2041 Sanctuary (Dark Descent) (50 page)

Steiner walked to the shelving and began sorting through the hardware on display. ‘I’ll need a box.’

Samson, anticipating his request, dumped an orange plastic crate at his feet. One by one, Steiner selected the pieces of equipment he would need to access the FBI’s computer network. Regardless of Samson’s methods, he’d sourced the right kit for the job. Everything here was cutting edge, the latest quantum processors, data miners and artificial intelligence. In fact, it was so advanced he wasn’t convinced anyone outside of the military or GMRC should have access to it. A small stamp on the side of one of the cases, read
Property of the GMRC
. He picked up the other items in his box; everything had the same marking on it, confirming his fears. ‘Where did you get this?’ Steiner asked the nightclub owner, brandishing a device at him. ‘You were selling this on the black market? Do you know the punishment for such a crime?’

The man stared at him tight-lipped and then returned his attention to the colonel, clearly more focused on Samson’s physical threat than anything Steiner had to say.

Samson snatched the item from Steiner’s hand and all but chucked it into the box. ‘Time to go, Professor.’

Steiner was about to retort, but realised the illegal activities of one man were hardly high on his agenda right now. He picked up the box, struggling under its weight.

Samson withdrew his sidearm and pointed it at the man’s chest. ‘Where’s your escape route?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Samson cocked the hammer. ‘Last chance.’ He raised the gun to the man’s head.

Not surprisingly the nightclub owner relented. ‘Behind the cabinet.’ He flicked a hand to his right.

Samson lowered his weapon and leaned his weight against the piece of furniture; with a screech of metal, the cabinet slid to one side, revealing an unlit opening behind. Samson let go and the hidden exit began to close. Pushing it back once more, he held it open so Steiner could move past and into the dark. With one hand on the cabinet, he raised his pistol and shot the man in the head, the body falling to the ground without a sound.

Steiner gasped in shock, the man’s murder carried out by Samson with an indifference akin to an arbitrary task, like putting on your glasses or turning out a light.

Steiner gave Samson a savage look. ‘You really care nothing for the life of others, do you?’

‘Why should I?’ Samson illuminated their escape route with his helmet’s inbuilt torches. ‘According to you everyone’s living on borrowed time as it is. Come 2045, no one on the surface will be left alive; tell me if I’m wrong?’

Steiner didn’t – couldn’t. The colonel was right.

‘As far as I see it,’ Samson said, ‘they’re all six foot under, they just don’t know it yet.’

Chapter Twenty Eight

Steiner stared out of the window at the endless blackness, the low whir of the Dodge Ram’s electric engine lulling him to sleep, its soporific embrace hard to resist. Occasionally a car sped past in the opposite direction, its headlights dazzling him back to full alertness before the process started again, eyelids drooping, mind slowing.

Vegas lay far behind them now. Apparently the colonel’s source at the casino had been very forthcoming about the nightclub owner’s secrets. Steiner wondered if the man still lived; he doubted it given Samson’s track record, the thought a sobering one.

They had exited the nightclub without hindrance via the secret passage, emerging into a street conveniently close to where Samson had parked the pick-up truck. The police, who had indeed descended on the
Asteroid Club
en masse, were none the wiser when Steiner and Samson drove past and on, out of town.
And why would they have been?
Steiner thought. They were looking for someone presumed to be still in the building, not two men cruising by in a classic car.

Once Samson had deemed enough distance lay between them and the city, they had driven a little way out into the desert to catch a few hours’ sleep. Steiner had dozed fitfully, one eye on the road, searching for any sign of pursuit. The colonel, however, went out like a light, his training helping him to grab rest when he could; in spite of the precarious nature of their circumstances.

Back on the road again after their stop, Samson had continued their drive west across the southern states. After two more hours had passed, they arrived at, and then successfully navigated entry into, the
City of Angels
. Once again Steiner had been issued with a temporary pass, this one allowing him four hours inside the Los Angeles County checkpoint boundaries. Samson, as he had back at St. George, bypassed the roadblock, moving in on foot to be picked up by Steiner a mile further down the highway. Now back in the driving seat, literally and metaphorically, the colonel brought them to a darkened office block on the outskirts of Culver City, in the western district of the county.

