The Master Key

By Bryan Whelan

Agent Lincoln Cain is back!

After some important members of an organization responsible for the security of the Internet turn up dead, Agent Cain is thrust into the world of cyber terrorism. When that organization's master key is stolen, the Internet becomes vulnerable to hacking on a massive scale.

The mastermind behind the theft is revealed as a rogue general, formerly of the People's Liberation Army of China. He uses the key to amass a vast array of weapons and mind-altering drugs.

The general embarks on a campaign to take control of the South Pacific and eventually Australia! When it is revealed, he also has a nuclear bomb at his disposal, the fate of Australia becomes even more deadly!

It looks like Lincoln is powerless to prevent this general from taking control of Australia. Can Lincoln stop this megalomaniac?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryan Whelan
• Release date: Feb 19, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201653224

Bryan Whelan

The fourth in the Lincoln Cain Spy series from the pen of Bryan Whelan, following on from Edge of Reality, The Hexagonal Dome and The Bandaid Conspiracy. Bryan is a retired Maths, Science and Information Technology teacher from Australia, who has been a fan of science fiction all his life. Author of several science fiction adventure stories, including The Swirling Lights of Paradise, The Hives of God’s World and Truth of Time, he injects a distinctly Australian flavour to them.

Book preview

Prologue

The frigid air detracted from the beautiful band of stars that littered the night sky. The Milky Way seemed to cascade down to the Boston skyline like a waterfall, but the young bespeckled man ignored this picturesque scene.

Running as quickly as his puny legs would carry him, the young man raced along a deserted train track, looking back every few seconds. Silhouetted against the beautiful night sky, the fear on his face and the panic in his breath said it all. Someone or something was chasing him, and he knew that his life would end if caught.

Passing a large shed on the side of the railway, reminded the young man that civilisation was nearby. Perhaps somebody is around to help him. At least they could act as a witness to this bizarre chase. Swinging his head left and right in a vain attempt to see anyone, he began to shout. However, he was so short of breath that he could barely muster a whimper. No time to stop and look around, he must keep going. His legs began to object to all this running, and he struggled to keep his balance.

Looking back once again, he managed a scream as he saw the beast chasing him. A four-legged animal running along the tracks, snarling through its tusks, and baring its sharp teeth, its intent was obvious. Its eyes glowing like two balls of fire, pursuing him relentlessly.

The poor man was beyond reason. This beast was something out of his childhood, a nightmare that caused him to hide under the bed. How could it appear behind him to haunt him now? He never considered the obvious fact that the beast was not real, only that here it was after all these years, ready to devour him at last.

At one point, his legs gave way and he crashed onto the tracks. With the little strength he had left, he dragged himself up to his feet and began to run again. The beast somehow had not caught up. Running past a lamppost, the young man became visible in the light. His t-shirt blackened by the mud from his fall, and now torn, still showed the Nike logo on its front, the only link to any sort of fitness for this poor man.

His face momentarily shining in the light, showed a pasty complexion with a long nose. His long brown locks of hair sprayed out behind him, revealing thin cauliflower ears. But to anyone seeing this fleeting image, they could only see a man stricken by fear.

The beast came closer as the man slowed. With his energy almost exhausted, he began to resign himself to his fate. If the beast kills him, so be it. There was nothing physically more he could do. Just as he accepted his fate, he looked up to see a large bridge crossing over the railway. A sure sign of civilisation. He even heard the distance humming of traffic as cars passed over it.

Finding some renewed energy in a dark corner of his body, he picked up his pace and ran towards the bridge. As he neared it, he hoped someone might see him, but all he saw was a dark tunnel under the bridge. No way was he running in there! All seemed lost now as he collapsed in front of the bridge, totally exhausted.

Several metres behind him, a dark-suited man carrying what looked like a large-barrelled rifle slowed down when he saw the young man collapse. Seeing him lying on the tracks just under the bridge, he could not have planned it any better. When the young man, in a last desperate effort to escape, stood up again, the dark-suited man raised his odd-looking rifle and took aim. Pressing the trigger firmly, only a dull hum sounded as he fired at his prey.

The air around the young man began to vibrate and he began to feel faint and somewhat nauseous. Suddenly he experienced a tightness in his chest and pain spreading across his whole upper body. The pain intensified as his breathing became even more shallow. As his jaw tightened, he looked back at the beast, who had stopped a few metres from him, waving its head and snarling. Why doesn’t it attack? There was no fight left in the young man. It is an easy kill. In a last desperate effort, the young man shouted.

We will rule the world!

When the pain became too much, the young man collapsed onto the tracks. At this point, the dark-suited man released his finger from the trigger and lowered his weapon. Moving quickly to the young man, he felt his neck. When he confirmed there was no pulse, he looked up to the top of the bridge.

Good, no one was looking over, a successful operation. Slinging the weapon over his shoulder, the dark-suited man scrambled up the side of the hill and disappeared into the darkness.

Meanwhile in New York ...

