Black Matter

by G D Parker

  ‘No, thank you.’ Emily rested the back of her head on the pillow and let the morphine do its job.

  The intensive care unit was behind secure doors. All Roberts had to do was flash his warrant card and entry was granted. However, he was suddenly approached by the ward sister.

  ‘Can I help you?’ Her eyes looked strong with a protective instinct.

  ‘I’m DC Roberts from South Wales Police. I’m here to see how Emily Wakefield is doing. I understand she’s been brought in following an acid attack.’

  ‘She’s stable, but I can’t allow you to see her.’ The ward sister folded her arms in an authoritative manner, like a bouncer at a night club entrance.

  ‘It’ll only take a minute.’ Roberts knew this nurse had Emily’s wellbeing at heart, and so did he.

  ‘You CID are all the same. Come on, Roberts! Think of her welfare first for a change!’

  Roberts was taken back by her attitude. He felt the need to defend his reasons for being there.

  ‘Yes, our part in her wellbeing is finding the scumbag who did this to her, am I right?’ Roberts countered.

  ‘Yes, completely, but not yet. Give her time, please!’ Her eyes widened as she said the words.

  Roberts backed off but asked, ‘Are there any officers still here from the scene?’

  ‘I believe so. They are with the ambulance crew going through some details. If you go back through those doors, take a second left, then a right, they’re in a family room down that corridor.’ The nurse then stood and waited for Roberts to leave.

  Eventually Roberts found the room. The place was like a maze. He knocked on the door.

  ‘Come in,’ said a voice.

  There were two paramedics and a uniformed officer sitting in the room. The officer was taking a statement from the paramedics. Roberts flashed his warrant card.

  ‘DC Roberts. Just wondered if I could have a quick chat?’

  ‘PC Daniels. I’ll just finish this statement, and I’ll be with you.’

  ‘No problem,’ replied Roberts and took a seat on a faux leather chair with a slight tear in it showing the yellow sponge inside which he couldn’t help fiddle with whilst he was waiting.

  Seven minutes passed, and PC Daniels finished with the paramedics. The paramedics got up to leave, and Roberts simultaneously stood up out of respect, followed by a hand shake with each.

  ‘Daniels, Emily is connected with another case, and I have reason to believe there may be a link with the attack. What can you tell me?’ Roberts asked.

  ‘Her neighbour was the person to call 999, as he was first at the scene. His name is Jon Harrington. Lives at number 47 Cosmeston Street.’

  ‘Okay, what information did he have?’

  ‘I’ve not interviewed him, but my colleague has. They are still at the scene.’

  ‘Do you know anything else?’ asked Roberts.

  ‘It was sulphuric acid that was used to harm Emily. Her burns are so severe, it’s going to shift her entire life, poor girl.

  ‘That’s awful! What an horrific and horrendous thing to do to someone!’

  ‘I agree! Do you need anything else?’ asked Daniels.

  ‘Any other information you have would be appreciated.’

  ‘That’s all I have at the moment. Why have they got you lot involved anyway?’

  ‘Like I said, there could be a link to another case. I’ll leave you to it,’ stated Roberts. He then left the hospital and gave Valentina a call.

  Valentina’s phone had barely rung, when she answered it straight away. ‘Roberts, what do you have for me? Is there a link?’

  ‘Not much from the hospital. I’m en route to the scene. Emily’s neighbour who found Emily may have some info to give me,’ Roberts responded.

  ‘Okay, how’s Emily?’

  ‘I didn’t see her. They wouldn’t let me in.’

  ‘Thought as much,’ said Valentina. ‘They always give us detectives attitude at that place. Carry on with the neighbour and then report back to our office. Something else has come up with McGregor.’ She ended the call before he had a chance to ask what.

  Cosmeston street was taped off at both ends. There were Sky and BBC media vans blocking the road with their cameras pointing towards number 49. Roberts was allowed through the tape as he made his way up the road on foot. Crime scene investigators were in their chemical suits, collecting evidence from the area. Roberts approached number 47. The door was open with a tall bearded man filling the doorway.

  ‘I’m looking for Jon Harrington?’ said Roberts.

