The Power of One

by Jane A. Adams

  ‘Like what?’ Bridie asked.

  ‘Like it means he had access to the CCTV system, Mum,’ Joy said. ‘Which means either he is an official something or other or he has connections to someone that is or he has a bloody good hacker.’

  ‘You mean he might be able to get someone to hack into the CCTV cameras?’

  Mac nodded. ‘Or, as Joy says, he is able to access them via official or other routes. It would be relatively easy to pick out a particular car. Number plate recognition systems could be set to trigger automatically and Hale or his contacts could track us all the way. Easy enough to intercept us at the services, though it would have been an educated guess as to which one we’d use or if we even stopped at all. Had the guess been mine, I’d have made the same call as Hale. Roughly halfway.’

  He paused, thoughtfully. ‘Bridie, I’m assuming you’ve had this place swept?’

  ‘Oh sure, after that business with Pat and Jimmy, I’ve been what you might call paranoid. I already lost a husband and a son. I don’t take chances now, not with anything. I sent Fitch here on a course, couple of my other people too. This place is checked for bugs and so are the nightclubs.’ She looked speculatively at Mac, jabbed her fork in his direction. ‘You’re thinking phone tap,’ she said.

  ‘I think we might as well make that assumption.’

  ‘But can they do that? I thought you needed Home Office approval or somesuch.’

  ‘Used to be that way,’ Fitch growled. ‘Bridie, pass the chicken over will you. Trouble is, all this anti-terrorist legislation means it’s a good deal easier to get a tap and digital systems make it simpler still. Even local councils can intercept calls if they think they’ve got cause and there’s evidence to say they’ve been using it even if they haven’t.’

  ‘We should assume Hale has the contacts to get it done,’ Mac said. ‘And I think we should be careful what we put out on our mobiles.’

  ‘Maybe we should make use of that,’ Tim said. ‘Feed false information.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Bridie approved, ‘but what happens when we actually want to make a proper call?’

  ‘Ah,’ Fitch said. ‘There are ways round all of that.’

  Just over an hour later, Mac and Tim left the Duggan house. Fitch and Joy were preparing to follow. One small refinement had been made to the original plan and two of Bridie Duggan’s employees were to accompany them on the way back. The woman was slim and blonde and dressed in one of Lydia’s trademark white shirts with a pair of faded jeans. The man was a little more heavily built than Edward, but Fitch was careful to pull the car right up to the entrance and open the rear doors wide before he got in. Any observer would simply catch a glimpse of a man and woman who looked like the de Freitas getting into the Range Rover and then subsequently heading south.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Tim’s phone chimed, telling him that he had a text. His Uncle Charles.

  ‘I didn’t know he knew how to text,’ Tim was impressed.

  ‘What does he say?’ Mac asked.

  ‘Just that I should give him a call. You think we should use the mobile or a public phone?’

  Mac thought about it. ‘I think we should err on the side of caution,’ he said. ‘Find a phone box before we get on to the motorway and see what he wants.’

  A quarter of a mile on, Mac saw a phone box outside of a row of small shops. He pulled into the cutaway at the side of the road and searched his pockets for change. Tim did the same. ‘Can’t remember the last time I did this,’ he said. ‘I hope I can remember how.’

  Mac waited, watching the passing traffic as Tim fiddled with the phone, holding one hand to his ear to cut down the noise of the road. Five minutes later he was back in the car.

  ‘That thing eats money. Any sign of Hale or his cronies?’

  ‘No, nothing so far. So, what did Uncle Charles have to contribute? I don’t imagine there was time for much of a conversation anyway.’

  Tim laughed. ‘He talks fast when he’s excited,’ he said. ‘I just hope I’ve got it all right.’

  He drew a deep breath. ‘Right. Our man Hale. OK, he used to be army then MOD, pretty high-level and dealing not with diplomatic protection but kind of well, I guess witness protection is closest. Anyway, he was removed from post eight months or so ago. Charles says there was some sort of scandal, a conflict of interest. They thought at first that Hale was moonlighting for a private security firm, then found out he’d actually set the company up and was using his contacts to siphon off work that should have been done through official channels. Charles didn’t go into detail, but apparently it was a big deal. However, that didn’t stop Hale from having special status and the MOD from sometimes using his people when they needed something done that was a bit less than official. With me so far?’

