Girl:Broken

by S Williams

  ‘Why?’ she whispered, staring at the horror pictures on the board. ‘What’s the point?’

  But then Daisy had woken up and seen her.

  Texted 999.

  Saved her.

  Lawrence would have seen her being taken out to the ambulance. Known she wasn’t dead and called Slane.

  Decided on a new plan.

  We’re going to move you to a safe place. Do a proper debriefing.

  ‘Yeah, with a wet sponge and a car battery, probably,’ muttered Jay grimly.

  She rested her weight against the wall and fished her phone out of her pocket. She looked at the device.

  ‘How did you know how to text, Daisy? You were a complete techno-hedge.’

  As she thought about this her phone pinged, indicating a message. She swiped it awake.

  It was a data-mine, being transferred through the scraper Joseph had planted.

  She stared at the information being downloaded. It was from whatever computer network Joseph had plugged the charger-disguised scanner she had arranged for him to get from Clarence. It had copied the passcodes and was downloading everything it found; media files, data folders, everything.

  Jay opened one at random and viewed the contents. As she saw the stream of images; hundreds it appeared, her mouth dried up and she felt bile churning at her gut.

  The images that seemed to bleed off the screen were beyond obscene. She didn’t recognise any of the children but it didn’t matter. What they were being subjected to dehumanised them anyway. Systems of control that seemed beyond belief.

  Children lined up and blindfolded, their bodies bound tight in straps.

  A young girl hanging upside down, screaming.

  A child having her hair brushed by an adult, tears streaming down her face.

  And in every shot, the child’s eyes were full of fear. Or worse, full of nothing.

  Vacant.

  There were other images, where there were far fewer clothes and much more pain, but Jay couldn’t focus on them. Just saw them as a blur of pink and brown and black.

  And red.

  She shut the feed, letting it just download without a window open. She swallowed the bile that had slugged up her throat.

  After a moment she swiped her phone again and dialled a number.

  She closed her eyes as she heard it ring. She thought it was going to ring out when it was finally answered.

  ‘Inspector Charmers,’ said the efficient voice.

  Jay smiled.

  ‘Robert, how’s the jaw?’

  The voice changed immediately.

  ‘Jay? Starling! Where are you? Are you okay? I got your message. Is it rolling?’

  Jay had messaged him from the bus when she had left Leeds after the hospital. She had no idea who she could trust. Her old boss seemed to be a friend of her new boss, and her new boss seemed to be very iffy indeed. The only person she could think of in the force who would absolutely know she wasn’t fucking about was the man whose jaw she’d broken for insulting her.

  At least she knew he wouldn’t bullshit her.

  He had written back almost immediately, saying how sorry he was and he’d do anything to make up for his error.

  Apparently, his wife had left him and he’d gone off the rails. Apparently, Jay had done him a favour. Apparently, he was getting therapy.

  Jay had to laugh.

  When she’d formulated her plan with Joseph she’d reached out again. Sent him a message to prime him, emphasising that he couldn’t tell anybody, especially not their boss. It was a risk, but she couldn’t just go to her chief. She didn’t trust her boss. She was also supposedly on furlough for disciplinary issues, and who knew what else Slane had primed the authorities with.

  She needed someone who would be known not to automatically take her side.

  ‘Sorry, Robert, but I’ve got zero time for chit-chat. Yes, it’s on. I’m going to forward a link to you. It is from an illegally placed data-mining device that is stealing information from a computer belonging to a historical paedophile ring.’

  Jay closed her eyes a moment then continued.

  ‘But as it was planted there by a member of the public it’s probably admissible.’ She tapped at the phone, forwarding the link.

  ‘Starling,’ said the inspector softly. ‘What–’

  ‘Plus I’ve beaten a woman unconscious, but she deserved it. I think she’s alive but I really don’t care. I believe she is the woman who murdered a homeless person called Walter Cummings in Leeds several months ago and also murdered the witness to that murder. I’m afraid I don’t know the witness’s name.’

  ‘What do you mean “historical paedophile ring”?’

  Jay smiled. Charmers was a professional from the old days. He wouldn’t repeat a confession on an open line. Wouldn’t question her about beating up a suspect.

  ‘The Fishermen. The data is from The Fishermen, Robert. It seems to document their entire operation. And judging from some of the clothes the victims were wearing, the operation didn’t stop in the nineteen-eighties, some of the styles are from a later date.’

  At the mention of The Fishermen, the line had gone quiet. Jay understood. Dropping a name like that to someone Charmer’s age would be like mentioning the devil himself.

  ‘Still active?’ he whispered. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s all on the files. Did you get in touch with the IOPC?’

  Jay had asked him to reach out to the Independent Office for Police Corruption. She wasn’t sure if Slane was actually a police officer, but she was taking no chances. Her comment about Jay’s old boss had disturbed her enough to not take any prisoners.

  ‘Yes, they’re just waiting for my say so.’

  ‘Right. Well, forward the link to them. Those guys can deconstruct anything. They’ll know what to do.’

  ‘What about your partner? The civilian, Professor Skinner?’

  ‘I’ve just pinged you his number. The text we discussed. When he replies you’ll have his location.’