  ‘That is me, and you are?’

  ‘Detective Constable Roberts. Do you have a minute?’

  ‘Of course, come in. Would you like a drink?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  They both took a seat at a large table in the kitchen. The place smelt of stale cooking fat and cat poop. There was a litter tray five feet from where Roberts was sitting. He looked at it, then awkwardly looked at Jon.

  ‘Sorry, I was meant to change that. I’ll do it now.’

  ‘It’s okay, leave it. Can you go through what happened to Emily, please?’ asked Roberts.

  ‘That poor girl! First her mum and now this! Do you think it’s related?’

  ‘I can’t discuss that with you. Please can you take me through the series of events?’

  ‘I was sitting on my sofa with my cat on my lap when I heard screaming,’ Jon explained. ‘I jumped up and looked out the window. All I saw was a man walking past my window dressed in a grey suit. There was more screaming, so I went out to look, and that’s when I saw Emily, face down on the floor. It was clear something had been thrown in her face. I thought it was boiling water at first, so I ran back in here, filled the washing up bowl, then used the water to sooth her face. It was when she moved her hands away, I saw the extent of her injuries, so I dialled 999.’

  ‘Thank you, then what happened?’ asked Roberts.

  ‘Well, the operator gave me guidance on what to do, and other neighbours also helped until the ambulance arrived.’

  ‘Tell me more about this man in a suit?’

  ‘I only saw him briefly. He had dark hair, that’s all I remember.’

  ‘Did you see anyone else?’ asked Roberts. ‘Has there been anyone hanging around that looked suspicious over the last few weeks?’

  ‘Not that I’ve noticed. I normally keep myself to myself, sir,’ Jon explained.

  ‘Okay, that’s great, thank you.’ Roberts stood, shook Jon’s hand, then left the house, making his way back to the station to meet with Valentina.

  Not long after Emily had been moved, Anderson managed to locate her whereabouts. He could taste the strong smell of disinfectant as he entered the Welsh Centre for Burns and Plastic Surgery. It was situated within Morriston Hospital in Swansea. The place was huge, and it took Anderson some time to find his way round. He found out the ward Emily was on after some investigatory work and was given directions by a porter -Tempest Burns ITU.

  The unit was of moderate size and fairly modern compared to other parts of the hospital. Anderson entered the ward and explained who he had come to see. The nurse pointed him in the direction. That was easy! he thought, expecting to be challenged.

  He looked around the ward. There were only ten beds and he couldn’t see Emily at first. Then he recognised her unkempt platinum hair that she once obsessed about. She was sleeping and her face was covered in a thick white dressing. That beautiful, pretty girl that he appreciated immensely (for her looks anyway) was now disfigured. Empathy engulfed his heart as he stared down at her whilst she slept. There was a book on the side next to her. It looked brand new and untouched – Black Matter.

  Part of Emily’s head had been shaved. Anderson knew that would hit her hard. He sat down in the chair beside her bed and picked up her book, Black Matter. He started to read whilst waiting for her to wake up.

  Six paragraphs in, Emily began to stir, and she awoke with a groan.

  ‘Emily, how do you feel
?’ Anderson asked.

  Emily seemed dreadfully unwell. She was weak, and it was clear that she was having difficulty simply trying to move.

  ‘I wish I was dead,’ she exclaimed, as tears filled her visible eye. Her voice was croaky, as though phlegm was sitting in the back of her throat.

  Anderson bypassed her “wish I was dead” comment. ‘What are the doctors saying?’

  ‘I have blood poisoning. Sepsis, I think they call it.’ Her speech was slow. It was an effort for her to talk, but Anderson kept pushing.

  ‘What’s happened to your eye?’ he asked, as he looked at a disfigured eye ball through the facial dressing.

  ‘I’ve lost it. I swallowed some of the acid too, and it has burned all the inside of my mouth and throat.’ Emily’s eye lids closed from the lethargy. She was feeling drowsy and slowly drifted back off to sleep.

  Anderson sat for a little while longer, watching her rest. Her life is ruined, he thought to himself. A nurse walked in to check Emily’s blood pressure and stats.

  ‘Nurse, will Emily be okay? You know, will she get through this? She looks really unwell!’

