Caldwell blinked in the subdued light of the limo. They’d stopped somewhere familiar. He recognized the buildings but his brain was too befuddled by what he had just seen to figure it out. His migraine was back with a vengeance but his adrenalin was doing a respectable job of keeping it at bay. He couldn’t believe what he had just seen. He had a strong desire to see more. He needed to find out who did this to him.

“What you just saw are highlights of your previous life. Not a full-blown recall but snippets of events and images that have made an impression in your mind. Clichés, if you like.”

“Who did this to me?” Caldwell asked, bile rising in him like mercury in a thermometer.

“You did this to yourself. You disobeyed orders.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look, I am going to cut to the chase. We are running out of time. I work for an organization called HYDRA. Think of us as an off shoot of Union Security Agency, the outfit that absorbed all the secret agencies of the Union member countries. We get a small part of the agency’s budget even though very few people know we exist. Think of us as the guys who do the Union Security Agency’s dirty digital laundry, the organization to which they outsource certain activities that are not worth their while or that are too sensitive politically for them to get involved in directly. I’ve already told you more than I’ve told any non-agency person and I’ve spent all my waking life working for the agency and maintaining that sacred vow of silence. Some years ago I hired you to work for HYDRA in our Electronic Counter Intelligence Department. You were our youngest recruit ever. You were seventeen. We hired you because despite your age you were one of the most notorious hackers in the world. You had a knack, a natural gift if you like, for breaking into computer systems.”

“Me a hacker? Unbelievable,” Caldwell exclaimed in mock disbelief. Everything was starting to click into place now. The affinity for computers and hacking. Hacking was simply an unconscious continuation of the cloak and dagger modus operandi that he had been accustomed to in his previous life with this HYDRA organization. And there was his inexplicable ability to find what he wanted in cyberspace, which had felt purely instinctive but was obviously much more than that. It was all starting to make some kind of sense now.

“How come I have no recollection of all these things you are telling me?” Caldwell asked. Fouler looked pained when he replied but it could have been just for show.

“For your own safety the agency decided to block parts of your memory. You were threatening to out the agency. You had become unstable. The other option was death so you can consider yourself lucky.”

“What did I do to deserve the lesser of the two evils?” Caldwell demanded with bitter sarcasm.

“You were the agencies golden boy, our youngest and probably most brilliant hacker. We did the right thing in the circumstances.”

“So what does this HYDRA do exactly?”

“We are an offshoot of the Union’s first umbrella security agency. Our focus though is purely on threats faced by the Union in cyberspace. Our remit is information warfare if you wish to use the original terminology. We started out as a unit of MI6 in what used to be the United Kingdom, where we developed a reputation as one of the best cyber warfare units in the world. When Europe merged into the Union, we were the best out of a dozen anti-cyber terrorism units and so we were allowed to absorb the rest. That made us the largest electronic warfare unit in the world. HYDRA was something that naturally came out of that, an offshoot, the agency’s bastard child.”

“Spare me the history. What do you do?”

“We seek out and destroy foreign systems used for electronic crimes, electronic spying and electronic warfare. We infiltrate them and then we destroy them from the inside. Any system that poses a threat to the Union is not safe.”

“And I was hired to do what?”

“You were the linchpin in our most proactive subdivision called S&D or Search and Destroy.”

“And I knew too much?”

“You objected to some of our targets, saying that we were setting their economic development back fifty years. We had proof that their systems were harboring rogue viruses and electronic bombs and that they could be used by our enemies to mount attacks against our systems. Those systems posed multiple threats to the security of the Union. You said that if we brought down their systems you would leave the organization and let all of cyberspace know what we did for a living.”

“But everyone knows that these organizations exist and what they do is no secret so what was the big deal?”

“The public making educated guesses about these things is one thing. Conspiracy theories are exactly that – fodder for mindless rants in cyberspace. Our own agents spilling detailed information on our operations is quite another. We couldn’t let that happen.”

