by Tony Salter
‘But …’
I stared at him. Hard. ‘I can see I need to be even clearer,’ I said. ‘This isn’t a negotiation. I’m trying to do you a favour but, if you don’t agree to my conditions, I promise you’ll never find her.’
‘But if you found her, then I could …’
This time a short stare was enough. He’d only known me for four days, but that was enough for him to understand that I didn’t like wasting words.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Agreed. But I’ll need to tell her something.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll come up with a story.’ I smiled. ‘A story that comes with bulletproof documentation just in case.’
Joe looked at me as though seeing me for the first time. ‘I’m sure you will,’ he said. Was that a note of fear creeping into his voice? ‘What else?’
‘Whether they give you visitation rights or full custody, I want you to live here. In this flat. I won’t be around, but you can have the flat rent-free while she’s growing up. I want her to be in London, not in Glasgow or some poxy little village full of idiot yokels.’
That surprised him. His brain appeared to be working overtime, but his comfort zone was already a tiny speck in the rear-view mirror. ‘I’m hardly going to object to that,’ he said, ‘though I’ll need to understand why you’re doing all this. What else?’
‘Actually, that’s it,’ I said, with a smile. ‘Just the two conditions. Easy to remember. But don’t hold your breath if you’re hoping I’m going to explain myself to you. Just think of me as a fairy godmother.’ I reached forward and filled his wine glass. ‘Now, I know you’re impatient, but you need to let this settle before I tell you anything more. Get your mind around the fact you have a daughter and we’ll go through the rest tomorrow.’
‘Her name’s Nicki. She was adopted when she was six months old. English stepfather and Japanese stepmother. The mother’s been in the UK since she was seventeen. They live in a small village in Hampshire.’
We were sitting in the same spot a day later. Joe wasn’t much calmer than before, but his initial shock seemed to have faded and been replaced with an anxious excitement.
‘Nicki,’ he said, in a soft voice. ‘Nicki’s a good name. Did Fabiola give her the name?’
‘How the hell would I know?’ I snapped. ‘I’m a good hacker, but I’m not God.’
‘But you tracked her down? That’s impossible. They never give out that sort of information.’
‘When I found out about the baby, I knew I needed to find out where she was. If nothing else, I could keep an eye out for her. Fabi said she didn’t care, but I didn’t believe her and wanted to be ready to help when the time came. As it turned out, the time never came. We didn’t talk about it again. Not once.’
My mind filled with images of Fabiola, laughing, smiling or winking as she laid down the law about something or other. I normally got my way about everything, with everyone, but Fabi was nobody’s pushover. Her determination was reinforced by a hardened steel core, but she never seemed to need to create conflict to get her own way. No-one was ever left feeling like a loser.
Maybe my plans hadn’t allowed enough for that inner core. She’d found the strength to take her own life, after all.
Joe was still staring at me with the same confused, questioning expression. It made him look old and weak. One way or the other, he would need to go sooner rather than later. ‘I get that you wanted to find her,’ he said, ‘but that doesn’t make it any less impossible.’
‘I’m getting there,’ I said. ‘You need to understand that there’s always a way. Nothing’s impossible.’ I sipped my wine and leant back in my chair. I still got too much pleasure from showing off. That was a weakness and would need to change. ‘So, anyway. I knew they wouldn’t give out that information, but it had to be somewhere. The NHS data systems have more holes than a string vest, but the adoption stuff is on a separate, more secure database which meant I needed to get a physical connection to the server. Still not a major challenge. I picked up a social worker in a pub in Hampstead, borrowed her ID while she was sleeping and used it to clone one of my own. After that it was easy to get into their admin department and leave a keystroke tracker on one of the PCs. That gave me every system password I needed, and I was away.’
Joe was looking at me as though I’d grown an extra head. ‘Am I understanding this right?’ he said. ‘You hacked into Social Services, stole the information and then what? You’ve been spying on my daughter ever since?’
