System Shock Part 15

'Hubway? But why today?'

'Peterson brought the opening forward to this morning. Late morning luckily.'

Gibson sank back into his pillows. 'Do we have anyone there?'

'No. Just the local security are involved, though the Americans may have someone. But I doubt we could get there in time, the ceremony starts in a couple of hours.'

'I think I'll sit this one out.'

Harry stood up and wandered to the door. He spared a glance for the television on its bracket in the corner of the room angled towards the bed, and peered through the porthole window of the private room. His view outside was of a sterile, pale green corridor. 'Wait a minute, though. The Doctor's down there, working on the CD thing.' He turned back to Gibson.

'Mind if I use your phone?'

'Be my guest,' Gibson said, waving a bandaged hand towards the telephone sitting next to the television remote control on the bedside cabinet.

132.

The sound of the telephone echoed slightly. It sat on an empty desk next to a local area network cable which lay in the s.p.a.ce where a personal workstation had stood an hour before.

The room was empty, a LAN server went about its business quietly in one corner, the desks in the bays along the walls were empty and silent. Except for the phone.

In an attic room on the next floor, the Doctor frowned with concentration and decided things could not get much more complicated. The telephone which could have told him different continued to ring in the silence and the emptiness.

133.

0A.

Take-over Bid H The main gate into the Hubway grounds had a barrier across it. There was a small booth in the middle of the driveway. On the exit side a barrier opened automatically to let vehicles out. On the entry side things were more complicated.

The maroon van was first. Sarah could see the driver leaning slightly out of the window and speaking into what she guessed was an intercom. After a few moments what she could see of the driver's head disappeared back inside the van, and the barrier slowly pivoted upwards. It stayed upright to allow both the van and the minibus through, then with a grinding of gears in need of oil it sank back into place.

Through the side window Sarah could see several cameras mounted on poles like lampposts swivel to track their progress.

They followed signs to Goods In Goods In which took them off the main drive and round to the back of the sprawling complex. Sarah got a good look at the Hubway buildings as they drove round. which took them off the main drive and round to the back of the sprawling complex. Sarah got a good look at the Hubway buildings as they drove round.

The van seemed deliberately to take the long route, past the front of the house and then doubling round to the back of the large main house.

The house itself was early eighteenth century, and typical of Queen Anne architecture. It was red brick with wide strips of pale stone running vertically down the structure and round the top. At either end, a side wing jutted forward slightly, so that the main facade of the house was recessed. A stone porch supported by pillars framed the main entrance in the middle of the frontage. The windows, like the chimney stacks, were large and square.

As they drove round, Sarah could see off to the right a tall new building of gla.s.s and concrete which looked totally at 134 odds with the house. It looked even more incongruous for being between the house and the outbuildings. There were several blocks stables and barns further round. The pale gravelled drive swung off towards them from the front of the house. As they drove down the right side of the house, Sarah could glimpse a large car park behind the nearest outbuilding and the new block. There were a few cars grouped together at the end closest to the main house and Sarah guessed there was a path from the car park.

The van and minibus drew up at the back of the house. The drive was wide enough for them to park and leave room for other vehicles to pa.s.s. A uniformed security guard was standing by the back door and greeted Stabfield, asking him to sign on a clipboard. Then he counted out security badges which Stabfield took.

As they got off the minibus, Stabfield handed everyone a badge. They were credit-card sized plastic with Visitor Visitor and a number printed across the green front. On the back was a magnetic strip. Each badge was within a transparent plastic holder which had a clip attached. Sarah clipped hers to the waistband of her skirt and followed the others into the house. and a number printed across the green front. On the back was a magnetic strip. Each badge was within a transparent plastic holder which had a clip attached. Sarah clipped hers to the waistband of her skirt and followed the others into the house.

The door led directly into the kitchens. As she entered, Sarah glanced back. Stabfield was watching her. And behind him, the driver of the van was opening the back doors and preparing to unload the crates inside. It was Martin Carlson.

Harry kept the BMW at a steady ninety down the M4. He could sort out any problems with speed cameras later, but he hoped he was not stopped by a police car. Every time another car overtook him he felt a slight relief, at least they would stop that car before they pulled him in.

The countryside sped past in blurred near-silence. Harry missed his old MG. It had been rather more noisy, of course, but it had been fun to drive. Driving the new car was boring, especially down a motorway. No different from thousands of other cars in the fast lane; no character. He had always regretted taking the company car and parting with his own. At the time it had seemed logical and financially sound. Now it seemed like he had sold an old friend.

135.

He had called Hanson as he left the hospital, using the cell phone perched on the pa.s.senger seat and plugged through the car's stereo. Then, to be doubly sure, he had called Inspector Ashby at Special Branch. In response to Hanson's orders, the local police should already be mobilizing, but Harry wanted to be there if things got nasty. He indicated and pulled round a Mondeo which was resolutely doing sixty in the middle lane.

His palms were sweating slightly on the wheel, and the light caught the wrinkles on the backs of his hands.

