Invasion of Privacy: A Deep Web Thriller #1 (Deep Web Thriller Series)

by Ian Sutherland

  “You said you should have checked something. What was it?” asked Gibb.

  “The bank account details within the PayPal account. They don’t belong to Keeble; they belong to Peggler. The clever bastard set up the email and PayPal account in an email address that looked like it belonged to Ronald Keeble, but everything within the account is Peggler’s. It’s impossible to make PayPal work without a real credit check, but you can use any email address you control as the account name.”

  “Clever. So Peggler was able to pay for SWY using PayPal linked to an account that, at first glance, looked as though it belonged to someone else.”

  “Yes.”

  “But the police would have worked this out eventually.”

  “Maybe. But it gives him plenty of time to run for cover. He sees the police arrest Keeble and off he goes.”

  “So why have you got me driving like a lunatic towards Docklands?”

  “Because the two police officers I’m worried about have gone to Flexbase, where Peggler is waiting to meet them.”

  “What’s the big deal?”

  “They’re both women.”

  Gibb put his enormous foot down.

  * * *

  You don’t know whether to be angry or happy.

  Angry that your source of gullible women is gone or happy that the policewoman is still alive. That she somehow survived the fall when you prised her fingers off the railing.

  Angry that they’ve tracked down your account on SecretlyWatchingYou or happy that they’ve fallen for your little insurance trick that pointed them towards that disgusting homo who worked in the CCTV control room.

  Angry that you’ll soon need to run and hide or happy that the policewoman brought you a nice friend to play with for when you’ve finished with her.

  The shock on her face when you put on the hat and sunglasses was comical. You laughed like you haven’t laughed in a long time. You were already laughing from watching them hunt down the non-existent queer in the datacentre. That was so fucking funny. You couldn’t believe they would be gullible enough to have fallen for that.

  And hadn’t you done well? Thinking on your feet like that. You hadn’t expected two of them to show up. One you could easily handled with your massive dagger, but two? That was too risky. Tricking them into the datacentre was so damn clever of you. And making them leave their mobile phones behind, that was a masterstroke. As if phones affect computer equipment! What a joke.

  You are a fucking genius, if you do say so yourself.

  And your genius has no end tonight.

  You watch the policewoman throw a blade server from one of the racks at the window. It bounces off harmlessly. She is swearing at you.

  “Sshh,” you say to her, loudly enough for her to hear. She stops shouting.

  You turn your tablet computer around and place it flat on the window so that she can see it. She comes up close. You look at her cleavage while she looks at the screen. You feel the movement in your boxers below. Ooh, looks like someone wants to come out and play.

  “Look at this,” you say. “These are the controls for the hypoxic fire suppression system.”

  She looks confused. The other one too.

  “It regulates the amount of oxygen inside the datacentre where you are now. It’s normally set at fifteen per cent. High enough to breath but low enough to prevent combustion.”

  Understanding settled on her face. The other one too.

  “Yes, as you can see, I’ve set it to lower the mix to below five per cent oxygen.”

  Panicking, the whores looked around the computer room helplessly.

  “It might take about ten minutes, but soon you will become faint and fall unconscious. There is nothing you can do to stop it.”

  They shout at you. Pleading. But you ignore them.

  “And when you are unconscious, I will come in there and then we’re going to have some fun.”

  For effect, you lift your dagger in front of you. They haven’t seen it until now.

  You watch the horror on their faces and laugh.

  You have a major hard-on now.

  But you must be patient.

  * * *

  As they flew down Commercial Street, Spitalfields Market on the right, Brody slammed his fist on the dashboard.

  He felt so powerless.

  He’d already caused the death of one person close to him today. He couldn’t bear to be the cause of another.

  They were still at least fifteen minutes away; even with Gibb’s race car driving.

  Gibb had called for backup and the same armed response unit that had raided Brody’s apartment was now regrouping and heading over towards Docklands. But they would take even longer to get there.

  Brody had called O’Reilly, the only other number he had of anyone on Jenny’s team. The only reason he had it was because of the non-existent school bullying trick he’d pulled on Wednesday morning, which had enabled Brody to meet Jenny alone. O’Reilly was still at Patrick Harper’s apartment. He explained the situation and asked for Da Silva and Coombs’s numbers. O’Reilly complied, saying he would head over to Flexbase immediately, as he was only a mile or so away. He’d be there fairly quickly if he were able to hail a taxi.

  Brody phoned Da Silva but got voicemail. Alan Coombs picked up and listened to Brody’s story. He swore a lot and then told him to leave it with them.

  But they would all be powerless when they got there. The Flexbase physical security systems were top notch. Without the right access, no one could get in. Peggler would have all the time in the world to do whatever he wanted.

  Unless . . .

  Brody powered on his tablet PC and connected to the Internet again.

  “What are you doing now?” asked Gibb.

  “Hacking into Flexbase.”

  “From here in the car? That’s impossible.”

  But Gibb didn’t know that Brody already had full access to the Flexbase systems from his hacking session the day before when he’d got hold of the IP addresses and found the Windsor meeting room booking that had enabled Jenny to save Sarah McNeil’s life.