“And for my troubles you erased my memory.”

“Not erased. Blocked. Locked. The agency thought you had become unstable. You took the death of your parents too badly.”

“You mean they are dead?” Caldwell asked. He already knew the answer to that question, his posing of it was just a knee-jerk reaction, an automatic response to the confirmation of his worst fears. For a long time now he’d thought they were dead. That was the only explanation he could muster for their absence from his life. And it allowed him to get on with his idiosyncratic existence.

“I’m afraid so. They died in a car crash in the city of Xian. Computer failure. The car went off a mountain road into a ravine and burst into flames. You had just turned sixteen at the time and were at school in Hong Kong.”

Caldwell was surprised at the fact that he hadn’t shed any tears upon hearing the confirmation of his worst fears. He had grieved enough in his nightmares. He felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He thought about all the years spent searching for meaning, trawling through the vast expanses of government archives and genealogy databases in cyberspace. He recalled the heart-rending occasions when he’d stumbled upon couples surnamed Caldwell, either to find out they didn’t have a son or they couldn’t possible have been his parents. Until today, he hadn’t even been sure that Caldwell was his real surname.

Caldwell had searched relentlessly for a single needle in a million interconnected haystacks. He had dispatched hundreds of software robots on thousands of runs, across millions of sites, parsed billions of lines of text. And he still hadn’t gotten any closer to locating his parents. It was as if all trace of them had evaporated. Just like he had tried to disappear from the Union’s far-reaching radar. His only connection to the monolithic system was his ID chip with a two-year almost non-existent electronic trail. The irony was that he had had several successful runs sniffing the footprints others left in cyberspace.

“So tell me Fouler, is Cad Caldwell my real name?”

“Absolutely. The agency wanted to leave you without identification. They removed your subdermal ID implants. I made sure you got your basic ID chip though so that you could make a fresh start on the outside.”

“An ID chip with most of the data erased? I had it checked. There are data ghosts.”

“Well, it would have defeated the object if you knew your place of birth, UIRS tax number and so on. You would have just gone there and attempted to trace your parents or your life and one thing would have lead to another. But your birth date is correct. In fact, it is today if I am not mistaken.”

“So where was I born then? I guess from those flashbacks that it was in the Far East somewhere.”

“Yes, in what was then Hong Kong. Hong Kong is now part of the huge swath of Asia they call New China. I guess they accelerated the ‘one country, two systems’ policy over there. Anyway, it turned out to be a boon for the SAR. The economy went from flat to actually chugging along with the rest of New China.”

“That explains why I couldn’t find my parents. I was looking in the wrong place all the time. Did you know my parents?” Caldwell asked.

“Yes. They were both in the business. That’s why you coming to work for HYDRA was so straightforward, an easy sell to the superiors. Your father was half English, on his father’s side, and half Egyptian. Your paternal grandfather was Colonel Caldwell who married a distant member of the Egyptian royal family. Your father built language processing software for GCHQ based on algorithms developed in China. His day job or cover was as a visiting professor in information systems at Xian University. Your mother was fluent in Chinese, being half Chinese herself. Her father, your maternal grandfather, was Japanese, a writer and Sinophile who spent most of his adult life in New China. Your mother seemed to have followed in his footsteps. She wrote books about New China and worked part time as a research analyst for the Union Security Agency. I think the old word they used to use for them is they were spies. Just as you were a well-paid electronic spy before you cocked things up. Their cover was never blown. You on the other hand threatened to blow your own cover and the organization. I got a lot of flack for being a bad judge of character.”

“Why did you get flack?”

“In hindsight I should have seen it coming. You were only seventeen; your parents had just died less than a year previously. You had barely started recovering from that and we threw you right in at the deep end. Because of your age and the special nature of what you were doing, we bypassed a lot of the training and psychological profiling, except for a bit of self defense, ammunitions training and so on. You already had a black belt in karate and knew wushu from a young age in Hong Kong. I took a bet on you and I was wrong.”

