M.a.i.n.e. Frame PC II
by Sam Lakes
Copyright © 2006 All Rights Reserved
Dan Armstrong walked into the sparely furnished room and sat in the only available chair in the room across the table from Harold Chichester. In back of Chichester was a one-way mirror on an otherwise plain wall.
“This feels like an interrogation” Dan Armstrong said in a friendly tone.
“Well, think of it more as a debriefing” Harold Chichester said trying to be pleasant “Unfortunately, this was the only room available. I’m Harold Chichester, British Intelligence. I appreciate your cooperation. Your first debriefing was with the aviation officials and we like to do our own debriefing as we usually find out a little more.”
“Well, I don’t know that I can add any more to what I’ve told the first lot of debriefers. But, I’m always willing to cooperate with British Intelligence. You guys are sort of like the counter-parts of the American CIA, right?” Dan was trying to see if he could see anything in the one-way glass but all he saw was the reflection of himself and the back of Harold Chichester.
“Quite so, but let’s get started.”
“Did they have a computer?”
“Yes, it looked like an ordinary laptop computer, but apparently had some nifty features. They just told me it was a souped up laptop with a built in transmitter - special CIA issue, but you probably know all about that.”
“What kind of nifty features?”
“Well, for one Rye-Zen was able to link directly to the CIA - least so he said and the Captain sure got heat to give the boys total cooperation.”
“So, they just used the PC to communicate with the CIA?”
“No, they used it to control the plane or just about any system on the plane. That’s how we prevented the explosion from happening at 30,000 feet. There computer kept the altimeter at 40,000 feet reading. I believe the term they used was ‘Override’. Rye-Zen was unsure if he could maintain the link on landing which would have been disastrous so he and the Captain decided to cut the override when we got to 15,000 feet.”
“How did he link into the system?”
“I have no idea.”
“Did he use a special cable?”
“No. I think he transmitted straight to our main system.”
Harold Chichester received a message from the audience behind the glass to complete the interview.
“Thank you Mr. Armstrong, that will be all. You may be excused. You’ll find a taxi outside which will take you to your destination.”
“Oh. Well, thank you” said Dan Armstrong as he left the room.
Harold Chichester turned and faced the mirror “Well, Gustav, that confirms that Keith Maine’s PC still exists and if Armstrong’s observations were correct this PC is far in advance of current technology. And a technology Ansel Muller can use to further our cause and perhaps built the great New Germany into the world’s super power!”
“Perhaps, find the two boys and lets see what the PC can really do. Come in here and we’ll discuss the plan. I don’t want another Belkirk type plan.” Gustav Rhine said coldly and devoid of any emotion.
Wolfgang Libbermann looked out his office window. His office was on the top floor of one of the tallest buildings in Hamburg, Germany. The office was spacious, but sparsely decorated. A glass wall separated his office from his personal gym which only a few carefully chosen personnel were allowed to use. The gym contained numerous high-tech exercise machines and free weights and an elevator which took you to the basement where the Olympic size swimming pool and saunas were located.
How many of the people scurrying about were Jews, Arabs or non-whites, he wondered. He hated the Jews and Arabs they were out of the same pot. And then the non-whites and mixtures of white and whatever - They were traitors to the Arien race. The Jews, Arabs and non-whites were like stupid cattle, dumb animals that could be led to slaughter and slaughtered before anyone complained. If they knew of his plans they might destroy him and his organization. They could already be infiltrating his organization.
Someday he would be the leader of the New Germany! It would be soon and them he would execute all of them. No concentration camps! Just line them up against a wall and bang, bang, bang all dead!
Ansel Mueller cleared his throat quietly, but deliberately.
Wolfgang turned and looked at him. “So, what news have you got for me? Does this super computer exists or not?”
