across Europe, get it to fly at low altitude, then escape using the emergency parachutes from our luggage in the cargo hold. We can lay low until our people get to us.”

  Vinski gave him a curt nod, but Morph’s sensors could tell she was even more agitated than he was. Her feet patted nervously against the floor.

  Now that Nero had been caught, only Hernandez and Vinski were on the alert. Nobody noticed five miniature robots sneak into the cabin. Chopper, Hercules and Sabre got in through the same ventilation ducts that Nero had used. Widow and Sirena emerged from an electrical conduit behind a microwave oven in the cabin crew’s area.

  “Do we know the location of the Venom yet?” signalled Chopper.

  “Negative,” said Morph.

  “We must proceed with extreme caution until we know where the Venom is,” said Chopper to the SWARM. “The lives of millions of people could be at stake. Sirena, see if you can get close enough to Vinski for a high-res scan.”

  “Logged,” said Sirena.

  “Nero, are you OK?” said Chopper.

  The robot scorpion looked around the see-through plastic lunch box in which he was being h
eld. “I think I understand the human concept of embarrassment,” he said. He scuttled back and forth for a few moments, to divert the attention of the two nearby flight attendants. Widow zipped behind them on a web line, and Sirena fluttered past, while they were wrinkling their noses at Nero.

  “Eugh, horrible thing, isn’t it?”

  “If only I had feelings, they’d be hurt,” transmitted Nero.

  Meanwhile, Hernandez had reclined his seat again. He handed Vinski a magazine.

  “Act normal,” he whispered. “I think the fuss may be over.”

  Vinski looked over his shoulder. The female flight attendant who’d first gone looking for Nero was approaching them. “No, it isn’t,” she whispered.

  “Excuse me, madam,” smiled the flight attendant. “I just wanted to let you know that the authorities at Heathrow will need a quick word with you upon our arrival.”

  “Why?” said Vinski, her nerves showing in her voice.

  “Oh, it’s just routine, nothing to worry about. But if something like that scorpion turns up on a flight, we have to notify them. The UK has very strict quarantine regulations. The scorpion’s species will have to be identified. They’ll just want to ask you about where you went in China, that sort of thing. Completely routine.”

  “That won’t be possible,” said Hernandez. “We have an urgent appointment in London.”

  “It will only take a few minutes, sir, I’m sure,” smiled the flight attendant. “Just routine.”

  “We had nothing to do with that creature being on this aircraft,” said Hernandez. “Perhaps I should complain to the airline about insect infestation?”

  “There’s no need to adopt that tone, sir,” said the flight attendant, suddenly no longer smiling. “These regulations are for the benefit of everyone. I can involve Airport Security if you’d rather, sir. The scorpion was in the lady’s footwear, and I know it’s unlikely that—”

  Her words ended in a gasp. The click of the gun’s safety catch sounded centimetres from her nose.