Project Venom Read Free

beta-delta-411, confirm.”
    “SIA agent code name K,” said the woman, “access tango-alpha-924, confirm.”
    “Confirmed,” said a recorded voice.
    The lift descended rapidly. Moments later, it arrived at SWARM headquarters, part of the UK’s Secret Intelligence Agency base, hidden deep beneath central London.
    “Come on,” said Agent J, “we should have been at the meeting five minutes ago!”
    They made their way down further flights of stairs to the laboratory. It was a long, low room. Blue-tinted light came from panels in the floor. Along the centre of the lab was a line of raised workbenches. All around were display screens, machinery, files and racks of scientific equipment.
    Gathered around one of the workbenches were SWARM’s senior members of staff. Agent J and Agent K were SWARM’s human operatives, whose job was to assist the micro-robots on their missions, if needed.
    “You’re late,” said Beatrice Maynard. She was a tall, well dressed woman with blonde hair. Her tone of voice alone was enough to deliver a sharp telling-off.
    “Sorry, Ms Maynard,” said Agent K.
    Simon Turing, SWARM’s Data Analyst, pulled a face behind Queen Bee’s back and Professor Miller, SWARM’s stern Technician, frowned.
    “I’ve called you all together,” began Queen Bee, “to brief you on a very serious situation. Up until now, the details have only been known to myself and to Alfred.”
    SWARM’s resident Programmer, Alfred Berners, took his hands out of the pockets of his cardigan. On the workbench in front of him, raised up from their resting positions inside the workbench, were the glowing, complex electronic frames in which the micro-robots were kept. The six who’d returned from their overnight mission were recharging their energy cells and listening to the briefing. Widow’s frame was empty.
    “A few days ago,” said Queen Bee, “an email came to my attention. It had been sent by a mancalled Pablo Alva, from the offices of a medical research company called Smith-Neutall Bio Labs. It was sent to a terrorist in South America, a member of an underground network known as EBLS, the East Balboan Liberation Squad. Agent J, I understand you encountered this group while you were with MI6?”
    “Yes,” said Agent J. “East Balboa is a small republic in South America. The East Balboan Liberation Squad was formed by rebels who wanted to get rid of the brutal, corrupt dictators who run the country. For years, the EBLS was dedicated to peaceful protest, until it was taken over by hard-line revolutionaries. All they wanted was power, and they didn’t care how they got it. Today, the EBLS is a terrorist organization operating in several countries. MI6 consider them a major threat.”
    “The EBLS are a serious danger,” said Queen Bee. “So you can imagine the reaction when this email was discovered.”
    She touched a couple of sensors on the workbench, and a screen on the wall blinked into life. It displayed a screenshot:
    FROM [email protected]
TO [email protected]
     
    New bioweapon available, created in this company’s lab. Very powerful, no known antidote. Will sell it to you. Am still loyal to EBLS cause. Will contact you again soon for answer.
     
    From the offices of Smith-Neutall Bio Labs Ltd.
This email has been scanned for all known viruses.
    “Why would Alva send such a message using his own email account?” said Chopper the dragonfly, his voice coming from a speaker built into the frame surrounding him. “And from his own place of work? Wouldn’t that be risky?”
    “It would,” said Alfred Berners, brushing a hand through his untidy white hair. “But he’d need to prove his identity to the terrorists. All sorts of data relating to IP addresses and routing servers can be mined from even the simplest email. The EBLS would need to see that themessage did indeed come from someone inside Smith-Neutall, and not from, say, MI6, trying to trap them.”
    “Can we be sure Alva is the