  “I broke in there yesterday. I already have the access I need.”

  “See, it’s exactly that kind of behaviour that would go down so well in GCHQ.”

  “Not now, eh?”

  Brody logged in and negotiated his way through to the CCTV system. He began combing through the video feeds, searching for movement. Eventually, he found what he was looking for.

  “Fuck.”

  Jenny and Fiona were in the main datacentre, on the floor, their backs to the wall opposite the main entrance. Their eyes were shut. They weren’t moving.

  He found the audio, but could only hear the air conditioning system.

  Then he heard Jenny cough and splutter. What the hell was going on?

  Where was Peggler? He looked around and discovered him in the room outside. He was just standing there, turning a massive dagger over and over in his hands, as if he was waiting for something.

  Gibb leaned over for a brief look. “That’s fucking impressive.”

  Brody found his way through to the building control system.

  He saw the fire alarm systems and, next to it, the emergency public address system for the building. He patched his computer in, selected the speakers on the datacentre floor and began talking.

  He kept the two CCTV feeds playing, showing him Peggler in one, and Jenny and Fiona in the other.

  “Jenny, its Brody. Can you hear me?”

  There was no reaction.

  Damn. He checked the settings, making sure the microphone was turned on. It was. Just as he was about to re-examine the building control system settings, he saw movement.

  Jenny and Fiona both opened their eyes, looking around in confusion.

  Peggler gave no reaction. He was unable to hear Brody.

  Brody realised there was a time lag as video and audio made its way back over the Internet to his PC.

  “Jenny, are you
okay? What the hell is going on there?”

  After a long moment, she replied. She said one word before breaking into a cough and splutter. “Oxygen.”

  And immediately Brody understood what Peggler was doing.

  He quickly flipped back to the building control system, tracked down the hypoxic air control system he’d noticed yesterday and saw that the oxygen levels had been lowered beneath five per cent. Peggler was waiting for them to fall unconscious before going in. Fuck.

  Brody quickly raised the oxygen bar as high as it would go, but he had no idea how quickly or slowly the system worked.

  Glancing out the car window, he got his bearings. “Jenny, we’re ten minutes away. There’s an armed response unit on the way. I’m hacked into the Flexbase systems. I’ve reset the oxygen levels; hopefully you’ll start to feel it come through very soon. Peggler can’t hear me. Give me a sign you’ve heard this.”

  Jenny lay prone with her back to the wall. He thought he heard her whisper something, but couldn’t catch it.

  “Fuck, there’s nothing else I can do.” His voice rose in utter desperation. “I’m so sorry Jenny. For everything.”

  And, after a minute, he watched Fiona fall to one side.

  And then Jenny.

  * * *

  You watch and wait. You have been patient.

  You will make these good ones. You won’t waste the opportunity like before. You’ll make this the best one ever. Perfection. And then repeat it again with her friend. Or maybe you’ll swap the order. You’re not sure. You’ll decide when you get in there.

  You head into the CCTV control room inner office and find the emergency oxygen mask. You chuckle to yourself. You’ll need that.

  Once you’ve checked they’re nice and unconscious, you’ll reset the oxygen levels. After all, you want them alive when you fuck them. When you hold a knife to their throats and make them squeeze tight.

  You remember you’ll need rope and retrieve some from your bag. You’ll need to tie them both up good and tight. Can’t have one sneaking up behind you while you’re otherwise engaged, can you?

  With everything set, you hold your security pass up to the double doors and type in your code. The first door slides open. You’re confident the additional weight of the tablet PC, knife, mask and rope is within tolerance levels. You remove your shoes and leave them outside just to be safe, to balance out the weight. It wouldn’t be smart to get trapped in there. That would be silly.

  The door closes behind you. After a slight pause, the door in front slides open.

  You’re in, breathing through the oxygen mask.

  There’s a strange background noise. The air conditioning sounds different. But then you realise it must be because of the oxygen mask.

  You can already feel your hard-on returning in the excitement.

  You walk across the empty space to the other side of the room.

  You look down at the two prone bodies. They are both beautiful. This will be amazing.

  But which one should you choose first? Do you want the policewoman first, the one that looks most like her? Or do you want to save the policewoman to last? But then you’re thinking about how long you might have to wait in-between. You’ll need time to get it up again. And what if you can’t? It’s happened before.

  You kick the legs of the other one, the policewoman’s friend. No reaction.

  A voice booms out from all around. You look up in complete confusion.

  Magnus Peggler, stop where you are! We have the place surrounded. Drop the knife.

  You freeze, completely baffled. You look around, but there’s no one there.

  And then you are hit in the stomach and begin to stumble backwards.

  * * *

  Jenny threw herself with all her might at Peggler.

  She was weak, she knew that, but it was the only moment when he would be distracted enough.

  Brody’s voice had given her the chance they needed. She could sense Fiona right behind her.

  She felt a crashing blow on the back of her head and she lost her grip, falling face down to the floor. She could see Peggler’s shoeless feet retreating backwards. He had dropped his tablet PC but held onto the knife.

