“I agree with you. I don’t think there is anything there,” said Mayweather. “Obviously we’ll keep our options open until the IT team has been over it.” She smiled at the DI. “No reflection on you, but this is where we need Roper. If anyone can work out something from that,” she gestured angrily at the lap top, “then he will. It’s quite amazing what he picks up on.”
The Detective Inspector looked embarrassed. “I have to admit that I was one of those who wondered why you allowed him back but he more than proved himself in the end. I still say he’s a bit of a funny bugger, but not everyone can be the life and soul of the party.”
Mayweather laughed at that. “No, he’s never going to hold court like some do. But letting him rejoin from suspension was quite easy. I just listened carefully to Brian Hooley and did what he asked.”
They were interrupted by Anne James. “I’ve got something for you but it’s not very precise at the moment. That email appears to have originated in Russia, most probably in Moscow. I think you will need that friend at GCHQ.”
They let her leave before Mayweather picked up. “Moscow and psychopaths ripping people’s faces off: why do I feel like we’re disappearing down a rabbit hole?”
15
“Our own people are confirming the address belongs to a computer in Moscow, it’s coming from somewhere in an apartment block on the outer fringes of the town.” Cleverly looked pleased that his team had got in ahead of the GCHQ whizz kids.
“That was quick work,” said Mayweather, who hadn’t expected a response until much later in the day.
Cleverly’s grin disappeared. “There’s a reason for that and it doesn’t help us. Apparently, it was too easy to find where the message originated from. I’m told that the best hackers would have made life very complicated.”
“How does that leave things regarding the Moscow address?”
“The most likely thing was that the victim’s computer was accessed remotely.”
Mayweather shrugged. “It sounds like you’re telling me Moscow is a dead end. I suppose someone wants us to think in terms of Russian hackers when it could be anyone who knows their way around a keyboard.”
She didn’t need to look at the DI’s expression to know she was right. “I’ll update my man at GCHQ with what we suspect. We need them to stay on the case. Whoever our killer turns out to be he’s not going to be some wide boy. Our man has brains and is following a plan.
“We need to stop him as fast as we can. The fact that he has gone to all the effort of establishing who we are, and then taking the time to taunt us, is depressing enough, but I have no doubt he will kill again.
“I am sure that he has Sandra Hall and I shudder to think what he has in mind for her. Between ourselves I don’t think we can expect a positive outcome, but I won’t give up on her until we know, one way or the other.”
Cleverly puffed out his cheeks. “It’s frustrating not having clues to work with. The one bit of good news I have for you is that the profiler will be with us today. It’s the one you mentioned you quite liked and as luck would have it she’s available.”
“I’ll take all the positive news I can get. She’s a decent sort and she doesn’t mind being asked for her first impressions, just as long as we promise not to hold her to it. Anyway, enough of that, grab a seat and give me some old-fashioned details.”
The DI took his place and produced a note book which he briefly studied before starting his briefing. “If you don’t mind I am going to hold the key bit back until the end, just to give some perspective. I’ve had a chance to look through the information from the first killing. There are some broad similarities, but I’m not pinning too much on that at the moment. Our first victim was Harry Jordan, he was 41 years old, married with two kids and ran a software company.
“As I understand it he wasn’t a technical genius, like our man Bennett, but was brought in as a Chief Executive to run the company. Peter Knight is the brain who developed the software; a youngish guy who has little interest in management, so Jordan took care of all that.
“Jordan disappeared four weeks ago after leaving home in the morning. It was a normal day and his wife said she was unaware of anything out of the ordinary. She said her husband was his usual self.
“That was the last confirmed time he was seen alive. Five days later they found his body, bound to a chair with tape, in the basement of an abandoned farm house outside Leeds. He’d also had his face removed. Obviously, the MO was the same and what clinched the argument is that it was the same brand of tape used, a slightly more expensive version of the standard package tape.”
Mayweather had steepled her hands as she listened closely. “I think we need a slight change of plan when the profiler gets here. It seems obvious that the two killings are the work of the same man. Ask her to look at that as her priority. Let’s see if she agrees.”
“Will do,” said Cleverly. “But like I said, I have been saving the most interesting thing until the end. It turns out that the software developed by the young genius has military applications. So, we now have both companies with links to the MoD. Don’t ask me what this software does, but I gather it is important.”
It took a lot to impress the ADC. This did. “At last, something we can do some real detective work with. Who have you assigned to chasing the lead down?”
“Wendi Smith. She’s not only one of the best young sergeants we’ve got, she’s also bright enough to understand computers and totally dogged when it comes to tracking down vital information. We’ve only just got going but I’ve assigned it the highest possible priority. We need to find out who at the MoD was dealing with these two men.”
“I couldn’t agree more. What about this software designer though? Presumably he must know something about it.”
The DI looked troubled. “This is one more thing I saved until the end. Peter Knight has disappeared. Leeds police sent a couple of uniforms to his apartment because they had been unable to make any contact with him via email, phone or even social media.