  ‘Pretty much.’

  ‘Right. So that was all hunky-dory until a few months back his company was linked to an American security firm that was being investigated for taking kick-backs in Iraq. Hale did work out there during the first Gulf War and seems to have picked up where he left off in the second. But the most relevant thing to us is, he was in a position to have a lot of very confidential information not exactly passing through his hands, but certainly in reach and Charles reckons that Hale is a suspect in a number of really high-profile leaks. Don’t know what was leaked or when, but it all kind of fits, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Well yes, I suppose it does,’ Mac agreed. ‘But his status now? All we’ve experienced suggests that he still has pretty high-level access.’

  ‘Not officially, he doesn’t. But Charles said his contacts gave him the impression that the powers that be are giving him the rope with which to hang himself. They know some of what he’s doing, but I think they’re hoping not only will he provide the proof, but he’ll also tell them just how high up the chain this goes.’

  ‘Andy was right,’ Mac said. ‘This is getting very James Bond.’

  ‘Yeah, but we don’t get to play with the cool gadgets. Anyway, Charles told me to be careful, not to underestimate Hale and so on and he’ll dig a bit deeper as and when he can but he doesn’t want to ring any alarm bells. Hale still has a lot of friends.’

  Mac’s phone rang and he realised to his annoyance that he’d forgotten to plug in the hands-free kit. ‘Do the honours will you, Tim?’

  The caller was DI Dave Kendal. ‘Mac’s driving,’ Tim said. ‘Can I act as go-between?’ He listened, a slow grin spreading across his face. Mac, glancing sidelong at him, could see that he was trying hard not to laugh. He could hear the irritation and outrage in Dave Kendal’s voice and somehow knew that the subject of his annoyance was Rina Martin. It was a thought confirmed by Tim’s next comment. ‘Does she need collecting, or will you give them a lift home? Thanks, I’ll pass the message on.’

  He rang off and then gave way to a fit of what could only be described as giggles.

  ‘OK, what’s she done?’

  ‘Oh, not just Rina. Matthew too. Kendal is furious but he can’t think of what to charge them with so he’s given her a dressing-down and sent her home.’

  ‘Tell,’ Mac said wearily.

  ‘Well, apparently she and Matthew went to meet Abe Jackson at the Marina. He had Lyndsey Barnes with him. Isn’t she Paul’s assistant?’

  ‘She was, yes,’ Mac confirmed. ‘What the hell was she doing with Abe Jackson? For that matter, what was he doing wanting to talk to Rina? So what happened?’

  ‘Rina says she was talking to Abe and Lyndsey, that some tourist couple started to argue and when Matthew went over and asked them to control their language they got very abusive. Abe took exception and a bit of a fracas ensued. She says, of course, that she then thought it her duty to get Matthew out of the way and doesn’t know what happened next.’

  ‘And what did happen next?’

  ‘Kendal says that other witnesses claim Abe and Lyndsey got into a boat and left. The argumentative couple disappeared and then Kendal arrived, by which time the management had alrea
dy called the police and a patrol car had already arrived. He took charge of Rina and Matthew and left uniform to take statements. He says she’s not been very cooperative.’

  ‘Of course not. God, Tim. That woman. Well, we’ll sort out what went on when we get back. The big question now is what on earth Abe has to do with Lyndsey Barnes.’

  ‘She has to have been in trouble,’ Tim said. ‘Why else would Rina have got involved?’

  Mac looked sideways at him. In Rina’s world, he thought, she was some blend of earth mother and superhero. He was uncomfortably aware that he too had been sucked all too willingly into that way of thinking.

  ‘You’re making the assumption that Abe is one of the good guys,’ he said.

  ‘Well, sure. If he was going to do Lyndsey any harm, he wouldn’t have met up with Rina at the Marina and Rina must have given him the benefit of the doubt, or she wouldn’t have made sure he could take the boat.’

