by Dan Malakin
Most people could laugh it off when their bad side won, but her bad side was a fucking psychopath intent on destroying her life.
Rachel climbed back into bed. Her flesh felt made of freezing ridges, like a radiator in an abandoned building, and she shivered uncontrollably. As for what to do about Griffin? She had no idea. At least Mark knew now. Maybe he’d already come up with a plan? Or if not, maybe the four of them, her and Lily, Mark and his new girlfriend, could move out to Australia. It’d be like a sitcom – My Two Mums. She allowed herself a smile as she imagined Rowena opening the front door of her swanky Sydney apartment to find them waiting there, dishevelled from the flight and screaming at each other, with a stack of suitcases behind.
The truth was, it didn’t matter what she did about Griffin.
What mattered was that she didn’t do this.
Everything hurt, but she tried to welcome the pain. It was the only thing she could do. She pictured the sources as massive storm systems, swirling around her body, and she was watching them from above, seeing the ebb and flow of intensity. She slipped into thoughts about her dad, going over some of their exchanges again, and realised that perhaps the greatest gift a parent can give is to make a mistake so bad that their child will do anything not to repeat it.
As the first hint of morning came through the curtains, she drifted into a dreamless sleep. She still woke every twenty minutes or so to turn, when the pain of her position became too much, but she always fell back into the dark, but thankfully empty, cave her subconscious had kindly created for her.
Soon she opened her eyes and the gloomy light suggested it was maybe seven. No point hanging around. She threw off the duvet, sat up and twisted her torso one way then the other. She still ached all over, but surprisingly, it was the most refreshed she’d felt in weeks. She slid off the bed and went to slap on the light.
First food, then Lily. Then the rest of her life.
But when she pressed down the door handle, she found the bedroom was locked.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Rowena
Mark checked Rowena’s profile on Facebook for the tenth time that day.
She hadn’t accepted his friend request, or responded to any of his messages – she didn’t know him, so why should she? – but still, something felt off. He opened a spreadsheet and made notes about her updates since she’d emigrated, when they were posted, what they were about, whether there was a photo attached and who was in it.
The more notes he made, the greater his feeling of dread grew.
What if…
He looked around the Australian government’s website, found the right number, and called.
‘G’day, Barry speaking.’
Mark cleared his throat. ‘Oh hi, Barry. Hello. Is this the Australian Department of Immigration and Border Protection?’
‘Department of Home Affairs. Sure is. You’re through to customer relations, New South Wales.’
‘Okay – great! I really hope you can help. I’m a writer. I’m researching a novel. I’ve got a couple of quick questions, about border security–’
‘I’m not sure–’
‘Nothing sensitive! Promise. They’re general questions. You’d really be helping me out a lot.’
‘I–’
‘Before you say no, let me ask them. If you can’t answer – no worries!’
‘…Go on then.’
‘Thanks, Barry, you’re a star. Okay, first one. It’s pretty straightforward. Say I was calling from the British police, and I wanted to find out if someone came through immigration on the day they were supposed to. What department would deal with that?’
‘Is it recent?’
‘Let’s say about a year ago.’
‘That’ll be the archive department you need to speak to.’
‘Archive department. Got it. And is that in just one place? Or are there different archive departments round the country?’
‘I believe it’s based in Queensland.’
‘Queensland. Great. Thanks, Barry, I really appreciate your help.’
‘Is that it?’
‘That’s it. You’ve been a great help. I’ll even put you in the acknowledgements. It was Barry…?’
‘Mallory. That’s M-A-L-L-O-R-Y. What’s the book called? So I can look–’
Click.
‘HR.’
‘G’day. Barry Mallory here. I’m calling from customer relations in Sydney.’
‘Hey, Barry. How can I help?’
‘My computer’s gone on the blink and everyone’s buggered off for lunch. Who do I speak to about getting it fixed? I’ve only started this week. I don’t know who to ask. Have we got an IT department? Or do we outsource it?’
‘It’s a problem with Windows?’
‘That’s right, mate.’
‘We use a company called Centrix. Do you need their–?’
Click.
‘Archives, Tracy speaking.’
‘Hi, Tracy. My name’s Ralph Lum. I’m calling from Centrix. We look after your IT systems. Have you got a few moments?’
‘Sure, love. How can I help?’
‘You’re based in the Queensland office, right?’
‘That’s right, love.’
‘We’ve received quite a few service request calls from the Queensland office in the last week. Problems logging into applications. You had any issues?’
‘Can’t say I have.’
‘No problems connecting to the network?’
‘None at all.’
‘That’s good news. And you’re in the archives department, right?’
‘That’s right, love.’
‘Would you mind doing a couple of quick checks? Take two minutes, promise.’
‘Sure. What do you need me to do?’
‘First up, log off and on again. I can see on this end when your computer comes onto the network.’
‘All right, let me save my work… There. Logging off now… Okay, I’m off.’
‘Great. Go ahead and log on.’
‘Logging on… It’s just starting up.’
‘Okay, I can see you now. Brilliant, thanks Tracy. When you log in, what applications do you open? Outlook?’
