To Catch a Rat

by S J Grey

“Drop the phone and the keys,” said Caleb, “and kick them to me. What kind of car do you have?”

  The knife was cold against her chin. She didn’t dare move. She was afraid to breathe.

  “What kind of car?” Caleb repeated.

  “Ford Falcon,” said Mark. “Let her go, Rush. If you want a hostage, take me.”

  “Nope. I’m taking Emma. Kick the fucking phone to me.”

  Please Mark, Emma begged silently. Please do as he asks. She beseeched him with her eyes.

  “Okay.” Mark put the phone down and nudged it with his toe. It skittered across the kitchen floor.

  Caleb stepped to the left, dragging Emma with him. He stomped on Mark’s phone and ground his heel onto it. “Right,” he said, his voice icy. “Put the keys on the table, and then walk backwards, away from them, hands on your head.”

  Mark’s gaze met hers. “Stay calm, Em,” he said. “Everything’s gonna be okay.” He leaned forward, placed the car keys down. He laced his fingers over his head. “Now let her go.”

  “Nope. We’re going for a little drive. Go outside.”

  Mark didn’t move. “I want you to let her go.”

  “I said go,” snarled Caleb. “Are you really going to risk me cutting her? I’ve got nothing to lose.”

  They shuffled outside, Caleb wrapped around Emma, the blade resting on her chin. He held the key fob in his free hand.

  Mark walked backwards, his gaze flashing between them both. He was amazingly calm. How did he do that? Emma was terrified. Her heart fluttered like a trapped bird, and her pulse boomed in her ears.

  Why did she trust Caleb? What was he going to do to her? Was this his revenge, for being locked up? For her not helping Joss?

  She clutched his leather-clad arm with both clammy hands. She’d no illusion she could stop him, but she’d try if she had to. He was taller, wider, and stronger than she was. Why did she never do judo or karate? When this ordeal was over, she was signing up for self-defence classes.

  “Let me go.” She hated how wobbly her voice was. “We won’t call the police. I promise.”

  His arm tightened around her body. “Shut up.” He pressed the key fob. Mark’s car beeped, and the doors unlocked. “Get in the boot,” he said to Mark.

  “What?”

  “You heard. Do it. Now.”

  Could Emma reason with him? “Caleb, why are you doing this? Mark’s not done anything. He’s your friend.”

  “I don’t think so.” Caleb shifted her forwards. “What are you waiting for, man? Get in the fucking boot.”

  Mark flipped the lid open, then scowled at Caleb. “You’re making a big mistake, Rush.” He looked at Emma. “I promise you, sweetheart, you’ll be okay. I won’t let him hurt you.” He climbed in and curled into the space. It was a large car, but he would be cramped in there.

  Caleb slammed it shut, then walked Emma to the passenger door. He moved the knife away and shoved it in his pocket. “Christ, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “I promise I wouldn’t ever hurt you, but I had to make it look good. Will you help me? Please?”

  The change in attitude was so fast, it gave her mental whiplash. She swallowed. “Please don’t hurt Mark.”

  Caleb huffed a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Come on. You know me better than that. Don’t you?”

  “What are you going to do with him?”

  “Nothing. I promise.” He pulled the knife out again and handed it to Emma. “You can carry this, if it makes you feel better. You still trust me, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He closed her fingers around the hilt of the knife. “Half an hour to talk. That’s all. I swear on our friendship.”

  The years seemed to fall away, and Emma recalled all the nights she sat with Caleb and Joss in his bedroom, playing cards or board games. Caleb had an attic room that ran the length of the house. One wall was devoted to computers and screens, but there was an ancient sofa and armchair that they’d sprawl on. They’d spend hours enticing Caleb away from his coding, and then at a critical moment, he’d leave the game to finish something, and they’d have to wait for him. They never minded, though.

  “I don’t want that thing.” Emma gestured to the shiny blade. “We’ll talk, but then you let Mark go, okay? He’s your friend too.”

  “You’re the only person left that has my trust, Em. Your boyfriend doesn’t get it automatically, because of you. Get in the car, please. We can’t stay here.”

  She scrambled into the passenger seat and snapped her seat belt in place.

  Caleb started the engine and pulled out onto the road.

  “He was your friend at Uni. Did you not recognise him?” she asked.

  Caleb glanced at her. “I’ve never seen him before in my life. If he told you he knows me, he’s a liar.”

  “That’s exactly what he said about you.”

  “You’ve known me over twenty years, Em. When have I ever lied to you?”

  “Did you kill your stepfather?”

  “Jesus.” He thumped the steering wheel. “No. Of course not. I hated the bastard, and that was common knowledge. I couldn’t kill him, though. That’s not me.”

  Emma had no idea who to believe. She wrapped her arms over her chest and gazed out of the side window. “Where are we going? How long is Mark going to be locked in the boot?”

  “Not far.” Caleb took the road that led to the shopping mall. The centre had a sprawling car park opposite the railway station, and he headed to a quiet area. He stopped the car and looked all around, peering up at street lights. “There aren’t any cameras pointing over here. Do you have a phone on you?”

