"Go right in Stephanie," the receptionist said, "and have a nice day." He pushed a button on his desk and a section of wall slid aside, revealing a short corridor which led to an elevator. Stephanie swiped her badge through the magnetic reader, the doors closed, and the elevator began it's descent. Stephanie thought about her life here in 'The Cube' as the elevator slowed to a stop. She had been recruited here from the Royal Marines, one of the few women who had achieved the coveted Commando green beret, after her excellent tactical and fighting skills were proven in the heat of the Afghan conflict. Stephanie didn't dwell long on her previous life, after all, it had been erased. No record of Stephanie existed. She had no social security number, no tax records, and no fingerprints.

The elevator door opened and Stephanie stepped into another, smaller, reception area. It was about three meters square with white tile walls, ceiling, and floor that made the fluorescent lights glare. The only non-white things in the room were the elevator door, the steel blast door opposite, and the two black-clad guards. One of the guards slung his MP5 machine gun over his shoulder and then opened the steel door for her. The room beyond wasn't a room, it was a cavern the size of an aircraft hanger. It always reminded Stephanie of the Batcave. The floor space was segmented, here was an area with office style workstations, there was the conference table where mission briefings were held, further up was the equipment store where Milo worked, and at the far end, near another, much larger, blast door there was a vehicle rank. There were people carriers for moving personnel, vans for moving equipment, motorcycles, and far from standard saloon and coupe cars.

Stephanie sat down at her desk, logged in to the computer, checked her email, and began the paperwork that always seemed to accumulate whilst she was away on missions. Around lunchtime Daniel phoned and asked Stephanie to come to his office. Stephanie walked towards an alcove in the far wall of the cavern which was cut off form the main cave by a plate glass 'wall' with a door set in it. Stephanie knocked and entered Daniel's office. "Take a seat Steph." he said. Stephanie pulled up a chair and sat down. Daniel paced back and forth behind his desk. Daniel was a tall man, 6 foot 3, and well built. A former SAS officer who joined Cube 1 at it's inception and now controlled operations. He was in his mid-fifties but still looked good. His body was firm from years of constant exercise and his graying hair was neatly cropped. His face displayed more lines than it used to and invisible creases became visible when he flashed his smile. He acted like a father to his team, never pushing them to take risks, never shouting without good reason, always discreet. After about three or four minutes Daniel sat down and handed Stephanie a manilla folder. "The man in that file is Doctor Neil Anderson. He is a government scientist commissioned to research chemical weapons, in the hope that an antivirus can be engineered that will render them harmless. The plan was that the SAS, Marines or even Cube Team would infiltrate enemy chemical weapons facilities and neutralize their weapons. Three weeks ago Dr. Anderson and his daughter went missing. Today MI6 got their first lead. An MI6 agent saw Dr. Anderson being herded into the office building shown in that photo." Stephanie looked at the nondescript building and the close up of the business's logo. "The Network Solutions corporation has long been suspected of being a front for terrorist activities but this is the first proof we have of any involvement on their part. Your mission is to gain entrance to the building, find any information that shows what's going on, and rescue Dr. Anderson. All the information you need is in the folder, go and see Milo for your equipment, you leave at 7pm." With that Daniel turned to his computer, and Stephanie left, closing the door as she went.

Stephanie looked over the information in the folder. There was the usual biographical information about Dr. Anderson, his daughter Katie, and the head of Network Solutions, Charlotte Gray. There was technical information about the building and it's security, as well as possible locations for Dr. Anderson. At three o'clock Stephanie went to see Milo, the technician. Milo was a short man, about 5 foot 5 inches, in his mid twenties with unkempt brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He was responsible for the gear the Cube Team members used. A genius who graduated from Oxford at the age of fourteen and developed electronic equipment for military suppliers and toy companies before being brought into Cube 1. He also had a soft spot of Stephanie. "Afternoon Milo," said Stephanie as she approached, "got any new toys for me?" "Sorry Sugar," Milo replied. "just the same old stuff. We're going to have to drop you on the roof, it's the only easy way in, and a full team would be too easily spotted, so there's just going to be you and Jones." Milo was referring to Simon Jones, a former MI6 agent who usually performed stealth reconnaissance. "Miss Gray's office is on the 22nd floor, so you should start the search for information there. The good Dr. Anderson is likely to be in the basement, because that's the only part of the building we can't scan. No trace of him was found on any of the floors above ground." The building scanner Milo invented was becoming an essential piece of reconnaissance kit. A cross between an infra-red camera and an x-ray machine, it is designed to let agents 'see' into buildings. The only drawback to the machine is it's size. Mounted in a helicopter or pickup truck, the cumbersome nature of it rules out it's use in fast deployment or remote location missions.