“Now you are telling me that I can use guns and know martial arts?” Caldwell asked with genuine disbelief.

“Better believe it. Your father made sure of it. He was paranoid to the point of schizophrenia. But obviously after we locked up your memory you could not access any of those capabilities. We can give those back to you but it will take a long time to get to the level you were before, especially in light of the fact that you were only a teenager back then.”

“And what do I need to do to get my memory back? All of it.”

“Complete a mission,” Fouler said matter-of-factly. Caldwell looked at him suspiciously.

“What mission?”

“Related to what you are carrying in that bag you are white-knuckling as we speak. We know why those Yakuza want you killed. We’ve been tracking Kenzo Yamamoto for a long time. We were surprised when he started working with you and other hackers in the Union. Most of them are dead. You were lucky. The other recipient of a console, American professor at MIT, is dead too.”

“Really?”

“Go ahead and fake ignorance all you want. We know everything you need to know. We know why Yamamoto sent you the console and we also know that you don’t know that.”

What Fouler was saying was so scary that it took Caldwell a while to digest it all. Fouler held the key to yet another pertinent question. Why had Kenzo Yamamoto sent him the computer console?

“You seem to know a hell of a lot.”

“That’s our job. In this business, what you don’t know can hurt you. We also know that you don’t really know what it is you are carrying. That is no ordinary computer. The Yakuza want it back. It’s one of only two in existence. Our analysts believe they open the door to something much bigger.”

“So where is the other one right now?” Caldwell asked, as much to test the breadth of HYDRA’s knowledge as to reassure himself that if this one was to somehow go missing, there was another out there somewhere.

“We don’t know. We only need one right now. We want you to use it to do what it was intended to do. Find this network. Find out what it is for. Find its location so we can infiltrate it. Why would Yamamoto send you, an ordinary hacker, such an expensive custom console? And why would he send another to an American artificial intelligence professor at MIT. Kenzo was on to something big and he was willing to make a substantial investment to get it. Both he and the American professor are dead. You are the only one alive who has come in contact with this console outside of Japan. If you don’t help us find and infiltrate the network that Kenzo was after, you can’t blame me if HYDRA cannot help you.”

“Surely with all your eavesdropping capabilities you must have some clues.”

“Unfortunately not. He was very cryptic in his communications with both you and Professor Joplin. Of course we captured those. As far as we know, you are the only two who were sent consoles. Joplin’s daughter is missing. Their house was searched. When the FBI got there, they discovered that someone had gone through it with a fine tooth comb. Our analysts believe, from the extent of the damage they caused to the house, whoever was in the house did not find what they we are looking for. This led the scenario analysis to only one conclusion. Joplin’s daughter has the console. We are tracking her down as we speak. As I am sure are the Yakuza. They are keen to get to the bottom of this. It’s a matter of face for them, damage control. The FBI also ran an analysis on DNA samples collected in the house. The freshest samples indicated the intruders were of Japanese extraction. That confirmed some of our other fears and spurred us to take this case much more seriously.”

“What fears?”

Fouler leant back in the leather seat and pursed his thin colorless lips. Caldwell could see him shift between his thoughts and the sensations created by the probe of the shiatsu massager within the leather of the seats. Caldwell’s were activated as well and he believed Fouler had remotely activated the massager in a bid to get him to relax.

“OK,” he said at length. “We believe the console is a gateway to some secret Chinese network, something that uses protocols totally different from world standards. This in itself is not the problem as many jurisdictions have their own secure networks based on proprietary protocols. This makes them impossible to hack by all but the most economically and technically gifted hacking outfits. Our analysis suggests that somehow Yamamoto got wind of this, through some of his contacts in the Chinese underworld, and his calculating mind quickly figured that he could sell this information to the highest bidder. The most likely customers are the government of the United States, the Union or some megacorp bent on controlling those governments. We think information on such a system, were it to exist, could be worth billions of Euros.”

