The Assassin Drone, Part 2
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"For those of you who don't know," Harry Pearce said, "this is Lucas North. Lucas is returning to MI-5 after several years abroad, and I've convinced him to put his talents to work for us here at Section D. Lucas, it's good to have you here."
"It didn't take much convincing, Harry." Glad that Harry hadn't announced his prison experience to all of them, Lucas looked around the table of the briefing room with a smile. Some of them knew, but some didn't, and he wanted to keep it that way. "It's good to be here."
"You already know Adam, and Tim."
Lucas nodded to Adam Carter, the tall, blond man who had come with Harry to the airport in Moscow to pick him up when he'd been released, six months ago, and to Tim Forster, the young agent who'd been his minder for his first four weeks back in England.
"This is Ben Kaplan, and Connie James."
Ben was in his late twenties, with dark hair so short it looked like it was growing back from a recently shaved head. Connie was at least as old as Harry, probably even older, and had the same no-nonsense look and feel about her.
"We're going to dump you in the deep end this morning, Lucas," Harry went on, then gave Adam a nod. Adam clicked the remote so that the picture on the big screen showed a wrecked bus.
"You might have seen this on the news, and the official story is that it was a bomb," Adam said, changing pictures to something black and white and more grainy. "But the CCTV footage captured this. Watch here."
Using a laser pointer, Adam indicated something small, dark, and round that was floating between the bus and a nearby car. Just as the car in the next lane shot ahead, a beam of light came out from the strange globe at an angle, hitting the side of the bus close to the ground. There were flames, and then the bus exploded, taking the dark sphere with it.
"That looked like something out of Star Wars," Tim remarked with a nervous laugh. "The Death Star meets London Transport."
"The experts say it was a drone of some kind," Adam confirmed, "and the light that hit the petrol tank was a laser. It looks like an attempt at assassination, but none of the usual groups are claiming any victories. Connie, I want you to find out the identity of everybody who was on that bus, and run a deep background check on them. Get Ben to help you. Lucas, take Tim and go to Tarla Industries, find out everything you can about this drone. If they didn’t make it, they might know who did."
"Right," Lucas said.
"Tarla – don't they make remote controlled helicopters and planes and things?" Tim asked.
"Yes," Adam said, "but their toy department, although real, is the perfect camoflage. They also make spy drones for the government."
"Cool," Tim said. As they filed out of the briefing room, he remarked to Lucas, "I had one of their things for Christmas once, it looked like a flying saucer."
"Then you must have the address," Lucas said.
"They're out in Acton somewhere, I think."
Lucas put an expectant look on his face and waited, and eventually Tim added, "I'll look it up, won't be a sec."
+++++
Like every morning, Olivia Stephens was trying to get her nine-year-old son Owen to eat his breakfast and do everything else that was necessary so that he could get to school on time. Unlike every morning, however, her efforts were interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Sighing in annoyance, Olivia stood up, but Owen was faster, shooting from the kitchen table straight to the door. He threw it open with an excited cry of, "Hallo!"
"Hallo," Olivia heard an unfamiliar voice say. "Is your mother here?"
Coming up behind Owen, she could see two men standing on the step, dressed in suits.
"Here she is," Owen announced.
"Owen, go finish your breakfast," Olivia told him, but Owen stayed where he was. Olivia turned her attention back to the two men and hoped they'd be quick.
"We'd like to talk to you about your son," one of the men said. He had a slight accent that she couldn’t place, except to say it wasn't Indian.
"What about him?" Olivia asked, wondering if Owen had managed to get into trouble again. She didn’t recognize the men, and they hadn’t explained where they were from.
"Yes, what about me?" Owen echoed, then asked, "Do you want to see what I built?"
Assuming, as he always did, that the answer would be an enthusiastic yes, Owen raced off to the coffee table in the living room, the place of honour for his latest Lego creation.
"Can we come in?" the other man asked.
"Not until I see some identification," Olivia told them, but then the man lifted the jacket of his suit, just enough to show her the holster at his side, and the butt of the gun that was inside it.