‘That’s about it, but I wouldn’t call it spying. I’ve just been keeping an eye on her to make sure she’s OK.’
‘But … but …’ Joe’s brain had gone into meltdown again.
I flicked my fingers in front of his nose. ‘Would you rather I hadn’t?’ I said. ‘Would you prefer it if I’d just let you know that you and Fabiola had a daughter, but you’d never find her?’
‘No … but …’
‘Yes or no, Joe. It’s a pretty simple question.’
‘No. Of course not,’ he said. ‘It’s just that …’
These unfinished sentences were beginning to get right up my nose. Why were people so pathetic?
‘Anyway,’ I said. ‘You should be grateful I’ve been watching out for Nicki.’
‘Why?’
‘Something’s wrong. I’m worried about her.’
‘Worried? Why?’
‘It’s the father, Damian. I always knew something wasn’t right and a couple of years ago I started checking him out.’
‘That sounds even more like spying.’
‘Whatever, Joe. Call it what you want. You know what I do for a living and I’m very good at it. It’s hardly my fault if people leave their front doors wide open, is it?’
‘But …’
‘… There are no buts. If you’re planning on getting on some moral high horse, none of this will work. That’s OK with me. She’s your daughter though, and I’d have thought you’d want to look out for her. Especially now.’
As I watched Joe crumbling in front of me, I almost felt sorry for him. ‘So, what did you find?’ he said.
‘Mr Bloody Perfect Damian Randall isn’t as squeaky clean as all that. It seems he’s got a thing for young girls.’
‘Oh shit,’ said Joe. ‘How young?’
‘Difficult to tell from the photos, but young … very young.’
If truth be told, there was nothing wrong with Damian and Akiko as parents and Nicki looked like a happy child. But they were too perfect for my liking. They lived in a tiny village and were small minded and safe; they were thoroughly nice people – the word “nice” was probably invented to describe them – and I wanted more for Nicki. If she went to live with Joe, full or part time, I would be able to control things in ways that I couldn’t while she was with Damian and Akiko.
I didn’t actually want to meet the girl. I couldn’t deal with children. They didn’t respond to manipulation like adults and tended to just make me frustrated and angry.
But I did want to know the woman she would become, and I needed to make sure she didn’t turn out to be some smug do-gooder with no ambition apart from to marry the boy next door and breed. That wouldn’t do at all. Joe wasn’t ideal – and there was a limit to the number of times I was prepared to let him fumble all over me – but I could manage him, and the role he would play as Nicki’s birth father was key. There was plenty of documented evidence about Joe and Fabiola’s relationship and, with a tweak here and there, everything could be made to fit.
I had big plans and Nicki was going be part of them.
Governments around the globe were being so blind about the exponential impact of personal security vulnerability. For the first time since the days of Empire, they’d handed over control of the world’s information to a few mega-monopolies which were bigger and more influential than most countries.
The piece of the puzzle that politicians and civil servants had missed was that the Googles and Facebooks of this new landsca
pe didn’t care about any individual’s online security. In their brief corporate existences, these businesses had relied almost entirely on finding new ways to use and abuse personal data. They were hardly prime candidates to take on the role of global data policemen.
Yes, I had big plans and the blindness of governments and society would play right into my hands. Once I had built Pulsar into the giant I hoped it would be, I would need a successor and that successor would need to be sharp, ambitious and above-all ruthless. Nicki was only eleven; she still had the virgin potential of a fresh yew sapling; with the right nurturing and pruning, why shouldn’t she become the person I wanted her to be?
If the social services took Nicki away from Damian and Akiko, settling her with her birth father would be an ideal option – especially as there was no indication that Joe had been involved in the decision to give her up in the first place. He hadn’t even known she existed.
Joe was slouching slack-mouthed and blank-eyed, staring into space; he was well out of his depth and would require delicate handling for a while. ‘Are you sure?’ he said at last. ‘Are there a lot of photos? Are they bad?’
