His screen went blank for a second and was suddenly replaced by the words: FBI HEADQUARTERS, COMPUTER FRAUD DIVISION.
Boris said something obscene and impossible, then banged sharply on his Enter key to clear the screen. “I need a cigarette,’ he snapped moodily and sounding sullen.
“Well, I need coffee.” Natalya glanced at her screen to make sure all was in order and walked towards one of the doors that led to a kitchen.
Boris Ivanovich Grishenko swaggered away from his terminal, as if he were walking off the job, heading for one of the utility doors. He went up the steep angle of stone steps that led to the outside world, grinned at a security camera, pushed open the door and stepped into the cold, bleak landscape.
As he did so, a voice echoed from a concealed speaker -“CoMr.ade Grishenko, you are using an emergency exit.
You have been told before, this is illegal. Get back to the technical area as quickly as possible.”
“Come up and stop me.” Boris was obviously always doing this kind of thing, and had little tolerance for authority, knowing he was probably the most essential computer technician they had.
He pulled out a packet of Marlboro cigarettes. He had bought a huge amount on his last leave, paying with the hard currency the technicians earned. Putting a cigarette between his lips, he flicked at the wheel of his lighter. The flame spluttered for a second and was blown out, as if by some sudden strong wind.
Grishenko raised his eyes. The dark shape of a helicopter was descending onto the landing pad some fifty yards away, its rotors stirring the powdered snow into a white tornado.
The Tigre has landed, Xenia Onatopp thought grimly.
She popped the sleek canopy and undid her safety harness, reaching down to sling an Israeli-made Uzi onto her right shoulder. She already had spare magazines in pouches on her belt.
“Ready, General?” She spoke into her headset, hearing the general’s snarl of response -“Let’s get on with it. I’ve been ready for some time now.
They were both in uniform, Xenia with the insignia of a colonel, her partner with that of a general. Bond would have recognised the general immediately, for the last time he had seen him General Ourumov had a gun to the head of his old friend Alec Trevelyan.
Boris Grishenko did a swift disappearing act as soon as he spotted the two officers.
Now, Ourumov kept step with Xenia as they marched purposefully along the side of the ruined building, where ice and snow had been cleared from a path which led to the main door, down wide concrete steps, along a corridor to a security door. A guard sprang to attention and saluted, though General Ourumov seemed to hardly notice the man. He knew exactly what he was doing, looking straight into a camera placed almost at eye level and clearly speaking his name “General Arkady Grigorovich Ourumov. Head of Space Division.” There were a series of fast bleeps as the system went through its voice recognition routine, then the steel security door opened and the pair were through into the most sensitive area where the Duty Officer snapped to attention, his second-in-command hastily rising and buttoning his jacket.
“General, if I’d known you were coming..
Xenia muttered, “You’d have baked a cake, yes.
“You’d have been ready for me, I think, Major. This is an unscheduled test of the Severnaya facility. A war simulation. We shall be test firing GoldenEye. Report status.” He looked up and could see that the computer scientists and technicians behind the thick tinted glass were moving, craning from their work-stations to see what was going on. “Jump, man. Report status,’ Ourumov barked at the major.
“Status normal, sir. Two operational satellites: Petya and Mischa, both in ninety-minute earth orbit at one hundred kilometres.”
“Good. Here’s the authorisation code. Hand me the GoldenEye, today’s access numbers and the key, please. I am timing you as from now.” He had already thrown a plastic card down on the small counter, now he ostentatiously brought his left arm up and studied his watch.
The major almost fell over himself trying to get things done correctly, punching in the numbers to unlock the metal gate in front of the safe, using the palm print pad to ID himself, them tapping in the safe’s code of the day.
The lock beeped different tones - like a digital telephone, then clicked open.
Xenia gestured to the other officer and said that he should open the safety door through to the technical area.
“On a wartime basis, Captain, this entire facility must be open in case there is need to evacuate with little warning.” The captain did not argue.
“Today’s codes, sir. The electronic firing key and GoldenEye.” The Duty Officer brought the items from the safe: the key, a plastic card, and a small golden disk in the centre of which was an engraved eye.
“Good. Now, make the blind see.” The major looked down at the disk and removed a piece of golden tape from the centre of the eye, revealing a circle where the pupil would have been.
“You know how the GoldenEye works?”
“Yes, General. When positioned correctly the disk allows a laser beam to lance through its centre, thus initiating the firing mechanism of the satellite.”
“Good.
You have done well, Major. I think that will be all we require.” He turned to Xenia. “Colonel. You take over.
Xenia almost lazily unslung her Uzi and put two quick bursts in the direction of the two officers. Then she walked unhurriedly to the door leading to the technicians’ area and sprayed everything in sight, changing magazines with an almost robot-like perfection.
Bodies were thrown back against equipment or spun violently, showers of sparks and smoke leaped from computer work-stations. The entire business took less than thirty seconds.
In the small kitchen, Natalya Simonova spilled her coffee and looked up, horror in her eyes.
Back in the main control room Xenia bent down and removed a second firing key hanging on a silver chain from around the dead Duty Officer’s neck and went over to the long console at which Ourumov had already taken his place, throwing switches and watching the long screen light up high above the instruments.
With great precision Ourumov slid the GoldenEye disk into a slot, not unlike a CD player. He placed the day’s code card in front of him and inserted the key into a lock to the right of the point where the golden disk had slid into place. Xenia had already inserted the key taken from the Duty Officer. “On my count,’ he rapped. “Three, Two, One, Zero.’ They turned their keys in unison and the rest of the console lit up, needles flicked and the screen above them showed a segment of the earth with one of the satellites in orbit.
“Set target acquisition for Petya. Severnaya,’ the general ordered.
High above the earth’s surface, a piece of what appeared to be space junk - possibly the burned out stage of a rocket - seemed to be tumbling around in orbit, but, as the command from Severnaya leaped silently through space to wake it up, so the satellite coded Petya emitted blasts from hidden propulsion units and began to change course.
Inside the control room, both Ourumov and Xenia looked at the screen above them and saw what Natalya had been watching, less than half-an-hour before. The red symbol that was the Petya began to move rapidly, shifting from its position over the Middle East and heading at an unthinkable speed towards northern Russia.
On a lower display screen information started to ribbon out: PETYA LOCATION: 80.31.160.17 TARGET: 78.08.107.58.
Then: TIME TO TARGET: 15.43.21 Ourumov, consulting the card containing the codes, began to punch in a series of numbers. The display now flashed a further message: WEAPON ARMED.
At that very moment, panic stricken at what she could hear, Natalya knocked over her cup. In the sterile silence the noise was like a hand-grenade exploding.