  ‘About his hair; right. And once I have it…?’

  ‘Then send in the artillery and arrest everyone. Possibly by shooting them first.’

  Jay thought for a second. Her head was feeling fuzzy from the pain and the tablets.

  ‘Everyone except Joseph, that is.’

  ‘You need to come in, Jay. I’m going to send a car. Where are you?’

  ‘Deal with Joseph first. I’m not going anywhere.’

  Charmers began saying something else, but Jay crashed the call.

  There had been something in the pictures that were being downloaded that she hadn’t registered when she looked at them. She’d been so battered by the images of the children that she hadn’t noticed the adults. The Fishermen.

  She pulled up the file again, concentrating on the abusers, rather than the abused.

  The shots were not what one normally got; if normal could ever be used in these circumstances. When abuse images were shared over the net the faces were never seen. No identifiable marks were ever on view. No chance of prosecution.

  In the images on the file, all the faces were visible. Like they never thought they were going to get caught. Or like they never thought they were doing anything wrong.

  Jay could see Lawrence’s face, smiling out at her, one hand on the bony shoulder of a terrified girl.

  Jay swiped the phone closed and looked at the woman lying unconscious on the floor.

  ‘I hope I fucking killed you, Lawrence.’ Her voice was flat, beyond emotion. What emotion could there be?

  She looked at the wall thoughtfully for a moment, then smiled. It was not a good smile.

  ‘But maybe I’ll just check.’

  Then limped towards the door.

  48

  ‘Damn, that’ll be Mark! I completely forgot to send him a picture of my hair!’

  Slane and Collins eyed him curiously.

  ‘Joseph,’ began Slane. ‘I hardly think this is the time to be worryi–�
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  ‘No, you don’t understand. If I don’t send him a picture then the patterns will go wrong in his head. Remember, I told you about it?’

  ‘Yes, but–’

  Joseph stood. ‘It will only take a second.’

  He carried on talking as he went to get his phone, charging in the corner. He hoped his act was convincing. He’d felt the tracker in his pocket so they knew he’d done what he said he was doing; getting the haircut from his autistic son. He just hoped they hadn’t fully researched him and found out that his son didn’t have ASD. Nor had he booked him in for a haircut.

  If they see it in the diary they’ll believe it. Trust me. Something written down in an actual book these days means it’s true.

  That’s what Jay had said.

  He prayed she was right.

  He contorted his face into what he hoped was professional amazement.

  ‘I just can’t believe it! The network must be endemic! And you’ve been investigating all this on the quiet? It’s astonishing!’

  ‘We had to. If anybody got wind that the British Government had been involved…’

  ‘Quite.’ Joseph picked up the phone and handed it to Slane. ‘I can see why you’ve been so secretive. Would you mind taking the photo? This phone is so ancient, I’m afraid, it doesn’t have a selfie camera so I can’t do it myself. You need to point and shoot.’

  Slane raised an eyebrow then took a snap of Joseph.

  He took the phone back.

  ‘Thanks. I’ll send the picture to Mark and then we can crack on. This is amazing! To actually meet a victim of The Fishermen! And be able to help uncover an operational cell!’

  ‘I’m afraid you won’t be able to talk about the cell, Joseph. Or if you do it will be heavily redacted.’

  ‘Yes of course. I completely understand the need for keeping things on the low.’

  Joseph pressed a button on his phone, sending off the picture. He put the device down carefully and turned to them. ‘So where is she? Daisy?’

  ‘Near,’ said Slane. ‘Not far at all, in fact.’

  ‘And what is it exactly you think I can do?’

  ‘As I said, when your lecture was flagged on our system, we looked into you. Saw the work you did with the child soldiers in Africa,’ said Collins. ‘You got them to tell you where the rebel bases were when no one else could.’

  Joseph nodded. ‘The sieged brain acts like a Rubik’s cube. It turns itself round and round to protect what it knows, but it never forgets. To retrieve the information it’s just a matter of learning the algorithms. Knowing the causes can point to ways of healing, or at least containing, trauma, but it doesn’t allow for a reset. How could it? The brain isn’t static. Life is forever learning and relearning. Writing and rewriting. Especially the brain of a child. It is a fundamental of surviving.’

  ‘So she would have stored the knowledge. Somewhere,’ said Slane eagerly.

  Joseph nodded. ‘Nothing is ever forgotten.’

  ‘And what if that person was near transformation,’ said Slane.

  Joseph looked at her, questioning. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Would she remember the process too? If she’d been triggered by the sight of Walter Cummings, would she begin to remember what her purpose was? Would she understand that she was meant to change?’

  Joseph shook his head slightly, not understanding.

  Then did.

  He looked at the board, with the picture of the young girl, Daisy.

  ‘Brown eyes,’ he said.

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Daisy has brown eyes in this picture.’

  Slane looked up at the board.

  ‘Yes, she does. Is that relevant?’

  ‘In some cultures, heterochromia is highly revered. They believe it means you can see into two realms. Ghost eyes, it’s called by the indigenous peoples of North America. Witch eyes in East-European folklore.’

  ‘Really? How interesting.’

  Slane’s voice was polite but distant. Joseph nodded, not noticing.

