‘She had a doppelgänger?’ I ask.
Beth nods. ‘And that person has been pretending to be her for a while. Maybe months, but I’m not certain. I’m also unclear on how closely alike they were, maybe same height, colouring, build. The same hairstyle and colour, et cetera,’ Beth says. ‘Enough to fool a casual acquaintance.’
‘But surely her family would know it wasn’t her?’ I say.
‘That’s the thing, Mike. She doesn’t seem to have any. Both parents are dead. No siblings. Even stranger – there’s no online presence to stalk and find friends who might recognise her, either.’
‘That could be why they chose her,’ I say. ‘Clean slate. But it also depends on why they needed to replace her. Can you tell me what her job was?’
‘Not yet. But, if this theory of replacement isn’t correct, then up to two weeks ago the neighbour says he was talking to her. He’s probably the only person ever close enough to recognise her. He might well have been the last to see her before whoever did this got to her.’
‘That woman in the mortuary wasn’t walking free two weeks ago, though,’ I say.
‘How do you figure that?’ Beth asks.
‘If what you’ve told me is true, then Angela Carter was replaced but that was more likely before she started her new job and moved into her new flat. Like you said, any doppelgänger will have differences and only people who didn’t know her would take her at face value. People who didn’t know her, or an employer that had only met her once or twice for interviews. Think about those restraint scars on her wrists and ankles… She was held a while. I think you were right with your initial theory. It was months.’
Beth is quiet for a moment.
‘So the neighbour had never met the real Angela, only the double?’
‘Yes. I suspect she was living there as if she was the original. And if I’m right on this, the replacement also imprisoned and then killed the real Angela Carter. The thing I don’t understand is why she was replaced. Who was Angela Carter?’
‘I can’t tell you that now,’ Beth says.
I don’t ask where this is leading, because I think I know already: Angela Carter worked for someone important.
As I return to my office, my mind is full of questions I can’t ask because I’m still on the ‘not trustworthy’ list.
I shouldn’t really be surprised though, as I know I’m still compromised. Was Neva serious that she needed something in return for the data? Or did last night change things?
Thinking about Neva brings a bout of guilt that is difficult to disengage from. I only hope that my behaviour doesn’t rouse suspicion. If they gave me a polygraph right now, I doubt I’d pass.
My computer tings then and I see an email arrive from Ray. I open it up and read the invitation to come to his office.
My face flushes with guilt. What can Ray want right now? Have they learnt that Neva tampered with their surveillance? I respond to Ray’s email, saying I’m on the way.
‘Come in,’ says Ray when I reach his door, which has been left wide open for me.
I’m greeted by Beth and Leon, and there is another woman there whom I don’t know.
‘Sit down,’ Ray says. ‘This is Special Agent Carol Brinkman. She’s been working with us on a recent and very secret problem. Michael, Beth has just shared with us your observations on part of this case. We’d now like to bring you in on it to see what else you can tell us.’
I shake hands with Agent Brinkman and sit down. I try not to let the relief show on my face.
‘I’m all ears,’ I say.
‘A couple of weeks ago a flight went AWOL on its way to Shanghai,’ says Brinkman. ‘It’s crucial that the news doesn’t break. We are concerned that this would bring about global panic.’
Everything they say confirms what Neva previously told me.
‘You see, Mike, without knowing what this was, you actually helped to analyse some crucial evidence. We are now certain that Angela Carter, a stewardess with Zen Airlines, was kidnapped and replaced some months ago,’ Ray explains.
‘We have no understanding of the agenda of the hacker,’ Brinkman says. ‘Or if the flight and its passengers are unharmed. But we believe it was hijacked.’
‘Talk me through what happened,’ I say.
‘The flight took off from Heathrow as normal. The journey takes eleven hours and for more than half of the journey, the plane sent the expected satellite signals to confirm its whereabouts and safety. Four hours before landing, communications ceased. Then the satellite picked up an automated signal notifying us of a change of course. The plane rapidly lost altitude and disappeared completely from our radar. Needless to say, it didn’t make its destination. Since then, we’ve had a team of experts working to retrace its movements.’
Brinkman talks me through the possible scenarios from fire to hijack. Ultimately, they suspect the plane went down somewhere.
‘Maybe the pilot tried to land it because they were having engine trouble, but none of the possible courses he could have taken to bring it down safely were on the detour that it took. Obviously, this is why we think it was taken,’ Brinkman says.
‘What was on the route?’ I ask.
Brinkman looks at me. ‘We don’t know. The truth is the detour was never confirmed as the information was cut off halfway through transmission. That’s why we think that there may have been someone on board, hacking the system, and not only controlling the plane, but preventing any automatic distress signals as well.’
‘So the only way to know what really happened is to find the plane?’ I ask. ‘And the flight recorder?’
‘Yes,’ says Ray. ‘I’m going to send you all the information we have about the crew and passengers. If you notice anything, then come and discuss with me. We’re looking to see if any of them fit with a possible past of hacking.’
