It was obvious the police would need details of Elena’s abductor. I squinted against the brightness and tried to recall the man’s features. Casting my mind back, I pictured the scene I had witnessed: Elena lying on the frozen grass, her abductor staring up at me. I recalled the dark outline of his body, even the condensation emerging from his mouth in the frigid night air, but his face was a total blank.
Panic overtook me. How could I give a description of the man if I had no memory of what he looked like? The search for my sister’s kidnapper depended on me being able to describe his appearance. Tears blurred my vision. My breath came in a rapid series of small gasps. I rushed to the window and stared down at the garden. The hedge separating the property from the road cast long shadows from the streetlight.
The man had been standing by the gate. He twisted around when I banged on the glass. At the time, there couldn’t have been more than twenty yards between us. Why didn’t I remember anything about his face?
I spun away and raced through the doorway to the staircase. Turning the corner at the bottom of the stairs, I immediately noticed the open front door. A blast of freezing air ruffled my hair. I sprinted along the hall and discovered my parents standing in the cover of the porch.
“He was just here,” I screamed, running to the spot on the lawn where I had seen my sister’s motionless body. I learned afterwards that my trampling of the ice-coated grass destroyed any forensic evidence the police might have been able to gather.
My mother broke away from my father. She grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me. “Why didn’t you stop him?”
“I … I …” The words wouldn’t have come out even if I’d known how to answer the question.
My father reappeared beside her. “Leave the boy alone, Mary. He woke us up. There’s nothing more he could have done.”
“My baby,” she wailed. She buried her face in her hands, deep sobs of anguish rocking her shoulders.
“I need to do something,” my father announced. “I’m going out in the car to look for her.” He opened the wooden gate then jogged back towards the red Volkswagen Golf parked at the side of the house. My mother’s gaze followed him as he accelerated onto the road. Seconds later, Cathy joined us, shivering in the sub-zero temperature. Her hand shot out and grasped my own.
Suddenly, my mother seemed to remember her parental responsibilities. “It’s too cold out here for you two. Go and wait in the house.”
Cathy opened her mouth to say something then thought better of it. She pulled me inside to the relative warmth of the hallway. “Don’t worry. They’ll find her.”
I shook my head in silence. She studied me for a second then drew me into a hug. Despite our two-year age difference, we were the same height. After a while, we broke apart and sank to the floor with our backs resting against the wall. We stayed in that position until the distant wail of sirens announced the imminent arrival of the police.
Chapter 20
I put the car in gear, unsure yet of my destination. Jamie had suggested I shouldn’t go home. He also told me to stay away from my sister, Cathy. What other options did I have? My initial thought was to book a cheap hotel. I had no real idea how much it would cost per night. The first course of action was to do some research.
I could have used my mobile, but I needed time to plan my actions. The laptop remained in the boot. One obvious location for connecting to the Internet immediately sprang to mind. The prospect of seeing a friendly face provided an additional incentive.
I reversed onto the road and headed back towards town, my gaze shifting frequently to the rearview mirror. The start of rush hour was still a good ninety minutes away, but traffic was heavier than it had been earlier in the day when travelling in the opposite direction. If somebody was following me, I didn’t spot them.
The pay and display car park was almost full, but I found a space on my second circuit. I paid for a two-hour stay and placed the ticket behind the windscreen. The wind had increased in strength, and the dark grey clouds scudding in from the west hinted at further heavy rain. Glad of the lightweight raincoat, I hunched my shoulders as I made my way along the pedestrianised streets to The Café Corner.
A blast of cold air followed me inside, sending the stack of paper napkins on the nearest table swirling in a mini cyclone. I retrieved the ones within reach and placed the salt and pepper shakers on top to hold them down. The place was approximately a third full, but nobody occupied my favourite spot by the wall. I deposited the laptop bag on the tabletop and headed to the counter.
Molly studied me as I approached, a half-smile curving her lips. At least she didn’t seem to be holding my accusation of the previous night against me. “Hello, Alex. This must be the fourth or fifth time in the last couple of days. Maybe you should think about buying a season ticket.”
“There’s still a problem with the Internet at home, and I have work to do.”
“Work that involves using that special browser?”
When I didn’t answer, Molly stared at me for a second. The smile slipped, and her face turned serious. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business what you do online. What’ll it be, the same as usual?”
“Yes, an Americano please.”
“That’ll be three ninety-nine.”
I handed over a five-pound note. She thanked me and told me she would bring it over.
As I navigated around the tables to my chosen corner, my phone produced a short ping. The icon at the bottom of the display signalled an unread text. I didn’t recognise the sender’s number.
Drawing in a deep breath, I tapped in my PIN and opened the message. The words made no sense, but I immediately recognised the format.
jaasgdqu.onion/login
user2587 / sjY76fR3d
I exhaled slowly through my mouth. Why was Jamie sending me another link to the dark web? What was he mixed up in? I stared at the letters for several seconds. This was how I had landed in this mess in the first place—at least that was my current assumption. Now it seemed he was asking me to repeat the exercise.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I jerked my head up as Molly placed the mug of coffee on the table.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
“Just give me a shout if you need anything else.”