“We believe it does, sir. Apparently, it was not destroyed. Apparently, it was used by a couple of young teenage boys who have connections with the CIA. The computer was created by Keith Maine. He had the original connection with the CIA as well as being a University Professor. He was killed by a turncoat CIA Agent, Horace Leachman. Maine was the guardian of the two boys who are brothers. As one of the two brothers was a student of Professor Maine, we assume that Maine gave the computer to him. The youngest spent sometime in the hospital after another CIA turncoat Agent shot him. That CIA Agent, a man named Belkirk and Leachman, were killed in a helicopter trying to escape after having stolen what was thought to be the super computer. We assume he stole the wrong computer as I mentioned the kids still have the super computer. The names of the two brothers are Rye-Zen and Phoenix Starr.”
“Rye-Zen Starr is fourteen years old, born March 21, 1992 and Phoenix Starr is sixteen years old, born March 21, 1990. Their birth parents where Alice and Distant Starr who were born in the fifties and died in an avalanche in Colorado. After the death of Keith Maine, Ruth Maine, the wife of Professor Maine, assumed the guardianship then recently she and Paul Smith married and adopted the two boys. Ruth Maine is a Professor holding a Ph.D. in Computer Science. Paul Smith retired CIA. Other than the fact that he worked for the CIA there is no further data we can find on him.”
“Ruth and Keith Maine had a son, Arbor Maine who was killed in a DWI auto accident.”
“You said the boys have connections with the CIA?”
“In the debriefing of the 1st Officer he stated that they had connections with the CIA. We don’t know who other than Paul Smith, and he has retired. Our CIA contact could not find any other information on Smith or the boys.”
“The boys, they are in London by themselves?”
“Yes sir. On holiday, but we haven’t found them.”
“Immigration has no address?”
“They don’t exist. That is there are no records of them arriving in the country. The flight manifest of passengers doesn’t even list them or any boys of their age.”
“The parents. Where are they?”
“They are in Paris at the Paris Hilton. They are honeymooning. They haven’t received any calls from England nor have they made any calls to England. They made a call to Virginia in the USA, a Kevin Mitchell. We have no information on him. He’s not with the CIA.”
“Mueller, find them and put them under surveillance within the next 24 hours.” Wolfgang walked out of the room to the gym and undressed then started a round of exercises.
Markovich Parchinkov sat at his desk in his study looking at the photos. “So, tell me Nikita. What’s this all about?”
“From very reliable sources we have discovered that this American airliner, a 747, was to be held for ransom for six Iraq prisoners. The plan failed. At the same time the IRA had knowledge of biohazardous material being transported to the UK. They had an ingenious plan to blow a hole in the side of the 747 at 30,000 feet causing the hazardous material to be sucked out of the plane. The end result would have been the release of a deadly flu virus, which would have killed millions! Finally, they had attached 10lbs of plastic explosives to the landing gear in the nose which should have gone off as soon as the landing gear was lowered. It failed too.”
“Our sources say two teenage boys were responsible for the prevention of these disasters.”
“That’s Very commendable of them, but so what! Some American boys save the day! Big fucking deal!” he said in his usual manner when he felt his time was being wasted.
“That’s not all. These two boys are the same two boys that were involved with an incident several months ago when a renegade American agent was killed. This agent had approached one of ours with a plan to sell us a new computer, faster and more powerful than any supercomputer, and it was the size of a laptop PC. With such technology we could once again become the dominant and strongest country in the world. Our economy would be saved! Our people would love us. This computer was invented by a Professor Keith Maine. He and his wife were the guardians of the two boys. The American agent stupidly had the Professor killed and then the professor’s son who had been the best friend of one of the brothers. Anyway, several months ago, Belkirk discovered that the two boys actually had the computer, and were using it to play games and were challenging thousands across the Internet - which we verified. In the process of trying to steal the computer Belkirk lost his life and we also thought the computer. The youngest boy sustained several gunshot wounds and has only recently been released from hospital. The Professor’s wife married Paul Smith who used to be in the CIA but, resigned.”
“Smith and his new wife adopted the two boys, Phoenix Starr, sixteen, born March 21, 1990 and Rye-Zen Star, fourteen, born March 21, 1992. They still have the computer, and it was computer which saved the American 747 from certain disaster. We have checked the passenger manifest and they are not on it, nor do they show up on any immigration records. A reporter spotted them in the London Hilton and they destroyed the photographer’s camera before he could take the photo. However, an artist sketch was made and I am expecting a fax soon.”