Checking his screen again, online security development administrator, Clint Willard, made sure he would not be late. Living on his own, he suddenly had an opportunity to meet with four other people thanks to the ‘GroupChat’ site. This wasn’t one of those hook up sites like Tinder; it was simply a site for lonely people wanting to meet for a group chat at a bar. For Clint, it was his only social outlet.

Sitting at a corner table in the bar, Clint studied his four new companions. There was Sam the Asian, Marion the brunette, Loretta with the ponytail and Chad the Mexican. Clint did this to avoid forgetting their names. All were roughly his age of mid-thirties, although Marion must be at least forty, thought Clint.

After some awkward attempts at conversation (it was these types of people who frequented GroupChat), they eventually discovered a common topic for all, television. Their collective lives spun around various TV shows and they found they had much to discuss about various shows and their stars.

By 11:00 pm, the waiter approached the group to let them know that the bar was closing. As none of them had experienced such lively conversation in so long, all decided to move on to another bar which ran all night, but who knew of any?

It was then that Sam the Asian suggested a rooftop bar he knew about that operated until dawn. Following him down the street, they entered a nondescript building and walked to an elevator at the end of the corridor. After pressing the button for the rooftop, Sam sidled in next to Clint.

Ow! screamed Clint as he felt a sharp pinprick on the back of his neck. Sam then whispered into Clint’s ear as Clint went momentarily stiff. He then shook himself back to normality and looked at Sam.

Oh, so sorry, Sam replied. It’s my wristwatch. It has a broken link which is quite sharp. I’ve been meaning to have it fixed.

A few moments later, the five of them piled out onto the rooftop bar. Adorned with fairy lights around the place, the rooftop took on quite the romantic feel. The greenery of the ferns and pot plants added to the ambience. With soft music playing in the background and a large bar at one end, it was quite the place. Its highlight, though, was a view of the Empire State Building bathed in red, white, and blue light, just nearby.

All five stared at the building, mesmerised by the light show. Eventually, they made their way to a large table by the far wall. Chad declared it was his turn for the drinks and promptly left for the bar. The conversation continued as lively as before.

When it was Clint’s turn for the drinks, he gathered the five glasses in his hands, stood up and proceeded to the bar. However, he had only taken a few steps, when he stopped, staring in disbelief at the sight in front of him.

No longer was he on a rooftop bar, he was in a stadium of sorts. Muddy soil squelched under his feet, and he could hear the distant cheers and shouts from an audience not far away. But what made him petrified with fear was the large horse not twenty metres away and seated on it was a knight dressed in a full suit of armour! Clint immediately dropped all five glasses but heard no sound as they smashed on the floor.

The knight lowered his helmet, picked up a long lance and waved to the crowd. In the next moment, his horse reared up and began to gallop towards Clint. All Clint could see was the sharp point of that lance directed at his chest. At that moment, Clint finally reacted by turning around and running for his life.

With the knight fast approaching, Clint managed to reach the arena fence and despite his lack of physical attributes, leapt over it in one jump. His feeling of relief was fleeting, as he returned to reality to see the sidewalk fast approaching.

As his friends watched poor Clint disappear over the edge of the building, they could hear him shout.

We will rule the world!

His four friends stood in shock, and all ran to the wall to see Clint’s body, a crumpled dead mess atop a parked car on the sidewalk. With the car sounding its security alarm, everyone on the rooftop ran over to see the carnage. No one could explain his actions, least of all these four random friends.

Chapter 1

The phone rang with its familiar ringtone. Lincoln Cain woke to the sound of the song, ‘The Final Countdown,’ but as the phone was on Maddy’s side of the bed, she answered it.

Any chance you can change that ringtone? Lincoln asked as Maddy talked on the phone. Every time I hear, I think you are defusing a bomb on your side of the bed.

No, it reminds me that I have a career. I’m not just a pretty face, you know, Maddy replied. She then kissed him as she listened to the voice on the other end. She then hung up.

So, who was it and what did they want? Lincoln asked as he rose out of bed.

It seems you have a career also. That was the Chief. He wants you at Headquarters, pronto. Looks like there’s another crisis on.

Oh, goody, Lincoln then walked off for a morning shower as Maddie wandered off to the kitchen to fix breakfast.

Lincoln Cain was a special agent with the Australian Security Taskforce (AST), the frontline defence when it came to espionage and terrorist threats. A veteran of three campaigns in Afghanistan, and now in his forties, he was probably the oldest agent they had. He stood 188 cm with short wavy blond hair with a muscular physique hardened from years of training and combat. His dark piercing eyes and broad chin disguised his rather affable nature.

During his last mission in Melbourne, the AST teamed him up with Madeline Jackson, an explosive expert attached to the Victoria Police. Once they successfully completed the mission, it was clear the two had feelings for each other, despite Lincoln’s reticence for women with bright blue hair. By this stage, Maddy had fallen hopelessly in love with the big man and transferred to the Sydney Police Bomb Disposal Unit to be with him. The two now shared a happy existence living in Lincoln’s Blue Mountains retreat. A happiness that Lincoln had not experienced in a long time.

