“Well that’s one of the odours,” he looked down at the cheese which looked like it would crawl off his hand on its own. He threw it in the bin that Duncan had pulled out from under the desk. While Duncan bent down, he saw a little flash of a pulsating red light that blinked. He hunched down to his knees to get a better view, and slipped his hand under the table, feeling blindly. Yep, like he had thought. He crawled under the desk, lying out like a mechanic under a car. He pulled a small thin, but powerful flash light, and stuck it in his mouth like a cigar, displaying the light up into the area that had his attention. He saw a cable from the floor port patched into it; he took a mental note of the port number. He was only under there a few minutes before he slid out and sat up, before springing to his feet. He said nothing, bar a quick nod to Rubin, who was still on a seek and find mission.
Duncan moved around the top of the desk, surveying the items. Lamb had a tidy desk; he lifted up the black keyboard that sat uniformed on his blotter like his other items. Under the keyboard he noticed a white sticky label, with a series of numbers written on it. He said nothing as he sat down, and flicked the switch on Lambs computer.
He placed his fingers on the keyboard and typed in a series of numbers. The computer screen came to life, and Duncan’s hand moved to the mouse as he navigated the screen, doing a series of clicks. Lamb moved around behind Duncan, watching him intently as Duncan navigated around the various files.
“Oh my God,” Lamb said in awe. “How on earth did you get access to the company files?”
Lamb watched as Duncan dipped under the table, to see the small unit doing a sequence of red and green flashes as it did its thing. Duncan leaned back up and his eyes refocused back onto the computer monitor. He typed and clicked again, once again he dipped his head down to the small flashing unit, before returning his attention back to the monitor. He said nothing, bar Rubin’s rustling around in the background, as he smelt the air, trying to trace the source of the other fowl odour that had yet to be detected, was the clicks from the mouse of Duncan’s fingers typing quick time, a few minutes later Duncan spun around to face Lamb, still sitting in Lambs chair.
“Well, I seem to have figured out what your issues are. One,” he shook his head at Lamb. “For a start, why have you got your passwords on a label stuck to your keyboard?” He looked at Lamb exasperated by Lamb’s stupidity. “Seriously Lamb, it’s like 101 of what NOT to do with your passwords for a start, you numpty. Two, you see this?” Lamb leaned forward to view the screen. “Now, you have a file here.”
“Yes that’s my personal accounts, Ohhhh.” Lamb’s eyes widened as the penny dropped.
“Yes exactly, seriously Lamb, you have not only your company account details for everyone to see, but you have also given them access to your own bank accounts,” he shook his head at the stupidity of the man, who should have certainly have known better.
Lamb stood there clasping his head in his hands, as the colour slowly dropped from his face.
“I need to gain access into your Comm.’s room, Lamb,” he looked over to him, Lamb nodded as Duncan arose from the chair.
Lamb and Duncan left the room on the second floor, and made their way to the elevators leaving Rubin still in Lambs office. They stood there in silence as the lift descended to the basement. The doors pinged open, and the two men stepped out and made their way to the huge grey metal door. Lamb punched in a code on the electronic panel, and the door opened and they stepped into the room.
Duncan went immediately to the racks of ISDN hubs. He looked at them for a moment to get his bearings before going to the units labelled LB – LV2. His eyes scanned the labelled units and he closely looked at the unit he wanted, taking note of the ISDN number.
“Okay, everything looks how it should here,” he smiled not giving any cause for alarm to Lamb. “Let’s go back up to your office.”
And the two men left the security of the Comm.’s room and back up to the lifts, to the second floor, where Rubin was now seated on the two seater leather black couch in Lambs office. Duncan nodded to Rubin, giving him the signal, that he had what he needed, and a let’s go, type of look. Rubin rose up from his comfortable position, to his feet. Lamb had moved to his desk ready to sit himself down on his office chair.
Rubin gave Duncan a wink, and then turned his attention to Lamb, who had now shouted,
“Oh shit.”
