John listened to his desk clock tick while he waited for Craig’s next words. When none came he offered one of his own. “Talion.”
“What?”
The pathologist tutted. “Talion. Don’t you remember your old testament? An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth? The code of talion began before Christ. It was the principle of making the punishment fit the crime.”
Craig vaguely recalled something about it from Law School. “What language is it from?”
“Latin. Talio–exaction of compensation in kind. Retribution. Talion replaced the late Middle English talioun around fourteen hundred.”
“Now you’re just showing off. Anyway, what’s it got to do with this?”
“Doesn’t this feel like retribution to you? This level of obsession? Waiting until he could find the hair he needed and then placing it in a crack in the block he used to kill? This guy’s a stalker!”
Craig shook his head. “He’s much more than that.” Just then call-waiting flashed up. “I’ve got to go, John. Thanks for that. I’ll be in touch.”
It was just Nicky wondering where he’d got to, but it was what he needed to make him come in from the rain. He took the stairs for exercise and just as he reached the squad-room a glum looking Liam emerged from the lift. He spoke before Craig could.
“I found bugger all. Not one of them saves their tapes from one day to the next. So much for assisting the police.”
Craig gave a wry smile. “They probably weren’t expecting a murder.” He pushed at the double-doors. “Come into my office for a minute. John’s just been on the phone.”
When he’d brought him up to date Liam frowned. “So this git’s been roaming around offices and building sites collecting hair and breezeblocks for weeks and no-one saw a thing?”
“People rarely look around them.” He paused before restarting. “John thinks he’s a stalker. He’s certainly obsessive-”
He was interrupted by Liam puffing out his cheeks and exhaling the air in a loud whoosh. He sounded like a tradesman about to increase his estimate.
“What the hell could Jamison have done to make someone this nuts? He must have killed someone they loved. Nothing else would do it.”
Craig went to say “no way Jamison would get his hands dirty killing someone” but he stopped after “no way” and closed his eyes, chasing an elusive thought. After a minute he opened them again and rose, marching out to see Davy with Liam close behind.
“Drop whatever you’re doing, Davy. I need to ask you something.”
The analyst dropped his file obediently and waited to hear what came next.
“Is there a central list of suicides anywhere?”
Davy thought for a moment. “There’s a government record of everyone’s cause of death, so it w…wouldn’t be hard to extract the suicides from that.”
“Good. OK, so…”
As Craig paused, everyone in the squad turned to look. Something was up and they all wanted to know what. Liam already knew what was happening; the boss had come up with some half-baked theory and he was trying to make sense of it on the hoof. Craig started again.
“Richard Jamison. I want details of every murder and suicide in Northern Ireland from when he started university until now.”
Davy’s eyes widened. It would be a long list. Liam gave Craig an accusing look.
“You said he wouldn’t have committed murder.”
“That wouldn’t have stopped him paying someone who would.”
Davy risked a question. Risked because you could never gauge Craig’s volatility at moments like this.
“Any parameters to narrow things down?”
Craig thought for a moment. He was tempted to create some but it risked leaving someone off the list, and right now he needed a broad view.
“No. Sorry. I need the whole lot; by name, age, sex and occupation initially. I’ll come back to you if I think of anything else.”
He headed back to his office with Liam trailing in his wake. As the door closed the D.C.I. started his questions.
“You think Jamison had someone whacked or else pushed them to commit suicide?”
Craig gave a nod.
Liam took a seat. “Like that case with the keys last year.”
He was referring to a killer who had persuaded his victims to kill themselves and then had come after Craig, only to meet a nasty end when Annette had shot him first.
“Something like that but less organised. Either suicide or Jamison paid a contractor.”
“And this is someone avenging that death?”
Another nod.
Liam continued. “And as Jamison won’t tell us anything we’ll have to find out who it was by ourselves.”
“Yes.”
The D.C.I. gave a whistle. “It’ll mean a lot of legwork, boss.”