"What about extraction?" asked Stephanie. "Walk out the back door." Milo replied. "A group of anti-capitalist 'demonstrators' will be occupying security in reception. You go home and get some rest, I'll organize the gear." Stephanie thanked Milo and headed back to the elevator. She left the building, heading for the car park. As she reached her car, Stephanie looked across the road at the bungalows that fringed the housing estate opposite the government building. The third house from the left, she knew, housed the Cube's permanent onsite guard, and it's garage was the vehicular access to the cavern. Stephanie unlocked her car and slipped behind the wheel. She sat in the tan leather seat, switched off the alarm, turned the key and watched the long bonnet of her Jaguar XKR vibrate as the supercharged V8 engine rumbled into life. The British racing green car's eighteen inch wheels, each hiding twin caliper 17 inch disc brakes, rolled on their low profile tires as the big cat stretched it's legs on the run to Stephanie's Chelsea flat.

Stephanie swung the Jaguar into the courtyard behind her building and backed into her allotted space. She was proud of her little first floor flat, and looking up to the bedroom window where her cat Fred sat as she idled the car, cooling the supercharger, Stephanie thought of the new mission and the problems involved. Fred greeted her as she opened the door, meowing for food. "It's not even four o'clock Fred." said Stephanie "You don't get fed until five, so give up." Fred looked nonplussed and padded off. Stephanie wandered into the kitchen, fixed herself a cup of tea, and then moved into the living area to sit down. "It was a small flat," she thought, "but plenty big enough for Fred and her, and it least it was hers. No more barrack blocks with no peace and quiet, and she had a spare room here, in the unlikely case of a visitor." Having finished her tea, Stephanie moved into her bedroom and pulled out a sports bag. She had time to kill before she had to get ready for tonight's mission and decided to go for a swim. Stephanie opened her wardrobe and pulled out a dark blue tracksuit. Pulling her hair out of the bun she wore at work so it fell in long blonde locks down to her shoulders Stephanie stripped out of her blouse and skirt. She rummaged in the chest of drawers until she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Stephanie looked into her green eyes, stood up straight and looked at her body. most of the bruises had faded now, she noticed. Her five foot eight inch frame looked good, her long legs supporting 34 inch hips with a 24 inch waist above that. The only thing out of proportion, she thought, were her breasts. Thirty-six C was a little large for such an active, mobile, lifestyle. Stephanie dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand, as if shooing it away, and returned to searching for her favorite swimsuit. Ten minutes later Stephanie locked the flat and walked off down the street, heading to her sports club in the blue tracksuit and white trainers, her blue and green one piece swimsuit underneath.

Milo had laid out all the usual combat gear for the two agents when they arrived. Stephanie and Jones both wore the standard urban combat black cat suit with black flak jackets over them, and black, rubber-soled, boots. "Standard equipment for you both." Milo began. "Silenced ASP pistol, extra clips, knife, radio headset, and a data retriever." "Data retriever?" asked Jones. "Once you're into the computer system just attach it to any spare modem port and I can download anything that might look useful." Replied Milo. "Remember your going in through the roof and the office you want is on the 22nd floor. Dr. Anderson is in the basement, and you get out the back door into the alley. Here comes the jump ship now."

The jump ship was the next generation of vertical takeoff jet. Based on the Harrier jump jet, this small craft carried two flight crew and had a load space capable of holding six to eight people plus equipment. Powerful directional jet turbines provided the maneuverability and hover capabilities. It could even fly backwards. The jump ship looked like a helicopter with small stubby wings and no rotor blades. The two agents climbed aboard, sat down, and strapped themselves in as the jump ship lifted off. The flight to the Network Solutions building in the middle of London's Canary Wharf only lasted ten minutes but to Stephanie it seemed like a lifetime as she checked and rechecked her equipment. "Sixty seconds to drop zone." the co-pilot said. Jones and Stephanie pulled their balaclavas down and moved to the hatch, attaching themselves to the abseil lines and waited. The ship slowed abruptly as the green light above their heads came on. Stephanie led the way, hitting the roof and darting for cover, while Jones arrived at her elbow a few seconds later. Jones motioned for them to move, and they crept towards the access door. Had anyone been listening they would have heard the faintest of clicks as the lock surrendered to the probing tool, and Jones moved silently into the stairwell. They moved slowly to minimize the noise they made, and keep a lookout for the security cameras. At this time of night the guards were just beginning their rounds as the office staff who stayed late filtered into the elevators to begin their journey home. Stephanie paused at the door to the 22nd floor and, satisfied that no-one was about, inched it open, glancing left and right. Satisfied that the coast was clear she signaled to Jones, and both agents dived into the reception area, rolling behind the couch. Jones peered over the edge of the couch and then stood. "Clear." he said, his soft words piped into Stephanie's ear by her headset. They quickly made their way over to the office door. "Charlotte Gray must do pretty well to have an entire floor to herself." mused Stephanie, as she slipped into the office. Jones began tapping at the keyboard while Stephanie guarded the door. "I'm in." he said. Milo's voice came over the headset "Plug the Data Retriever into the modem port. Head down to the ground floor, don't get spotted. You may have to find a guard to locate the basement entrance."