An hour and a half later, Lincoln Cain strode down Oxford Street in Sydney, dressed in a sports jacket and cargo pants. Entering the Darlinghurst Dry Cleaners, he approached the counter to confront a short, balding man, reading a newspaper. Without waiting for any acknowledgement, Lincoln announced.

I like to know how much you charge to repair a rug.

The little man behind the counter, looked at Lincoln as if he had heard this request many times before.

We charge by the square metre, mate. How big is the repair? He asked.

Lincoln replied.

23.5 square metres.

With no one else in the shop, the little man pressed a button underneath the counter. Having passed phase one of the passwords, Lincoln began to walk off towards a rack of suits hanging along the far wall.

Spreading the suits apart from the middle, Lincoln stepped in and proceeded through a secret door that had just opened. As Lincoln closed the door, the suits returned to their original positions on the rack. Once Lincoln had descended the stairs behind the door, he placed his head in the cradle in front of a box next to a metal door, to have his retina scanned for the second phase.

Once this door opened, Lincoln entered a large room with several desks and people behind them busily working on computers. At the far end, a prim and proper woman with glasses and hair tied in a bun stood up. As she did so, she pressed a buzzer on her desk to let the Chief know he had arrived. Pamela Farris was Chief Moyle’s long-time secretary.

Ah, if it isn’t God’s gift to spying, She remarked with a smirk. How are you, Lincoln? Still upright, I see. Maddy must have her work cut out for her, nursing an old fart like you.

And it’s nice to see you too, Pam. I see nothing has changed here. Your fashion sense, for instance. Lincoln replied. Both laughed. They enjoyed their little banter each time Lincoln came in.

Go right in, he’s expecting you, Pamela said as she returned to her seat.

Sitting down in Chief Moyle’s office, Lincoln noticed that his office had also not changed in years. The Chief was not one for souvenirs or sentiment. The office was austere in the extreme containing only the desk with a screen on it and a larger screen on the back wall.

Two folders also sat on his desk as Moyle looked up to make sure it was Lincoln Cain sitting opposite.

Ah, Cain, glad you could make it in so quickly. We have a mission for you, but first, cast your eye over those two folders.

Opening the first one, Lincoln could see it was an Interpol report on the death one Marcus Rashler, a security network analyst. According to the report, he died of a heart attack with a large amount of some drug in his system. They described the drug as a potent form of Pentazocine.

Perusing the second folder, it was also a death report from Interpol. This one was for a Clint Willard, a network specialist with an online data security firm. However, this was a suicide. The poor fellow jumped off a rooftop in New York, just before he bought a round of drinks. Probably couldn’t pay for the drinks, thought Lincoln. However, the report stated that this fellow had the same drug in his system.

Looking up at Moyle, Lincoln showed an indifferent expression. Two deaths with the same drug in their system, so what? Sensing Lincoln’s lack of concern, Moyle asked him.

Do you see what those two deaths have in common?

They were both computer nerds who happened to shoot up on the same drug. The second one here even shouted some rubbish about ‘We will rule the world.’ Clearly, he was high on drugs. And they are Americans, killed in the U.S. What does this have to do with us? Lincoln asked.

The CIA and Interpol have asked for our help. It seems that these two unfortunates were both special members of a group called ICANN. Neither of them was a drug user. Both had needle marks on the backs of their necks. So, we know someone administered the drug to kill them, Moyle explained.

ICANN? I can what? Lincoln replied.

ICANN is the Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Numbers. It’s largely American but has members all over the world. I’ve arranged a representative to come in today to explain their organisation further.

Lincoln passed his hand over his head to indicate that he was none the wiser. Moyle tried to explain further.

This organisation is the body responsible for maintaining the security of all internet addresses around the world. Apparently, those two poor fellows were central to that security. To have them both die within 24 hours of each other and both with the same drug in their system raised alarm bells with the CIA and Interpol.

So, they don’t believe that these deaths were accidental, Lincoln asked.

No, they believe it could be the start of some global plot to eliminate members of this organisation. That’s why they contacted us. One of its key members is an Australian and they believe they might be next on the list. They’ve asked us to ensure their safety for the next two weeks. Moyle said.

Lincoln suddenly realised why Moyle had called him in. He felt a little insulted. He may be the oldest agent they have but that does not mean they should give him a ‘child-minding’ job.

You mean you want me to babysit a computer geek for the next fortnight? Surely anyone else could do that. Let Pamela out there take the job, She’s more qualified at babysitting than I. Besides, it will give her an excellent opportunity to meet a real man, even though he’s a geek!

Moyle smiled. He had also wondered why Pamela never had a man in her life.

Normally, I would agree. However, this geek, they tell me, is quite an asset for ICANN and when Dr Lindhurst arrives, he can explain just how important it is to keep this person alive. The CIA believe that this person is the next one on the list, so to speak. Someone out there is up to something, something big and the whole internet is at risk. So, I’m giving the mission to you.

Yippee, Lincoln replied still not convinced that this assignment is worthy of his talents. And why just the next two weeks?

Moyle could only shrug his shoulders.

Chapter 2

D r Lindhurst is here , Pamela stated over the intercom.

Send him in, Moyle replied.

Into the office strode a middle-aged man, balding with a round face