Craig arched an eyebrow. “Have you something else to do?”
“Who me? Nooo… I just live to be here.” He stood up and rested against the wall. His back was aching today and the external wall was cool.
“OK, so our blurry man’s framing Jamison as revenge for someone’s death. A suicide or murder that he thinks Jamison caused in the past.” He shook his head. “Nah, suicide doesn’t work; it must have been murder. If it’d just been suicide Jamison would have told us who it was and who might want to frame him now. He could blame the suicide for killing themselves.”
Craig shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t say because he’s ashamed, or afraid that he might be killed himself if he tells. Or maybe he isn’t sure that the case he’s thinking of is actually the relevant one and he’s thinks he might give something else away.”
Liam shook his head again. “Nope. Still not right. How about this… Either Jamison had someone killed – criminal act, or whatever he did to push them to suicide was either criminal or shameful, and he knows if he gives us any hints at all he could be found out.”
Craig nodded admiringly. “Not bad. Standing up obviously improves the blood flow to your brain.”
Liam wasn’t sure if he was being insulted or not so Craig continued before he could decide.
“If that’s the case the names and occupation of our deaths should help narrow the field. They’d have had to been connected to Jamison in some capacity.”
“Not necessarily.”
Craig dismissed the protest with a wave. “OK, then, it’s not one hundred percent, but it’s close enough for a first cut.” He rose to his feet. “It’s moot until we get the lists anyway. For all we know there won’t be anyone suitable and my idea will crash and burn.”
“Why are you standing up? Is your back giving you gyp as well?”
“No. I’m throwing you out. Ask Ash to give me five minutes for some calls and then come in.”
He lifted his mobile to emphasise the point and Liam took his cue. Five minutes later Ash knocked and entered and Craig pointed him to a seat while he finished his final call.
“No sign of it…You’re sure?…OK, I’ll see you at Christmas lunch then. Cheers, Ken. Bye.”
He cut the call and turned to Ash with a smile. “Sorry, no terrorism, Ash. Apparently the light aircraft just veered off course and collided with the wing of a jet leaving the International Airport around six a.m.”
Ash’s smile in return said that he didn’t believe a word of it. “The RTC. I take it that’s why you called me in, chief?”
There was something in his tone that prompted Craig to ask more.
“Yes, to start with, but you’ve got something else, haven’t you?”
Ash ran his hand across Craig’s desk to check that it wasn’t sticky then he set down the file he’d brought with him, spreading out its contents. “OK. I went to see Gabe Ronson as you suggested. Initially to check up on the traffic hold-ups over the past few weeks and then what happened to the lights in your RTC. So…”
He paused. Craig wasn’t sure if it was for effect or he wanted a well done but he was disinclined to give plaudits that were asked for so he waved him on
with a “So?”
“So…here’s what I found.” He pulled out a screenshot full of code. “Do you remember the algorithm?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember I wasn’t sure if it was the corruption, or the corruption was something else that had been erased?”
“Yes.” And he’d thought that John liked to drag things out.
“Well, that exact algorithm was present in all of the traffic systems during the snarl ups and the traffic light operating system for your RTC.”
“Which it would be if it was their standard operating instruction.”
Ash shot him an annoyed look. “I was getting to that.”
“Well get to it quicker.”
Annoyance was replaced with huff and it carried into the analyst’s voice. Craig hadn’t realised what exhibitionists scientists were, then he thought of John’s flourish with a post-mortem report and wondered why not. He smiled at Ash in an attempt to mollify him.
“So, tell me. What did you do next?”
Ash had the memory of the average goldfish so he forgot his huff and smiled eagerly, pointing at a second page. “This is the algorithm from a set of normally functioning traffic lights.” He whipped out a third sheet. “And these are the algorithms found at each of our traffic malfunctions.” He jabbed a finger triumphantly at the page. “Look.”