“So he probably secretly bought the blueprints to custom consoles used to access this Chinese system, had two made and sent one to this professor and one to me? Why would he do that?”

“We believe that his guys tried previously to break the network but did not succeed. Over the last year there have been several stories about hackers found dead in Tokyo under mysterious circumstances. Those deaths are probably related directly to attempts to crack into the Chinese system. He decided to try his hand abroad with experts in the field. His choosing Dr. Joplin, a world renowned expert in Artificial Intelligent is instructive. This Chinese network is probably protected by a ring of proactive security AIs. Detection by the AIs results in death as our hacker friends in Tokyo found out. Eventually, they traced it all to Yamamoto and wiped him out. Yamamoto probably figured that the security and counterattack AIs on the network might not be as effective as tracking intruders outside of Asia. The Chinese may not yet know about the consoles. That would explain why there has been no activity in that regard but it’s just a matter of time. Then you have another problem to deal with.”

“And you want me to find the network so HYDRA can destroy it? Why me?”

“New China is a politically-sensitive area right now. It’s a powerful country. The Union cannot risk any political disagreements with New China. Your job is to locate the network and infiltrate it. Set up Trojans, backdoors, whatever you like to call it. We’ll go in and take a look. If it is against our interests we’ll shut it down.”

“And you think I can do all this with Kenzo’s console?”

“Affirmative.”

“As far as I can see, the console is just a jazzed up version of any of the more expensive custom decks out there with some additional VR capabilities.”

“It is much more than that, believe me. These consoles were built by a master craftsman who is, conveniently, in a comma in a closely guarded hospital in Tokyo. You see the builder of these machines is one of the leading nanotechnology processor designers in the world. Much to Yamamoto’s chagrin, the old man went and had a stroke just after completing the second one. Everything, points to this system using reprogrammable logic arrays and heuristic software that is reconfigured on the fly to emulate any network. Only China has been able to successfully build one with longevity so far and that is rumor. Most prototypes elsewhere reprogram themselves into deadlock sooner or later with convoluted designs that the engineers can no longer figure out.”

“OK, but the AIs on this network can’t be all that great. So why me? Why not send your biggest and brightest out there?”

“The Chinese have their networks locked up pretty tight. They have installed some of the best security AIs out there. Trust me we’ve had a sniff at some of their most clandestine systems, anonymously of course, and it’s not pretty. This suggests that this system is something that gives them a huge competitive advantage globally. Not that they need it. The complication is that this system is almost certainly going to be coded entirely in Chinese. Having somebody who speaks Chinese and used to be one of the best hackers in the world is a big advantage. Someone who has an instinctual feel for compromising systems. Besides, you already have a reputation as a hacker. If things go bad it would seem as though you were working on your own. HYDRA and the Union won’t be implicated.” Caldwell ignored the connotations of Fouler’s last sentence.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I don’t speak Chinese. I can’t even curse in the language and that’s saying something.”

“You do and you can. Believe me I was at the receiving end of it many years ago. You spoke, read and wrote Mandarin and Cantonese fluently when you were at Hong Kong International School. Not to mention the private tutors in Hong Kong and your Ayi’s Anhui dialect. We can isolate and reopen those memories very easily. It’s all in our system.”

“No way you are going to mess with my head. You’ve done enough of that already. I just want my memory back.”

“We have to tag you for the trip to Hong Kong anyway. While we are in there, why not reopen some of what’s in there anyway?”

“Hong Kong? And if I find this system I get everything back.”

“Yes, and maybe even a job with HYDRA if you want it. I think if you do this, you would have more than proven yourself. We might be willing to forgive and forget.”

“And if I fail.”

“We’ll give you specific parts of your memory back on the flight to Hong Kong. If you fail and return to the Union without the support system to put your past in context, a proper job, a full identity, your memories will simply drive you insane. You’ll end up more fucked up than you are now. Besides, partial memory recall is not an exact science and over the long term, without total recall, who knows what will happen.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Up to you.”

