System Shock Part 13

115.

'Did he tell you anything useful?'

'Useful? Well, you tell me. They've brought the Hubway opening forward a few days. It's going to be tomorrow.'

'Hmm.' The Doctor returned his attention to the chips. 'Isn't that a bit short notice?'

'Yes. And normally Gibson or myself would have a veto on any change of plan. But Hanson couldn't get hold of either of us, so he has already agreed.'

The Doctor grunted, either to show he was listening or because he wasn't.

'Anyway, I'd better give Gibson a shout.'

The Doctor didn't answer. But he called out to Harry as he was leaving the room: 'Harry, ask him if Sarah is all right.'

Sarah had rung round all the caterers who had taken large advertis.e.m.e.nts in the Yellow Pages. Most of the ones still there had been able to answer her questions some of them with the single observation that they were fully booked and could not help.

She took a note of the best three quotes together with lists of what each would provide for the money and went in search of Lewis. He was still in his office, and Stabfield was with him.

'Ah, come in Miss Smith,' Stabfield said. Half of his mouth twitched upwards as if in a smile. 'What can we do for you?'

She explained what she had done and offered the list to Lewis. Stabfield took it and glanced at it. 'You and Johanna can sort this out, Lewis. But move quickly there isn't much time.'

Lewis took the list from Stabfield. 'I'll call her now,' he said.

Stabfield led Sarah out of the office as Lewis reached for the phone. 'And how are you acclimatizing to life at I2?' he asked.

Sarah told him how valuable the experience was and how much she was finding useful for her articles. Stabfield accompanied her all the way to her desk.

Just as he was about to leave, a thought seemed to occur to Stabfield. 'Keep tomorrow morning blocked out, will you?' he said. 'We have something rather special scheduled. I'd like you to be a resource for it. Be here at seven-thirty.'

116.

Sarah locked her desk and put on her jacket. Out of habit she checked her pen was still in the pocket, then picked up her handbag. She had a meeting with Gibson in an hour, and it seemed like something was happening probably tomorrow morning.

'Gibson said he'd ring when he gets home if there are any problems.' Harry had found the Doctor pacing up and down in the office.

'Good,' the Doctor said and continued his circuit of the table.

'Though I'd like to talk to him anyway.'

'Want to check the old girl's okay?' Harry sat down and let the Doctor march past him a couple of times. 'She'll be fine.

You know what a tough thing she is.' Harry took a small cell phone from his pocket. 'Still, best to be sure. I'll leave him a message and ask him to call us anyway.' He dialled.

'Harry, could this man Hanson have called you on that?' The Doctor indicated the cell phone.

'Suppose so. But he probably didn't think of it.' He frowned and pressed a b.u.t.ton on the phone. 'Number un.o.btainable.

Must have mis-dialled.' He tried again. 'I wish you'd stop pacing up and down like a panda, Doctor. You're making me nervous.'

The Doctor glared and continued his tour of the office. He took the CD from his pocket and tapped it against his teeth to the rhythm of Yankee Doodle Yankee Doodle.

'Still no good,' Harry started pushing b.u.t.tons again. 'I'll try the operator. No, Hanson is one of the old school. Probably doesn't realize some of us carry these things.'

'Can't you call Gibson's?'

'I just tried. He's got it switched off. Probably so it doesn't interrupt his rendezvous with Sarah, though he may just have forgotten to switch it on again.' The operator answered and Harry described the problem he had getting through to Gibson's flat number. The operator tried the number herself, and got the same result. Then she tested the line.

'You know what you were saying about coincidence, Doctor,' Harry said as he put the phone away.

'Yes.'

117.

'Gibson's portable phone is switched off. And the phone in his flat is out of order.'

The Doctor kicked the end of his scarf and jammed his hat on his head. 'I'd say that was rather too inconvenient, wouldn't you?'

'Darling, I'd be so grateful. She's dying to do the job and she's got everything set up. And after all, it's not as if she's more expensive than the people you found, she's actually cheaper and will provide more.'

Eleanor could hear Peterson hesitating at the other end of the phone.

'I'd be so so grateful,' she said again. 'I've even managed to put off Alice until next week so we can be together tonight.' grateful,' she said again. 'I've even managed to put off Alice until next week so we can be together tonight.'

'But it is rather difficult now that I've asked them.'

'You can change your mind. Tell them there's been a mix-up and two sets of caterers have been booked. I'm sure you're clever enough to think of something.' Eleanor sighed. 'I can be with you by eight,' she said, trying not to sound too resigned.