"This is our identification," the man said, stepping forward and pushing past Olivia, who was too shocked to slam the door in his face. Owen met them halfway, holding the huge Lego rocket he'd built. "Look!"
"Owen, put that down and go eat," Olivia told him, wishing she could tell him to run away and get help. He wouldn't leave, though, not as long as he had an audience.
"It's a space ship that goes to Mars!" Owen started to explain.
"Wonderful," the first man said. "Have you got more stuff in your bedroom? Why don't you show me?"
Owen bounded eagerly up the stairs to his bedroom, and the man followed more slowly. In the living room, the second man sat down and looked at Olivia until she sat as well, balancing stiffly on the edge of the easy chair.
"What's going on?" she asked. "What do you want?"
"We want your help," the man said. "You work at Tarla Industries, you build spy drones with lasers. We want one."
"I work at Tarla, but I design toys," Olivia said, glancing at his hands. She could see his watch and even upside down, it was telling her how late it was. Looking back up at his face, she clarified, "Remote controlled helicopters for children, that sort of thing."
The man shook his head. "We know all about you, Olivia. We know you build spy drones for the government."
"Who are you?" Olivia asked. That accent – was he Iranian? Iraqi? He looked more European than anything else. Russian?
"It doesn't matter who we are, only what we can do. And what we can do is take Owen with us until you hand over the drone."
Olivia felt cold fear clutch her heart and squeeze it until it all but stopped beating. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach, and her mind kept saying, this can't be true, this must be a nightmare, but no nightmare she had ever had was this clear, this real.
"You're working on a prototype that you call the Death Star," the man went on. "Like the real Death Star from the movie, it has a laser inside that can be used to kill. A person, not a planet."
It was a frighteningly realistic description of a top-secret project, right down to the nick-name and even the catch phrase they'd come up with for it. "Wh-where did you get this information?" Olivia asked. "Who told you this?"
"A colleague of yours at Tarla," the man said. "By the way, Jeremy Owusu is dead now."
Olivia stared at him, a slow chill running down her spine. Jeremy? Dead? She'd seen him at work only yesterday afternoon. "When? How?"
"Earlier this morning," the man said. "And as for the how, you really don't want to know."
Staring at him, Olivia realized what he must mean. Dread washed over her, her mouth dried up, and her stomach clenched tightly.
"The Death Star drone he gave us didn't work properly," the man went on. "Perhaps it was defective from the beginning, perhaps he modified it in some way to fool us. So we need another one, one that works. And you, Olivia Stephens, are going to get it, and fly it, for us, because if you don't, it's Owen first, and then you, do you understand?"
"But how?" she asked. Her voice broke and she had to try again. "How? I can't just walk out of Tarla with a drone under my arm. Security is very tight – how did Jeremy do it?"
"He didn't tell us and we didn't ask. But we know you'll find a way, especially if you want to see your son again."
"I'll need time," Olivia said. "I'll need time!"
"To-day and to-morrow," the man told her. "To-morrow evening at midnight. Jeremy Owusu managed it in that amount of time, so it should be more than enough for you."
He stood up from the couch, took something from his pocket, then got up onto the coffee table and stuck it to the ceiling near the light fixture.
"What are you doing?" Olivia asked, following as the man walked into the hall.
"If you call the police or tell anybody else about what's happening, I'm sure you know what will happen," the man said conversationally, taking another tiny device from his pocket and showing it to her before attaching it to the lampshade. "These are bugs, and we're listening to you. We're monitoring your e-mail, your post, and everything you say and do."
He went into the kitchen as well, but Olivia remained where she was, staring up at the bug. It was so small!
"We'll know if you take them down or try to disable them in any way," the man said, coming back out into the hall. "There are some upstairs, too, as I'm sure you'd expect. Now come say good-bye to Owen."
Feeling sick with fear, Olivia followed the man upstairs, where Owen was already packing his overnight bag, mostly with Legos and stuffed animals. "Hi, mum! They're going to take me to Legoland!"