  ‘It’s hard to say. You are?’

  ‘I’m her brother, Anderson.’

  ‘She never mentioned about her brother,’ the nurse stated. ‘I know both her parents have passed though. Well, she needs to be moved back into intensive care. The consultant will be round soon to advise me when she’s going.’

  ‘Right, okay, she’s going to make it...right?’

  ‘We’ve just got to stay positive. Are there any other relatives? Can you make contact with them, please?’

  ‘Of course,’ Anderson replied, standing to leave and feeling partially uncomfortable with his lie.

  ‘Oh, before you go, Emily mentioned a Tommy. Do you know him?’ asked the nurse.

  ‘I do, but he won’t be here, I can assure you of that.’

  ‘Oh, okay, strange! She’s mentioned him a few times now.’

  ‘He killed her mum. Well…our mum,’ Anderson corrected himself, then left promptly before he dug a deeper hole of lies. The nurse was left feeling somewhat confused.

  16

  Tammy’s office at Medi Corps was busy one. She had been working intensely for over a week, going through all the data from the download that was extracted from Tommy’s implant. Tammy was able to trace the Circuitoids back to an IMEI number for a mobile phone that strangely differed from Tommy’s own IMEI. Concerned, she picked up the phone and called Davidson.

  ‘Tammy?’ he answered abruptly, as though he didn’t appreciate being disturbed.

  ‘Russell, I’ve made a discovery. The Circuitoids have come from a ghost mobile phone. Professor Conroy’s judgement was correct.’

  ‘Doesn’t the IPEA communicate with a mobile phone anyway? That’s how it works!’ exclaimed Davidson.

  ‘That’s correct, via Bluetooth, which is the only connectivity we built into the system. These Circuitoids have attached themselves to the signal generated by the Bluetooth, but their source is from a different IMEI number to Tommy’s, hence my comment referencing a ghost phone,’ Tammy explained.

  ‘Okay, I don’t understand. Isn’t the application encrypted so third parties can’t gain access? That was part of the agreement with the Medicines and Healthcare Products Regulatory Agency. If this gets out that the system can be hacked-’

  Tammy interrupted. ‘Listen to me. It is encrypted. We can prove we have an encryption in place. What I’m saying is, within the application, Circuitoids don’t actually exist; they are not part of the system. That would be too complex and wouldn’t work with the IPEA the way we designed it to. They are also not part of any mobile phone application. The construction of these Circuitoids is way beyond my comprehension, so someone with extraordinary knowledge has put this together. I doubt even the whiz kids at Google could come up with it. They must have been generated from somewhere else and have used Tommy’s phone to gain access to his brain via the Bluetooth signal.’

  ‘So, where have they come from?’ Davidson huffed, signalling frustration.

  ‘The report doesn’t give me that information. I’ll need Tommy’s phone. I can then trace the Circuitoids via the IMEI number, but I think a ghost signal has been created from another phone.’

  ‘A ghost signal?’

  ‘A ghost signal is created the same way as a mobile phone network, which then uses a legitimate mobile network as a host. It’s never been done until now and would be completely illegal. The technology needed isn’t something you could go into PC World and buy.’

  ‘Thank you, Tammy. I’ll get on the phone to that detective to ask if we can have Tommy’s phone.’ Davidson ended the call and instantly phoned Valentina.

  ‘DI Valentina.’ She also sounded distracted as she answered the call.

  ‘It’s Russell Davidson from Medi Corps. We have discovered something that may interest you!’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Valentina.

  ‘We need to investigate Tommy’s phone.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘The information is sensitive. It can’t be discussed over the phone,’ explained Davidson.

  ‘Well, if you want his phone, you’ll need to come to Cardiff Bay Police Station, and we can discuss it further. It’s not normally a legitimate process to hand evidence over just like that.’

  ‘Detective, this could be a huge breakthrough in medical science and in the case you are working on. Your professor,’ Davidson paused, trying to think of his name, ‘Conroy; his assumptions are proving to be correct, and we can help. Can you please very kindly send the phone via a same day courier, so we can look into it further. Tammy believes she may be able to trace where this came from.’