‘I take it no terrorist group has claimed responsibility?’
‘No. But that might be because we’ve kept a lid on it. They can only claim something if it’s public knowledge.’
‘In view of what you’ve told me,’ I say, ‘my main observation here is the planning that went into this. As we’ve established, Carter must have been taken more than six months ago, before she started working for Zen Airlines – this indicates that it was a long-term covert operation. Whatever agenda these people had, they needed to establish her double as the real her to make sure she was beyond suspicion. Our main suspects in this would be the Network. But if so, this had to be set up before we disrupted their organisation.’
‘That’s true,’ says Ray. ‘We can’t necessarily lay blame on them.’
‘Unless communication with the Network was curtailed once the mission started as part of the double’s cover,’ I say. ‘They may not even know that Beech is dead.’
We talk more about the possibilities then I agree to look at the full file and come back with any observations. I leave Ray’s office a short time later with a folder and access codes for further information in the database.
I try not to feel excited as I walk back to my office. Adrenaline, brought on by the prospect of a new and exciting puzzle to solve, rushes through my veins, flushing my face more than the guilt had done earlier. It feels that things have made a definite move in the right direction and maybe, just maybe, I’m being accepted and trusted once more.
As I sit back down at my desk, I force my mind away from the night before and Neva. I can’t deny that I’m elated at being given more responsibility again: I earned it. I deserve it. I’ve always loved my job. Even so, there is a palpable insecurity punctuating the excitement I’m feeling and I know it is because for the first time in months I’m starting to believe it might be possible to have my life back.
I open up the encrypted files, put in the passcodes I’ve been given, and begin to scan the notes that Brinkman has left here. I find my mind wandering back to Neva. What will it mean for me if our continued relationship is discovered?
My happy mood plumm
ets.
The tentative position I have begun to build once more in Archive would be destroyed. There would be no going back after a further betrayal. If I don’t give her information, I am betraying no one, I think. I give myself a mental shake, realising how naïve and stupid that excuse would sound if spoken aloud.
Why can’t life be uncomplicated for once? Why can’t I have it all?
The answer comes, but it is welcome: happiness sits between Archive and Neva, and right now never the twain shall meet. I feel like I’m in a tug of war with myself that no side can win.
Chapter Seventeen
Michael
I arrive home half hoping, half dreading that Neva will be there. But as I enter my apartment, I can feel the void that confirms she hasn’t turned up. In my bedroom I take the phone out of my drawer and switch it on. There I see messages from her from Saturday asking where I am. I delete the messages and send her a quick text now.
Need to hear what you know about the flight, I say.
A short time later Neva responds.
I need your help in return.
I put down the phone and curse under my breath. Bitch!
I turn the phone off, irritated with her for still trying this when she knows I’ll be compromised. Why is she so desirable, yet so fucking annoying?
It’s your own fault, I tell myself. You’ve let her reel you in again. Idiot.
I take a deep breath, my mind worrying and teasing around her request. The Network operative side of me questions why she should give me information for free: she owes no allegiance to Archive. If they caught her, they’d imprison and interrogate her. No, she owes Archive nothing. But why doesn’t she see that I can’t do this? Doesn’t Neva feel any loyalty at least to me?
She’s a trained killer. She feels nothing. Not even for me. But even as I think this, I know that it’s not true: Neva does care about me. I just don’t know how much and whether she would sacrifice herself for me. Not that I’d want her to.
To distract myself I change into my joggers and go out for a run.
I leave the building and head off down the street, turning into quieter roads so that there are fewer people on the pavement that I have to swerve to avoid. Not an easy task in the centre of London. My tail is left behind, staring after me in confusion from the opposite side of the road to my building.
I jog for a half an hour before returning to my apartment. I notice that the tail is still sitting watching; bored and uninterested, he didn’t attempt to follow me on my exercise excursion as he has on previous days. I give him a wave as I go back into the building. He looks startled, but then laughs and waves back.
Sweat dripping off me, but feeling more in control, I go back up to my apartment. I shower, pull some sleep shorts on then go in search of a beer.
On the coffee table in the lounge is a bottle of wine and a note that says, peace offering.
I switch on the burner phone again and look for further texts, but Neva hasn’t sent any.
I take the wine, stow it in the kitchen, and then help myself to a beer. I don’t know how I feel about her randomly coming in when I was absent, or whether the wine is yet another trick to manipulate me.
As per my new habits I turn the television on and watch some boring game show for a short time. Then my regular phone pings as a text comes in.
Hope you enjoy the wine. I’ve persuaded Ray to remove the surveillance. They’ll take the cameras and sound shit out tomorrow. You’re back in now, Mike, don’t screw it up! Beth x
I stare at the text for a long time, not quite believing what I’m reading. It had been Beth that called in! Beth that left the wine. I wonder if she had a look round while she was here.