Rubin laughed to himself, as shit being the appropriate word. There on Lambs desk, was a brown paper bag, like one you would get from your lunch. Lamb had opened the bag, and the most God damn overpowering smell of dog feces filled their nostrils, as Lamb scrambled quickly to close the paper bag as he gagged.
“For fuck sake,” he exclaimed. “Dirty bastards, see, you see, I’m not going mad. Where did you find this?”
“It was in the bottom drawer of your desk. I take it; you don’t go in there very often?” He tried to suppress the laughter that wanted to erupt from him.
While Lamb backed away from the brown paper bag on his desk with a horrified look on his face, Duncan and Rubin made their way to the door.
“Oh, one thing Lamb,” Duncan said before he left. “Don’t change your passwords okay, that’s paramount, and just keep doing what you do. We don’t need whoever is doing this, to be alerted to the fact that we are on the case, you got me yes?”
“Yes, yes no problem, and lads, thank you, I can’t thank you enough.”
“Don’t thank us yet, we have to catch this son of a bitch first,” Duncan smiled at him reassuringly. “Lamb, don’t change your routines or what you do, in any shape or fashion, its imperative they have no idea, you understand this YES?”
Lamb nodded his head frantically in agreement, leaving Duncan and Rubin heading towards the lifts.
17..
Shoplifters Of the world..
As soon as the men returned to their office, they were greeted by Beth, who had a list of messages. Rubin took care of them, still trying to work his charm on the lovely Beth, but to no avail. When he eventually walked into his office, Duncan was already on the phone to one of their contacts.
It was an ex signals chap, who was on Civvy street and now working for a large telecoms company based in London.
“Bushy, Chopper here, I need you to trace an IP address.” And he proceeded to list out a number. To be more precise, it was the IP address from the ISDN port connected to Lambs unit. Over in the telecoms company, Barry Brown was sitting at his terminal, keying in the figures Duncan had given him. He was quick enough in his response as always. Duncan took down what Bushy had been saying. He thanked him with a promise of a drink, and hung up.
“Well?” asked Rubin.
“And now the hunt begins,” Duncan nodded the once and with a blink of an eye, he was sitting back in his chair.
*****
That afternoon, Rubin walked into an estate agents office, instantly making his way to the desk, where two pretty young ladies were deep in conversation.
“Good afternoon ladies,” he clapped his hands together catching their attention, as if he needed any help as they ‘of course’, had seen, the handsome well-dressed man walk in straight away. He gave them a trademark Rubin smile and wink. “I wonder if either of you two ladies could possibly help me. I’m looking for a property in the Notting Hill or Holland Park area.”
Both ladies scrambled to assist him, as he sat down in one of the chairs, looking rather dapper as usual in one of his tailored suits. A man, in dark overalls walked by, quite unnoticed, carrying a small toolbox in his hand.
“I’m here from the telecoms company, just a quick maintenance check-up, I won’t be five minutes,” he waved as he walked passed them
They took no notice of the maintenance chap, engrossed in their flirtation with Rubin, as the boiler suited man went to their telecoms hub at the back of the office. He stood there momentarily surveying the hub, before noticing a cable out of place. He traced the cable which went behind a high rise grey filing cabinet, and
then vertical, it actually went through a small hole which was drilled through the ceiling. Knowing the cabling structure, and that these cables normally went below ground, he knew this was definitely the issue. He turned and made his way out through the door, thanking the girls and was gone.
Rubin on the other hand, walked out fifteen minutes later, with a huge beaming smile, to the white van, where Duncan was waiting just down the road, with both of the ladies telephone numbers and a promise of a soirée at the weekend involving thigh high boots, handcuffs and other fun and games.