  She saw Fiona run past her and then suddenly halt.

  Peggler was waving his huge dagger in front of him, side to side in slashing movements. It was a defence tactic, but it would be lethal to charge him now, unarmed as they were.

  Jenny picked herself up off the floor and stood side by side with Fiona.

  “Drop the knife, Peggler.”

  “You’re under arrest.”

  “Nooooo!” he wailed in his high-pitch voice, retreating backwards towards the exit.

  Jenny and Fiona advanced in unison, keeping the same distance.

  Be careful, Jenny.

  Brody’s voice emanated from the speakers.

  Slowly Peggler made it back to the exit. Still slashing the knife in front of him, he pressed his pass on the security sensor and furtively typed in his code. The door began to open.

  Let him go, Jenny, advised Brody’s voice. He’ll never make it outside.

  She wanted to charge into him, but it would be too dangerous.

  Peggler stepped backwards into the tube.

  She screamed out in frustration.

  They had come so close only to watch him get away.

  Peggler grinned from ear to ear as the door slid to a close, blocking them from him.

  He locked eyes on Jenny and screamed through the glass. “I’ll come back for you, mother! I’m not finished with you. I’ll never be finished with you.”

  His words were chilling. As if he saw Jenny as his mother. Through her oxygen-deprived haze, Jenny faintly wondered if the women he raped and killed were all substitutes for his mother, or some similar sick design.

  Peggler turned, waiting for the second door to open. The pause was longer than before. And then, instead of opening, an alarm went off along with a flashing light above the mantrap.

  Shrieking, Peggler smashed his fists and the butt of the knife at the tube’s glass walls. But they had no impact. He kept on smashing.

  Jenny and Fiona looked at each other in surprise.

  Jenny held up her hand high. Fiona high-fived it.

  Nice work, Fingal, said another voice through the speaker system. Someone with Brody.

  Would you believe it, Peggler? Brody’s tinny voice taunted the rapist. Someone’s only gone and hacked into your personnel file and amended your weight. Oops!

  Peggler became even more frenzied, thrashing about in every direction like a rabid animal. Eventually, his lashing out subsided and he slumped to the floor of the mantrap: caught.

  EPILOGUE

  At least the rain had stopped.

  Jenny stood by the grave while the vicar spoke his words of comfort. Not that Danny’s family were taking any from them, his mother standing there stoically, tears running freely down her cheeks. His brother’s head was bowed, his hand held by his wife who held a hanky to her eyes with her free hand. There was no father. She had been told that he had died some years before.

  Similar to Magnus Peggler. His father had died when he was ten. He was then left with his mother, who had never got over the loss of her husband, fixating on her son as a surrogate husband, even sexually. Their incestuous relationship went on for a few years, right up until Magnus broke down to his English teacher, aged fifteen. Social services became involved and Magnus was eventually fostered. Mrs Peggler was arrested and imprisoned, where she died under suspicious circumstances. All of it was a matter of public record. But no one had ever considered the on-going psychological impact on the young Magnus who, on the surface, grew up to be a healthy, productive member of society. Underneath, he had been regressing back to his youth, searching for women to fulfil his twisted fantasy of maternal revenge. Magnus Peggler would no doubt be fodder for criminal profilers for years to come.

  But what had bothered Jenny the most was when she’d seen
a picture of Mrs Peggler. It had almost been like looking at a photograph of herself. It had given her the creeps.

  She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of thoughts of Peggler. She needed to focus on the funeral and the reason she was here. She studied the rest of the mourners.

  Leroy, Danny’s boyfriend of many years, stood on the other side of Danny’s mother. His expression contained more rage than grief.

  The only other people she knew were standing either side of her. On her left was Victor Gibb, the agent from GCHQ that she’d been introduced to that fateful night a week before. On her right, squeezing her hand almost painfully, was Brody. She could feel him taking deep breaths in an attempt to avoid tears.

  He failed.

  And when Leroy’s angry line of sight fell on Brody, the animosity reaching right across the coffin containing Danny’s body, Brody caved in completely and withdrew from the congregation. She followed him. She was here for Brody. She’d never met Danny, although Brody had told her everything about him. And his best friend, Leroy.

  She caught up with him by a copse of trees.

  “It’ll never be the same again, will it?” he asked, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his suit jacket.

  “No.”

  They stood in silence, looking back down towards the graveside. They watched as the gathering took turns to throw dirt on top of the coffin.

  “I’ve made my decision.”

  She nodded and pulled him close.

  She knew he had. And she knew what his decision was. He would join GCHQ and he would deploy their vast capabilities to bring down Vorovskoy Mir, hunting a computer hacker called Contag10n, the man who’d been responsible for Danny’s death and ruptured friendship with Leroy.

  * * *

  Two hours later, they sat in an independent coffee shop in the centre of Cardiff, Danny’s hometown. Despite his grief, Brody had been impressed. She’d discovered it in advance on the Internet. Jenny was becoming much more adept at being online. Next thing he knew, she’d probably want to become friends with him on Facebook or something just as crazy.