Nano (12 page)

37

72 metres beneath the English Channel

They could hear the medley of sounds coming from the tunnel. First had come the thunderbolt of the explosion that had been louder than either of them had expected. Then came the screeching of brakes, the crunch of the train derailing. A series of dull thuds had followed as one carriage collided with another and parts of the tunnel roof collapsed. The walls shook. It filled them with an utterly intoxicating feeling of power. Phase One was complete: they felt like Gods.

‘Do you hear that?' the woman asked.

‘What?'

‘Listen.'

Now they could both hear: screams, crying, people bellowing in agony. They turned to each other and giggled – it was one of those habits people pick up.

‘Right. Phase Two,' the young woman said, eased on her gas mask and approached the door.

The corridor beyond their nest was empty, exactly as expected. The young man closed the door and stepped out into the passageway flashing his torch around the walls. The woman headed off. He followed closely.

The passage twisted and turned but they knew where they were headed. A right at the next junction opposite the hatch they had come in through originally, then a straight length of plain corridor, another turn and they would find the door to the disused passageway. That would take them to the London–Paris tunnel running parallel to the London-bound tunnel where the bomb had gone off. They knew E-Force would use the London–Paris tunnel to access the site of the disaster. And when they did, the pair of them would be there waiting for them.

The woman reached the corner, peered around it and froze. The young man almost crashed into her from behind. ‘What the . . .?'

She whirled on him, a finger to her lips.

‘What is it?' he hissed.

She ignored him for a second as she stared ahead. Fifteen metres along the corridor past the bend, a small group of people were tumbling, one by one, through a hatchway into the passage. She recognised one of them immediately, the last man through. He was about to close the door onto the tunnel where the bomb had gone off and the nerve agent had begun to spread.

‘What is it?' the young man asked again, more urgently.

She turned, her face contoured in fury. ‘Fucking Dr Josh Thompson, that's all. That man is indestructible!' Then her face changed and she began to giggle. ‘Or at least he thinks he is . . .'

38

40,000 metres above the Indian Ocean

Mark had a visual of Pete large on the wall of the Big Mac control room, the lines of relief on the E-Force rescuer's face were clear to see.

‘That was a remarkably risky thing to do, Pete,' Mark said. ‘But well done, man. Well done.'

Pete had landed his Silverback next to the three others now standing on the helipad of the Cloud Tower. He could see the control room of the Big Mac on his wrist screen as he climbed down the steps recessed in the side of the Silverback. Reaching the roof of the building, he took a deep breath, the smoke filtered by his cybersuit.

‘What now?' he asked. He caught sight of Mai over by the glistening grey fuselage of
Paul
parked about 20 metres away. She strode over and the two embraced.

Dimitri walked onto the flight deck of the Big Mac and surveyed the split screen – the Cloud Tower in the left half and an image of Pete on the right. ‘I've never seen anything quite like that, Pete,' Dimitri Godska commented with a smile.

‘It's not something I would like to repeat. Has Tom got new stats? I hope my insane risk-taking was bloody worth it!'

‘Just coming through,' Tom's voice tumbled from the wrist speakers in Pete's and Mai's suits and over the powerful PA in the control room of the Big Mac. There was a brief pause then Tom said, ‘Looks like we bought some time, guys.'

Pete and Mai let out loud sighs of relief. ‘Thank God! How long?'

‘Impossible to judge to the second. But put it this way, I wouldn't like to be in that tower more than 90 minutes from now.'

‘How're Chloe and Steph doing?' Mai asked.

‘Called in a minute ago. They've just got through to Floor 202,' Mark responded.

Pete started to ask a question when Tom's voice cut through. ‘Oh no!'

‘What?'

‘Hang on.' They could all hear Tom speaking to a tech but they couldn't understand what he was saying. Then Tom came back on the line. ‘Guys, we've got another crisis. There's been an incident in the Channel Tunnel.'

‘What sort of incident?'

‘Sending everything through.' The data collected by Sybil appeared on the Big Mac screen and on the wrist monitors. ‘BigEye 2 detected an explosion,' Tom reported. ‘Location: 16.1 kilometres into the French end of the tunnel. The satellite sensors tell us a train travelling northwest from Paris to London has been stopped in the south tunnel, 72 metres beneath the English Channel. No data on the nature of the explosion, number of casualties or the condition of the train. Wait . . . something coming through . . . Unreal!'