*****
Later that very evening, above a well-known estate agents, in the vicinity of Ladbroke Grove/Notting Hill. In an apartment on the first floor, an overhead light clicked on, filling the room full of light. The hooded figure sat down, taking their messenger bag from across their shoulders and slumped into the black leather bean bag and pulled the laptop to their knees. The hooded figure flicked their fingers over the keyboard, the screen lit up. The hooded figure smiled as they surfed through the files. Satisfied they popped the laptop back onto the coffee table, and reached over, grabbing the remote control, they turned on the TV and started to watch. Several channel hops later upon reaching a music channel, they arose and walked into their kitchen. They switched the kettle on and made a pot noodle and poured a glass of orange juice. They walked back into their living room bopping their head to the tune that was playing. They had just sat back down, ready to tuck into their meal, when the room suddenly went pitch black, with the exception of the illumination of the screen on the laptop. They were startled momentarily until the next thing they heard was the sound of their door being kicked in. They hadn’t had a chance to react, with the exception of the food and contents of the glass which were expelled into mid-air as they were then forcibly pushed, face down, onto the floor with a gun held at the back of their neck. All they saw was two balaclava men, guns in hand which were aimed at them, dressed in black fatigues shouting and roaring at them:
“Stay down, stay the fuck down.” They shouted, over and over again in a deafening and abusive manner.
It was the most terrifying thing they had ever experienced. There was no way the hooded figure was going to move. They were scared shitless, as their legs started to tremble with the fear that quickly took hold of them. The hooded person felt a booted foot on their back. Not only was it keeping them steadily down, it pushed on them with enough force to keep them there unable to move. The Hoodie moved their head slightly while the other moved to their laptop, picking it up and started to click through it at their leisure. The hooded person could see the other man go through their computer, and then nod to their partner. The screaming began again from the one balaclava man with the gun to their head.
“Where’s the money?” He screamed.
The hooded figure said nothing but closed their eyes, almost accepting their fate as a collar was snapped around their neck.
“That’s an explosive collar, before you ask” he bellowed into their face. “One click of this and BOOM!” he clenched and released his hand like an explosive action displaying a small silver tube armed with a red button on the top.
They tried to speak, but nothing came out, choked with absolute fear, ears thumping loudly with the sound of their own heart pounding with pure terror. The next thing they knew was they were being dragged to the kitchen and forcibly made to sit in one of the two IKEA chairs that were pulled in haste from the table to accommodate them. They went cold with terror instantly. The questioning began again;
“Where is the money?” the gun was cocked and held to their head. “I’ll ask you one more time, “Where is the money?” He roared like a well-seasoned interrogator.
The hooded person’s leg was starting to shake involuntary, and it was very much noticeable. They raised their arm and pointed their finger towards the corner of the room, where a rucksack had been left. They were sure their heart was in their throat and that’s what, was choking them. They were afraid to look at them, if they didn’t see their faces maybe they could stand a small chance of getting out of this in one piece; they kept their eyes fixed to the ground all they saw were army issue type boots and they were more than happy with seeing only that. They had now started to silently pray in their head.
The man who had been looking through the laptop, turned his attention to the corner, he put the laptop down and walked over to the bag. He pulled it open and looked quickly nodding to his partner, and returned, dumping the contents of the rucksack onto the table. Both men looked at the contents, a pile of money which had been dumped onto the table, and then back to each other.
“Is that all of the money?”
The hooded figure nodded their head, still shrouded by their oversized hood.
“What about, the other money you’ve transferred?”
The hood shook a ‘No’, the man who had the gun at their head, pushed the gun into the temple. The other returned to the laptop and started to type, their fingers springing to action across the keyboard.
“The money is still in the account, it hasn’t been transferred as of yet,” and the laptop was picked up and transferred to the kitchen and pushed in front of the hood.
“Return the money, now, if I have to spend any time, dealing with transfers, or anything else to do with you and your fucking around where you shouldn’t be, we will be taking a trip to Epping Forest.” He pushed his finger into the hoodies shoulder hard, burrowing into them as they spoke. “You, us and shovels, you get what I’m saying,” He started nodding “Yes.” at the hoodie who mirrored him. “You do understand me don’t you?”
The hoodie nodded and stretched their fingers out over the keyboard and started to frantically type, with the fear of God well and truly in them. They were scared, very scared as they watched the guy who had the gun held at their head, now put on a silencer as he screwed it into place.
