Dark Dawn - Part 5

By PAUL HEWLETT

In search of a disaster deactivator

December 31, 20:20, Auckland The Systemax office was feeling surprisingly festive. Down below, the waterfront was already crowded with revellers and the city felt as though it were on the edge of the world. There was nothing now to do except wait.

The graveyard shift that had come in to work the rollover was pumped, ready for action, even though clients had been told to expect none.

Robert could not put his heart into the festivities. Instead, he was struggling with the disturbing report that the company had no record of the detection and de-activation procedure for the custom-made EPIC chips.

Robert had been sure that this had been included when Greenback had sold his stake, including intellectual property rights to his designs. If Robert were to appease the Americans, he needed an antidote. His Project Renegade partners would be angry enough that more chips were out there covertly sold by Greenback and Coombes to the Russians. The Pentagon would be capable of almost anything if Systemax couldn't help them find and de-activate the chips.

He was sure Greenback would know, carrying it with him in his head when he walked out yesterday on Anita and their Northland life. But surely he would also have had the information on his computer? Greenback wasn't someone who would let go of something like that.

Robert picked up his phone and dialled. It rang for a long time. When Anita picked it up she was crying.

"Anita, are you okay?"

"I suppose so," she cried.

"Look, Anita, I need you to look for something in Greenback's office. It's the de-activation program for the EPIC chips. It's not here. The Yanks will scream blue murder."

There was a deep silence on the end of the phone as Anita turned and looked at the pile of ashes smouldering in the rear paddock. In her anger she had destroyed what she was trying to protect. How could they stop them without the knowledge in Greenback's computer?

"Anita, are you there?" Robert's voice showed a trace of panic.

"Oh my God, Robert," Anita was sobbing now, "I've destroyed it all."

December 31, 21:05, Auckland The staffer from the White House Y2K monitoring unit patched through the call. From the world's Y2K nerve centre, Admiral Tennison was trying to pick his way through a last-minute hiccup no one could have imagined.

"Robert, how are you? Listen, we've got reports that certain 'faulty' EPIC chips are in widespread circulation. They sound like more of the sort we planted on the Russians. That can't be right, can it?"

Robert took a deep breath and confirmed that, yes, a second batch had gone out, unknown to the company management and that this was being investigated.

The Admiral listened as Robert explained that not only had the company lost the second batch, but had also no record of the diagnostic or de-activation processes which Greenback had developed to find and de-activate the chips embedded in their host systems.

"Greenback's gone, sir. We can't find him. He'll know for sure. He's got it in his head."

"Then we'll just have to find him," said the Admiral. Robert could hear him issuing instructions.

"Do you know if the second chips went to ICU?" Tennison said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The Industrial Corporation of the Ukraine? Was that the purchasing party?"

"Before he disappeared, Greenback sent me an e-mail. It seems as though ICU was the buyer."

"I'm alerting the New Zealand security services, and we'll put our special people on it. If you find Greenback, you call."

Damn, thought Robert, they did work fast. He felt a sudden dread that they might dispatch a Harvey Keitel type character like a "cleaner" in the movies and everyone at Systemax would disappear in their sleep.

"I am very sorry, sir."

The telephone line was dead.

December 31, 22:05, Auckland International Airport A final boarding call echoed around the deserted airport. Sir Henry regretted he couldn't have gone island-hopping across the Pacific in The Winebox. But it was probably beyond the range or endurance of either vessel, skipper or passenger. And he needed to move more quickly than his pleasure craft would allow.

At least this way he was flying backwards in time, away from that wretched millennium bug, Ken, or whatever its name was.

What was he thinking? It was all superstitious nonsense. He hoped First Class meant first class and not some gaucho service.

After his meeting with Robert, Sir Henry had driven to his own safety deposit box and taken out a shiny CD in an unmarked case. He had made a few cursory personal arrangements and then gone straight to the airport.

He was looking forward to visiting his old friend Enrique Sanchez in Argentina. Enrique had run Argentina's meat export trade in London in the 1960s when Sir Henry had held a similar post with the New Zealand Meat Board. They had forged a lifelong association that had resulted in Sir Henry receiving a high - but unpublicised - commendation from the Buenos Aires Government "for services to Argentinian meat exports" during the Falklands War. Enrique had been effusive when Sir Henry had called, saying he would prepare the guest wing at his ranch and set an extra place at his millennium party.

"It's a hush-hush, trip," Sir Henry had added, cautiously.

"Rest assured, no one will disturb a friend of Argentina like yourself," had been the response he had been hoping for.