  ‘You’re assuming she helped him?’

  ‘Of course she helped him. Why, is another matter, but knowing Rina she had her reasons.’

  The agreement was that Fitch should drive straight to Frantham, but Mac had planned a bit of a detour once they were off the motorway. He was worried about the possibility of Hale intercepting their mobile phone calls and it seemed wise to get an alternative. What he didn’t want to do was to risk Hale getting to know that he’d purchased a new phone and Mac was wary enough of Hale’s seeming connections for him to assume that was possible.

  After the attacks on the London Underground, anti-terrorist legislation had tightened up in all sorts of unexpected ways and Mac knew it was now much harder to buy even a pre-paid mobile phone and not have to register it. True, he could have given a false address, but that seemed like an unnecessary complication. Instead, the plan was to get new SIM cards for their existing phones, use the new numbers for the calls they wanted to keep confidential and then revert to the old SIM for those calls they hoped Hale would intercept.

  Mac made three stops at small shops he recalled sold SIMs. He bought chocolate and bread, milk and SIM cards, then extra credit from two local supermarkets. Briefly, he recalled, there had been a requirement for any store selling more than a set amount of credit to one customer to report the transaction. Mac realised he had no idea if this had ever been made official or if it had now been rescinded. Better, he thought, simply to spread his purchases around.

  ‘I never even knew that,’ Tim said when Mac explained his reasoning.

  ‘It wasn’t widely broadcast,’ Mac said. ‘And I doubt it’s still an issue, but … well, you never know.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘I never thought I’d be so involved in smoke and mirrors. I feel like I’m playing a role here. Like I’ve been caught up in some game Paul de Freitas might have designed and I can’t say I’m comfortable with it.’

  ‘We do seem to be imbuing Hale with almost supernatural powers,’ Tim agreed, ‘but the fact is, two people have died and, I don’t know, I feel like I came pretty close that night. Mac, I don’t like to make a fuss, but I still feel shaky about it. I’ve been in tight spots before, but I honestly thought I might not make it out of that one.’

  Mac nodded. ‘I can understand that,’ he said. ‘And no, I don’t think you’re overreacting, if that’s what you wanted to ask.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Tim said. ‘And Mac, don’t tell Rina how I feel.’

  Mac chuckled softly. ‘I don’t need to,’ he said quietly. ‘Tim, she already knows.’

  Mac halted the car in a lay-by a few miles out from Frantham, realising that it was almost time for Sergeant Baker to shut up shop for the day.

  ‘Just checking in. Anything I should know?’

  ‘Well, Tonino’s has done a roaring trade all day,’ Frank Baker said, referring to the little cafe on the promenade. ‘I’ve said no comment, can’t comment and plain, I really don’t know more times than I can count and your Mrs Martin created some kind of furore at the Old Town marina. Other than that, not a lot. I finally put Andy on the “no comment” duty and he wound up talking cameras with the media lot, but give the boy his due, he kept them off my back. Got more patience than I have.’

  ‘I heard about Rina,’ Mac said. ‘DI Kendal gave me the low-down. Anything else?’

  ‘Well, yes, but I don’t know what to make of it exactly and, Mac, I may have done wrong here but I figured I’d wait to see what you thought before we passed it on up the chain if you see what I mean.’

  ‘No, I don’t think I do.’

  ‘Right, well I went into the office earlier today, saw one of your business cards sitting on the desk, like. Didn’t think any more about it, then Andy spotted it and he said it looked funny and it did when he pointed it out. Laid out square on to the table edge as if someone put it there deliberate like. Not like something you’d have done. Then Andy noticed something written on it. Ian Manning, but it wasn’t your writing. Far too neat. Andy recalled the man on the boat was Ian so we ran the name.’

  Baker paused for effect and Mac prompted him. ‘Anything?’

  ‘Never been arrested, but he has a service record, left the army two years ago. He’s in our system because he applied for and got a doorman’s licence, so we called the nightclub he was working for. The owner reckons he was only there a few months, but he was good at his job and they were sorry to see him go.’