“The uniforms rang the bell to his flat but got no response. Luckily, his place has got a concierge with a spare key. When they got to his front door they tried his mobile again and could hear the ringing.
“They decided he might be in danger and used the key to let themselves in. There was no trace of him. Just his mobile on the kitchen table. According to the company he never goes anywhere without it. He’s one of those people who can’t stand spending any time disconnected from the internet.”
Mayweather’s joy at finding the MoD connection had evaporated. “This is not going to be good news. I think I may need to stay here and monitor things rather than spending time travelling up to Leeds.”
“I anticipated that might happen,” said Cleverly. “I spoke to the DI on the case and he’s got clearance to come and spend a few days with us, maybe longer if necessary.”
Mayweather said. “That’s a very good call. Have you warned this chap he might be here for a long time if things drag on?”
“I told him and he was fine about it. He’s only in his late 20’s, sounds pretty bright and is clearly ambitious. I asked about wife and kids and he’s a free man. Lucky so and so,” he added with a sigh.
16
Mr. Roberts was having a strange day. He knew there was a reason why he had two people tied to the beds - Sandra Hall and Peter Knight - but he was struggling to remember what it was and why he had taken them in the first place.
Now he needed to decide what to do with them. He had been thinking he had better not kill them straight off because he might discover there was a very good reason to keep them alive. But looking after them would prove very time consuming and he didn’t know how long he could keep that up for.
For the past few hours he had tried running through different ideas to see if that would help his memory. He was coming around to the idea that perhaps they weren’t that important. He just wished his memory wasn’t letting him down so badly.
; He sat down at the small table in the room and listlessly tapped away at the keyboard of a computer he had bought for sole use here. This particular one would never be connected to the internet. He wasn’t going to risk being caught by some super-smart tracking software. He’d heard that people at GCHQ were even working on Artificial Intelligence to help them search people out online. He suspected that if such technology was in use it was still at an early stage of development. But he didn’t know that for sure. He was using it as a word processor, storing documents which he checked for clues.
A frantic grunting noise made him look up. The woman’s face had gone a dark purple and sweat was pouring from her head. She was clearly having one of her panic attacks again. He stood up, turned on the TV to generate back-ground noise, went over and partially untied her, placing a warning finger to his lips as he unwound the tape from her mouth. When he’d done this earlier she’d started screaming. He’d needed his lightning reflexes to locate a pressure point at the junction of her neck and shoulder, rendering her unconscious. He doubted that anyone would, have heard her, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
They were in a small, two-bedroom penthouse in a newly constructed apartment block very close to Blackfriars Bridge. So far, the rest of the building remained unsold so it wasn’t as if he had neighbours to worry about. This time Sandra Hall remained quiet. He’d hit the pressure point very hard and when she had come around she was in agony. Roberts had told her, in a very matter of fact voice, that he could have killed her and she would be foolish to risk being hit there again.
With her head and mouth finally clear, the PA sat panting heavily, but showed some signs of regaining her equilibrium. He went to the kitchen and got two glasses of water. First, he untied the women’s left hand and she grabbed one of the offered glasses to quickly down half the contents. She watched as Peter Knight was similarly released so he too could have a drink.
“You don’t need to keep us so tied up you know. We’ve got the message and you’re the boss. When you’re here you can just let us be free. I’m sorry about earlier, I don’t want to get hurt again.”
Despite the reasonable tone of her comments, tears were flowing down her face, he found this stress response deeply fascinating. It was not something he would ever do. He ran the request through his mind and decided to untie them, the woman first then Knight.
“If you start shouting or try to escape I will make it even worse for you. But behave and you can move around and even use the bathroom if you like.”
The woman looked eager. “Could I have a shower? I think I must stink. Some fresh clothes would be useful as well, especially underwear. I’ve been in the same stuff for days now.”
Knight, who had been looking on hopefully spoke, his voice was cracked and weak, betraying his recent treatment. “Me too please. I hate not being clean and having to wear the same clothes day after day. It makes me think that I am going to catch some form of virus or bacteria.”
For the second time, he found himself in agreement with his captives. There was a store nearby which stocked clothes. He was sure he could get something from there. Half-an-hour later he’d left the pair handcuffed to their chairs. There was no way they could be allowed freedom of movement while he was out.
On his return to the flat he was struck by the stench of unwashed bodies. For some reason, he hadn’t really noticed it before. The flat boasted two bathrooms so they had gone off to clean up at the same time.
Knight was out first by quite a margin and then Paul was there as well. He tossed them a leaflet covering a range of local restaurants offering delivery. They both ordered Chinese and when it arrived they devoured it.
As he watched them eat he thought that while it would make no difference to what was going to happen to them, there was no need for them to suffer. He turned his computer off.
“I need to go now and won’t be back until the morning. I’ve decided the best thing is to handcuff you each to a bed, but only on one wrist, so you will have a bit of movement. Don’t try to get out of the restraints. You can’t possibly beat them and will only end up hurting yourselves quite badly.”
