‘I logged on to the wrong system and wasted all that time and now we don’t even have a PC to do it again,’ I sighed.
‘Then we’ll just have to find another PC to use.’
‘And where do we find one? They don’t grow on trees, you know,’ I snapped. But I was more annoyed with myself than with Gib. I felt like a complete twerp. ‘Well? Where do …?’
‘Internet Café!’ he said smugly. ‘They’ve got loads of PCs – and it just costs a quid or something.’
‘Oh great!’ I retorted. ‘You want us to hack into a bank’s computer using a public PC in a café, whilst the police and MI5 and God knows who else monitors what we do?’
‘Oh,’ said Gib, deflated.
I left him chewing his lip and went to get my breakfast. But once I’d put the Weetabix in my bowl, I wasn’t hungry any more.
‘Vicky! VICKY! I’ve got it!’ Gib came running into the kitchen.
‘Don’t give it to me then,’ I replied.
Puzzled, Gib looked at me. He smiled, then he frowned.
‘This is serious, Vicky,’ he said. ‘I know where there’s a PC we can use.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘Chaucy’s got one.’
I groaned inwardly. ‘Don’t you know anyone else who owns a PC?’ I asked.
‘Chaucy’s is state of the art,’ Gib answered.
‘I don’t want to use Chaucy’s PC,’ I admitted.
‘Why not?’ Gib asked, surprised.
‘’Cause I don’t like him,’ I said honestly.
Gib looked at me. ‘It’s Chaucy’s machine or nothing. Unless you know someone else who’s got a proper PC that can go on the Internet. And someone we trust … I trust, who’ll let us do what we want for as long as we want – no questions asked.’
I sighed. ‘No, I don’t,’ I replied.
‘Then I don’t see that we’ve got much choice,’ Gib said.
I couldn’t argue with him. ‘Will he let us use his PC?’ I asked.
‘I don’t see why not. Hang on. I’ll phone him and ask.’
Before I could say another word, Gib was at the phone. I went back into the living room. The table where the PC had been now looked incredibly bare. Although Dad dusted the table regularly, a fine film of dust formed the outline of where the PC and the modem had sat.
‘Vicky, where are you?’ Gib bellowed.
I went out into the hall. Gib was no longer on the phone.
‘That was fast,’ I said. ‘And there’s no need to shout. I’m not deaf.’
‘Never mind that,’ Gib dismissed. ‘Chaucy’s at home and he says we can use his PC any time we want to.’
‘Are you sure he said “we” and not “you”?’ I asked with suspicion.
‘He definitely said “we”,’ Gib said impatiently, adding, ‘Mind you, we’re probably being a bit previous, asking to use his PC. I bet we don’t need to use it. I bet the magistrate throws Dad’s case out. Anyone with half an eye could see Dad wouldn’t do such a thing.’
‘So what do we do?’ I asked.
‘We wait for Dad to come home first,’ Gib said slowly. ‘There’s no point in doing anything else until he gets back. We have to find out what’s going on.’
He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. Neither of us wanted to discuss what would happen if Dad didn’t come home …
Waiting for Mum and Dad to come home was the hardest waiting I’d ever had to do in my life. Gib and I couldn’t find anything much to say to each other. It was as if a high wall had sprung up between us. A wall we couldn’t get over or under or around. For the first time, I felt uncomfortable just being with Gib. And I didn’t need my glasses to see that he felt the same way.
I spent the rest of the morning wandering around the house, looking for something to do to take my mind off Mum and Dad. The minute hand of my watch had never moved slower. I tried reading a book of science fiction short stories but the words kept bouncing off my head rather than sinking in. I took my book and ambled out of the house into the garden. Lunchtime had come and gone but I wasn’t the least bit hungry. I’d been in the garden about fifteen minutes when Gib caught up with me. He was still wearing the same faded, grubby jeans he’d worn that morning, but he’d changed his blue shirt for the T-shirt I’d picked out with Mum for his last birthday. The T-shirt had a Superman emblem on it. I wondered why he’d bothered to change. What was wrong with the shirt he’d been wearing?
