by Jem Tugwell
That was quick, Clive thought and opened the message.
‘Thank you for contacting Inspector Bisset. Requests from the UK are routed via our External Foreign Police Forces Department. Issues that related directly to Pan-European members are given priority. Your request will be given due consideration and if you do not have a reply within five working days, please contact us again.’
‘Thanks for nothing,’ Clive said.
Chapter 75
Zoe sat beside Clive in the conference room in the New Scotland Yard office opposite Bhatt and Lance.
The damp patches on her clothes had dried, but had left thin, dark, jagged rings at the edge of their existence. Clive had stopped steaming, and his suit had a brittle, crisp look to it. He emitted an odour that reminded Zoe of a trip to a farm as a kid. They hadn’t wanted to break the journey for clean clothes. Too important a case. Too much risk of Lilou trying to escape.
Not that she had tried. She seemed as determined as them to find Serge. She was in an interview room somewhere below them, answering Lance’s team’s questions.
Bhatt beamed. ‘Congratulations you two. Excellent work.’
Lance was frowning and looking into the distance, like he was trying to detach himself from Bhatt’s words.
‘Clive, taking the hand like that was reckless and stupid,’ Bhatt continued. Then with a soft shake of her head, ‘And very brave.’
Clive gave a dismissive shrug and his leg started jiggling under the table. Zoe reached over and touched him on the shoulder to comfort him. His hands had shaken most of the journey back to London and he still seemed like he was somewhere else. Thinking about something else. Someone else.
Zoe pulled her hand away, remembering the water that had drenched him and wiped her hand on her trousers. Everything would be straight in the clothes processor when she got home.
‘Don’t you agree, Lance?’ Bhatt said.
Lance shifted in his seat. ‘Sure, yeah. Of course. London was the obvious target and I’m glad that I sent these two to Wales. Important to cover all the possibilities on a case like this.’
Zoe couldn’t believe Lance’s blatant twist on reality, but he was too many ranks above her to challenge him. Clive didn’t even seem to notice.
As Bhatt looked at Lance, Zoe thought there was a cold, assessing glare in Bhatt’s eyes, like her bullshit detector had flashed red.
Zoe allowed herself a small smile. Bhatt has the measure of Lance.
‘Clive,’ Bhatt said softly, but he didn’t respond so Zoe risked another gentle touch on his shoulder.
‘Boss.’
Clive seemed to become aware of the room and his eyes focused on Zoe, then Bhatt.
‘Clive, Zoe told me that you blame yourself for Ava, but you mustn’t. She was unbelievably brave and saved lives. It was her decision. We’ll all miss her, but it wasn’t your fault.’
Clive dropped his head but said nothing.
When he looked up again, he said, ‘We need to find the bastards behind the attack. They need to pay for what they did to Ava.’
‘I agree,’ Bhatt said. ‘Give me ideas.’
‘It’s a state-sponsored terror attack from a foreign power trying to destabilise the country. We’ve had lots of groups claiming responsibility,’ Lance said.
‘Any look like they actually did it?’ Bhatt asked.
‘Nothing yet, ma’am.’
Zoe noticed Clive’s leg was jiggling again, and the shake was back in his hands. He slid his hands under the desk. Must be delayed shock, Zoe thought.
‘Ma’am?’ Zoe said, hesitant to venture too much unsolicited.
‘What is it?’
‘Um,’ Zoe said. ‘Clive and I were watching the news streams in the car on the way back to London.’
‘And.’
‘Obviously lots of people were talking about the explosions. They might have more local motives for the attacks.’
‘Really?’ Lance said with a dismissive sneer. ‘You need serious clout to put this attack together.’
‘Sure,’ Clive said with a crack in his voice. ‘But you need something to gain from it. Otherwise, it’s pointless.’
‘Terror attacks are,’ Lance said, keeping the sneer in his voice strong. ‘They want to prove they have the capability to hit hard at the centre of us. Try and scare us.’
‘Clive and I discussed some other possibilities,’ Zoe offered.