As he was attaching the handcuff to Paul’s wrist she looked at him. “Thank you for allowing us some freedom. I can’t tell you what a difference it has made.” She bit her lower lip and looked worried for a moment. “Have you decided what you are going to do? If you let us go I can promise that I won’t tell the police anything about you. You will be quite safe.”
He studied her. “I can sense you’re telling the truth, but I don’t know what to do for the best.” He gave her a brief smile, although there was no warmth in it. “I don’t want to make things really bad for you so if I do decide to kill you both then I will make it painless.”
He stood up and walked out, leaving her lying on the bed, her face white. Even in the context of the last few days his seeming indifference to whether they lived or died had hit her like a hammer blow. She started to cry as she thought of her family and friends and never seeing them again.
Stepping on to the street Mr. Roberts came to a sudden halt, much to the irritation of his fellow pedestrians who had to swerve around him. He’d realised he was going to have to check the other properties he owned; especially nearby Elephant and Castle. He’d need that flat soon so didn’t want any surprises.
17
The DCI had drained the last of his water and was looking thoughtfully at Roper. Normally the younger man would be absorbed by intelligence reports. Instead, he was leaning back in his chair his eyes half closed. He’d seen him do this a couple of times before when he was deep in thought.
They’d been over the Australian drugs report again, this time with the DCI deciding it would be best if he took his most skeptical position. After a couple of hours, he was convinced that Roper had read too much into it. The younger man was now thinking about how he could have made the misjudgment.
As tempting as it was to interrupt him, Hooley thought better. From past experience, he knew that pulling Roper out of one his fugue like states would be like expecting to have a coherent conversation with a teenager freshly prodded out of bed. He picked up another report, this one from the CIA, and carried on reading about links between political groups and drug smuggling.
He was interrupted as Roper suddenly sat up and said. “I think it is starting to make sense.”
Hooley felt his adrenaline flow. “Are you about to tell me what you think has been going on.” If he was hoping to get a positive answer, Roper’s abrupt “No”, soon put him right.
Before he could say anything, Roper went on. “I need to split this into two things. The first is the analysis. I think I have got that all wrong, and I think I may have almost worked out why, but I need your help to make sure I am wrong.”
Hooley shook his head. “You’ve lost me a bit there. You’re wrong and you know you’re wrong, now you want me to prove you’re wrong? Isn’t that a wrong too many?”
Even Roper laughed. “What I’m trying to say is that I need to be totally sure about this. That is the only way I can be just as confident about what has really been going on and causing all the problems.”
“Are you saying you need to clear the decks before you can do anything else?” said Hooley. “I get why you want to be totally certain, but if there is something untoward going on, can we afford to delay a moment longer in letting people know?
“I don’t want to add to the pressure you’re obviously under, but this is national security we’re talking about here. Maybe we don’t have the luxury of being one hundred per cent sure, maybe we have to settle for something lower; say seventy per cent.”
He could tell his words had struck home because Roper tightened but then that familiar stubborn look appeared. It always amazed him how he could dig his heels in.
The younger man said. “I know we need to be as quick as possible, but I have to be totally certain that my analysis is wrong before I shut it down. To make it more confusing; not everything
I’m saying is wrong. I’ve read almost half-a-million words about this so some of it must be OK.
“Not just big reports or news items, but analysis, interpretation and some of it pure speculation. Part of the problem is that we are provided with stuff that may not have been handed over with permission.
“A lot of what I read came from reports put together by the Australian security services, but they don’t know we have it and so I haven’t been able to ask any questions about the details and have just had to take things at face value.”
He had been talking quickly, the words seeming to fight each other on the way out. He added. “I knew you being here would be good. Since I have been able to talk it through with you I have started to see it differently. This is just a domestic incident. I did read too much into it.”
The DCI decided that this was the moment for Roper to take a time-out. He had that bright-eyed look that suggested he was in danger of taking things too personally. He stood up. “I could really do with more coffee. How about you?”
Roper muttered he didn’t want anything so Hooley stepped into the main corridor, matching pace with a woman who was trotting past, but hanging back far enough she wouldn’t think he was a stalker. He was determined to improve his fitness while he was here and was sure fast-walking would do the trick. Nigel looked up as he walked in, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Didn’t expect you here just yet: lunch won’t be ready for a while.”
“That’s fine,” said Hooley. “After that sandwich, I won’t be hungry for a while yet - no, I’ve come in for a coffee.”
A deep frown appeared on Nigel’s face.
“I’m not sure that’s wise after all the coffee you’ve already had.”
Hooley hid a smile, he’d had the foresight to anticipate this conversation.
“Oh no, it’s not for me. It’s for David Cotter who’s just popped in. I just wanted to stretch my legs after sitting at the desk for hours, so volunteered to come and get it.” The lie flowed easily because it had occurred to him while he was heading here that Nigel might well challenge him. Had he looked flustered he knew he would have been sent away empty-handed.
I Can See You: Autistic British Detective: Jonathan Roper Investigates Book 2 Page 7