Craig looked but he wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing, except that one row of code was twenty digits and letters long and the other was identical, but with an added five digit strand.
“Are those five digits meant to be there?”
“NO!” Ash was so excited he raked his hair into an Elvis quiff. “They’re extra code. They’re the corruption!”
A five digit code being used to exact vengeance. Literally a Talion Code.
The analyst tapped the page excitedly. “To rule out variations by day or hour I’ve checked each traffic incident against a normal for the same day at the same time elsewhere, and the malfunctions all show the extra five digits.”
Craig rested back in his chair, considering what it meant. “So you think these five are the hack?”
Ash’s expression said Craig’s level of understanding was rudimentary at best but he nodded grudgingly. “Yes and no. The hack is actually the way in. It’s the extra five digits, the corruption planted during the hack, that alter the machinery’s operation instructions. But to plant an extra line of code this hacker must be awesome tweaked. Getting through the back door into a government system is real black hat stuff.”
Craig guessed that being tweaked was a good thing; he didn’t need to know the details.
“So can you trace them?”
The analyst’s face fell. “Tried and failed. All this tells us is that the five digits added to the regular operating algorithm allowed the hacker to alter the systems in the way they chose.”
“So they could do this again?”
Ash nodded heavily. “I’m betting they did it this morning and sent that light aircraft the wrong way. The extra digits were present at the factory incident in Portadown too.” He looked sad suddenly. “And in the lift crash that killed the two kids.”
Craig drew his hand slowly down his face. If Ash was right there was someone out there who could get into road, factory and now air traffic control systems, and kill as many people as they wanted to at a whim. The consequences were potentially catastrophic. The hacker could have just as easily crashed the jet that morning instead of the smaller plane. He walked to the window and stared out, pondering how to proceed, while Ash gathered his papers into a neat pile and pushed back his chair, readying to leave. He was hovering in mid-air, wondering whether to stay or go, when Craig turned back again.
“OK. Here’s what I want you to do. Find out everything you can about the original algorithm. If the hacker has consistently chosen to target it then that’s a message in itself. I want to know who wrote it, where it’s used, when it originated and who owns the rights. Can you do that?”
Ash’s mouth opened and shut a few times before he admitted that he wasn’t sure. “There must be a central code registry somewhere, mustn’t there? Where copyrighted algorithms are recorded. I mean, it would make sense.”
“If there is you’ll find it. I have faith in you.” Not as much as he was pretending. “I also want you to notify GCHQ of your concerns; if they want to speak to me put them through to my mobile.”
“GCHQ!” It was squeaked out rather than said.
GCHQ: the Government Communications Headquarters. A UK intelligence and security organisation providing information assurance under the direction of the Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC).
“Yes. They need to know so they can investigate further, Ash. And maybe involve MI5 and the other services. This is a form of cyber-terrorism and we don’t know yet that it’s not coming from some proscribed group. GCHQ can access the data on this morning’s flight or task someone who can.”
The thrilled analyst was already halfway out the door. “Wait till Davy hears about this.”
Craig called him back firmly. “This stays between the two of us for now. Understand?” Ash returned to huff mode then nodded grudgingly as Craig added. “I want Davy totally focused on the Guthrie case before our killer gets away. Meanwhile, I’ll need a print out of your screenshots and data sheet. I have to explain all this to the Chief Constable and that’ll require a visual aid; he still thinks computers are the devil’s work. Do that now, Ash. I’m leaving in five minutes.”
He followed the analyst out and walked over to Liam’s desk. “I’m out for the next hour, Liam, but I’m on the phone if you need me.” He turned to Davy. “Davy, when you get those lists, give them to Liam and he can help you do the first cut. I want one last go at Jamison and we have to go in well-armed.”
As Ash handed him the photocopies and Craig left to explain something he barely understood to a man who would understand it even less, Liam sauntered over to the purple-haired analyst’s desk.