“How do I know you are not just bullshitting about being able to restore my memory?”

“I’ll give you back just enough to put this conversation we’ve had in context, then we need to get back to business. We are sending you out to Hong Kong tomorrow”

Fouler sifted through his deck of cards again. Caldwell braced himself for the coming maelstrom.

***

Computer code. Millions of lines of computer code etched in pixels scrolled down a black terminal screen. The image was crystal clear and burned intensely in Caldwell’s mind. He felt a sharp twinge bolt through his head. He closed his eyes and opened them again, trying desperately to get rid of the pain. He attempted to recall what had previously been blank memories. The dark recesses of his mind filled up with luminescent color and an image scaled across his retina like a tiled background. He recalled a huge gray faceless building and leaning out of an automated car to have his eyes scanned. He remembered vividly a computerized voice saying:

“Morning, Mr. Caldwell.”

Fast-forward. Huge banks of computer systems filled an entire room. Wires stacked round the back like snakes writhing in a viper pit. Hundreds of consoles, servers, parallel processing server blades blinked and purred from their metal racks. Caldwell was sitting in the middle of all these computers, the conductor guiding this orchestra of bits and bytes. He caught his reflection in one of the screens. He was much younger then. Pimples.

A well-dressed middle-aged woman came in and berated him in a stern voice. She muttered something about it all being for the good of The Union. Caldwell couldn’t help but notice that varicose veins burned fluorescent in her yellowing calves. How did I get to Waterloo Bridge?

He was back in the computer room uploading bogus data to a heavily encrypted sector of cyberspace. He looked angry. In the blackness of one of the monitor screens in front of him, he caught the reflection of two men approaching him from behind. It was the two heavies in Fouler’s limo. They looked exactly the same as they did now. They dragged him down countless nondescript corridors, the sound of his screams bouncing emptily off the white brick walls. Caldwell dragged his feet and writhed like a wild bush hog caught in a forest trap but the men tightened their grips pulling him into the depths of HYDRA, the parts of the building to which he didn’t have clearance.

He was dragged through a white door with the word “Out” written in it in black paint. He wondered whether somewhere along these myriad corridors there was an “In”. The light in the room was so white it burned his eyes. He was strapped into a white leather chair. Everything in there was so white. The floor, the walls and the ceiling were a blinding white that reflected nothing. He was shackled with leather straps. A pretty young girl in white uniform, wearing plimsolls, frameless glasses perched matron-like on a pert nose, leaned in towards him. He could smell her perfume. It was an acrid fragrance that reminded him of hospital disinfectant. A syringe came up in a wide arc, spitting minute jets of transparent liquid in the still air.

***

Caldwell agreed to Fouler’s Faustian bargain. The HYDRA man informed him that all the necessary procedures to give him the blocks of memory he needed would be taken care of on the flight to Hong Kong the following day. He also told Caldwell that they would tag him to a GPS system so he wouldn’t do a runner. He agreed to it all, his compulsion to regain his memory overshadowing any doubts he was harboring. It wasn’t like he had a choice.

Caldwell asked Fouler to drop him off near Waterloo Bridge so he could say goodbye to Kat.

“I bet you know about her too?” Caldwell asked with some bitterness.

“Sure. We had you watched after you were reinserted into the system. We can put you up in a hotel tonight if you wish. Get yourself cleaned up, get some good food in you,” Fouler offered.

The agency man seemed to be having second thoughts about letting Caldwell out of his sight but then he figured that Caldwell’s desire to regain his memory would get the better of any idea to make a run for it or search for this Chinese system by himself. The agency man was right. Besides, Fouler had the run of the CCTV grid and who knew what else. He could track him down at any time.

“No thanks,” Caldwell declined.

The black limousine cruised to a standstill just outside Waterloo station. It was almost as though Fouler knew they would be dropping him off here. They’d been cruising in the vicinity. Caldwell stepped out into a black puddle and London rain. The damp air tasted of the River Thames, industrial pollution and death.