“
Tell me who you are, or I’ll break your fucking neck,” a gruff, but familiar voice whispered in his ear.
“
Get off me, it’s Simon,” he gasped, trying in vain to pull the strong forearm away from his windpipe.
The grip loosened and Simon slumped forward as Digger grabbed his arm, hauling him to his feet.
“
Sorry, mate,” he said quietly. “I can’t be too careful. You could have been one of those fucking SemComNet bastards. Or one of those soldiers I’ve seen patrolling round.”
Rubbing his neck, Simon gestured for him not to concern himself. The main thing was he was out of SemComNet.
“
Where are Michael and Brown?” Digger asked, watching the inferno that was SemComNet.
“
Brown betrayed us,” Simon said angrily, images of his torture flooding back. “He was working for SemComNet all along. The whole thing was a trap just to get us into the building so they could discover if we still had any useful information about the app.”
“
Bastard,” Digger hissed. “I hope he’s burning alive in there.”
Simon half smiled.
“
He’s dead. Michael killed him.”
Digger smiled again, pleased some justice had been done.
“
What the hell’s happening in there? What’s causing all the explosions?”
Simon shook his head as he too turned to face the blazing building.
“
It’s the Real Internet Guardians. We must have succeeded in sending them the app before we were caught. They’ve managed to breach the UKCitizensNet firewall. They’re attacking UKCitizensNet and SemComNet with the app. The irony is almost poetic. UKCitizensNet has been exposed for what it is, a murderous sham. It’s the end for them.”
Another concern crossed Digger’s mind as more screams filled the air.
“
What about Michael? Where is he?”
“
He was going after my brother to make sure he didn’t escape. We sent the app to kill him. I don’t think he’s coming back.”
Digger nodded, reading the meaning in Simon’s serious expression.
Simon looked at his watch. The app would have had more than enough time to do its job. And if that had failed, the devastation of the East Wing of the building would have made escape virtually impossible anyway.
“
To be honest, I’m not sure he was ever trying to escape. He just wanted vengeance for his wife and daughter. But, if he’s not dead, I just hope he can make it out.”
The two men fell silent, pondering Michael’s potential fate. As another explosion ripped through SemComNet, their attention fell to the entrance of the tunnel at their feet. It was Michael’s only possible route of escape.
History records that Nero had fiddled while Rome burned. The way historians told the story Nero seemed dismissive and arrogant at this loss and its devastation. And as he scrabbled across the grass, the route of escape illuminated by the flames, SemComNet burned behind him. But there was nothing minor or dismissive about this devastation. He knew the scale of what was happening and that they’d succeeded in bringing UKCitizensNet down.
Behind him he could hear screams, terrible screams, as another blast ripped though the state-of-the-art complex. He felt the heat of the explosion and the flames that licked mercilessly from room to room warm his skin as he scurried away looking for cover. Looking for his route out before he was found.
Pulling himself to his feet he turned back briefly towards the burning complex, assessing the situation. The entire East Wing had been destroyed, reduced to a rubble inferno. The flames were rapidly gathering pace, spreading through the open-plan atrium and into the North Wing, which predominantly housed the management’s offices.
Amidst the crackling of the fire came the sound of shattering glass. A domino effect of people toppled through the shards of the breached atrium, onto the ground outside, tumbling helplessly onto each other as they sought to escape. Bodies were either lacerated on the shattered glass or crushed by the wave of people pouring from the point of escape.
He watched as one man trampled the rising mass of limbs, stumbling onto the gravel path running around the entire complex. His screams pierced the air as the flames burning away his hair spread down his body, sliding down his clothes in a terrifying instant. The man ran in a crazed zigzag, as if this would somehow halt the furious path of the flames, before flinging himself to the floor, attempting to roll over and over. But by now it was too late. The smell of burning flesh permeated the air as more screams shot from the ruptured atrium.
Turning away from the panicked cries it occurred to him that this much chaos and panic would surely make his escape easier. Looking from side to side he moved forward, thoughtfully scanning the ground for the way they’d got into SemComNet and past the heavy perimeter security. Behind him there was another deafening explosion. The ground shook from the force, sending him sprawling onto his front. His angular jaw thudded painfully into the earth.
Pulling himself to his knees the ground in front was illuminated by the most recent blast. Fifteen feet in front he could see the hole in the ground. Reaching the entrance to the tunnel he saw the ladder poking up from the yawning opening below. Casting one final glance behind him, and confident in the belief he wasn’t being pursued, he quickly descended into the maze of tunnels below.
As the light from the flames above slowly ebbed away, replaced by the enveloping gloom in the tunnels, he reached into his trouser pocket for his cigarette lighter. As light flooded into the tunnel and lit the way out, Trevellion ran his fingers through his dark hair, contemplating his good fortune.
Even now he still wasn’t sure quite what had happened. The clock had been ticking down to the release of the noxious gas into the Data Warehouse. But an explosion had ripped through the room before that had happened.
Did Michael Robertson detonate the grenade?
Was it intentional or an accident?
Maybe the sight of sitting in front of the man responsible for the death of his wife and daughter had been too much that he simply couldn’t wait any longer? Or, had the thunderous explosion that had sent him sprawling to the ground, but fortuitously underneath a metal desk that had protected him, been as a result of the work of the R.I.G attacking SemComNet and UKCitizensNet? Whatever the cause of the blast, it obviously hadn’t been his time. Fate had smiled on him this night.
Reaching into his jacket pocket for his mobile phone he flicked the device open, calling up his personal phone book. Choosing the number he wanted he half-smiled as the caller ID appeared on the screen:
‘S Tate mobile’
.
But the smile was soon replaced by a scowl. He had no signal. Not this far underground.
Never mind, he’d speak to Tate when he was out the other end of the tunnel.
They might have succeeded in destroying SemComNet and destabilising UKCitizensNet but he was still alive. And that meant the CODEX project was still alive. And the project was bigger than all of them.
At the UKCitizensNet cybercafe in Kingston-upon-Thames the manager pulled the cafe’s door shut, pressing the button on the digital display from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed’. It was only 9.10am. But there weren’t going to be any customers today. And maybe not for a while if reports on UKCitizensNet’s radio station, eCit-Talk, were to be believed.
Walking back through the cafe the manager grimaced slightly as, one by one, she turned off each monitor until the only one remaining was the large display screen attached to the far wall. Studying the message on the monitor she wondered if this might cost her job. Looking back at the screen she read the message that had been on every screen before flicking it off also.
‘
We regret UKCitizensNet is currently unavailable. We hope to restore service as soon as possible.’