  ‘Why did he go?’

  ‘Offered a better job. More pay, apparently. The nightclub owner thought he remembered Ian saying it was an old colleague of his from his army days, set up some kind of private security firm and he’d offered him a job.’

  Hale, Mac thought. It had to be.

  ‘So, who put the card on my desk?’

  ‘That, I don’t know. But someone got in and left it there. It weren’t there last night, Andy and I both agree on that.’

  ‘Abe Jackson,’ Mac said.

  ‘You reckon?’

  ‘I’d put money on it.’

  THIRTY-NINE

  It had taken more time than he had liked for Richard Grey to finally unravel Paul de Freitas’ hidden level but now he knew how to kill the kraken.

  And he was fairly sure that he knew what the kraken was.

  Still in game mode, his excitement at having mastered it outweighed any implication but as he scanned the list of names that had been revealed in the Power of One file and compared these to the intelligence reports on each one, it finally dawned on him that this elaborate level of the game had real world implications.

  Dawned on him? No, he had anticipated that all along, but caught up in the challenge of playing the level and comprehending the puzzle Paul de Freitas had set, he had, for a time, lost sight of that fact.

  It really was very clever, Richard thought. It was also very disturbing.

  This hidden game inside a game, as he had discovered early on, differed from the rest of Eventide in that it was played from Lydia’s point of view. Lydia had to collect a series of objects and pieces of information from other characters in the game. Together, these gave her the weapon she needed to kill the kraken in the final scene. At each stage of the game she had to fight, to play elaborate games against, or to solve puzzles in competition with, the other characters. All she had to help her was a musical box, the sort you’d give to a little kid with a dancing fairy and a little mirror in the lid. A compartment inside held ‘treasures’, but there was no way of knowing what they were until you pulled one out, or how useful it would be in that part of the game until you tried it.

  Once out of the box, the treasures were kept in a bag Lydia carried and once she had them, she kept hold of them, even if she made a wrong play with one of them against the wrong character.

  The treasures made no sense to Richard. They included a wise owl, and a pair of round-lensed spectacles. A snail with a red shell and a Christmas cracker. Frustrated, Richard decided that the so-called treasures might mean something to Lydia, but to anyone else they were just a nonsense. He’d had to resort to trial and error
… a lot of error, before he’d finally solved enough of the clues and gathered enough of the kraken-killing objects to figure out what the game was all about.

  Worst of all, there were no back doors, no facility for debugging. You just had to play the game.

  Lyndsey, Ray, Lydia herself, Edward, Paul, someone called Ian and two others by the name of Mike and Phil. These were the opponents; the characters with the individual pieces of the puzzle and now Richard had the list of names and the intel about them, it all got very strange.

  Mike Thompson had worked for Paul when he ran his own business. Phil Jameson was a mechanic who regularly helped him service his boat. Both had died within days of Paul de Freitas. One three days before, one on the day following.

  Accidents, the police reports had said. A car crash and a fall from a ladder while clearing the gutters.

  Both had suffered break-ins at home either just before or just after death but nothing obvious had been stolen.

  Lyndsey and Ray were Paul’s closest associates. Neither had turned up for work and they were definitely not at home.

  Lydia and Edward de Freitas, Richard was told, had gone to ground. Ian and Paul were dead and in their cases there was no pretence at making it look accidental.

  ‘So,’ Richard mused. ‘What do we have?’

  He drew up a list of objects and clues that the characters had finally revealed. Lydia had her music box, of course, with all the ‘treasures’ inside. Lyndsey had a newspaper clipping on which a phone number had been written. Ray, something that looked like a missile launcher and Edward, for some reason, a rose bush, though it made more sense, he supposed, when he realised that the rose was named ‘peace’.

  The other two had, respectively, a locker key and an old car, make unknown – at least to Richard. It was weird-enough looking that he supposed a car buff might recognise it.

  Checking that he had everything printed out, he shuffled his pages together and went in search of his boss, remembering only belatedly that he was away on some course or other.