In his hands he carried the listings we’d got from the bank’s development system.
‘Vicky, can I go through these batch-job reports with you? I want to make sure I understand them.’
‘They’re not from the live system,’ I frowned.
‘Are the reports we get from the live system going to be that much different?’ Gib asked.
I thought about it. ‘I don’t know. I guess not. The two systems are supposed to be identical so that programs written and tested on the development machine can be run on the live machine.’
‘That’s what I thought.’ Gib smiled. ‘So we can always treat this as a … a dress rehearsal, just in case.’
‘I thought you wanted to wait until Dad came home before doing anything else.’
‘I did, but all this waiting around is driving me crazy,’ Gib replied. ‘So come on, explain what this lot means.’
Gib plonked the pages of listings down on my lap. To tell the truth, I didn’t want to talk to Gib. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I wanted to be by myself until Dad came home. If Dad came home …
Don’t even think such a thing, I thought angrily.
‘Dad will be back today. You just wait and see,’ Gib said from beside me.
I was amazed. I turned to him, shading my eyes against the afternoon sun.
‘How did you know what I was thinking?’
‘’Cause I’m your … because it’s written all over your face,’ Gib said, looking down at the ground.
Why did I get the feeling that he’d changed his mind about what he was really going to say?
‘All right then,’ I said reluctantly. ‘I guess I’ve nothing better to do anyway. I’ll tell you what each column means and then I’ll leave you to it.’
Gib opened the listing to the first page.
‘Got a pen?’ I asked.
After a quick search through his trouser pockets, Gib took out a pencil. Gib’s pockets were worse than Mum’s handbag. They were always filled with all kinds of junk. I was sure Gib thought of his pockets as the equivalent of Batman’s utility belt.
‘Right then,’ I began as we pored over the listings together. ‘The first column is the program name, then you’ve got the date and time when the program was first created, the date and time when it was compiled to create an object file … let me see, the next column is the date and time when the object file was linked. Then you’ve got the user identification of the last person to change the program, followed by …’
‘Hang on a minute,’ Gib complained. ‘I don’t write shorthand.’
I waited for him to catch up.
‘What do you mean by the program being compiled and linked?’ Gib asked, writing furiously. ‘And what’s this object file?’
I sighed. ‘There are three steps to running a program on the bank’s system. First you have to write it, using an editor to produce a source program. Then you have to run a program called a COMPILER to translate the source program so that the computer can understand it. The file that holds the translation is the object file. And then all the object files have to get linked up together to produce a master program you can run on the system. With me so far?’
‘Don’t be snotty!’ Gib ordered. ‘Why not just translate the program and run it?’
‘I asked Dad that. He said compiling programs takes ages. And if you did that, all the code would have to be in one file. The system at the bank must have millions and millions of lines of code and if you only wanted to change one line or one small thing, you’d still have
to compile the whole lot again. So the programs are split into manageable chunks for different teams to work on and then each bit can be changed and translated separately. And then you can just link the whole lot together at the end. I think that’s right.’
‘Oh, I see. Then …’
‘Hello, Gib, hello, Vicky.’
It was Mum.
I jumped up, the listings on my lap falling on to the grass. I looked past Mum eagerly. But I couldn’t see Dad.
Where was he?
Chapter Six
‘MUM! I DIDN’T hear you arrive. Where’s Dad? Is he with you?’
Gib’s questions came thick and fast. I hung back behind him – I don’t know why.
‘Your dad’s upstairs. He’s having a bath,’ Mum replied.
Mum’s face looked so strange. Gaunt and lean, as if in a few hours she had lost all the flesh from her cheeks. And she looked so tired. At any second she might keel over.
‘What happened, Mum?’ Gib asked earnestly. ‘Is it all over? Is it all sorted out?’
‘I wish! Your dad has to give up his passport. They want to make sure he doesn’t skip the country with the bank’s supposed million,’ Mum said bitterly. ‘Once a date for the trial is set then he’ll have to appear in court again.’
‘But at least he’s home now,’ I said.