Olivia gave the second man a hard look, but he only smiled and reached down to ruffle Owen's hair. "That's right," he said. "You'll have a great time with us."
If only Owen weren't so trusting, Olivia thought, but he'd always been that way, never shy around adults or strangers of any kind. Owen always assumed everybody wanted to be his friend, or at least talk to him. Now Olivia was left wondering if his personality would truly be the death of him.
"Have you got clean underwear?" the first man asked. "And your toothbrush?"
Owen ignored the first suggestion and ran off to the bathroom. Olivia walked reluctantly over to his chest of drawers and pulled out clean clothes, then made room in the bag for them by reducing the number of toys.
"Mum!" Owen exclaimed, coming back and tearing the stuffed turtle from her hands. "I can't go without Speedy!"
"Sorry," Olivia whispered, feeling tears come to her eyes. Inwardly, she was shouting at the men. You're lying to him! You're not taking him to Legoland at all! How dare you betray his trust like that!
Owen stuffed the soft animal back into the bag, then zipped it shut and glanced up at the men. "Come on, let's go! What time does Legoland open? Can we be the first ones there?"
"Say good-bye to your mother, Owen," the first man said, then told Olivia, "Don't worry, we'll take good care of him."
Olivia leaned down for a big hug, and Owen hugged back, but only briefly. He was too excited to be contained for long, and soon broke away, grabbing his bag and running downstairs to the door. The second man followed, and the first one stayed with Olivia. To her surprise, he pulled a mobile phone out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her. "Keep this. We'll call you every evening at seven, and if you're making progress, we'll let you speak to him. But remember, we're listening. Don't tell anybody, not even your mother. Just get the drone, and you'll get Owen back."
Olivia nodded, silent and numb, and the man went downstairs and let himself out. Olivia ran to the window and looked out, watched Owen get into their car without once looking back, then sat down and cried. It was a long time before she could compose herself enough to get up and call the school to inform them that Owen wouldn't be coming that day.
Part 3
"For those of you who don't know," Harry Pearce said, "this is Lucas North. Lucas is returning to MI-5 after several years abroad, and I've convinced him to put his talents to work for us here at Section D. Lucas, it's good to have you here."
"It didn't take much convincing, Harry." Glad that Harry hadn't announced his prison experience to all of them, Lucas looked around the table of the briefing room with a smile. Some of them knew, but some didn't, and he wanted to keep it that way. "It's good to be here."
"You already know Adam, and Tim."
Lucas nodded to Adam Carter, the tall, blond man who had come with Harry to the airport in Moscow to pick him up when he'd been released, six months ago, and to Tim Forster, the young agent who'd been his minder for his first four weeks back in England.
"This is Ben Kaplan, and Connie James."
Ben was in his late twenties, with dark hair so short it looked like it was growing back from a recently shaved head. Connie was at least as old as Harry, probably even older, and had the same no-nonsense look and feel about her.
"We're going to dump you in the deep end this morning, Lucas," Harry went on, then gave Adam a nod. Adam clicked the remote so that the picture on the big screen showed a wrecked bus.
"You might have seen this on the news, and the official story is that it was a bomb," Adam said, changing pictures to something black and white and more grainy. "But the CCTV footage captured this. Watch here."
Using a laser pointer, Adam indicated something small, dark, and round that was floating between the bus and a nearby car. Just as the car in the next lane shot ahead, a beam of light came out from the strange globe at an angle, hitting the side of the bus close to the ground. There were flames, and then the bus exploded, taking the dark sphere with it.
"That looked like something out of Star Wars," Tim remarked with a nervous laugh. "The Death Star meets London Transport."
"The experts say it was a drone of some kind," Adam confirmed, "and the light that hit the petrol tank was a laser. It looks like an attempt at assassination, but none of the usual groups are claiming any victories. Connie, I want you to find out the identity of everybody who was on that bus, and run a deep background check on them. Get Ben to help you. Lucas, take Tim and go to Tarla Industries, find out everything you can about this drone. If they didn’t make it, they might know who did."