‘I’ve found almost five thousand images on his PC, but I expect there are more that I’ve missed. And yes, they’re very bad. Do you want to see some?’
Joe shook his head. In fact there were over eleven thousand images stashed in a hidden encrypted folder on Damian’s laptop. The files had been downloaded from a range of sites on the Dark Web over the previous three years.
Unfortunately for Damian, the forensic record leading back to him was clear, traceable and very incriminating. I’d even added attempts to wipe his tracks which were good, but not quite good enough. Even more unfortunately, the fool didn’t know that the files existed; it had been the work of minutes for me to hack into his home WiFi and hijack his machine. Since then, poor Damian – or rather poor Damian’s computer – had logged on to download new files every Tuesday night between three and four in the morning.
All that was needed now was for him to make a “mistake” when he downloaded the next batch. That would expose his real IP address and the police would have a warrant within hours. He would, of course, claim to have been asleep at the time, but that would be impossible to prove and the damage would already have been done.
‘But that means Nicki might be in danger?’ said Joe. ‘She’s only eleven.’
I clenched my fists and squeezed my eyes tightly shut. Really? D’ya think so Joe? It was like herding a particularly stupid sheep through a very wide gate.
‘I know,’ I said, trying to appear as amazed as him. ‘I’ve been worrying about this for the past two months. Ever since I found out.’
The whole business with Joe came at an unfortunate time. I was in the middle of negotiations to license the key software which would eventually underpin Pulsar and I was bouncing back and forth between London and LA almost every week. At that time, no-one had understood how quickly fragile online security would threaten the entire global infrastructure, but I intended to be ready for when they did; Pulsar needed to be fully operational by the time existing systems started to unravel.
The enforced delays turned out to be a good thing as it took me a few weeks to straighten Joe out. He’d got himself tangled up in the way I’d hacked my way into Social Services and then kept tabs on Nicki and her adopted Dad. After his illegal affair with his student, Fabiola, I was unimpressed by his selective morality.
Other people see the world differently from me. They put up these pointless ethical barriers between their existing lives and where they want to go. I had no intention of ever doing that, but needed to try harder to take that into account where Joe was concerned.
At least for a while longer. If Pulsar achieved its destiny, I wouldn’t need to worry about other people’s doubts or opinions. It would be my way or the highway.
But that was a few years away and so I waited more or less patiently while Joe dithered. Eventually his desire to find out more about Nicki (and his growing fear of Damian) overcame those pointless ethical concerns, and we were able to move on.
We were sitting drinking coffee in Raoul’s cafe when his shoulders slumped and he turned to me. ‘So, what happens next?’ he said, resignation colouring his voice.
I pulled my chair next to his and leant closer. ‘I’ve spoken to a lawyer,’ I said. ‘The first thing we need to do is to establish that you’re the natural father. After that, I’ll arrange it so that the police find out about Damian. Then we wait. The lawyer says the eventual outcome depends a lot on how Damian’s wife behaves. If she stands by her husband, you stand a good chance of getting full custody. If she’s smart and dumps him quickly, it’ll be less clear. In any case, all of her family’s in Japan and she won’t be allowed to take Nicki out of the country. Worst case, you should get visitation rights.’
‘But that means we’ll destroy their lives?’ said Joe, still clinging on to a few vestigial scruples.
‘But look at what he’s been doing,’ I said. ‘He’s brought it on himself … and it’s only a matter of time until he gets caught, anyway.’
‘I suppose so. But …’
‘… And we have no idea what his wife actually knows. Maybe she’s involved in some way? At the very least, she married a pervert. Are you still having second thoughts?’