‘What is it, Tom?'

‘Spectroscopic analysis on BigEye 2 has detected very high concentrations of hydrogen fluoride vapour along with an organophosphate compound.'

‘A bio-weapon!' Pete exclaimed. ‘It's Sarin.'

‘How do you know?' Dimitri asked.

‘The hydrogen fluoride – it's a signature of that particular weapon of mass destruction.'

Mark felt a shudder of horror pass through him. He was no expert on bio-weapons but you didn't have to be Einstein to know that Sarin deployed in a confined space like the Eurotunnel could only spell disaster.

‘Right,' he said, his voice calm. ‘Mai, Pete, I want you over there as soon as possible. Take-off without delay. I'll contact you en route with an operational plan and notify the local authorities we're on our way.' He turned to Tom's image on the wall screen. ‘Tom, we need to focus on this for the next 20 minutes. Our ETA at the Cloud Tower is now 19 minutes 50 seconds. There's nothing more we can do there for the moment. I've asked Steph and Chloe to call in every 10 minutes with progress reports. At the moment, they've just got through to Floor 202. The fires are out in the Chasm so we need to get a handle on this latest disaster. I'm going to call up two more Silverbacks from Polar Base.' Then he turned to Pete and Mai climbing into their Silverbacks. ‘Guys, I'm going to get on to the nearest E-Force supply station. I think there's one in Northern France, actually. They'll deliver any heavy gear you need. I'm thinking you'll need a Pram and a Cage. You've got Sonic Drills and med-kits of course.'

‘Affirmative.'

‘With luck, the equipment will be there before you.'

‘Flight time: 25 minutes 16 seconds,' Mai said.

The Silverbacks began to rise slowly from the roof of the Cloud Tower. Once clear of the helipad, they engaged forwards thrusters and shot away directly west at Mach 10.

39

72 metres beneath the English Channel

‘Is everyone okay?' Josh asked, staring around at the four men. They all looked terrified.

‘What the fuck is going on?' said Adam Franklin, the tall Englishman.

Josh looked at him steadily for a moment. ‘An airborne toxin. Looked to me like a superfast-acting nerve agent.'

‘You mean Sarin?' Louis asked.

‘Or Soman or VX. It doesn't matter, really – they're all deadly.'

‘Those poor people,' the steward exclaimed. ‘Are they all dead?'

‘I'm afraid so, Gabir,' Josh replied. ‘Anyone exposed to an agent like that has less than a minute to live.' He shoved his hand in his jacket pocket and pulled out his mobile. It read, ‘No Signal'. ‘Yeah, well, ridiculous even thinking of it,' he said half to himself. He turned back to the others. ‘We're what . . . 50 metres down?'

‘I'd guess we're 15 or 16 kilometres into the tunnel,' Gabir responded. ‘So we're more like 70, 75 metres under the Channel.'

‘Great!' Josh looked around at the other three men and saw that Angus Faulks's face had lost all colour.

‘You okay?' Josh asked.

The man nodded and took a few deep breaths. ‘Can the gas get through to here?'

‘I hope not! Look, I don't think so. This door is sealed.' Josh nodded towards the hatchway. Then they all heard a sound. Josh flicked his torch in its direction. ‘Hello,' he called.

‘Hello.' A face came out of the gloom. A young guy about 20 with a scruffy attempt at a beard, longish hair tucked behind his ears, a yin-and-yang piercing in his left nostril. ‘Thank God!' the kid said and took a step towards them.

A second face appeared immediately behind him, a young woman around the same age. She had large, very green eyes and ash blonde shoulder-length hair braided at the sides like a medieval princess. She had on a backpack. Both of the kids looked terrified, their faces ashen. The young man had a gash across his forehead. The pair suddenly recognised Josh as the famous ex-E-Force member and gave him a confused look.

‘Yeah, ironic, isn't it?' He shook his head. ‘It's only just struck me what a funny joke the gods have played.'

The young man screwed up his face. ‘My name's Fred. Fred Hardy. This is my sister, Tracy.' She nodded at Josh.

‘How did you . . .?' Gabir began.

‘We were in the corridor between carriages – squeezed in at Gare du Nord,' the young man replied.