‘Wake up, old man,’ Samson said, rousing Steiner from his slumber.

Steiner opened his eyes, unaware that he’d drifted off yet again. Instantly alert, he followed his armoured companion out of the car and onto the street. Breaking into the deserted building, Samson guided Steiner inside and prompted him to set up the equipment they’d taken from the now deceased nightclub owner. Patching into the internal connections within the office, located on the first floor, Steiner’s doubts about Samson’s intentions manifested themselves as the time neared for his skills to be utilised. Engineering a code sequence, Steiner brought up the login screen for the FBI’s internal computer network, the holographic wall monitor in the office displaying the agency’s well known seal as a rotating three-dimensional graphic.

‘So, Colonel,’ Steiner said, spinning his seat around to look at Samson, his hands clasped before him in pensive anticipation, ‘what is it you require me to do inside the FBI’s network – exactly?’

‘I need you to locate an agent in the L.A. field office.’

‘Who?’

‘Brett Taylor.’

‘Why?’

‘You don’t need to know why, just do it.’

‘If you think I’m going to break into the secure network of a government agency without knowing why first, then you don’t know me very well.’

Samson glared at him. ‘Don’t push me, Professor.’

Steiner folded his arms across his chest, his face hardening. ‘Or you’ll do what, Colonel? You obviously need me as much as I sadly need you and if you resort to your default setting of violence first and talk after, then you’ll find my services are no longer available to you.’

Samson’s jaw tightened as his rage, never far from the surface, battled to unleash itself at the obstacle before it.

Steiner watched while Samson struggled in his own internal, private tug of war. ‘The ball’s in your court, Colonel, and it’s your call.’

Samson held Steiner’s gaze, perhaps seeking to melt his resolve by sheer force of will. Unfortunately for the colonel, he only bowed to such pressure when he had absolutely no alternative. Steiner raised a questioning eyebrow.

Samson released Steiner’s gaze and moved to look out of the window. In the distance the high-rises of central L.A.’s financial district thrust up into the dark skies, their windows lit up like sparkling jewels in a physical embodiment of the power and influence enjoyed by those that occupied the offices within.

A minute’s silence passed before Samson spoke. ‘I have a child – a daughter.’

Steiner waited for the colonel to continue; when he’d failed to do so after another minute dragged by, Steiner took it on himself to coax forth further information.

‘And in light of what you now know about the Earth’s future,’ Steiner said, keeping his tone as neutral as he could, ‘you seek to relocate her to USSB Sanctuary?’

Steiner took the colonel’s continued silence as an affirmation of his insight.
But why the FBI?
Steiner asked himself.
Had the girl and her mother been placed in protective custody to escape the violent and unstable colonel?
This seemed the most likely explanation, which also meant the colonel sought to relocate the girl against her will.

‘What about your daughter’s mother?’ Steiner asked. ‘Do you plan on kidnapping her too?’

Samson continued to stare out at the distant skyline, but when he spoke his voice was bitter. ‘Her mother is dead.’

Steiner was tempted to ask Samson if he’d had anything to do with the untimely death, but common sense prevailed. ‘And this FBI agent will know where your daughter is?’ Steiner said instead, finally grasping the full picture that had eluded him since Samson had forced him into this macabre sideshow.

Samson turned to face Steiner again, his face set. ‘Help me or not, I will find her; but with your help, I can get in and out without being detected.’

‘In and out of where?’ Steiner was confused.

‘The field office,’ Samson said in anger, as if Steiner was being purposefully obtuse, ‘it’s a few miles from here.’

‘You want to break into the FBI’s L.A. field office? The second largest FBI stronghold in the country; are you insane?’

‘I’m not fucking MAD!’ Samson’s eyes bulged and spittle shot from his mouth.

Steiner stared at the man in disbelief.
I must have hit a nerve
, he thought,
and a raw one at that
. What with his little red pills, his wanton murder and this, Steiner could well believe the colonel would qualify as a candidate for committal.
If I ever get reinstated at the GMRC
, Steiner promised himself,
I’ll make a point of having the colonel’s record checked
. How the military could let someone like him continue as a serving officer in a highly sensitive black project, God only knew.