‘No,’ Joe said with conviction. ‘I’ve made up my mind. I hate your sneaky world of hacking and deceit, but I’d never forgive myself if I did nothing. Let’s do it.’ He looked at me with clear, sober eyes. ‘And the first step is a DNA test?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It’s critical that we’re one hundred per cent sure before doing anything or telling anybody. I can arrange that for you. And you should get a DNA sample from one of your other daughters to help them to cross check the results.’
‘How can I manage that?’ he said, slipping effortlessly into his default hangdog expression. ‘My ex-wife turned them both against me years ago, and I hardly see them any more. The youngest one is Fabiola’s age now – the age Fabiola was when I knew her – and she won’t even talk to me. I’ll have to tell them why I need it.’
I took him by the shoulders and stared at him, forcing his skittish eyes to hold my gaze.
‘But you’re not going to do that, are you?’ I said, receiving a nervous head shake in return. I patted his cheek. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll find a way. I’ll get the sample kits and we can take it from there.’
2026
First Contact
‘You must be very proud.’
I struggled to control my amusement as I rested one hand gently on Joe’s shoulder. His reaction was exactly as expected, flinching like a startled deer as soon as he heard my voice. He recognised me in a nanosecond even though we hadn’t spoken for years.
‘Julie!’ Joe turned to face me. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’
‘Hello Joe,’ I said, leaning forward to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek. ‘Nice to see you too.’
I had always known Joe wouldn’t age well. Maybe if he’d lived in California, surfing, cycling and drinking wheat-germ smoothies every day? Maybe then he would have held on to some of those cheeky, pretty boy looks. But living alone in London, drinking too much and not being burdened with an excess of willpower or self-respect? It was never going to turn out well. He must have been almost sixty and looked every day of it.
‘Sorry. You just made me jump. How are you?’ His eyes widened. ‘You look … you look amazing.’
Unlike Joe, I had plenty of willpower and self-respect and he was stating the obvious. Even so, a little coy self-deprecation was probably called for.
‘Oh. You know. I try to keep in shape.’ I smiled and looked down at the floor.
Despite all the research, it still wasn’t possible to know what really went on in other people’s heads, but from the way Joe was looking me up and down, I’d have put money that his thoughts were fluttering between ‘Did I really sleep with her?’, distant memories of o
ur nights together, and answering his own question. ‘Bloody hell. I did. But how?’ That was certainly the reaction I was hoping for.
‘But … but … you look just like one of Nicki’s friends. It’s crazy.’
‘Good cheekbones,’ I said, already bored with the adulation. Luckily, we were distracted by a low murmuring from the crowd and the scrape of chair legs on the wooden floor as everyone shifted around to get a better look at the front of the hall. I pointed over the crowd and towards the stage where a row of black-gowned figures stretched out like crows on a telephone line. ‘Hang on, Joe,’ I said. ‘I think she’s going up.’
He span round to look and I felt my own heart fill my chest as I watched the tall, strong, clever girl walk up the two wooden steps onto the stage and stride confidently towards the row of crows. She was my exception. The single exception where feelings and emotions were allowed. She dipped her head as she took the beribboned roll of white paper and shook the outstretched hands one by one. Then, as she reached the end of the row, she turned to face us, lifting the paper high in jubilation, her white teeth flashing triumph in the footlights.
I ducked behind Joe who had his arms raised to shoulder height, clapping and whooping like a child. I loved it when a plan came together with clockwork precision and this day was like a Swiss watchmaker’s wet dream. Perfect.
I reached forward and pressed the folded note into Joe’s hand. ‘I need to go,’ I said, watching the girl pushing through the crowded room towards us. ‘Don’t be late.’
I turned and slid backwards into the crowded room before he had a chance to speak. It wasn’t time for Nicki and I to meet. Not like this. Not quite yet.
Joe wasn’t late.
I walked into the crowded pub and saw him, propping up the bar and chatting to the young mini-skirted barmaid. He’d always been a sleazeball – Fabiola had been proof enough of that – but it was surely time for him to hang up his spurs and try to hold on to a few scraps of dignity?