PROLOGUE

The room of the Central computer contained a mass of flickering screens which from moment to moment reflected the ever-changing myriad details of seemingly infinite financial transactions. From all over the Country, all over the World, a roller coaster of cash withdrawals, balance requests, deposits, were carried in a never-ending stream of ATM messages to and from the waiting millions out there in the cold and the rain in the dark of the night and the light and heat of the sun, all of which the massive computer system could, for the most part, handle with awesome efficiency.

24 hours a day, this automated juggernaut continued on its way, the flashing lights, the whirring and clicking from the relentless machines orchestrating a scene not unlike the Krell laboratory in The Forbidden Planet, eternally restless, in perpetual motion.

Today though, was different. Around these screens, monitoring them with unusual concentration were a group of men and women, clearly not the faceless operatives who usually stood idly by as casual servants to the mighty machines. Their eyes straining against the unremitting glow of the monitors, each person’s face was etched with the tension inherited from their own experience of a harsher, more realistic climate, a raw place that was a world away from the abstract hidden life of the computer operators who were the natural inhabitants of this cold environment.

“Look!” said a man with a Scottish gravel voice as he pointed towards the screen,

“Here’s another one!”

Although he spoke to the group in general, the man who could be easily identified as their leader, moved with swift economy to stand at the Scotsman’s shoulder, peering at the screen, his dark eyes intense and alert.

“Yes, it’s them all right” he said in a voice bristling with authority.

“Get someone down there right away, but no noise or fanfares, we want surveillance, not capture

There was a bustle of sudden activity, as a crowd of minions hurried to deal with his orders, bodies separating into corners as if from a rugby scrum, a confusing scramble of voices high and low intermingling as urgent messages sailed out into the ether. The Chief bit his lip anxiously, for this was not the first time in that evening he had given this order. There was no doubt about it, massive fraudulent withdrawals were being made from the banking system.

This in itself was not new, the Chief had seen massive fraud before, but this was something different, hundreds of thousands of these transactions seemed inextricably linked by modus operandi and in uneasy corroboration, sometimes- direct connection. Worse still, these known transactions being monitored could well be the tip of the iceberg. The conclusions to be reached from this seemed catastrophic. If true, there was no telling where it could lead. This could be paranoia, the Chief reasoned. He hoped it was, for if his worst fears were realised, the signs were ominous. Someone could be orchestrating an attack on the banking system itself.