‘If you’d told me about your daughter before, Colonel,’ Steiner said, staying calm, ‘I could have saved us all this trouble. I implore you, forget this—’ Steiner paused, having been about to use the word madness. ‘Idea,’ he said instead. ‘Help me resume my position within the GMRC and I promise you I will have your daughter moved to a USSB of your choosing.’

‘It’s too late for that,’ Samson told him, his composure regained. ‘Besides, your chances of returning to the GMRC are slim at best, Malcolm Joiner has seen to that. My daughter comes first, Steadfast second.’

‘Have you considered staking out the offices and then speaking to this agent elsewhere?’ Steiner asked. ‘It would be a lot easier, don’t you think?’

‘It would, but seeing as surveilling any government office is now a virtual impossibility due to twenty-four hour drone cover, we’d be picked up in a matter of hours. A tactical incursion into the offices will not be expected and will be incisive and quick, in and out, minimising exposure.’

Steiner’s faint hopes of diverting Samson from his crazy plan were in tatters; it seemed his only option now was to try and ensure its success. ‘So, when I locate this Brett Taylor,’ Steiner said cautiously, ‘you’ll then need me to stay in the system, help you gain access to the building and guide you around any obstacles you encounter inside. You’ll extract the information you need from the agent about your daughter and then I’ll guide you back out again, correct?’

Samson nodded.

‘Fine, I’ll do it, on one condition; you do not kill any agents, including Taylor. Tie him up and then hide him, but under no circumstances kill him. If you renege on this, I’ll pull the plug and you’ll be on your own. Agreed?’

Samson studied him for a moment. ‘Agreed, now get to it.’

Steiner, not caring for Samson’s tone one iota, turned back to the screen and the stacked computer equipment on the desk. He flicked the switches on each deck and the machines whirred to life one by one, the hum of their sophisticated cooling systems creating a pleasant background harmonic. Steiner interlaced his fingers and splayed them out in front of him, cracking the synovial fluid in his joints and stretching out the tendons and muscles, generating a pleasant sense of relaxation in preparation for the work ahead.

Accessing the artificial intelligence system, Steiner activated its start-up code, effectively bringing the machine to life.

‘Wake up now,’ Steiner said to it as the A.I.’s human interface window popped up on the wall display. In its centre an amenable metallic depiction of a human face rotated on its axis. After a few seconds the face snapped to the front, its eyes opened and it peered out of the screen in curiosity.

‘Hello, my name is A.I. 152, please state your designation and the task schedules you wish me to undertake today.’

Steiner detached a microphone from the A.I.’s console and attached it to his collar. ‘Hello, 152, my designation is – Professor – and I need your help in bypassing multiple encrypted access ports on a multi-string system.’

‘Thank you, Professor,’ the A.I. said, its eloquent and musical lilt pleasing to the ear. ‘I have assessed the processing power you have linked to my console and deduced the chances of your tasks being completed at a probability of thirty-eight per cent. Do you wish to proceed?’

‘I do, thank you, 152. I will control your work by command code. Please keep me updated on counter measures instigated against our tasks in real-time.’

‘Certainly, Professor.’ 152 fell silent, its simulated features feigning an expression of concentration as it carried out its duties.

Steiner entered his first line of code, his finger hovering over the Return key. He looked to Samson. ‘Right, I’m about to go in, final chance to back out is now.’

Samson came to stand by Steiner’s chair. ‘Do it.’

Steiner nodded and depressed the key, sending lines of code flashing onto the screen.

‘Bypassing in progress, Professor,’ 152’s voice intoned as the procedure of breaking into the FBI’s system was instigated. ‘Counter measures encountered – processing.’

Steiner analysed the system overview streams at the side of the screen. His fingers moved across the keyboard, slowly at first, then picked up speed as the security programmes within the FBI system attempted to counteract his commands. Line upon line of code spewed forth from his fingertips, his hands a blur as his mind worked furiously to keep up with the information relayed to him by the artificial intelligence.