“Well, Smurf?”
Ash shook his quiff vigorously. “I can’t tell you. The chief said no-one’s to know.”
It made Liam even more determined. “OK, so suppose you don’t tell me. Suppose that I just guess.”
Elvis Smurf laughed. “Good luck with that.”
Liam leaned over, scanning the sheets that Ash had photocopied for Craig. “OK, how’s this? This equation thingy.” He jabbed the algorithm with his forefinger. “Is the same as this one” another jab. “Except this one has five numbers added on. And they mean something.”
Ash’s face said yes so Liam continued, lifting another sheet that contained details of their RTC. “And by the looks of this, you think it’s something to do with the traffic lights changing suddenly, so…” He reached back to his O Level maths. “That means one of these equations told the lights to misbehave, and the likeliest thing is the long one is the good equation and the extra five numbers added makes it bad.” He scrutinised the IT expert’s face. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
Ash said nothing, stunned that someone without a computing background could have guessed so well. Liam straightened up and shook his head.
“If I’m right the boss has tasked you to call GCHQ and keep digging, so I’ll get out of your way. You need to get on.”
He was really getting out of the way to have a think, which he did as he often did, in the stairwell one floor down. His thoughts disconcerted him. If there was someone out there messing with computer controls they could soon have a lot more deaths to worry about than one man bashed over the head with a block.
****
After an hour of stop-start explaining to a man with a genius level IQ but less computer nous than Liam’s kids, Craig slumped in his car exhausted and pulled out his phone to call the ranch. He was stopped by an incoming call. Katy. He answered with a smile and a plea.
“Say something completely irrelevant to me.”
Katy stared at her phone then laughed. “I was thinking of dying my h
air pink. Is that irrelevant enough?”
“Perfect. Anything that isn’t work related or someone needing something is OK by me.” He paused for a second and backtracked. “You’re not serious are you? About the pink?”
“Why not? Nicky’s been every colour possible and Ash’s hair is blue; maybe it’s time for me to break the conservative doctor mold.”
The ensuing silence said that Craig was already mourning the disappearance of her blonde curls so she laughed and said. “Don’t panic, I’m only joking. Pink would never go with my red dress. Anyway, why so serious? Is work giving you grief?”
“And the rest.” He glanced at his watch, calculating that GCHQ would have pressed the panic button by now and they’d be getting a ‘visit’ within the hour. He started the ignition. “Sorry, love. I’ve got to go.”
“Don’t you want to know why I called? Other than to say I loved you of course.”
It was his turn to laugh. Love him she might but she’d never called to say it in work hours in the whole time they’d been a pair.
“Sorry. Why did you call?”
“I’m glad you asked. I’ve got the evening off and wondered if you fancied doing something?”
If only.
“Sorry, pet. This case is turning nasty. If I get off before midnight I’ll grab a takeaway and bring it round.”
She hid her disappointment. “Don’t worry. I’ll nip round to see Mum. She needs help getting ready for her next cruise.”
As Craig pulled away from the kerb he signed off with an absentminded grunt that he would very soon come to regret.
****
The search alerts came through unexpectedly, making the hairs on the man’s neck stand on end. One he had half-expected but not the other, and the two together said that the cops were beginning to close in. As he stared at his laptop, scanning the pop up message that said the General Register Office’s database had been searched for deaths in Northern Ireland between nineteen-eighty-two and now, he slowed his breathing very deliberately, to calm himself down. So they were searching the deaths; so what? They’d cottoned on. Searching wasn’t finding and he knew from his own research that too many people had died in that time period for the police to quickly find the relevant one. It would take them days and he would be long gone. Even if they did find the name earlier, there was no way of connecting it with him. He smiled as the subsets of the search revealed themselves; they were searching for murders and suicides. Good, they were doubling their own work. He rested back in his chair and smiled; neither search would yield what they were looking for, not in the time that they had left.
The Talion Code Page 25