Lance let out a half-laugh, but Bhatt said, ‘Go on.’
‘The Church of New Modelists have seen a surge of new members since the attacks started. Lots of people are deserting the traditional faiths because they feel that they’re not relevant to modern life.’
‘That’s a cult not a church,’ Lance said.
‘That’s more reason it could be them. Their Ultras have a hard edge to them,’ Clive said.
‘And Issac Townsend was talking about a new political arm on the news today,’ Zoe added.
‘Not very likely,’ Lance said. ‘Load of nutcases. Anyway, the Model doesn’t like risks and they live by the Model.’
‘The Model controls their risks. Not foreigners. So, they could have used foreigners to do their dirty work,’ Clive said.
But Lance was shaking his head. ‘You got anything better than that?’
‘Climate catastrophe protesters,’ Zoe said. ‘They’re everywhere at the moment.’
‘But they’re all liberal do-gooders,’ Lance said.
‘And all the protests have been very peaceful,’ Bhatt added.
‘There were lots of interviews with protesters fed up with the empty promises of a government claiming to focus on climate change and then doing nothing.’
‘Don’t think so,’ Lance said.
‘You don’t think that a few protesters might consider that eleven lives lost now is a fair price to save the planet?’ Zoe said. ‘Your generation has done nothing but damage the planet. You’ve done nothing to save my generation’s future.’ She ended with emphasis, worrying she had gone too far. But it was true. Lots of talk and promises, but no change. It might already be too late to save the planet. What about any children Zoe might have? What sort of world would they live in? If any?
Bhatt and Lance looked at Zoe.
‘I don’t like your tone, Zoe,’ Bhatt said. ‘But I hear your point.’
Lance scoffed next to her.
‘Then there’s iMe,’ Clive said.
‘Oh, here we go.’ Lance laughed. ‘Enter the inevitable government conspiracy theory – from the anti-iMe detective.’
Clive shrugged. ‘Doesn’t stop it being a possibility. The Ministry of Well-being and Health are already calling for more powers to counter the threat and add new functions to the iTourist. They’re asking for more iMe controls as well. It wouldn’t be the first time that a government department was behind domestic violence and used the public’s fear to increase their own budget and power.’
‘Look, Lussac,’ Lance said. ‘I deal with cyber attacks from foreign governments every day. They’re always probing and looking for weakness. That’s where we need to focus.’
‘You got any evidence?’ Clive asked, but Lance flicked a dismissive hand in Clive’s direction.
‘Run along home and change out of that stinky suit and leave the thinking to the grown-ups. You too, Jordan.’
Chapter 76
Lance had given Zoe a disinterested ‘whatever’ when she asked if it was OK to work from the PCU office today. ‘The real terrorists are abroad, not in Slough,’ he had added.
Bhatt was more supportive and had messaged: ‘I need to show support for Lance in his Cyber Terrorism work, but I’ve been thinking about your suggestions. They have merit. Carry on digging.’
Now, Clive and Zoe were perched on the edges of the corral of desks in the PCU office.
‘You’re still a scruffy mess, Boss,’ Zoe sighed.
Clive had stuffed his suit in the clothes processor when he got home but forgotten to take it out when the buzzer so
unded. It should have been nice and clean, and crisp, but instead his suit wore stubborn creases that had refused to fall out with wearing.
Clive shrugged. ‘I’m an old dog and that clothes processor is definitely a new trick.’ He looked at the display wall in the PCU office, which was connected to Zoe’s HUD and had one word on it: Serge.
Clive could still feel Ava’s presence in the room, a sweet, little voice saying, Find them, Clive. The voice changed and became hard and demanding. Don’t let my death be in vain.
He owed it to Ava. He couldn’t fail, whatever Lance bloody Grannum said.
‘So, while the grown-ups think about foreign governments and diplomacy,’ Clive started and pushed his hands into his pockets. ‘We need to find out about Serge.’
‘Sounds good, Boss.’ Zoe put a little smiling emphasis on ‘Boss’. Clive half-smiled back. It was good to work with her again in the PCU offices, but Ava’s absence drained the room.