‘But at least he’s home,’ Mum agreed.
I watched as she leaned against the door, her chin against her chest.
‘Now, I want you two to promise me something. I don’t want either of you to say a word about this business to your dad. Not one single word. Do you understand?’
I nodded.
‘Yes, Mum,’ Gib said, adding, ‘Can we see Dad? Is he all right?’
‘He’s fine. He wants to see you after his bath. Then I want him to get some sleep. He’s very tired.’
‘Mum … what’s going to happen about Dad’s job?’ I couldn’t help asking. ‘I mean … will he be able to clear his name when he gets back to work on Monday?’
‘He’s been suspended from work until the outcome of the trial is known,’ Mum said, her voice as hard as granite. ‘Eric, the Systems Manager, said he’d try to help us and I know Beth will do what she can. We’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed that they find something.’ And with that, Mum went back into the house.
After she’d gone, the garden, the whole world was silent. No birds, no traffic, no nothing. At least, if there were sounds then I couldn’t hear them. There was just Gib and me staring after her. I forced myself to break the silence.
‘We’re going to need Chaucy’s PC,’ I said softly.
‘I was just thinking that,’ Gib said, without looking at me. ‘I’ll go and check it out.’
We both went into the house. I went upstairs to my room. I waited by my bedroom door until I heard Dad emerging from the bathroom, then I ran out on to the landing. Dad had on his white towelling dressing gown and his back was towards me as he closed the bathroom door.
‘Dad, I …’
Whatever else I’d wanted to say vanished out of my head when I saw him. I’d thought Mum looked bad. But Dad looked far, far worse. All the life and laughter had gone from his face. Only as soon as he saw me, he tried to smile. He straightened up and ran his hand over his damp hair.
‘Hello, Victoria. Good grief! It feels like I haven’t seen you in weeks rather than just one day,’ Dad said, holding out his arms.
I walked into them and he hugged me. I nodded slowly.
‘How are you?’ he asked.
I nodded again.
‘You’re very quiet, pumpkin,’ Dad smiled.
That did it! My eyes started to leak and I was off again. I covered my face with my hands, too upset to be embarrassed, too miserable to care. The next thing I knew, Dad was smoothing down my hair and sighing.
‘Victoria, don’t cry,’ he said soothingly. ‘I’m all right, I promise. And this thing will never get to trial. The bank will find out before then that I didn’t take the money.’
‘How will they find out?’ I sniffed.
‘I may have been suspended, but I still have friends at the bank,’ Dad replied.
‘Like Aunt Beth and Eric?’ I asked.
‘That’s right.’ Dad smiled. ‘Eric’s a good Systems Manager and Beth knows her way around most of the programs on the system. Between the two of them they should be able to find out something that’ll help me.’
‘D’you really think so?’ I asked.
Dad nodded.
‘How … how did that money get into your account?’ I whispered.
Dad’s smile faded. ‘Well, if I knew that, I’d be halfway towards solving this mystery.’
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, feeling better now that we were talking about it.
‘Why should anyone want to put that million in your account? That’s what I can’t understand,’ I complained.
Dad nodded. ‘If I knew that then I’d be three-quarters of the way towards solving the mystery.’
‘And the last quarter?’ I asked.
Dad’s face was stony. ‘Finding out who did all this.’
‘Do you have any idea who that might be?’
‘That’s just it, I don’t. Nothing definite at any rate,’ Dad sighed. ‘And even if I did know for sure who it was, that wouldn’t help. I need proof. Concrete, indisputable proof.’
I looked at Dad. Neither of us spoke for a few moments.
‘Proof that someone else is guilty to prove that you’re innocent,’ I said slowly.
‘Exactly. Right now I don’t see how I can prove my innocence otherwise.’
‘Dad …’
‘Enough questions, Victoria. All I want to do now is sleep for a week,’ Dad said.
Mum came out of their bedroom. She glared at me. I’d forgotten what she’d said in the garden. When Dad went into their bedroom, Mum looked at me and shook her head.
‘Oh, Vicky,’ she sighed, before following Dad into the room and closing the door behind her.