‘When the train lurched after the explosion, Fred was thrown across the corridor and smashed his head on a suitcase,' Tracy explained. ‘Luckily, he wasn't knocked out. Some instinct told me to get out of the carriage. We found a doorway leading from the tunnel into this.' She glanced around at the narrow passageway.

‘We saw people collapsing. What's going on?' Fred's eyes looked huge in the light of the torch. Blood trickled down his left temple.

Josh stepped forwards. ‘Let's take a look at that wound.' He held the torch in his left hand and gently probed the cut with his right. Fred winced and pulled back. ‘You'll live.' Josh turned to the others. ‘Fred, Tracy, this is Louis, Gabir, Adam and Angus.'

‘So what now?' Fred asked.

‘Well, we're safe for the moment. Clearly the gas isn't getting through into this area.'

‘Where are we?' Adam asked.

‘I would guess this is a maintenance hub running parallel to the main train tunnel,' Gabir replied.

Angus, who had been leaning against the wall panting, suddenly produced a strange gurgling sound from deep down in his throat and began sliding down. He had reached only halfway when he convulsed and a thick stream of puke exploded from his mouth. He slumped onto his back, his huge body shaking.

Josh ran over to the stricken barman and turned him over onto his side. Angus's face was bleached white, blood streamed from his nose and his mouth. He was gurgling, trying to say something but it was just a confusion of sound. A trickle of blood slipped out of his left eye. He began to convulse, sending blood and ooze flying through the air.

The others standing close by jumped back instinctively but Josh grabbed the poor man and tried to get him into the recovery position. Angus stopped shaking and his head slumped forwards. Josh felt for a pulse. Nothing. He closed the man's eyelids and rested him back on the floor.

40

Floor 202, Cloud Tower, Dubai

Stephanie surveyed the scene. Although Floor 202 was almost a dozen storeys above the impact site, it was totally devastated and a powerful air stream blew across the entire floor.

‘Why is there so much damage this far up?' Chloe asked.

Steph didn't answer for a few moments. Instead, she tapped at her wrist screen and studied what the sensors in her cybersuit were telling her. Chloe turned away and stepped into the nearest shop, fighting against the wind blowing straight at her. Three dead bodies lay in the wreckage. They were covered with dust and pieces of glass. Hearing Steph calling her, she ran back out onto the main walkway.

‘There was a large gas tank over there, in the roof,' Steph said and pointed to the far side of the mall. ‘See how all the debris has been blown in this direction?'

‘Yeah, the windows in the shop there have smashed outwards.'

‘That would account for the wind gusting through the place,' Steph replied and nodded back towards where the tank had exploded. ‘Must have been sparked by the heat from below or maybe a pipe was wrenched from the tank.'

‘Whatever it was, it's caused a huge amount of damage.'

Steph switched modes on the screen and scanned the floor for any traces of life. Using the computer system in the cybersuit, she was able to pinpoint thermal signatures. They both knew that a dead body cooled by an average of one and a half degrees Fahrenheit per hour. Chloe glanced at her screen.

‘It's exceptionally cold up here with the windows blown out.'

‘Almost zero in fact,' Steph replied. ‘So the corpses will probably cool more rapidly than normal. I'm picking up at least 30 heat signatures all around 90, 91 degrees. Definitely dead, I would say.'

Chloe checked her own wrist monitor. ‘Copy that . . . but hang on.'

‘What?'

‘Over there. Three o'clock.'

Steph span on her heel and studied her screen. ‘Got it.'

Chloe led the way. ‘It's a couple of degrees hotter than the others, and . . .' She glanced at her monitor again. ‘It's moving.'

They scrambled over piles of broken counters, furniture, lumps of dislodged concrete. A doorway opened onto a shop directly ahead, the door was hanging half off its hinges. And there, curled up in a ball and whimpering, was a tiny chocolate labrador.

‘Oh my God!' Chloe exclaimed.

‘What is it?' Steph responded and came around the last mound of debris and through the doorway. Chloe had bent down and was cradling the puppy in her arms.

Steph gave a brief smile then shook her head slowly. ‘Amazing!' She scratched the little dog under its chin. ‘Is it a boy or a . . .?'

A stream of urine jetted out from under the puppy's fat belly, drawing a neat line down Steph's cybersuit. She instinctively jumped back and then realised how silly she was being.

‘Agh! Well, that answers that question,' she laughed.