‘Ideas?’
‘What PCU always do. Trace iMe signals.’
Clive frowned. ‘Serge won’t have a signal.’
Zoe lifted her eyebrows. ‘Obviously.’
She selected a contact on her HUD and pressed her jaw to make a call.
‘Tech Support, this is Rob,’ the voice said over the display wall speaker.
‘Hi, Rob, been a while. This is Zoe.’
‘Zoe, how’s tricks?’ He seemed pleased to hear from her. They had spoken a lot on the last case.
‘You know the four iTourist disconnects? I need the details of anyone who searched for them before they disconnected.’
‘OK. Wait.’ Clive could hear sighing and clicks as Rob ran a search. After a few seconds, he said, ‘You’re in luck, Zoe. Multiple searches, but all from the same account: Chile Gaming Services, Inc.’
‘OK. Any other details?’
‘The account was set up a month ago. It only ran searches for those four and is now closed. I’ll send you the details.’
‘Thanks, Rob,’ Zoe said and dropped the call.
‘Chile is a long way from Rouen, but it must be Serge if he’s the one controlling the game,’ Clive said.
‘Agreed.’
The message from Rob arrived on Zoe’s HUD as he promised. Zoe took the details and opened windows and ran searches. The results all told the same story. Chile Gaming Services, Inc was a shell company set-up for the game. It was open for only a few months, but the bank account had been very active.
The accounts showed a lot of money coming into the account from all over the world. Millions of Pan-European dollars. The only outgoing payments were the ones to pay for the iMe searches and a single payment to a Cayman Islands bank that emptied the account.
‘We need to tell iMe to be more thorough on their account set up process,’ Clive said. ‘Otherwise, it’s a dead end.’
‘Maybe not,’ Zoe said. ‘Cyber might be able to trace the location of the computer that set up the account and ran the searches.’
‘Oh, they can do that?’
‘Maybe, depends on how clever Serge is.’
‘Send them a request for a search,’ Clive said, but Zoe shook her head.
‘It’s better to send them one request with everything. And I think there’s more we need to ask them.’
‘OK,’ Clive conceded. Zoe knew better than him how Cyber worked. ‘Let’s look at the account Lilou gave us on the gamers’ forum.’
Zoe had started the login process before Clive had finished talking. She entered Lilou’s username and password and pressed ‘Login’.
The screen opened onto an ‘AR Gamerplay Elite’ window.
Lilou had hundreds of unread messages, which all seemed to be about the ‘Forbidden Island’ or other gamers’ support for her.
Zoe scrolled down. And down. She found the message Lilou had described with her joining instructions for the selection process. Her meeting point inside Rouen Cathedral.
It didn’t tell them anything that she hadn’t already said, except Lilou couldn’t remember the exact name of the account that the message had come from. She’d only remembered CGS even though she had played a lot of their games. Now they knew the full name: ‘CGS Game Master’.
‘CGS has got to be Chile Gaming Services,’ Zoe said as she took copies of the message and the details of the account. She added them to a draft message she was composing for Cyber.
Clive didn’t respond. He was scratching his ear like a dog chasing a flea. Finally, he cornered an idea he was hunting down.
‘Femi was the only one of The Four who got to their target. His controller could have recognised that he was at the finish, but Tatsuko was clearly trying to get somewhere else when her’s…’ He gulped. ‘When… you know. Lilou’s finish wasn’t the water and Sully’s wasn’t at that military base.’
‘So?’
‘So, those game controllers definitely had GPS tracking to tell the players where they were and how far they had left. I don’t think they blew up on their own. Serge was watching their progress. Like he did when they still wore the iTourist. Lilou’s controller started counting down after the car started moving faster than a person walking. I think that Serge sent a message to the controller to get it to blow up.’
‘Plausible,’ Zoe said.
‘Can you ask if Cyber can trace those messages as well?’
‘I can.’
Zoe went silent as she spent a few minutes on the message to Cyber with their three requests for more information. Their three chances.
Finally, Zoe pressed ‘Send’.
