Cyber Terror by Malcolm Rose Read Free Book Online Page A

chamber.
    Jordan nodded, but he had no intention of handing over his mobile. He might need it in an emergency. He asked, “Has Captain Lazenby arrived?”
    “I believe so, Sir. I imagine he’s being treated to a glass of champagne.”
    “Thanks.”
    Jordan cringed. He didn’t like being called sir . The whole occasion was far too formal for his tastes. Looking round at the other male guests, he realized that he was the only one
without a suit and tie. He stood out in his black trousers, black sweatshirt and leather jacket. When people turned and glanced disapprovingly at him, he told himself that they were merely guests
of the council while he was on an important mission. He also smiled internally at the thought that he owned the most expensive car parked in the area.
    Jordan went straight into the windowless chamber because he thought people would not stare so much if he made himself less visible by sitting down. At the front of the room was a raised row of
ornate wooden seats for about eight people. That’s where the Lord Mayor and Phil Lazenby would sit, no doubt. Facing them were several rows of semicircular benches for the guests. Jordan took
a seat at the end of the first row.
    When everyone had assembled, a door on Jordan’s side of the chamber opened. The room hushed as the dignitaries filed in and glided towards the thrones at the front. When they’d
settled, the mayor leaned towards the microphone and said, “Welcome to the Town Hall on this auspicious occasion as we celebrate an outstanding achievement by one of our own sons. I am
delighted...”
    Reminded of his old school’s speech day, Jordan took a deep breath. It was going to be a long dull evening, full of never-ending lectures. He turned down his hearing, studied the weird
wooden carvings in front of the panel of speakers and then focused on Captain Lazenby. The fifty-year-old was dressed in a neat pilot’s uniform, but, outside of an aeroplane’s cockpit,
he looked out of place and embarrassed. He wore a fixed grin. It was probably an attempt to hide his discomfort.
    The Leader of the Council talked at length about pride in Ipswich and its people. Then someone else went through the events of Monday 5th March. Behind the speaker, on the bland wall, was
projected the news coverage of Captain Lazenby’s amazing life-saving splash-down in the Firth of Forth.
    Without warning, the film flickered and died. At the same time, the announcer’s amplified voice was replaced by her natural quiet tone and all of the lights went out.
    There were gasps of surprise, shock and annoyance. From the front, an authoritative voice boomed. “Ladies and gentlemen. It seems we have a power cut. Please remain calm. Stay exactly
where you are – we’re all perfectly safe as long as we don’t start stumbling around – until the stewards can provide emergency lighting or someone replaces the fuse.
I’m sure it’ll only be a moment.”
    Jordan was having none of it. Immediately tense, he guessed that the failure of the electricity supply was the work of Short Circuit. He imagined that Phil Lazenby was in imminent danger.
Ignoring the announcement, he decided to act without hesitation. The room might be a blackout to everyone else, but not to him. Switching to infrared vision, all of the nearby people were
recognizable. Further away, they were yellowy blobs. The chamber was various shades of rippling grey.
    No one was making for Phil Lazenby. No one was threatening him. Yet.
    Jordan strode to the front and mounted the steps.
    Hearing the footfalls, the council leader said, “Please remain seated, everyone. It won’t be long.”
    A joker among the visitors called out, “Cut off, eh? You’d think the council would pay its energy bills.”
    “Or find a torch,” someone else added.
    Fearing that Short Circuit could make his next move at any instant, Jordan sneaked up to Captain Lazenby and touched his shoulder.
    In the darkness, the pilot stiffened but