‘That’s right. Outlook for e-mail. We’ve got chat as well.’
‘Any other applications?’
‘I usually log into ArcNet. That’s what we use to check records and stuff.’
‘Is that a web-based application?’
‘A what?’
‘Do you access it through a web browser, like Internet Explorer?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Can you start it now, please? I want to make sure you can log in okay.’
‘Sure. One second… Internet Explorer’s just loading… There we go. You want me to log in?’
‘Can you give me the URL? That’s the address. It should start with https.’
‘It’s https, colon, forward slash, forward slash. Arcnet-dot-adibp-dot-com-dot-au. Do you need me to log in?’
‘Go for it, Tracy.’
‘All right. I’m in.’
‘And I can see you logged in. That’s perfect. Thanks for your help today, Tracy.’
‘No problem, love. Have a great day.’
‘You too.’
Click.
Mark ran a port scan on the server arcnet.adibp.com.au. As expected, the common ports like FTP, Telnet, and HTTP were well protected. Port 22 was open, which probably meant a secure shell service was running. If all else failed, that could be forced, but that might show up on monitoring.
Fortunately, that wasn’t necessary. The Simple Network Management Protocol, used for network management, was open on the default UDP port, 161.
The next part was easy. It was only SNMPv1, not the harder to hack SNMPv3. He spoofed some UDP packets to get round the SNMP access list and find the name of its router, then brute attacked with thousands of passwords per second to get the SNMP community string, its version of a username and password.
He embedded in the attack a command to upload a new configuration file from an FTP site to the router, which imported that file back to the server using running-config.
In this configuration file was a new login for arcnet.adibp.com.au. He used that to search for when Rowena Feldman entered Australia.
If she ever did.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Andreas
Rachel stared at her hand, still on the handle. The sound of her thumping heart filled her head. Don’t panic. It was probably just stuck. She pushed down again. The door didn’t move. Griffin was here. He’d tracked her down, got rid of Spence, and locked her in. The door looked new, solid. She slapped it, the noise echoing off the walls, her palm stinging. She slapped it again and again, calling, ‘Spence? Spence? Spence?’
A key rattled in the lock. The door was pulled open. Spence stood on the other side, sweat on his face, breathing hard, looking at her like she’d just crawled out of the ground. Rachel barged past him, grabbed a juice glass from beside the kitchen sink, and filled it with cold water. Spence came up behind her. She turned to face him. He looked more apologetic, but something was wrong. He was normally so… neat, his clothes smart to his body, his hair waxed, but his burgundy dressing gown was skewed, and blond tufts sprouted from his scalp at weird angles.
‘I thought he was here,’ she said, and swilled the water she’d managed to get in the glass, thankful for the sudden cold in her mouth to snap her back to reality. ‘I thought…’
Spence covered his face and stood motionless. After a pause, a long groan rose from deep inside his chest, coming out of his mouth as a muffled sob. His hands began to shake, and when he lowered them, his cheeks were wet with tears.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Rachel glanced into the lounge and saw his MacBook open on the glass coffee table. ‘What’s going on? What happened?’
‘He dumped me. Andreas dumped me.’
‘When?’
‘Last night, really late. I’ve not slept. He was with someone else. He told me they – they were…’ A wail mangled the rest of his words. He buried his head into Rachel’s shoulder. She shushed him and stroked the back of his head, her insides twisted. This was her fault, she’d done this, another car crash to add to the growing pileup in her conscience. If he hadn’t come back, they’d still be together.
‘Go to him,’ she said. ‘Fix it. In fact, I’ve made a decision.’
Spence pulled his head back and looked at her suspiciously. ‘What?’
‘Let’s sit.’ Rachel gestured to the sofa.
He glanced at the laptop. ‘Let’s sit at the table.’
So that was it. He’d probably been watching porn. That would explain why he’d locked her door – no-one wants to be caught with their hands down their pants. ‘Promise me one thing first,’ she said, pulling out a chair. ‘Please don’t lock me in a room again. I know this is your place, and you want your privacy, but it frightened me.’
‘I – I was just trying to keep you safe,’ he said, the words coming in a rush. ‘You told me about the knife, and I found you on the floor in your bedroom. And I didn’t want to say anything, but you’re really nailing the meds, and I know things are stressful, but–’
‘Oh my god,’ she said, laughing it off. The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass him. ‘It’s not a big deal. You didn’t go away for the weekend or anything and leave me in there.’
‘Okay, good,’ he said, seemingly reassured. He turned to the counter. ‘Coffee?’
‘Wait. Come sit.’
He took the chair next to her, facing out, so they were almost knee to knee. She reached forward and squeezed his hand.
‘You’ve been amazing,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t – I mean, this last week, I can’t begin to thank you enough. But I’m ready to go back now. I need to get help. Real help. I can’t…’ She felt herself welling up, and glanced at Spence, expecting to see him looking sympathetic, but instead his eyes were hard.
‘You can’t go home.’
‘I’ve got to.’
Spence shook his head. ‘You’re sick.’
‘I know, and I’m going to get help.’