And they waited. Hoping for some good news.
Clive touched his shoulder where he imagined Ava waited for him to avenge her.
Give me something to work with, he thought.
Chapter 77
Several hours later, there was still no information from Cyber.
The display wall showed one of the news channels. They had nothing new to report and had reverted to their usual speculation and scare mongering, dressed as fact. The experts on terror, religion, politics and the impact on the economy all had a lot to say. Nearly all of it started, ‘It might mean…’ or ‘It could mean…’ There was speculation on when and where the next attacks would be. Speculation about Russia, China and Pan-Europe. All opinion dressed as news.
As the hours passed, the news channels seemed to be in a loop. The same faces: the Prime Minister’s statement from the morning, the Home Secretary, experts, Issac Townsend, the eco-catastrophe protests, Miles Raven, the shots of the impromptu tributes and flowers at the broken steps of Stormont and the scorched grass of Parliament Square. Even candles by the water in Cardiff.
They repeated. Different experts saying the same thing. The only thing that changed was the growing size of the shrines at the bomb sites.
It was like the whole country was holding its breath, waiting. Praying.
The PCU ‘Requiring Action’ queue stayed thankfully empty. No more missing tourists.
‘We’re all so used to a crime-less existence, that the fear from these attacks is magnified tenfold,’ Clive said.
‘I know. We need to find who’s responsible,’ Zoe agreed, not taking her eyes from her messages.
‘Anything?’ Clive asked for the hundredth time.
‘No,’ Zoe said, with the forced patience of a parent answering the ‘are we there yet’ question from the back seat of a car.
‘Have you seen this?’ Clive asked and threw an image at the PCU office display wall.
The wall showed an image of Rouen Cathedral. Built all those centuries ago, before power tools and cranes. The spectacular Flamboyant Gothic architecture with its pinnacles, gables and statues must have taken years. No one has the time, money or skills to build something like that now, Clive thought.
The cathedral’s two towers framed each edge of the image, with three arched doors and intricate stone carvings joining the towers. From the angle of the image, only the top of the huge central spire was visible.
‘Yep,’ Zoe said. ‘So what?’
‘That tower on the right, the yellower one. You know it’s called the Butter Tower?’
‘Yes, because of the colour.’
Clive shook his head. ‘That’s one story, but I prefer the story about the citizens of Rouen missing their local butter so much during Lent, that they bribed the church to let them carry on eating it. Catholics call it Indulgencies. Eat what you like and then pay away your sins. Look at the size of the tower. That’s a lot of butter eaten to build something that big.’
‘So?’ Zoe shrugged and carried on looking at her message queue.
‘Zoe, come on,’ Clive nagged. ‘It’s like now. The Model Citizen and Freedom Units are like Lent all year round, telling you what you can and can’t eat. We should have Indulgences built into the iMe. I’d pay for chocolate.’
Zoe rolled her eyes. ‘Mum told me about your diabetes. How can you still think about food and breaking out of the Model, when it’s keeping control of your diabetes? You could die.’
Clive looked down at his feet and swung his leg back and forward under him. He was so much older than Zoe, but he had a very clear vision of his mum telling him off in the kitchen with half-melted chocolate around his mouth.
‘I like it,’ was all he said.
I need it, was what he was thinking. What else have I got?
***
Four o’clock in the afternoon and Clive and Zoe were still waiting. He could feel his guilt of Ava’s death pressing down on his shoulders.
‘They’ll be snowed under with requests,’ Zoe said in answer to Clive’s latest request about a response from Cyber.
Clive went back to looking at the display wall and his throat closed and caught in a half-cough. The cameras were at the site of Ava’s death. A large crowd had gathered. Lots of eco-protesters, plus some others waiting for the promised attendance of the Prime Minister to lay some flowers as a tribute, but she was already late. The debate in the Commons had gone on longer than expected and the news channel’s presenter was struggling to fill the time. She had tried a few people waiting on the edge of the grass, but only got some bland ‘super sad’ or terrified ‘what’s the government doing’ style responses.