Stephanie and Jones returned to the stairwell and began their descent. They traveled as before, as quietly as possible, taking turns to lead. A startled office worker found himself bound and gagged in a cleaners' cupboard after choosing the wrong moment to open a stairway door. Reaching the ground floor the pair crept out into a hallway. A group of security men stood yards away from them, transfixed by the noise and spectacle of the men and women protesting against capitalism. With their backs to the two agents, none of them noticed Jones dragging one away, his hand covering the guard's mouth, into a coffee break room. "The basement?" asked Stephanie, her gun pointed at the guard's temple. "C-C-Coffee machine." stammered the guard "Press thirteen and stand back." Stephanie punched the number into the coffee machine keypad, fully expecting a Styrofoam cup filled with coffee, milk, and two sugars to appear. She was somewhat surprised when the entire machine detached itself from the wall and swung to the left, revealing a metallic staircase. Jones bustled the guard down the stairs in front of him, with Stephanie bringing up the rear, the coffee machine swinging back into place behind them.

The metal staircase led down and into a small corridor which widened into a reception area similar to that found in the foyer upstairs. There was one guard sitting behind a desk, snoring loudly. He wore a different uniform to that of the guard Jones was keeping hold of, this new guard looking more like military personnel than rent-a -cop. Stephanie reached across the slumbering form and released the door which led further into the complex. The guard brought down from the foyer had a sensation of sharp pain and then collapsed onto the floor. "Easier this way." said Jones. The two agents crept through the door and into a distorted corridor. Large doors, presumably for laboratories, lined the corridor, and Stephanie and Jones took one side each. Standard procedure was invoked as the two agents cleared room after room, searching for Dr. Anderson. The first lab contained a small shooting range with a table near the door lined with guns and tools for tinkering with them. There was a similar range at Cube base. Each room drew a blank, until there was only one left. Stephanie opened the door, and Jones dived in, eyes sweeping the room for threats. There were two people in the room, a guard and Dr. Anderson. The silencer on Jones's ASP reduced the sound of the shot to a 'phut' of escaping air as the guard slumped into the corner.
"Dr. Anderson, I presume?" asked Stephanie, approaching the other man.
"Yes, but who are you?" replied the bewildered scientist.
"British Government, Dr. Anderson. We're here to get you out."

Dr. Anderson was slightly shorter than Stephanie, about 5 foot 7. He was thin as a rake, with wispy white hair and tortoise-shell glasses. He looked like he was in his mid sixties, although it was impossible to tell. Dr. Anderson was currently wearing a lab coat with pockets full of pens, notebooks, scraps of paper, and at least one spare pair of specs.
"I can't go with you." he said. "They have my daughter somewhere and have threatened to kill her if anything happens to me. I cannot risk my Katie's life."
"What are you working on doctor?" asked Jones.
"They want me to engineer a chemical weapon for them. They want it in a spray form."
"Do you know where Katie is?" Stephanie asked.
"No, but I did hear them talking about taking a boat trip where no-one would think to look for her." replied the doctor.
"Okay doctor, we'll find her and then get you out. Take this," said Jones, handing over a credit card like device. "It's a GPS locator. Keep it attached to your body and we can track you wherever you go on the planet. They won't keep you here once they know we got in."

With that the two agents glanced around the corridor, and ran back the way they came, heading for the stairs. As they reached the reception area the alarm sounded. The now very much awake guard reached for his gun, only to find the back of his hand explode in a shower of pain and crimson blood. Stephanie and Jones ran past as the guard fell to his knees, and launched themselves up the metal staircase. Stephanie led the way as she shoulder charged the throng of guards around the coffee machine door, heading towards the rear of the building. An emergency exit door appeared at the end of a small corridor, and the agents ran towards it, the building guards puffing along the corridor in pursuit. Stephanie and Jones barreled through the door and into the ally, running for the people carrier one hundred yards away, throwing themselves in the back as the tires squealed and the black vehicle raced away into the night.