by Abi Silver
‘Sounds like an excuse to me,’ Constance muttered, ‘and not a very good one.’
Judith stared out of the window.
‘What should we do about Peter?’ Constance asked.
‘Part of me says that we should do absolutely nothing. The Laytons don’t need another investigation, the safety features of the cars will be checked and re-checked until they get it right, it makes no difference to the trial verdict and Peter no longer has the influence he once had.’
‘But what about James?’
‘What about James?’
‘He’s our client. Don’t we have a duty to him, to investigate it further?’
‘Our duty was to defend James and we’ve done that. Anyway, I asked him. He said to leave it alone. And he’s not our client any more.’
‘You’ve changed your mind about him, haven’t you?’ Constance snapped, ‘now you know about his other women; Vera whoever she is. You don’t admire him quite so much. You think they deserve each other, him and Martine.’
Judith’s face pinched tight.
‘It’s OK,’ Constance ploughed on. ‘I understand why you think that. I’m not sure I agree, but we could forget everything we learned tonight, if that’s what you want.’
‘That’s right, we could,’ Judith snapped. ‘But you didn’t let me finish. Just because I said I was tempted, I didn’t mean that was what we should do. If we suspect Peter of criminal activity, we should tell Dawson. Let him decide what’s next, but we can always nudge him towards particular places of interest.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Constance’s face crinkled with her apology. ‘I thought you meant…’
‘I know what you thought. You made it very clear.’ Judith sighed. ‘Look. We are partners in all this. And partners need to be honest with each other, at all times, even when it’s hurtful.’
Now Constance stared out of the opposite window.
‘It’s really OK, Connie,’ Judith said.
Constance nodded slowly. ‘There’s one other thing I forgot to tell you.’ She found herself bending in low towards Judith, even though she hadn’t intended to. Her head felt so heavy after all those cocktails. ‘It was something Juan said. Probably nothing.’
‘I’m surprised he had time to speak to you, he was so busy spreading his charms around, but, go ahead. What did our Latin lothario have to say for himself?’
‘He has a new theory for why James’ car crashed. He thinks it might have been hacked! He says it’s easy if you know how, and even easier with older models like James’.’
‘And does his theory extend to who did this hacking or why?’
‘No. Although Peter is still top of the list. But it would explain James losing control suddenly, on a dry day and a quiet street.’
Judith sat forward, pressing her hands down on her seat and squeezing hard. She closed her eyes.
‘Are you all right?’ Constance felt compelled to ask, after a few minutes passed in silence.
‘I wonder,’ Judith said, with a flush of colour flooding her cheeks.
‘What?’
‘I just had a revelation. I could be right. Toby told you about the “plan” he had for a big accident, an almighty smash and the SEDA rising from the ashes like a phoenix.’
‘Yes.’
‘Why didn’t he tell James about it? Juan told James about the deleted data, they both admitted they were approached by Peter. Toby confessed he met Peter and that Peter tried to bribe him. Why didn’t he tell James then, about the plan?’
‘He said he felt ashamed. He…’ Constance recalled how Toby’s eyes had wandered over to the party guests when he had talked about the plan.
‘It wasn’t his plan in the first place, was it?’ she said. ‘So what does that mean?’
‘That means we wait,’ Judith said. ‘In my experience, if you are patient, someone gives something crucial away. Like when robbers pull off the perfect heist, but one of them can’t resist buying a pink Cadillac with the proceeds. Toby’s probably disclosed all his secrets to you, and well done for gaining his confidence. But the others may need a little more time. We let them all reflect on the week’s events and see what happens. Someone might remember something. And, importantly, because James isn’t going to let this go now – he has the bit between his teeth – he may try shaking the apple tree himself. Of course, we have no obligation to do any of this. Like I said, our job is done.’
She finally sat back in her seat.