Preparations in the kitchen seemed to be going well. Sarah had been delegated to arranging sausage rolls on silver trays, interspersed with cheesy-pineapple things on sticks. Some of the crates had indeed contained food and champagne. But most were stacked unopened in the corner, and Sarah had a pretty good idea what was inside those. Johanna was perpetually next to her, the machine gun no longer visible, but Sarah suspected she was still armed. Probably had a pistol tucked into her stockings, Sarah thought as she reached for another tray.

'Someone here called Stabfield?' The security guard who had met them at the door had returned.

Stabfield waved and went up to him. He looked uncomfortable in whites and chef's hat, but the guard seemed not to notice.

'Phone call. You can take it on that one,' the guard said at the same volume as he had called across the room, regardless of the fact Stabfield was less than three feet away. He pointed to a phone attached to the wall.

Having checked Stabfield was getting his message, the guard left the kitchen again. Johanna and Lewis walked over towards Stabfield, keen to discover what the message was.

Sarah took the opportunity to move round the table where she was working.

She had been having vague thoughts about scribbling a warning message and skewering it to the bottom of a pineapple chunk. She had her pen clipped in the side pocket of her skirt, but was stuck for paper. But there was no guarantee she could manage it without being seen, or that anyone would get or appreciate the message in time. Now she had another idea.

136.

Carlson was arranging champagne gla.s.ses on trays at the next work surface. Sarah edged closer to him. 'Martin we've got to stop this,' she whispered.

'Stop what?' His face was blank and expressionless. Perhaps he really did not know.

'I don't know,' Sarah confessed. 'But they've got guns, grenades. There's something going on that I don't understand.'

Carlson leaned towards her, his mouth twisting upwards slightly at the edges as if he were having difficulty smiling. 'Of course you don't understand,' he hissed. 'How could you understand?' His voice seemed to have risen in pitch and sibilance as he advanced on Sarah. 'Your pathetic organic brain couldn't take such concepts on board if its processor was clock-tripled.' A thin tongue whipped out of his mouth with a hiss and Sarah almost gagged on the sudden stench of his breath.

Then suddenly Carlson was back to normal. He turned back to the trays of gla.s.ses, his head swaying slightly from side to side. Sarah reached for the table for support. She was shaking, could feel the fear welling up in her throat and behind her eyes.

She flinched as a hand touched her shoulder.

It was Johanna. 'Now you've got things disambiguated, perhaps you will return your attention to the current objective.'

Sarah shook Johanna's grasp from her shoulder, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and went back to work.

Stabfield had a laptop computer sitting on the kitchen table in front of him. He clicked a b.u.t.ton on the attached mouse and the display switched from a floor plan of Hubway and the outbuildings to a Gantt chart. The chart showed each of the tasks in Stabfield's current project as a colour-coded horizontal bar. Each bar was plotted against an axis showing the time it should start and end, the length of the bar therefore giving a visual indication of the duration of that task. The bars were filled with black up to different points to show percentage of completeness. A single vertical line blinked slowly, it showed the current time. The timenow timenow line edged to the start of another bar as the clock ticked off another minute. Stabfield nodded to the two waitresses standing beside him. line edged to the start of another bar as the clock ticked off another minute. Stabfield nodded to the two waitresses standing beside him.

137.

The waitresses were carrying trays, one of small sandwiches and the other of gla.s.ses of champagne. On Stabfield's unspoken command they left the kitchen by the outside door and started round the back of the house towards the new block.

Stabfield clicked his mouse a few times and a section of the Gantt bar filled in. Another phase of the operation was underway.

Across the room, Marc Lewis watched Stabfield at work on his computer. Lewis hissed with annoyance. He took a small device about the size of a paperback book from his inside jacket pocket. The front was a liquid crystal display screen. He wrote a few words on to the screen with a stylus, watched the hand-written words form into print on the screen, then put the device back in his pocket.

The security control centre was on the ground floor of the new block. A gla.s.sed-in bridge connected the new block to the main house at the first floor level, but the entrance to the ground floor was from the front driveway. The way the four-day roster worked, Lattimer and Simpson had drawn control duty for that Thursday morning.

When the sliding doors opened, Simpson was in the small anteroom watching the monitors and Lattimer was at the front desk. He hastily pushed The Dead Zone The Dead Zone to the side and looked to see who had come in. Behind him he could hear Simpson coming through from the adjoining room he had seen them approach on the monitors. to the side and looked to see who had come in. Behind him he could hear Simpson coming through from the adjoining room he had seen them approach on the monitors.

The two waitresses were about the same height and had similar features. One was blonde and carrying a tray of champagne, the other was dark and had a tray of sandwiches.

'We brought you some refreshment,' the blonde girl said and they placed their trays on the desk in front of Lattimer.

'We shouldn't really while we're on duty,' Lattimer said.

'But since it's a special occasion.' Simpson reached for a gla.s.s of champagne and stuffed a sandwich in his mouth.

'Thanks.'

Lattimer helped himself to a sandwich. The waitresses watched expressionless as they ate and drank.

138.