I looked down at the screen again, but it had turned off. My mind spun through the possibilities. Realistically, Jamie had left me no choice. Given the seriousness of my situation, I couldn’t afford to ignore the message.
I pulled the laptop out of the case and plugged in the charger. While the machine clanked into life, I unlocked the mobile’s display once again. For a moment I thought about calling my brother-in-law, but he had explicitly warned me against contacting him.
Eventually, the icons on the computer’s desktop popped into existence. I double clicked the small picture of the Earth. A green progress bar moved from left to right. When it reached the end, a large purple banner proclaimed, “Welcome to Tor Browser.”
I placed the phone on the table and transcribed the website address, username and password into a text file. After checking for mistakes, I copied the address to the clipboard and pasted it into the browser window. When I hit the return key, an untitled white dialogue box appeared. As on the previous occasion, the form requested the account details. After transferring the information from the document, I moved the cursor over the OK button and tapped the touchpad.
My heart thudded against my chest as I waited for the webpage to load. After a short delay, the display updated. The page seemed identical to the one from the previous day. As before, a toolbar occupied the upper area of the screen. This time, however, it offered four options: All Jobs, Your Current Jobs, Your Completed Jobs and Create a Job.
The blue underlined text informed me I was looking at the first of those. A single entry in the table contained fields running down the page; Click for job details, Postcode: RG27, Initial fee: £7000, Bids: 3, Lowest bid: £5400, Completion d
eadline: Friday 31st July 2020, Time remaining: 00:00:27.
The mobile pinged, signalling the arrival of another text message, but my eyes remained glued to the laptop’s display. As I watched, the timer continued to count down. Determined not to make the same mistake as on the previous occasion, I pressed the Print Screen button to capture a screenshot. Next, I opened the word processing application and pasted the clipboard contents into the document.
By the time I returned to the webpage, fifteen seconds remained. The number of bids had risen to six, and the lowest bid was now five thousand two hundred pounds. If this was what I suspected, I was witnessing a contract being placed to end somebody’s life. A sickening feeling hit me in the stomach like a physical blow. The postcode provided the clue. It wasn’t complete, but the first four characters matched those of my own property.
I rolled my finger across the trackpad, selected the Click for Job Details link and tapped the left button. A shiver ran through my body as my eyes ranged over the text.
Termination required with immediate effect. The subject is an unsuspecting single male aged 34 with no training in assassination evasion techniques. Address and additional information will be provided to the successful bidder. Full payment on notification through news channels.
I stabbed a finger onto the Print Screen key and once again pasted the clipboard contents to the document. When I switched back to the Tor program, the job details had disappeared, and the page had reverted to the All Jobs screen. The onscreen table was now empty.
For several seconds, I stared at the laptop display. I had little doubt as to the identity of the unsuspecting subject referred to in the contract description. The age and the postcode matched my own. Why else would Jamie have sent me the login details?
I placed my head in my hands and let out a low moan. The sound must have been louder than I imagined because a handful of my fellow customers glanced in my direction. I remained in the same position for two or three minutes, my brain refusing to operate as waves of dizziness washed over me. A single thought kept spinning through my mind; a professional killer was being paid to murder me.
Eventually, my breathing slowed, and I regained a modicum of self-control. I switched back to the word processor and saved the file before rereading the text. The description was vague enough to apply to a large number of people. But no matter how much I tried to convince myself it didn’t refer to me, the coincidences stacked up far too high. But what should I do?
A growing determination overcame my initial panic as I forced myself to think logically. The first task was to check whether I could glean any more information from the website. Returning to the Tor browser, the All Jobs page remained empty. I clicked the Your Current Jobs option; that was a similar story. Your Completed Jobs also came up blank.
As I focused on the words, a question occurred to me; did the titles refer to contracts placed or contracts accepted? The last alternative, Create a Job, implied I had the ability to place a contract. However, when I switched to the page, a message stated that the account held insufficient funds. A button labelled Add Funds presumably provided the means to rectify the situation.
The time for caution was long past, so I clicked the button. A form popped up. A blank box marked Amount occupied the top. To the right were the words, Minimum payment £5000. Below that lay another button containing the text, Pay by Bitcoin.
I had heard about Bitcoin in the news, but my knowledge extended to little more than the basics. I knew it was a digital currency and that the exchange rate to hard currencies fluctuated with demand. Rapidly increasing values had brought a flood of speculators, who saw their investment rise by several hundred per cent. I had overheard some of my fellow teachers in the staff room at school discussing whether to purchase a few, but I had no idea where to even start.
“Is something wrong with your drink?”
I looked up sharply to see Molly standing a short distance away.
“It doesn’t look like you’ve touched it,” she added.
“No, it’s fine thanks. I’ve ... um ... been a bit engrossed and totally forgot about it.”