‘You know I should feel sorry for James. After all, he was in a terrible predicament, torn between his belief in the ability of his product to save the world, to reduce road deaths in their thousands, and his need to explain what happened that afternoon on Common Lane but, perhaps surprisingly, I find that I don’t. He hasn’t learned from this tragedy, he wants to go on just like before.’
‘You said you liked him?’
‘Did I? Surely not.’
‘On the way out, this evening.’
‘I think the alcohol has affected your short-term memory.’
‘Should I still tell Dawson about Peter then?’ Constance said. ‘I think it should be me. He’s still feeling bruised by your fierce cross-examination in court.’
‘I regret what happened with Dawson. This case has been difficult in so many ways,’ Judith confessed, sighing and wiping the window so she could see out. ‘Great party though,’ she continued, suddenly livening up. ‘What a way to finish off! I don’t know if you tried one, but the barman mixed me this incredible gin that starts off a subtle shade of blue and, when you stir in the tonic, it turns flamingo pink. Did you have one?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Next time we go out, we have to find somewhere that does it. You need to Google the name. You’ll be amazed.’
‘I’ll have a look online and find somewhere.’
Judith checked her watch. ‘Oh. It’s still early. I’ll get home in time to watch Game of Thrones.’
‘You watch Game of Thrones?’
‘Of course not. Too much like real life, plus a few cloaks and jerkins. But I might start, tonight, tomorrow, on Tuesday. That’s the incredible thing about living alone,’ Judith said, patting Constance on the hand companionably. ‘I can do whatever I want.’
79
JUAN WAS SITTING at the kitchen bar of Toby’s flat, sipping at a mug of coffee, the following morning, staring at the screen of his laptop. Toby stumbled from his room, groaning and holding his head.
‘Good party?’ Juan asked.
‘Was it?’ Toby replied, rolling his tongue around his mouth and grimacing. ‘How did we get home?’
‘In a taxi. I had to give my watch to the driver, and, if you were sick, I said he could keep it.’
Toby squinted at Juan’s wrist, where his timepiece nestled comfortably.
‘Thanks,’ Toby said. ‘You’re a mate.’
‘It’s not genuine, so don’t thank me too much.’
‘You’re up early?’
‘Ah. I was thinking about lots of things.’
‘That sounds like woman trouble. I told you Carol wasn’t interested.’
Juan laughed. ‘Who says I’m interested in Carol?’ he said. ‘I’m taking your advice and keeping away from office romances.’ He fidgeted on the stool and took another slug of coffee. ‘Do you remember much about last night?’ he asked. ‘Something happened and you got quite upset. That was when I decided to bring you home.’
‘Oh God!’ Toby lowered his head until it nudged the edge of the bar. ‘I was hoping it was a bad dream. You mean that arsehole in the white van was really there in the flesh?’
‘Did he hurt you?’
‘I don’t think so. I pissed on his car. I was desperate,’ Toby giggled. ‘I was trying to follow the pattern of the letters on the side. It seemed like a good idea at the time,
but it made him a bit cross. Did James see?’
‘I think most people did. You made so much noise we thought he’d stabbed you. But I didn’t see James come out of the house, so maybe not. And he had the sense to drive off. It was the security guy, you know, we see him around the office sometimes, checking on all the cameras.’
‘Who invited him?’
‘James I expect. Tobes, I’m sorry. I need to ask you this. Where were you when James’ accident happened?’ Juan wrapped his hands around his mug and he stared earnestly at Toby.
Toby rested his elbows on the bar.
‘That’s a bit random and on top of my hangover. Anyway, you know where I was,’ Toby said. ‘Out at that meeting, to talk about bodywork changes on the new models.’
‘What time did you get back?’
‘From the meeting? I can’t remember now, but it was ages after the crash. I told the police.’
‘But didn’t the meeting get cancelled? You had to go another time, didn’t you?’
Toby reddened. ‘I didn’t know it had been cancelled. No one told me. I went all the way there and I got delayed coming back. Where were you anyway?’
‘You know where I was. I went to pick up the new brochures in Enfield. Look, don’t get all defensive. I’m just trying to help James. He really wants to find out what happened.’