‘You’re going straight to hospital to have yourself committed?’
‘What? No, of course not.’ Was he joking? She searched his mouth for the trace of a smile. ‘But I will go back to the clinic, maybe as a day–’
‘I can’t let you go home on your own.’
He was right. Being in that house, with the broken window, Lily not there, could destroy her resolve. ‘Let me give Mark a call,’ she said. ‘See if his offer of a bed is still valid for a few days.’
‘If you’re going to stay there, you might as well stay here.’
‘I’ve already outstayed my welcome.’
‘That’s not–’
‘Please, Spence. I’ve made up my mind. I need to speak to Mark anyway, I need him to help me become more… like him. You know? More together. And to work out what we’re going to do about Griffin. Can I use your phone?’
Spence was chewing the side of his nail and frowning, like he’d been distracted by a distressing thought.
‘Spence?’
‘What?’
‘Can I use your phone? To call Mark?’
He shook his head. ‘Out of battery. Just charging it.’
So what if it was out of battery? All she needed was to make a quick call. It could stay plugged in. Perhaps he was worried she’d snoop around, and he didn’t want her to see any texts between him and Andreas? She’d never do that, but he clearly wasn’t thinking straight. She decided to leave it. With Lily staying, Mark would probably be working from home, so she could call him any time. Breakfast first, then she’d badger Spence again for his phone. Maybe get him to book her an Uber.
‘So,’ Rachel said, brightly. ‘Eggs?’
Spence waved towards the fridge. ‘Yeah, whatever.’
Among the healthy food – salads, vegetables, low-fat yogurts – she found a yellow carton of Happy Eggs, and a block of mature cheddar. ‘I’m making scrambled. That okay?’
‘So what’s the plan?’ he asked. ‘When you get back. You know, Griffin.’
She got a bowl and began cracking. ‘I don’t have an actual plan, per se. More a different way of looking at the problem.’
‘What way’s that?’
‘One that doesn’t involve starving myself into an early grave. Although I do owe you a batch of stolen Demerol – sorry!’
‘Right,’ he said.
She splashed in milk and whisked the eggs with a fork. ‘I just… I don’t want to do this anymore. There had to be way out. If Mark can do it – if my dad can do it, and he’s the biggest…’ She was about to say the biggest waster going, but stopped herself. When she got back, she was going to get him to come round, hear his side of the story. Really listen to what he had to say. ‘And if he can do it, then why not me as well.’
‘What about Griffin?’
‘Not sure yet,’ she said, getting a frying pan from the cupboard under the sink. She turned on the electric hob. ‘I’m hoping Mark might have some ideas. Or… I’m thinking about maybe starting fresh, in Australia.’
‘Australia.’
Rachel poured in the eggs. ‘I know someone there.’
‘What if he finds you?’
She gave him a what-you-going-to-do shrug. ‘Least it’ll be warm.’
‘But…’ Spence threw glances around the room, like he was looking for clues to a puzzle. He covered his face again. ‘I need you here… Andreas…’
Spence was obviously upset and couldn’t bear the thought of being alone. She didn’t want to add to his misery, especially after he’d been so good to her, but she needed to think of herself. She needed to think of Lily. She needed to sort out her life.
‘Come on,’ she said, gently. ‘You’ve only known him a few months. Next week there’ll be someone else, and–’
‘I don’t want
anyone else,’ Spence muttered. ‘I’m in love.’
‘You can’t fall in love with someone that fast.’
He dropped his hands and laughed, but the sound was awkward and forced. ‘We should be together. Wouldn’t that be great?’
‘I may look a bit like a man,’ she said, pushing the eggs with a wooden spoon, the smell causing her stomach to make a yawning noise. ‘But I can assure you, the plumbing is all wrong for you.’
He lifted an eyebrow and cocked his head towards the bedroom. ‘How about we go and find out?’
As much as she didn’t want to upset Spence, his joking around was hard work. Andreas or not, he could at least be a little happy for her, that she felt strong enough to go back and face Griffin. She got two plates, portioned the eggs equally, and grated cheese over the top. He never said he loved Andreas, never even hinted it. She didn’t think Spence would be so heartbroken about them breaking up.
When she turned back with the plates, he wasn’t at the table, but had moved to the sofa, shut the laptop, and clicked on the television. The channel was set to The Food Network, where a bald fast-talking black bloke in army fatigues was demanding to know what kind of sorbet you like to have as a palate cleanser.
‘Can we put something else on?’ Rachel asked, bringing the plates over. ‘I can’t watch this anymore. How about the news?’
Spence stared at the screen as though she hadn’t said anything.
She held a plate out to him. ‘Spence?’
He carried on ignoring her. Was it because she’d mentioned Australia? More likely it was because she’d dumped over his proclamations of love. As selfish as it sounded, she couldn’t handle his tantrum, not when she needed to focus on eating. She didn’t expect it to be easy to get these eggs down, nearly as much food in a single meal as she’d been eating in a whole day, and she wasn’t sure if her stomach had arrived at the same place as her mind last night. Her body rebelled against her on a daily basis, so why should she expect it to be any different now?