The Silk Road Saga: Part I - Silkworm

14 - Mr J

"P1259 has closed sir" said a man in military fatigues, wearing the three star insignia of a colonel on his epaulets.

"And the subject?" replied a civilian wearing a dark suit, referred to simply by his codename, Mr J.

"We've got eyes on him for now, but he'll soon be out of range" said the colonel.

"Keep him in sight for as long as you can. He's the first person to make sustained contact so we need to observe him closely. Be alert for any unusual worm movement" said Mr J.

"Yes sir. What about the mission?" asked the colonel.

"What about it?" replied Mr J.

"Do we still proceed as planned?" asked the colonel.

"Affirmative. The boy is not a mission critical blocker" said Mr J.

"There is one other thing sir. We've received reports, unsubstantiated at this point, about other interested parties investigating P1259. It may be the professor" said the colonel.

"Our mission is aligned with that of the Party, all other interests are secondary. If the professor interferes, he'll will be eliminated. Do I make myself clear?" said the Mr J.

"Yes sir" replied the colonel.

"Good. I'm going topside to get some air, prepare a full update report for me when I'm back" said the Mr J.

The solider saluted smartly as the civilian turned to leave. On his way out he passed various instrument panels that displayed simulated models of the worm's activity. Each panel was trying to calculate where the next portal would open. A series of coloured triangles dotted a map that stretched from Beijing to Venice. Each colour showed the likelihood of a portal opening. Green indicated unlikely, orange possible and red likely. In between Tashkent and Samarkand hovered a triangle labelled P1259. Until five minutes ago it had pulsed a bright red but now the red had faded to light indistinct green, only one shade away from white, the colour used to denote a dormant portal.

Two guards carrying assault rifles stepped aside to let the civilian exit the control centre. He entered a long corridor lined with reinforced steel walls, making it impervious to both nuclear bombs and listening devices. At the end of the corridor was a lift that rose up into the lobby of an indistinct office block situated in central Beijing. The top floors of the office were occupied by a range of front companies; a few travel agents, a firm specialising in wildlife photography and an ancestry website. All good cover for when a member of the Anomaly Investigation Unit, AIU for short, had to take a field trip outside of China.

Mr J walked across the empty lobby, the smooth leather soles of his polished black shoes echoing off the marble floor. He made his way through the revolving door and went to stand outside in the designated smoking area, sharing it with two delivery drivers and a haggard looking low ranking government official. Mr J could tell he was low ranking from the sheen of his suit, its thread was worn down by one too many trips to the dry cleaners. Mr J took out his electronic cigarette, a simple looking yet effective device he'd picked up in Japan after growing tired of his wife nagging him to quit. He took a long drag and blew out a thick cloud of sweetly scented vapour.

"Oi, are you from that office?" asked one of the delivery drivers.

It took a moment for Mr J to process that the man was addressing to him. Mr J couldn't officially admit to the existence of such an office and he certainly couldn't admit to having been inside such an office, so he decided to remain silent.

"I've got a delivery, but no one's at reception" continued the delivery driver.

Mr J took one last drag on his vape then headed back inside, completely ignoring the delivery driver. The low ranking government official muttered something incomprehensible but no doubt insulting. This garnered a laugh from the delivery driver.

"Let me leave it in the lobby, otherwise I'll have to come back tomorrow" called out the delivery driver.

Mr J quickened his stride and reached the revolving door. As he placed his hand on the panel labelled push an almighty explosion erupted behind him. The delivery van evaporated into a fireball. Every window along the street shattered, showering the pavement with shards of glass. Mr J was blown into the office lobby. He lay motionless, surrounded by broken glass and twisted metal. His expensive suit was singed the wrong shade of black. The smell of burning hair and flesh filled his nostrils. His right hand still gripped his vape. He clamped it between his teeth and drew deeply. The professor was getting better organised, mused Mr J as he waited for the ambulance to arrive.