“Interesting name, Rye-Zen Starr. So where are they now?”
“London, but not at the Hilton, in fact they were never checked in to the Hilton.”
There was a knock at the door and the secretary came in with a fax. “here’s Your fax, Mr. Zonovski.”
Nikita Zonovski looked at the fax and his face went red with anger as he swore. “The idiots! Get me Darrell Benson, in London! NOW!” he screamed as he threw down the fax which had a picture of Bert and Ernie, the two American muppets.
“Hello, Betty Adams” said the voice.
“Yes” she replied “Who is this?”
“Murray Phillips, I’m with the American State Department - Foreign Affairs. I believe you have been talking with reporters about two young American boys.”
“Yes. They were such nice boys.”
“They don’t exist, Mrs. Adams. You were mistaken. Because if they exist then you have violated the Security of the United States of America and you and your husband would be guilty of treason and will be deported to the US to stand trial meanwhile held in a maximum security prison. Do you understand what I am saying?”
“But they do exist!”
“Well, then I will have no option, but to have you arrested which I hate doing because the two boys don’t exist and if you would just agree with me and insist that you were mistaken and misquoted and that you never saw the two boys we would be more than happy to let you enjoy the rest of your vacation in London. Do you get my drift?”
“Thank you. And we will be checking that you stick to this resolution. One slip and it’s hello Leavenworth for a long stay. It’s amazing how we can drag these criminal cases out – ten, fifteen years.”
Mrs. Betty Adams hung up the phone and burst into tears at the same time Arbor Maine hung up the phone.
“I hated doing that to her, but Colt we should do something nice for her. She’s really not a bad person” complained Arbor.
In the next hour she received tickets to every London show and two dozen roses compliments of a Murray Phillips.
Sean Ferguson was livid. “Some fucking kids fucked up our plan! Months of planning! Gone! Wasted! I want someone to find those fucking kids and kill them!” he screamed.
“Look Fergie, you’re not thinking straight. They had a computer, a very special computer, Fergie!”
“We could have wiped out the flamin’ British! And you’re telling me to think straight! What a fucking computer going to give us?” he screamed in anger.
“Cool it Fergie!” ordered Patrick O’Shea “David, what’s so important ‘bout this computer?”
“Pat, this computer is faster and more powerful than any computer on the planet! I overheard one of the crew talking about what these boys were doing with it. Bloody fantastic! Virtual Reality, communicating over satellite directly with the CIA! And it somehow managed to override the system’s altimeter without being connected!” exclaimed David O’Shea.
“Look at this!” said David as he threw down the tabloid with the headlines ‘ALIENS FROM PLANET ZOGAR SAVE FLIGHT 472!’
“What a joke!” laughed David.
“So. It’s typical of that paper” said Ferguson.
“Yes, but when I was in London yesterday I over heard Robin Crenshaw in the pub deny he ever wrote that story. He was quite inebriated and blamed the story on the two boys. Of course, he couldn’t figure out how they had done it and the only sketch they had of the two boys was gone and the artist who drew the sketch is no longer around. Apparently, he won a cruise and took off.”
“We know they checked into the London Hilton, but there is no record of it! There is no record of them being on the flight or of going through British Immigration. These kids linked in to the paper’s computer and changed the story and records, but there’s no trace of them or any unauthorized access!”
“Then, how do you know they did it? Because some drunken tabloid reporter claimed it!” challenged Ferguson.
“Yes. And because there was word of a Professor Maine who had invented a super computer the size of a laptop which was supposed to be the most powerful computer in the world. He died of a heart attack and the computer became the property of these two teens. Professor Maine was their guardian. His wife has remarried a Paul Smith and they adopted the two boys.”
“So?” asked Ferguson.
“So! SO! So with this computer we could wreck havoc and completely destroy the British economy. We could access British Intelligence! We could do anything!”
“So, where are the boys and the computer?”
“Don’t know. They’ve gone to ground. It’s like they never existed. But, I’ve got people looking for them. I’m sure they’re still in London.”
“Find them, David and find the computer. These kids owe us!” ordered Patrick O’Shea.