“I can heat it up for you in the microwave.”
“Okay,” I replied. “Yeah, why not?”
She smiled and picked up the mug. I watched as she returned to the serving area. I switched my focus back to the webpage. Once again, I recorded a screenshot and added it to the document.
There was little else to learn from the site, so I closed down the Tor Browser and the word processing program. My thoughts reverted to my situation. I couldn’t go home. Jamie had told me that was the first place they would look for me. The idea of staying in a hotel still ranked highly on my list of possibilities. I could hide away until the deadline passed, and the solitude would provide me with plenty of time to come up with a better plan.
Turning back to the laptop, I started a conventional browser. I navigated to a search page and typed cheap hotels near Basingstoke into the box. Travelodge came up at the top of the results. I had used the chain before and knew they provided no-frills accommodation at various locations across the country. Several clicks later, I had selected a single room for four nights at a place six miles away. The grand total summed to a little over two hundred and fifty pounds.
I clicked on the Book Now button. The site offered me the option to check in as a guest but still required a name and email address. I tapped in my details and scrolled to the payment section at the bottom of the page. Removing a card from my wallet, I entered the account information, moved the mouse pointer over the Make Payment text and tapped the touchpad. The wait cursor spun around for several seconds, then a message box popped up informing me my bank had declined the transaction.
I frowned at the screen. The last time I had checked, my account was in credit by at least seven thousand pounds. I had planned to use this money to pay for my expensive holiday. I re-entered the information, checking each digit carefully as I typed. Once again, I clicked the payment button. Moments later, the same error message appeared.
How could this get any worse? Had the police blocked my account? As children, my parents frequently lectured us about the lure of easy finance and the perils of falling into debt. As a consequence, I had never owned a credit card. Now I regretted following their advice. With no method to pay, the hotel was no longer a viable solution.
Despite my brother-in-law’s warning, approaching the police seemed like the only remaining option. If I told them the whole story, surely they would protect my sister and her family. With the hard proof I possessed, they would have to take me seriously. The search warrant for my house still worried me, but I had committed no crime. When they examined the evidence, it would all become clear.
As it turned out, I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Chapter 21
I shut down the laptop and packed it away in the carry case. Now I had come to a decision, a huge weight had lifted from my shoulders. I still needed to plan how to contact the police. My instinctive reaction was to call 999.
The other option was to telephone the female sergeant, Susie Mayhew. She had taken my original witness statement, and I had kept her card in my wallet. There was little doubt in my mind that the dark web page provided the links between the threats to my life, the double murder and the search of my house. But would she talk to me? The last time we had spoken on the phone, she practically hung up on me. She might not even be on duty.
The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that I should call the emergency services. I could let them know my current location and wait for their arrival. Surely no hitman would make an attempt on my life in front of witnesses.
As my hand reached for the phone, Molly returned with my coffee. “There we go. All warmed up again.”
I thanked her and waited until she was out of earshot before picking up the mobile. As I extended my finger to unlock the screen, the jangle of the bell above the door signalled a new arrival. I raised my eyes to watch
as a blast of cold air sent the napkins on the tabletop nearest the entrance flying again despite my earlier precautions.
The newcomer made no move to pick them up. He stood in the open doorway, surveying the interior, seemingly oblivious to the irritated stares of the seated customers. A second smaller man, carrying a small backpack, muttered “Excuse me” as he edged around the first. Another gust toppled the menu holder on the adjacent table. Eventually, the man stepped inside.
He was in his late twenties with close-cropped brown hair. As he strolled towards the counter, he unzipped the grey, leather jacket he wore over a black T-shirt and blue jeans. A gold stud through his left earlobe flashed in the light reflected from the polished chrome surface. He carried the air of somebody who knew how to look after himself. It was clear from his physique that he spent a lot of time at the gym. Every eye in the place studied him as he spotted Molly and spoke to her in a low voice. She leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. His face cracked into a grin as he reached out a hand and caressed her forearm.
The room seemed to utter a collective sigh of relief and the volume of conversation rose once again as the man crossed the tiled floor and pulled out a chair at the table two down from mine. He sensed me inspecting him and met my stare. I looked away. This had to be the boyfriend Molly had mentioned.
In a sudden burst of insight, my brain settled on a new theory. My mind flashed back to what she had told me about him spending a lot of time on the dark web. The link was inescapable. Suddenly it all made perfect sense. He must have gained access to my laptop when I had accidentally left it behind the previous night. No wonder she had been curious about my activity on the Tor browser. How much did she know about his activities? Had she called him to tell him I was here again?
My head spun in a panic. In an instant, all thought of waiting for the police to arrive disappeared. As my gaze darted about the room searching for a way out, a flash of pink at the next table caught my eye. At first, my conscious mind failed to pick up the incongruity of the scene, but something dragged my attention back. The man who had entered the café behind Molly’s boyfriend held a mobile in his hand—a bright pink mobile with yellow stars dotted across the rear.
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