‘I thought it was Peter.’
‘I did too. But, if it was Peter, how did he do it? I had some more thoughts last night and I talked to Constance, James’ lawyer. Then I went online this morning. I looked back at 10th October. My login history says I was logged-in to Connect from around 2.25 for twenty minutes. That’s exactly when James’ accident happened.’
‘So?’
‘You’re not listening. I was in Enfield, stuck in traffic. I can’t log in to Connect from my phone and my laptop was in the lab. Someone went into the lab and logged in as me, at the same time James crashed. They could have connected to his car.’
‘Well, it wasn’t me.’ Toby’s lip trembled.
Juan stared hard at him before shoving his coffee away.
‘It’s OK. I believe you,’ he said. ‘No offence, but I’m not sure you know how to. But whoever it was had access to the lab, and you know how tight security is.’
‘It could have been Chris or Mark.’
‘No. They were both on a course. A friend of mine saw them there.’ Juan rose from the bar, folded his arms and walked around the room. ‘Listen. We should tell someone, about my log-in being used. We might be able to check the cameras in the atrium, in the car park, see if anyone strange was hanging around, although it’s months ago now. Should we tell the police?’
‘No,’ Toby said. ‘And we shouldn’t tell James yet. We don’t want to get his hopes up when it could be nothing. We tell her, Constance. She’ll know what to do.’
***
‘Hello Dean.’ Constance stood on Dean McQueen’s doorstep, with Dawson beside her. Dean was wearing pyjama bottoms and a white vest and his face was grey. ‘You remember me, I’m Constance Lamb. I came to see you a few weeks ago, about James Salisbury, after we met at his house. This is Chief Inspector Dawson. Can we come in please?’
‘If this is about last night, I swear I didn’t hit him,’ Dean danced around, his eyes darting past them to the police car parked across his drive. ‘I wanted to, but I didn’t. I just touched him and he fell over.’
‘It’s not about last night,’ Constance said. ‘We need your help.’
‘And we really need to come inside,’ Dawson added gruffly.
Dean stood back and allowed them in. There were cardboard boxes in the hallway, piled up almost to the ceiling and the small sitting room was filled with laptops, wires, cameras, sensors, brackets and screws and black plastic boxes of varying shapes and sizes.
‘What’s all this stuff?’ Dawson asked.
‘It’s my work. Security. Look. You said you needed my help.’ Dean sat down on the sofa and removed a cigarette from his back pocket. He cradled it between his fingers. Constance sat down next to him. Dawson remained standing.
‘When we met last time, you told me you installed security at Mr Salisbury’s office?’ she began.
‘Yeah, that’s right.’
‘You said you put in hidden cameras, well-hidden.’
‘James likes to know what his staff are doing.’
‘He doesn’t trust them?’
‘He’s just careful. He’s not the only one.’
‘Are there cameras in the corridor leading up to the IT lab?’
‘Why don’t you ask James?’
‘Just answer the question.’ Dawson picked up one of the cameras and began scrutinising it through its packaging.
‘We want to see if it’s possible to go back to the afternoon of 10th October, to look at who was in the IT lab around 2.30pm,’ Constance said. ‘Do you have a camera in the corridor? You said you kept records for six months.’
‘Is that when the accident happened?’
‘Yes.’
Dean looked from Constance to Dawson.
‘It might take me a while to find,’ he said. ‘And I’m supposed to be at another job in half an hour.’
‘Do you have receipts for all this stuff?’ Dawson opened the package in his hand and shook the camera out so that it fell heavily to the floor. Dean picked it up and placed it next to him on the sofa. ‘Some of it looks very high grade...’ Dawson persisted.
‘I think it would be good if you postponed your other job and did your best to find us the camera footage, please,’ Constance advised, scowling at Dawson.
‘All right.’ Dean nodded and headed towards the back of the house, gesturing to them to follow. In the kitchen, he grabbed a laptop and placed it on the table.