"Right," Lucas said.
"Tarla – don't they make remote controlled helicopters and planes and things?" Tim asked.
"Yes," Adam said, "but their toy department, although real, is the perfect camoflage. They also make spy drones for the government."
"Cool," Tim said. As they filed out of the briefing room, he remarked to Lucas, "I had one of their things for Christmas once, it looked like a flying saucer."
"Then you must have the address," Lucas said.
"They're out in Acton somewhere, I think."
Lucas put an expectant look on his face and waited, and eventually Tim added, "I'll look it up, won't be a sec."
+++++
Like every morning, Olivia Stephens was trying to get her nine-year-old son Owen to eat his breakfast and do everything else that was necessary so that he could get to school on time. Unlike every morning, however, her efforts were interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Sighing in annoyance, Olivia stood up, but Owen was faster, shooting from the kitchen table straight to the door. He threw it open with an excited cry of, "Hallo!"
"Hallo," Olivia heard an unfamiliar voice say. "Is your mother here?"
Coming up behind Owen, she could see two men standing on the step, dressed in suits.
"Here she is," Owen announced.
"Owen, go finish your breakfast," Olivia told him, but Owen stayed where he was. Olivia turned her attention back to the two men and hoped they'd be quick.
"We'd like to talk to you about your son," one of the men said. He had a slight accent that she couldn’t place, except to say it wasn't Indian.
"What about him?" Olivia asked, wondering if Owen had managed to get into trouble again. She didn’t recognize the men, and they hadn’t explained where they were from.
"Yes, what about me?" Owen echoed, then asked, "Do you want to see what I built?"
Assuming, as he always did, that the answer would be an enthusiastic yes, Owen raced off to the coffee table in the living room, the place of honour for his latest Lego creation.
"Can we come in?" the other man asked.
"Not until I see some identification," Olivia told them, but then the man lifted the jacket of his suit, just enough to show her the holster at his side, and the butt of the gun that was inside it.
"This is our identification," the man said, stepping forward and pushing past Olivia, who was too shocked to slam the door in his face. Owen met them halfway, holding the huge Lego rocket he'd built. "Look!"
"Owen, put that down and go eat," Olivia told him, wishing she could tell him to run away and get help. He wouldn't leave, though, not as long as he had an audience.
"It's a space ship that goes to Mars!" Owen started to explain.
"Wonderful," the first man said. "Have you got more stuff in your bedroom? Why don't you show me?"
Owen bounded eagerly up the stairs to his bedroom, and the man followed more slowly. In the living room, the second man sat down and looked at Olivia until she sat as well, balancing stiffly on the edge of the easy chair.
"What's going on?" she asked. "What do you want?"
"We want your help," the man said. "You work at Tarla Industries, you build spy drones with lasers. We want one."
"I work at Tarla, but I design toys," Olivia said, glancing at his hands. She could see his watch and even upside down, it was telling her how late it was. Looking back up at his face, she clarified, "Remote controlled helicopters for children, that sort of thing."
The man shook his head. "We know all about you, Olivia. We know you build spy drones for the government."
"Who are you?" Olivia asked. That accent – was he Iranian? Iraqi? He looked more European than anything else. Russian?
"It doesn't matter who we are, only what we can do. And what we can do is take Owen with us until you hand over the drone."
Olivia felt cold fear clutch her heart and squeeze it until it all but stopped beating. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach, and her mind kept saying, this can't be true, this must be a nightmare, but no nightmare she had ever had was this clear, this real.
"You're working on a prototype that you call the Death Star," the man went on. "Like the real Death Star from the movie, it has a laser inside that can be used to kill. A person, not a planet."
It was a frighteningly realistic description of a top-secret project, right down to the nick-name and even the catch phrase they'd come up with for it. "Wh-where did you get this information?" Olivia asked. "Who told you this?"
"A colleague of yours at Tarla," the man said. "By the way, Jeremy Owusu is dead now."