Yes, thought Sir Henry, nothing like change to open up new opportunities. He would dabble in a bit of consulting in the emerging Latin American economies where at least the socialists were properly reconstructed, unlike his poor homeland. He had left detailed instructions with his solicitors, bankers and business associates. Clearing up the Systemax mess would be a mini-boom for these professionals, but eventually it would be sorted out. He had been, after all, a victim of blackmail, forced under duress to make all manner of statements.

A flight steward took his cabin bag as Sir Henry moved into the nose of the aircraft. He accepted a glass of champagne and made himself a toast to the old millennium, and the new one.

He never liked to think about the future, it was too remote. And one could never live solely in the present because, like it or not, much of life's action took place in the past, as he continued to discover.

"A magazine, sir?" asked a steward.

"No thank you," said Sir Henry, "But I do need to make a telephone call later this evening."

"You'll find the phone here in the armrest when you need it, sir."

The aircraft climbed up over the isthmus of Auckland. One Tree Hill stood slightly forlornly like a sentinel to the past. The Sky tower presided over the city and harbour.

He set his watch to Argentinian time, then settled back to his book, John Makin's new blockbuster business expose: The Information Superhighwaymen - the robber barons of the computer age.

December 31, 22:28, Northland Anita heard a key in the door and began to tremble.

She was sure that Greenback had gone for good. When Laura appeared in the kitchen doorway, Anita rushed to her and threw her arms around her daughter, starting to cry again.

"Mum, what's wrong?"

"Is everything all right?" Anita asked, suddenly alert to her daughter's unexpected arrival. "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to be with you this new year's. I left you that message from Nelson but I just thought I'd surprise you." She grinned.

"I'm so glad to see you, Laura. I'm so sorry about all this."

"All what?" She followed her mother's eyes out to the back paddock. "Oh no, the greenhouse!"

Anita had never told her daughter the real reason why she had left Robert. Now she did, leaving out nothing: the Renegade deal, the true nature of the EPIC chips, her betrayal by Greenback and then the events of that afternoon.

Laura made green tea and they sat sipping at the kitchen table.

"Mum, I know it's terrible, but we've still got our millennium night to think about. Let's forget about it for now. It's a shame Dad couldn't be here, don't you think?"

Where she once might have bristled at the mention of Robert, Anita nodded.

"You need a body surf, Mum, come on."

Still confused and slightly numb, Anita let her daughter pack the car and drive to Tawharanui where they changed into their togs and plunged into the waves.

Then they sat on the beach and stared at the dark horizon.

"Are you angry?" asked Anita.

"No," said Laura, "but it does feel a bit weird to live a whole life without really knowing much about it."

"I am sorry, Laura, I didn't want you to think ill of your father, even if I did."

"I don't. He did what he thought was right."

December 31, 23:35, Northland They decided to go to Maggie's party for a while on the way home. It was nearly midnight by the time they got there and much of the Takatoa community had assembled for the countdown. Laura caught up with old friends who had come home for the midnight celebrations, singular in any lifetime.

January 1, 00:56, Northland It was only 1 am but Anita was exhausted by the trauma of the old millennium's long last day. Laura said she'd take her home and come back for the sunrise breakfast. The pair staggered and giggled to the car and weaved off down the road.

When they came in all the lights were on.

"The ghost of Greenback." Anita found herself giggling about it now, after a few drinks too many. "Still working even after I burned his computer."

"He must have had some sort of backup in the house."

Anita went into the hall and saw the message light blinking. She knew who it would be. She listened to Greenback's voice telling her why he'd gone, that he was sorry, kinda, but that it had been no big deal, though he knew she wouldn't see it that way.

Then he told her that an EPIC chip lay at the very heart of her own home, and that because he wasn't there to de-activate it, she should expect a few gremlins. A New Year's surprise for a Y2K sceptic.

Laura came in. "Who's tha ..."

Anita held up a finger to her lips and Laura recognised the voice as Greenback's. He ended his message with some kind of code. "Seeing I'm not there," the message said, "you'll need to de-activate it. And maybe a few others. So here's the real sequence ..."

Anita scribbled furiously as Greenback's recording recited the numbers that he carried to this day in his head. The message ended and Anita began whooping and jumping up and down with excitement.

"Mum, what's that all about?"

"It's going to be okay, darling. Everything's going to be all right."

She took a cigarette from her bag and lit it. "I've got to call Robert. But first, this really does call for a celebration." She walked towards the kitchen, trailed by her daughter.

"Oh, Mum, you're not?" Laura reacted to the sight of a cigarette at her mother's lips.

"Oh, don't be like your father."

"What's that smell?"

Laura's question was answered by the faintest "whoof" of ignition as Anita's cigarette entered the gas-filled kitchen and the farmhouse exploded in a massive fireball.

Tomorrow: the sixth and final episode.