‘All right,’ he repeated. ‘It’s going to take a while to find the exact date and time. Make yourself tea if you want to stay and watch. You asked for the corridor leading to the lab.’ He suddenly smiled. ‘I can do better than that. I have three cameras in the lab itself. Only people know about them is me and Mr Salisbury. Will that do for you?’
It took around 45 minutes for Dean to locate what they wanted. Then Constance and Dawson both crowded around him, as he pressed ‘play’.
At first, all they could see was the empty lab in semi-darkness. Constance recognised Juan’s desk, where she had sat to ask him questions, before bringing him to James’ trial. All the monitors were switched off. Then, two minutes in, the door of the lab opened and the lights came on. It was Dawson who was first to voice the surprise they all felt, when they saw who had entered.
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I really didn’t expect that. Looks like I need to pay someone a visit. And the sooner the better.’
10th October (Four Months Earlier)
80
Martine entered the lab with a bag over her shoulder. She sat down at Juan’s desk and unlocked the screen of his PC. She opened up the Connect software and located James’ car from the drop-down list of vehicles. Another click and its position was pinpointed on the map, in the car park of an East London office complex.
Then Martine opened her own laptop and connected it up to Juan’s PC. She chose ‘LIDAR’ from the menu and the left-hand screen was immediately populated with coloured boxes. She switched on Juan’s second monitor, to its right, selected ‘dashcam’ and the area in front of James’ car sprang to life on this screen. All of these steps were achieved within seconds and with minimal fuss.
Then she pulled on some headphones and checked out the various buttons on the Connect tool bar, until she located a live street-view of Common Lane in Haringey. For the last two months, SEDA had been allowed to tap directly into the CCTV in certain London boroughs, to enable it to assess its cars’ performance. That meant that, in addition to the dashcam view, she should be able to watch James from above, vi
a CCTV cameras, at least along part of his route back to the office.
Martine stiffened and jumped back. James had just crossed in front of one of the dashcams. She held her breath and waited for him to enter the car and settle himself down.
‘Come on James, come on my darling. Hurry up. Turn that stereo on,’ she whispered, leaning closer to the screen. ‘Come on. Let me in.’
She extracted a small black box from her bag and placed it next to her laptop. She stroked its surface and fiddled with its dial. It was the key for what was to happen next. As long as she chose the right frequency, it would jam the radar sensors on James’ car. All the obstacles in its path, the other cars, bikes, lorries, would all disappear. He would be driving ‘blind’. And all this for £36.99 with free delivery.
Now James was moving off, out of the car park and onto the road. Martine adjusted the height of her chair, so that she was at eye-level with the dash cam, living James’ journey with him. She turned the volume up, just a touch, on the live feed, and she could hear James talking to VERA. ‘Hello VERA. You sound as perky as ever. It’s James. Back to the office please.’
Martine’s phone pinged suddenly and she pulled it from her pocket. A message from James.
Just thought I saw you on a ten-foot billboard, he had written. Had to check. She is your double. Take a look. She could be your sister.
Martine could not help but smile. James was thinking of her in the middle of his busy day, even if he’d been prompted by a roadside advertisement. She tapped on the link he had sent through and an image emerged of a young woman grinning enthusiastically, a pizza slice hovering close to her gaping mouth. At first Martine frowned, the woman was selling fast food, which was not the persona she, herself, would ever try to cultivate, but she had to admit that the glow radiating out from the image was pleasing and the model was very pretty.
Not sure I’m pleased you’re looking at pictures of other women! Where r u? she messaged back.
On the road. Might be back late. Don’t wait for me to eat. You know I only have eyes for you. She heard James chuckle into his phone and a lump formed in her throat. Maybe she shouldn’t do this after all. It would be so difficult for James to bear, his photo in the papers for all the wrong reasons. But she could never have let him in on her plan; he would never have agreed and the accident must look authentic for it to have the desired effect. And the aftermath too; she had always thought James a terrible liar.