I chewed on my bottom lip, feeling about two centimetres high. I had a pain in my chest and my throat felt as if it was full of sand.
Unwanted again.
I moved towards the door, ready to knock and say sorry. I hadn’t done it deliberately. I’d just forgotten.
‘David, I’m sorry. I asked Vicky not to mention the bank.’ I heard Mum’s muffled voice through the closed door. I grimaced at her words, feeling worse than terrible.
‘Why not?’ Dad asked. ‘I’m glad she wanted to talk about it. It’s better than what everyone else is doing. Skirting around the subject but still dying to know all the ins and outs and in-betweens.’
‘But I don’t want you upset any more by this business,’ Mum said.
‘You’re the one who shouldn’t get upset, Laura. It’s you I’m worried about,’ Dad replied.
I didn’t mean to listen, but my feet had forgotten how to move.
‘D’you know what burns me up about this whole thing?’ Dad said, his voice louder with anger now. ‘If I was some smart-alec hacker from outside who’d been accused of taking the money, the bank would be doing their best to keep all this quiet. They’d probably even let me keep the money as long as I told them how I did it!’
‘David!’ Mum interrupted.
‘Oh, all right! Maybe that’s not quite true,’ Dad replied. ‘But what gets me is that I work at the bank and so I must be guilty. They even think they know how I did it. Beth told me they reckon I set something up in my checking software. So it’s David Gibson off to prison, and throw away the key. But I didn’t do it. I DIDN’T DO IT! I’m so angry I want to hit something.’
‘I know, David,’ Mum soothed. ‘Calm down, dear.’
‘I can’t,’ Dad sighed. ‘I’ve been caught in a trap and if I’m not careful I’ll end up in prison with no one but you and the kids giving a damn about me.’
I walked away after that. I couldn’t bear to listen to any more. I trudged downstair
s and out into the garden, feeling very scared.
* * *
‘Vicky, I’ve been looking for you all over the house,’ Gib moaned as soon as he saw me.
‘You should have looked out here then,’ I replied, not bothering to look up from the listings Gib and I had been going through earlier and that I was looking at now.
It was late evening. The sun was getting low in the burnt orange-red sky and the garden was still and peaceful. Usually on Saturday evenings I went around to Gayle’s or Maggie’s house. We’d go to see a film or go on a pizza crawl, but today I hadn’t felt like it. I’d spent the whole afternoon thinking and reading through the listings.
‘We can’t use Chaucy’s PC,’ Gib said, flopping down beside me.
‘Why not?’ I frowned at Gib. ‘Won’t he let us use it? Did he change his mind?’
‘No, it’s not that,’ Gib sighed. ‘Once I’d explained to him why we needed it, Chaucy said we could use it whenever we wanted to. But he said his router is playing up so we’ve got no way of getting onto the Internet to connect to the Universal Bank computer.’
‘You didn’t tell Chaucy the whole truth, did you?’ I asked, shocked.
Gib frowned at me. ‘Of course I did. Why not? He’s my friend. He won’t tell anyone.’
‘But … but …’
Just thinking that Chaucy knew about Dad made me go cold all over. It would be just another thing for Chaucy to grin at me about.
‘You had no right to tell Chaucy our business,’ I said furiously.
Gib’s frown deepened. ‘Listen, Chaucy’s my friend, not yours. I’ll tell him what I like.’
‘And Dad is your real dad not mine, so this whole thing is none of my business,’ I concluded. I hadn’t meant to say that – I swear. It just slipped out.
‘I didn’t say that,’ Gib said quietly.
‘But that’s what you meant – if I remember yesterday’s little speech correctly.’
My voice was lemon-bitter. Now that it had been brought out into the open, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I had no real aunts and uncles. Just some very distant cousins who lived in America whom I’d never even seen. My close relatives were those I’d acquired when I’d been adopted. Neither my real mum nor my real dad had any brothers and sisters. And now, more than ever, I wished with all my heart that they did. I’d never felt so lonely. Picking up the listings I went indoors.
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