I send her a thank you, then turn the phone off.
The adrenaline is back, an age-old excitement that can’t be ignored. My earlier feelings were correct. I’m back in! Does this mean a return of full access?
The sneaky thought of using that access to learn things creeps into the back of my mind like the itch of a gnat bite. Beech would have had me using this all to full advantage. But despite Beth’s reassurance that I would no longer be watched, I still know they will be keeping an eye on me because it is impossible to consider that they can forgive and forget so easily.
If the shoe was on the other foot, would I trust me? Probably not.
Chapter Eighteen
Neva
‘I can pay,’ Neva says. ‘But I need to know what I’m buying first.’
She sits down next to the startled man. His name is Alexi and he’s Polish and by day he works as a decorator. But his other pastime is what brings Neva here. Alexi is also a hacker and has been used by the Network several times to help them gain access to classified information.
‘You!’ he says.
‘Me?’ Neva answers.
‘If I’d known, I wouldn’t have come,’ Alexi says.
He starts to get up. Neva pulls him back down.
‘Yes, you would, but you wouldn’t have been alone.’
Alexi scowls at her. ‘What do you want?’
‘The information you promised me online.’
‘Are you insane? They’ll kill me if I tell you anything.’
‘You can earn the fee I promised you and walk away from this, or I can… Well, you figure it out for yourself,’ Neva says.
Alexi slumps in his chair. Neva knows that most hackers are essentially cowards who hide behind their keyboards because they know how to manipulate code for their own advantage. For once Alexi has been outsmarted on that score – Neva had hidden her identity well.
‘What do you want?’ he asks.
‘What state are the Network in?’
Alexi sighs.
‘There was an initial tussle for power that fed out to people like me. What I heard was that one of yours, codenamed Vasquez, went after the committee. In the first three months he worked his way up through the different ranks until he found out who they all were. He killed four of them before the other seven agreed to let him join them.’
‘Is he in charge?’ Neva asks.
‘No. They have him now as their guardian and enforcer and he’s responsible for bringing the others back in line,’ Alexi says.
‘Back in line, how?’
‘There’s been defections at all levels. Vasquez made an example of a few, now the others are back in play. Operatives, handlers and above. There are rumours that they are stepping up a new training programme.’
Neva lets out a breath. ‘Another house?’
‘I don’t know about any house…’ Alexi frowns.
Neva believes him. The houses have always been kept completely secret, no gossip, no leaks. No one would dare talk about it for fear of repercussions.
‘You know more than most about the Network, Alexi, so don’t give me your bullshit. Who are the other seven committee members?’
‘I don’t know. But I have the name of someone who might,’ Alexi says.
‘Who?’
‘Beech’s former chauffeur. His name is Eldon Fracks. He went to ground when Beech’s office and home were hit by MI5. Until then, no one, not even me, knew Beech was running the show,’ Alexi explains.
‘If Fracks has gone to ground, how will I find him?’ she asks.
‘I want double what I asked online. A lot of people are looking for Fracks, including Vasquez,’ Alexi says. ‘Just being here with you puts me at risk.’
‘Give me your bank details,’ Neva says, retrieving her phone from her pocket. She logs into a bank account and begins to set up the transaction as Alexi tells her his bank details. ‘One click of a button and ten grand is yours. Where is Fracks?’
‘He’s staying in a bed and breakfast in Brighton. It’s called the Seaview Guesthouse and it’s opposite the pier.’
‘How reliable is your information? I don’t want to go on a wild goose chase,’ Neva says.
‘I found him because Vasquez put the word out that he wanted him. All it took was one slip-up
: he used a card in a bar in Brighton. Probably because he ran out of cash. People are stupid when they drink,’ Alexi says. ‘I set up alerts on his name and it came up.’
‘But how do you know where he’s staying?’ Neva asks.
‘I hacked into the street cameras and tracked him,’ Alexi says.
Neva studies his face and finds no sign of a lie.
‘One more thing. How did Vasquez find out who the committee members were if Fracks had gone to ground?’
‘I don’t know. I just know he worked his way through a lot of people to glean anything he could. And most of those people didn’t survive the interrogation, so they aren’t telling anyone else what they know now.’
‘Get out of here,’ she says. ‘But you better keep this morsel to yourself. I don’t want to turn up and find Fracks silenced.’
Alexi stands. ‘I’m talking to no one about the Network. Do you think I’m stupid? But I’ll tell you what. Here’s some information I’ll give you for free. Vasquez put the word out and he is looking for you. He isn’t looking to bring you back: it’s a kill order.’
‘Tell me something I don’t already know,’ Neva says.
Alexi and Neva both leave the bar together. They part at the door, but show no signs of having conversed or that they know each other.
Neva walks away down the street, avoiding the street cameras. She had mapped out the range of all of them before the meeting, and she’s tampered with those she couldn’t avoid. Opening the app on her phone that she used to hack into the system, she returns the cameras to normal service.
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