'I I'll see what I can do,' Peterson said. 'But I'll have to get this sorted out straight away.'

'Darling I know you can do it. I'll tell her, she'll be thrilled and you won't be disappointed. I'll see you as soon after eight as I can bye now.'

Eleanor cut the connection before Peterson could comment.

She rang Lewis to tell him how it had gone.

Robert Gibson was in a thoughtful mood as he arrived back at his flat. He parked the car in the s.p.a.ce reserved for him outside the block, took his briefcase off the back seat and locked the car.

Had his mind been less involved with what Sarah had told him about what little she knew of the next day's arrangements, he might have noticed a white Porsche parked across the street.

It was already getting dark, but had his eyesight been extremely good he might have seen the woman behind the wheel watching as he opened the door into the block. But even if he had, his memory was almost certainly not good enough to 118 remember she had for a short while been sitting two tables away from himself and Sarah that lunchtime.

Gibson's flat was on the second floor. He took the lift. It smelt of stale urine and was daubed with graffiti which expressed a variety of crude sentiments in an a.s.sortment of garish colours. As always he held his breath for as long as he could halfway between the first and second floors, not bad though hardly a record. He had once managed to hold his breath all the way up.

He unlocked the heavy door into his flat, kicked the small pile of post out of the way, and deactivated the burglar alarm.

Then he gathered up the letters, sifting out the obvious circulars so that he was left with only the electricity bill and a postcard from an old school friend who kept in touch when she wanted something or went on holiday. He dropped them on the hall table. They would wait.

There was a hint of a strange smell. Gibson could not quite place it, but it reminded him of garage forecourts. The worry lingered in the back of his mind even after he dismissed it as something outside, or which had followed him from the stinking lift.

In the main living-room Gibson dumped his briefcase behind the door and switched on the personal computer on the desk.

He waited for it to check memory and prompt him for his pa.s.sword. He typed in robertg and left the machine to go through its boot-up sequence, which took for ever.

>> Starting virus scan While the PC sorted itself out he would call Harry and pa.s.s on his information. His mobile phone was in the briefcase (probably still switched off). Instead he used the phone on the desk by the computer.

>> Virus scan complete all sectors clear He listened to the tones as he dialled a familiar if somewhat discordant sequence. There was a slight pause after he pressed the last b.u.t.ton.

>> Run startup program AUTOEXEC.BAT Gibson expected to hear the sound of the phone at the other end ringing. Instead there was a sudden high-pitched shriek 119 which almost deafened him. He dropped the phone, startled, and took a step back.

>> Loading VORACTYLL The step backwards probably saved him. Through the m.u.f.fled, discordant h.e.l.l into which Gibson had been thrown he could still hear the shriek, although he could not tell if it was coming from the phone or his memory. Then, with a crash m.u.f.fled by the residual pain still ringing in his ears, the personal computer exploded. The screen of the monitor shattered as the system unit beneath it blew up. Plastic and metal fragments ricocheted round the room. Gibson was hurled backwards against the wall as the windows in the lounge burst into shards of gla.s.s and showered down, cutting at his face and hands, ripping its way into his clothing and tearing at his flesh.

Outside, a well-tuned car engine burst into life and retreated at speed into the distance.

The Porsche almost hit Harry's car as it pulled out from the side of the road and roared past. Harry swerved at the last moment, distracted by the explosion. He swung the car into the kerb and leaped out. The Doctor was already running towards the building. On the second floor, flames began to lick out of the broken windows and oily smoke rose into the darkening sky.

The Doctor was standing outside the lift door when Harry caught up. 'Come on, come on,' he muttered. The lift call light was lit, but the floor indicator showed the lift was staying on the third floor.

'Stairs?' suggested Harry. 'We need the second floor.'

The Doctor kicked the lift doors with enthusiasm. 'Stairs,' he agreed, and Harry pushed open the access door.

They took the stairs two at a time, racing each other upwards. The Doctor easily led, with Harry wondering how he managed to avoid stepping on his scarf as it trailed behind.

The fire had taken hold almost immediately, as if the whole flat were doused in petrol. Gibson was stunned almost into unconsciousness. His face was covered with blood from the 120 tiny cuts, and his hands were scorched. Somehow he managed to crawl out into the hallway.

The whole flat was rapidly filling with thick black smoke.

He choked and coughed as he managed to pull himself upright using the door handle. He pulled at the locks and wrenched the door open, collapsing into the corridor outside. The air was clear here or as clear as it ever got. He took several deep breaths and struggled to stay awake. His head was throbbing with sound and light. The blood was blurring his eyesight and his hands were stinging.