Olivia stared at him, a slow chill running down her spine. Jeremy? Dead? She'd seen him at work only yesterday afternoon. "When? How?"
"Earlier this morning," the man said. "And as for the how, you really don't want to know."
Staring at him, Olivia realized what he must mean. Dread washed over her, her mouth dried up, and her stomach clenched tightly.
"The Death Star drone he gave us didn't work properly," the man went on. "Perhaps it was defective from the beginning, perhaps he modified it in some way to fool us. So we need another one, one that works. And you, Olivia Stephens, are going to get it, and fly it, for us, because if you don't, it's Owen first, and then you, do you understand?"
"But how?" she asked. Her voice broke and she had to try again. "How? I can't just walk out of Tarla with a drone under my arm. Security is very tight – how did Jeremy do it?"
"He didn't tell us and we didn't ask. But we know you'll find a way, especially if you want to see your son again."
"I'll need time," Olivia said. "I'll need time!"
"To-day and to-morrow," the man told her. "To-morrow evening at midnight. Jeremy Owusu managed it in that amount of time, so it should be more than enough for you."
He stood up from the couch, took something from his pocket, then got up onto the coffee table and stuck it to the ceiling near the light fixture.
"What are you doing?" Olivia asked, following as the man walked into the hall.
"If you call the police or tell anybody else about what's happening, I'm sure you know what will happen," the man said conversationally, taking another tiny device from his pocket and showing it to her before attaching it to the lampshade. "These are bugs, and we're listening to you. We're monitoring your e-mail, your post, and everything you say and do."
He went into the kitchen as well, but Olivia remained where she was, staring up at the bug. It was so small!
"We'll know if you take them down or try to disable them in any way," the man said, coming back out into the hall. "There are some upstairs, too, as I'm sure you'd expect. Now come say good-bye to Owen."
Feeling sick with fear, Olivia followed the man upstairs, where Owen was already packing his overnight bag, mostly with Legos and stuffed animals. "Hi, mum! They're going to take me to Legoland!"
Olivia gave the second man a hard look, but he only smiled and reached down to ruffle Owen's hair. "That's right," he said. "You'll have a great time with us."
If only Owen weren't so trusting, Olivia thought, but he'd always been that way, never shy around adults or strangers of any kind. Owen always assumed everybody wanted to be his friend, or at least talk to him. Now Olivia was left wondering if his personality would truly be the death of him.
"Have you got clean underwear?" the first man asked. "And your toothbrush?"
Owen ignored the first suggestion and ran off to the bathroom. Olivia walked reluctantly over to his chest of drawers and pulled out clean clothes, then made room in the bag for them by reducing the number of toys.
"Mum!" Owen exclaimed, coming back and tearing the stuffed turtle from her hands. "I can't go without Speedy!"
"Sorry," Olivia whispered, feeling tears come to her eyes. Inwardly, she was shouting at the men. You're lying to him! You're not taking him to Legoland at all! How dare you betray his trust like that!
Owen stuffed the soft animal back into the bag, then zipped it shut and glanced up at the men. "Come on, let's go! What time does Legoland open? Can we be the first ones there?"
"Say good-bye to your mother, Owen," the first man said, then told Olivia, "Don't worry, we'll take good care of him."
Olivia leaned down for a big hug, and Owen hugged back, but only briefly. He was too excited to be contained for long, and soon broke away, grabbing his bag and running downstairs to the door. The second man followed, and the first one stayed with Olivia. To her surprise, he pulled a mobile phone out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her. "Keep this. We'll call you every evening at seven, and if you're making progress, we'll let you speak to him. But remember, we're listening. Don't tell anybody, not even your mother. Just get the drone, and you'll get Owen back."
Olivia nodded, silent and numb, and the man went downstairs and let himself out. Olivia ran to the window and looked out, watched Owen get into their car without once looking back, then sat down and cried. It was a long time before she could compose herself enough to get up and call the school to inform them that Owen wouldn't be coming that day.
Part 3