  ‘You can be polite when you want to be. Okay.’ Valentina processed a thought. ‘I’ll have it sent to you within the next two hours. Once you have more information, please let us know ASAP, and we will come and meet with you.’

  ‘Will do! Thank you, Detective.’ Davidson hung up.

  ‘That bastard seems to love it when he can pull the strings,’ Valentina muttered to herself whilst looking at her phone.

  The phone arrived at Medi Corps an hour later and was delivered to Tammy’s office once it had been scanned. Medi Corps had a strict postal policy. All mail had to be scanned and run through an X-ray machine to ensure that there was nothing nasty – not everyone agreed with the products produced by the company.

  As soon as Tammy was in possession of Tommy’s mobile, she turned it on, only to find it was PIN protected, and Valentina hadn’t given her the PIN. She used a trick that could bypass the PIN, which was illegal, but she felt confident Valentina wouldn’t follow through once she found out the full scale of what was happening.

  She connected the phone to the system, where more data was extracted and re-coded into simpler terms. There it was; an IMEI number:

  IMEI: 2.0.000098Z-3243458324-T.

  The number didn’t match the original format, which threw Tammy off balance, confusion taking hold for a moment. She ran a trace on the number, which came up as unidentified, an unknown network.

  ‘Shit,’ she cursed to herself as concern flowed through her. The investigation was proving to be tougher than expected and highly illegal. Tammy continued to explore the data and realised that the IMEI number had been scrambled into a different number, assumed to make it untraceable. She called Davidson to provide him with an update.

  ‘Please tell me you have some positive information for me?’ Davidson’s mouth was full of food as he spoke, a pet hate of Tammy’s. If you’re eating, don’t answer the phone, she thought.

  ‘Yes and no, Russell. The IMEI number traced from the Circuitoids isn’t a valid number. It’s not recognisable.’

  ‘So, where does that leave us?’

  ‘Well, I’ve managed to identify that it’s been scrambled once it connects to Tommy’s phone to make it untraceable.’

  ‘Okay?’ It was obvious Davidson was frustrated. Tammy e
choed that feeling.

  ‘I’ve managed to unscramble the number, but when I put a trace on it, I need authorisation to access the data,’ Tammy explained.

  ‘So, who do you need to authorise it?’

  ‘I don’t know, the police I assume. I need to do some more digging. I’ll see what I can find out.’

  Davidson just hung up the phone without another word, causing Tammy agitation. She was working hard on this, and it felt like she was receiving no appreciation.

  It was now quarter past one in the morning. Tammy found herself still sitting in her office, five empty cups of coffee cluttering her desk along with a half-eaten salmon and soft cheese bagel. Mozart filled what would otherwise be a silent room, playing in the background to help her concentrate.

  ‘Got it!’ she exclaimed, tapping her desk with a sense of accomplishment. She had managed to override the authorisation request and had traced the IMEI number back to a device in a specific area. The trace wasn’t pinpoint accurate but was accurate within at least a few hundred yards. Anticipation increased the endorphins in her brain as she became excited at her finding. She was really on to something. Tammy picked up her phone to call Davidson but realised the time; there was no way in hell she could call him at that time of the morning. Her adrenaline was pumping and there was no way she would be able to go home to bed, so she made the decision to follow the trace herself to see if she could spot anything of significance.

  The M4 was clear and the drive from Bristol to Cardiff only took Tammy forty minutes. She played Mozart in the car to keep her brain ticking, hoping her mind would conjure up some solution to enable her to pinpoint the location where the signal was coming from.

  The trace of the IMEI number directed Tammy to Lloyd George Avenue down at Cardiff Bay. There was a ridiculous number of apartment blocks and buildings – it would be like hunting for a needle in a haystack, and she had no idea where to start. It was raining hard and the wind had increased, causing adverse conditions, so she parked up outside a Vista store in a small street just off Lloyd George Avenue. She loaded her laptop and put out a trace of the IMEI number - the signal was live! It was connected to something or someone, but she couldn’t work out the code as to where the signal was coming from, as it was scrambled. She punched the steering wheel, frustrated that she didn’t have the software on her laptop to decode it.