With an effort he staggered to his feet and made his way down the corridor, leaning against the wall. He left a trail of smeared blood and charred fragments of material as he went.

After what seemed like forever he reached the lift doors.

Blinking rapidly in an attempt to focus, he felt for the lift call b.u.t.ton. With relief he could just make out the square of light round it as he pressed. Then after a second the doors slid open.

Holding on to the door frame for support, Gibson stepped into the lift And his foot disappeared into the s.p.a.ce where the lift floor should have been. He could feel himself toppling into the shaft, his fingers unable to grip the smooth metal of the lift door frame, slippery with blood and throbbing with the burns. With a cry and a sickening lurch from the bottom of his stomach, he fell into s.p.a.ce.

A hand wrapped itself round his wrist as he fell, wrenched him back upwards. He could feel it smearing the blood up his hand as it slipped. But it continued to hold him. Then a rope appeared in front of him, and Gibson grabbed at it with his free hand. It was not a rope, he realized more like a scarf. He must be hallucinating. But whatever it was, Gibson let it take his weight and felt himself being dragged back through the lift doors and into the corridor.

He collapsed in a heap on the floor. Above him, the Doctor and Harry swam in and out of focus. Their voices were distant, m.u.f.fled, faint.

'I'll call an ambulance.' Harry was talking into his cellular phone.

121.

'Phone ' Gibson tried to talk, to warn him about telephones.

But his throat was clogged with smoke and blood and shock.

'You go with Gibson,' the Doctor's voice was receding, and so was his figure disappearing down a tunnel of blackness as Gibson's head fell back and his eyelids fluttered as he lost consciousness.

'We'll just have to hope Sarah's okay. I'll take the car, and you can meet me at Hubway. We have to decode that CD as soon as possible.'

122.

09.

Breaking the Code

The Doctor had been given a security badge when he arrived at Hubway. Initially he refused to take it, but when they explained he needed it to open any of the doors he relented. It was easier to stuff it away in a pocket than to cause ructions by suggesting he had his own ways of opening doors. Under other circ.u.mstances he might have welcomed the ensuing debate, but he was in a hurry and he was worried about Sarah. So he took the badge, promised (fingers crossed) to wear it prominently at all times, and clipped it to his scarf. Then he followed the surprisingly good floor plan they gave him to the room where Harry had negotiated a desk and equipment.

The room was large and square and had once been a drawing room. There was an Adam-style fireplace on one wall, and wooden desks were arranged along all the others. The desks were each surrounded on either side by grey part.i.tions, and provided with chair, telephone and desktop computer.

A large picture window dominated the wall opposite the door, giving out on to the grounds of the house. An expanse of green rolled into the distance, eventually fading into the distant hills. The room had all the trappings of occupation, except for any human touches. The clutter on the round conference table in the middle of the room was wires, cables, and electronic equipment rather than the expected pens, pencils, magazines and coffee cups.

Above desk height, the original decor was almost intact, although William Morris had lost out to white with a hint of apple blossom. The intricate moulded symmetry of the large plaster ceiling rose shamed the complex web of tangled cables running across the floor below.

123.

As he worked on the CD, writing decryption algorithms and running them one after another against the data encoded on the disc, the Doctor was in a world of his own. Around him people wandered in and out of the room, cleaning, tidying, worrying about the opening ceremony rescheduled for the next morning.

He was making progress. Still the Doctor did not know exactly what was on the CD, but he was getting closer. He was beginning to understand the data structures and catalog systems. There was one file the largest which still worried him, though. The complexity of the internal data was staggering.

'Now what's that?' the Doctor asked himself yet again.

'Blowed if I know.' The Doctor had spoken out loud, and a face appeared next to his own, examining the catalog reference on the screen. 'Tried a hex-edit?' the young man asked.

'No, but that's the next step.' The Doctor looked round, aware suddenly that it was nearly three in the morning. 'What are you doing?' he asked the gangly youth with greasy hair who was staring at his screen. His badge identified him as Denny Lucas.

'Sorry.' He stepped away and went back to a trolley he had been pushing. It was loaded with what looked like video tapes, all labelled and in boxes.

'No,' the Doctor said, 'I mean, what are you doing? It's the middle of the night. Even the traffic wardens are asleep.'

'Back-up,' said Denny helpfully.

'Back-up? Of what?'

Denny gestured round the room. 'Of everything. One of the LAN servers is in here, I need to take a tape back-up of everything on it.'

'You back-up the entire network?'