  ‘Normally it’s congenital. You’re born with it. But in certain circumstances, it can be manufactured. Diabetes. Malnutrition. Head and eye trauma. Severe mental torture that could cause seizure.’

  Joseph turned and looked at them. ‘Do you have information on all the children of The Fishermen? Did many of them have this syndrome?’

  ‘You know, Joseph, I’m not sure, but I can see your thinking. Which is a bit of a problem.’

  Slane nodded at Collins who stood and walked to the door. Joseph watched him slide the bolt across it.

  He looked questioningly at Slane, but she merely stared back, unblinking. Studying him as if he was a specimen.

  ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I’ve fucked up, haven’t I?’

  Slane inclined her head. ‘I’m afraid you have.’

  ‘What did I do?’

  ‘We never mentioned that Daisy had different coloured eyes,’ said Collins, walking back and sitting down. ‘Which means you must have been talking to someone who knows her. How is the resourceful Ms Starling, by the way?’

  ‘Really sweary,’ said Joseph. He felt bizarrely calm. He supposed it was a release of pressure from no longer having to put up a subterfuge. ‘Are you going to kill me?’

  Slane looked genuinely surprised. ‘Kill you? Of course we’re not going to kill you, Joseph!’

  Collins took out a gun from his jacket pocket. Slane smiled her smile at him. On, off. Binary. The only thing that moved on her face. Like a spot the difference picture.

  Human. Not human.

  ‘Why would we kill you?’

  ‘I–’

  She held up a hand, silencing him.

  ‘I think we’ll say that Jay killed you. Jay Starling, the suspended officer who disappeared, the awful member of the notorious Fishermen’s sect, and daughter of a known cultural agitator. I think she’s the most likely candidate, don’t you?’

  49

  25th October

  Daisy woke up wrong.

  Wronger.

  Wrongest.

  She didn’t know where she was.

  She wasn’t on her bed.

  She wasn’t in her flat.

  She felt her body spasming. Felt flashes of fear wrack through it like she was in the middle of a thunderstorm.

  She tasted lemons and salt and heard a rushing in her head like her blood was tiding.

  She opened her eyes.

  She was lying on the floor, in a bare room made up of breeze blocks. In front of her was a metal door. A barred window with meshed glass in it was set high in the wall.

  She sat up quickly, her heart beating with panic.

  Where was she?

  Who had brought her here?

  * * *

  Heather

  * * *

  The name dropped into her head unbidden, like it was made of stone. It was cold and heavy and dead and made her feel like screaming. She had no idea what the name meant, but her skin goosebumped and her breath skimmed out of her, cutting across her lungs like glass.

  Daisy stood. ‘Hello?’

  The sound of her voice was hardly above a whisper. The noise seemed to slither around the room, laughing at her.

  Feeling increasingly frightened, Daisy walked to the door.

  It was locked.

  ‘Hello?’

  She put her ear to the door. There was no noise other than the tide in her head.

  How had she got here?

  The last thing she remembered was lying on the mattress in her room, with Jay stroking her…

  The noise in her head increased. She slammed her fist against the metal door. The sound was dull, as if the room were soundproofed.

  Another memory slipped into her mind.

  Holding a phone, seeing a message on the screen to 999.

  ‘Daisy.’

  Daisy spun round, but nobody was there.

  She could feel a scream in her throat, trying to break out.

  Images
ripped across her vision.

  Jay lying still on her bed.

  ‘Daisy, you need to go.’

  Daisy spun round again.

  Nobody there.

  An image of Jay covered in blood.

  ‘Hello, my name is Heather.’

  Words from the past.

  A monster from the horror house.

  Jay bleeding tears from her beaten body, unconscious and broken.

  ‘You need to hide.’

  Daisy put her hands to her ears, trying to stop the noise, but it was no good. She squeezed her eyes tight but the tide got louder, increasing until she was spinning in her own head.

  Sinking.

  Sinking.

  Drowning.

  50

  3rd November

  Joseph frowned. ‘So this was all about a fall guy? Everything you’ve told me was bullshit? I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Of course not. Most of what we’ve told you is true. The Fishermen are still going. We do really need to know if Daisy knows the operatives. You are really going to be killed. It’s just we… put a different perspective on it.’

  ‘Go on, then. If I am going to die, at least tell me the correct perspective.’

  ‘You wouldn’t understand,’ said Collins.

  ‘Try me.’

  Slane turned to her boss. Except, Joseph realised, she was the boss. Slane was the one really in charge.

  ‘Get hold of Grant; we’re pulling it. We’ll salvage something from this and start again. The fish is still on the hook. Best option.’

  Collins nodded, handing the gun to her and taking out his phone. Slane returned her gaze to Joseph.

  ‘Why not? There’s nothing else you can help with now. There really was an undercover operation. Not to the extent I said, but just on the perimeters. Tiny little worker-ants who didn’t get to the inner sanctum. Every operation has them. We thought we’d be able to infiltrate, that way. Get under their radar.’

  ‘And what happened?’

  Slane shrugged. ‘We couldn’t. It was the same with a lot of undercover operations. We had to get our hands dirty.’