”Fuck it, let’s just take them out here and now,” he said once finished. “Let’s just kill em now. We can save the collar for another time.”
The hooded person’s heart started to thump loudly in their chest, as they watched the silencer being screwed to the barrel of the gun. Their heart was thumping so much now they couldn’t hear anything else. They wanted to vomit; hoodies hands were shaking uncontrollably over the keys as they tried desperately to type. They hadn’t expected to have dealt with anything like this bullshit warzone craziness. This was supposed to be simple. The plan was to get the money and run. But now, now with a gun at their head, all they could do was to do what the two masked men told them to do, and seeing they both had guns, hoodie could only hope and pray they would get out of this alive. So that meant, hoodie would be doing anything they were told to do and in quick time too.
Hoodie mustn’t have been moving quickly enough, as they felt a clap to the back of the head from the butt of the gun, which heightened the fear they were already experiencing. The hooded person tried to type faster, as they popped through various windows to reach their goal, and that was, to transfer the funds from the insurance company back into the company account. All the while, they could feel the guy, who had been working on their laptop standing, watching them from behind.
Once finished, the hoodie withdrew their hands from the keyboard and slumped back in the chair, relieved, and pretty happy they had completed the task even quicker than they had thought they could have done, and with having a gun held to their head too ‘Boo Yah’ to them. They smiled to themselves, which, was a pretty stupid thing to have done really, especially when you have two masked gunmen, who have broken into your home with guns pointed at your head.
The next thing they knew they were being manhandled and thrown against the wall. Panic over took them, an “Uhh” expelled from them, as they slammed hard against the wall.
The two men looked at each other and then back to the hooded figure.
*****
Both men took a double take at each other, and then back to the hooded figure. The gun wielding one reached ou
t and grabbed the oversized hood of the scrawny person and yanked it back off their heads.
“Oh my God,” he stepped back. “Karen Simpson?” declared a shocked Rubin, whilst removing his balaclava.
“It’s Rizzo actually,” she snapped rudely, cutting Rubin a fierce look.
Duncan who still remained wearing his Balaclava, gave her a soft smack over the top of her head.
“Don’t be cheeky” he snapped back at her, turning his attention to Rubin, who still couldn’t believe his eyes. “Is this who I think it is?”
“Yep, last time I saw you....” Rubin said holding his hand to around his hip, as it bobbed up and down trying to remember her height.
“Yeah, yeah, before that fuckwit of a sperm donor left me and me mam,” she snapped back, suddenly feeling braver by the minute.
“My mother and I” corrected Duncan, while removing his ski mask. “Jesus, what’s with you youngsters not being able to speak properly. Do they not teach you grammar in schools nowadays?” He started to remove the collar packed with explosives from her neck.
“I left school ages ago,” she shrugged rubbing her neck from where the collar had been, and had left a nice red mark.
“Yes young lady that seems very apparent.” Duncan looked around at the sparsely furnished apartment. “So, tell me, how did you get all your Intel on your father?”
And with that Larry (Lamb) Simpson’s daughter, Karen Brown, sorry Rizzo, who was a natural born ‘hacker extraordinaire’, proceeded to tell them, of how she got a job as a cleaner for the company that had the contract with the big insurance company her father worked for. And how she found his passwords stuck to the bottom of his keyboard. She also noted the fact that only a total ‘dick head’ would do something as dumbass as that, and how she had, so easily been able to place the remote monitoring unit under her father’s desk without anybody noticing, enabling her to be able to hack not only her father’s computer, but also the company accounts. Yes she had left ‘Little surprises’ for him, she liked to call them all the presents he missed out on receiving. She had also taken his house keys as well, which gave her access to his home, after the knob-head left them in his drawer, and she had been clever enough to have made copies, so he had never even noticed they were gone. She had also ridden past his car on her bike, squirting brake and clutch fluid all over the driver’s side of the vehicle, causing extensive damage to the paint work; it would cost him a fortune to have it re-sprayed as the brake and clutch fluid had melted the paint work down to the raw factory metal.
Dragonflies The Duncan Peters Files Page 18