'Yeah, thanks,' Lattimer said. 'Anything else we can do for you?'

The blonde waitress smiled suddenly. There was no halfway stage as her muscles stretched or the mouth moved upwards.

One moment she was looking at them stoically, the next her mouth had turned up at the ends and her cheeks creased slightly.

'We were wondering, as we came over, what you do here,'

she said. 'How it all works.'

'I'll show you,' Simpson said quickly. 'Come through here and you can see the set-up.' He led the way into the control room and started to explain the banks of monitors and how they were linked up to the external and internal cameras.

Lattimer and the other waitress followed. Lattimer stood behind the blonde. The other waitress, seemingly less interested, waited in the doorway. They were engrossed in the explanations, and in the way the young woman perched on the edge of the control desk as she nodded encouragement and asked simple questions.

The bake-house was next to the kitchen. Johanna was checking the weapons, opening the various crates which had been brought through from the kitchen and itemizing the contents. She had left Carlson to watch Miss Smith.

She looked up as Lewis came into the room. He was holding his pocket computer and showed Johanna the current display.

'We're running fourteen per cent below optimum,' he said.

Johanna said nothing. She had an idea what Lewis was up to, and he had probably ma.s.saged the figures to get the result he wanted.

'It can't be allowed to continue,' he said when he realized she was not going to reply. ' He He can't be allowed to continue.' can't be allowed to continue.'

'Stabfield?'

'Of course Stabfield. His att.i.tude, his perspective, his lack of delegation of the major opportunities and challenges.' Lewis paused, then started on a different tack. 'Oh he's brought us this far with no major defects. But the time has come for him to sign-off This isn't just a knee-jerk, we need new direction while we're c.o.c.ked and ready. Otherwise we may go belly up.'

139.

Johanna went back to her examination of the crates'

contents. 'You're questioning his management bandwidth,' she said.

'Yes, I am. Johanna, I've got risk a.s.sessments which put us at less than eighty-three per cent.' He was standing close to her, almost whispering although no one else was present. 'I can show you a predict sequence animation which makes us dead in the water. Can I count on your support?'

Johanna straightened up. She was holding a grenade and tossed it from hand to hand. 'Maybe. Let me see your figures and the extrapolations and I'll think about it.'

Lewis nodded. 'Okay.' He handed her the computer. 'See if this doesn't press your hot b.u.t.tons.' He turned to leave.

'Marc.'

He turned back as he reached the door. The grenade was flying through the air towards him. He caught it easily.

Johanna slid the stylus across the screen, calling up the a.n.a.lyses Lewis had mentioned.

He watched her for a while from the door. 'I haven't gone public with this yet,' he said. 'I need your backing.'

She nodded. 'Even that may not be enough, you know. He's in a strong position with a proven track record.'

'I know. Just don't go non-linear on me. Not now.'

'No problem.'

Lewis put down the grenade, and left. Johanna continued to stare at the screen. The numbers were impressive, but she wasn't convinced. Not yet.

The Doctor was making good progress. But he was not sure he liked what he was finding. The main file on the disc seemed indeed to have a structure a.n.a.logous to a living creature a genetic code, almost. That coupled with the complex reasoning algorithms similar to those in the chips he and Harry had recovered was enough to make him very worried.

What was worrying him most was that he had no idea of the purpose of the creature. He had convinced himself that the bit patterns did const.i.tute a form of life, albeit inactive. But what was it for?

140.

He tried another a.n.a.lysis, a Schroedinger adjustment he had been forced to write himself. Perhaps if he could determine whether the creature actually existed when not connected to a processor that would help him to define the type of life he was dealing with.

'What a lot of questions,' he muttered as his program compiled.

The d.u.c.h.ess of Glas...o...b..ry was late, as usual. And when she did arrive she sent the security guard at the front desk in the main entrance to the house to pay her taxi. This he duly did, then led her through to the great hall.

The great hall was enormous far too big for the small reception already underway in there. The walls were panelled in oak and decked with large portraits. One of them looked like a Van Dyck, but was probably a copy. There was a large bay window on the left side of the hall, looking out over the grounds towards the woods. On the right side two other windows and a French door gave on to a central gravelled courtyard, complete with ornate fountain. At the far end two doors led off into the rest of the house. The right one seemed to lead to the kitchens, certainly that was where the main traffic of waiters and waitresses was. Most of the end of the hall behind where she came in was curtained off.

There were about a dozen people, mainly staff from Hubway she guessed, at the reception. She could also see a large man in army uniform who she guessed was the American Amba.s.sador together with his personal a.s.sistant.

Peterson pushed his way through a group of people, ignoring the fact that the room was so big for the number of people that he could simply have walked round.

'd.u.c.h.ess,' he had no idea how to address people properly, 'thank goodness. The press photographer is waiting.'

The d.u.c.h.ess allowed herself to be led over to the far corner of the room where a man was setting up a camera on its tripod.

By the time the Amba.s.sador joined them she had somehow managed to acquire a gla.s.s of champagne and a plate loaded with food.

'Careful with that, lady,' the Amba.s.sador drawled.