  “Yes, in my pocket.”

  “Can I have it?” Caleb held out his hand.

  She hesitated but handed it over. “Please don’t break it.”

  “I won’t.” He turned it off and dropped it into the glove box.

  Emma caught the glimpse of something shiny in there. What was that? She pushed Caleb’s hand out of the way and saw a phone. A different model to Mark’s. Why would he have two phones? He kept losing his charger, but perhaps that was the excuse to go out and use a different phone.

  This was crazy. She was being kidnapped by an on-the-run convict, and here she was, wondering if her boyfriend had another woman on the side. He didn’t use two phones for work. She’d know if he did.

  “Come on, Em. We need to change cars.” Caleb climbed out of the car, while she stared at Mark’s alternate phone, trying to make sense of it.

  Was it a borrowed one? Or was he hiding something from her?

  The sound of an engine starting snagged her attention, and she looked up to see Caleb behind the wheel of a scruffy VW.

  “Come on,” he said. “I need to lock your car.”

  “What about Mark?”

  “Someone will find him soon enough. Don’t worry about him.”

  As if in a dream, Emma climbed out of the Ford and walked to the VW, where Caleb held the passenger door open from the inside. She looked back at Mark’s car. She couldn’t leave him here. He might suffocate.

  Caleb remotely locked the doors of the Falcon, and then tossed the key fob into a nearby hedge.

  “You can’t do this,” she said, half-angry, half-pleading. “That’s my boyfriend in there. Can he breathe?”

  “Half an hour, Em. That’s all.”

  “And then I can let him out?”

  “Yes.”

  She stared at Caleb, this new Caleb 2.0, hard and muscled and all business. He should scare her, but he didn’t. He couldn’t have changed so much inside. “Half an hour,” she whispered. “Not a minute more.”

  Chapter Nine

  Caleb drove across the sprawling car park and around to the other side, where cafés and fast food outlets jostled side by side. “We can park here. No cameras. Let’s grab a coffee and catch up,” he said. As though he hadn’t abducted her at knifepoint and locked her boyfriend in his car. As though nothing had happened.

  “Ha
ve a coffee?” She echoed the words. Did she hear him correctly? “What if someone sees you?”

  “They’ll be looking for a man on the run, wearing prison clothes. Not a guy having a relaxed coffee with a girl.” He tugged a dark beanie out of his inside pocket and pulled it over his hair, then donned a pair of shades. “I’ve even got a little cash. Come on.”

  “Where did you get all this? Is it stolen? Like the car?”

  “No. I paid for it.” He gestured towards the nearest café. “Shall we? I reckon we’ve got twenty-five minutes left out of that half-hour.”

  “And then what happens? Where do you go?”

  “Best you don’t know that.”

  She followed him inside the building and walked by his side to the counter.

  “You still drink the same?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Two large flat whites with sugar, please. In takeout cups.” He handed a ten-dollar note to the girl behind the counter and dropped the change—a couple of coins—into the tips box.

  Emma couldn’t take her eyes off him. This wasn’t the same man she’d been friends with. Not just physically. He was also more cocky, confidence pouring from him. Or was it an act?

  “Thanks,” he said to the barista and took the drinks. “Outside?” he asked Emma. “Now it’s stopped raining?”

  “Sure.”

  They were the only patrons sitting here. The café was winding down for the day, and the other customers were inside. This was their chance to speak freely.

  Emma sat at the table and wrapped her hands around the cup. She waited until Caleb sat opposite her, before she spoke. “Talk. And make it quick.”

  He flipped the plastic lid from the drink and inhaled the fragrance in a long sniff. “I never realised how much I’d miss a good coffee.”

  “What is it you want to ask me?”

  Caleb sighed. “I need your help, to find out who killed my sister. And to get away. Permanently.”

  “The police think her death was an accident.”

  “But you don’t?”

  “No.” Emma leaned forwards. “Joss came to see me that morning. She was scared. She said they were coming after her, and she wanted me to look after Minerva if anything happened.”

  “Who was coming after her? Did she say?”

  “No. And I was on my way out, so we didn’t talk. I went to see her after work, but…” Tears pressed at the backs of her eyes, and she blinked. “It was too late.”

  “Fuck.” Caleb sank his head in his hands. “I was so close. A couple of days earlier, and I could have been there. Fuck it all to hell.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been planning this breakout for months. Ever since Joss told me what was happening.”

  “Did she visit you?”

  “No. After I was put away, she couldn’t face going out. She never left the house unless it was really important. I’m glad she came to see you. Where’s Min, by the way? Did you take her?”

  “Yes. She’s at my house. You know—where you kidnapped me from. I was about to take her to my mum’s. She’ll be happier there.”

  “They still live in Reikorangi?”

  Emma nodded. It was weird, how normal this conversation felt. Caleb and Joss had always been the brother and sister she never had. They’d been closer than siblings, right until the trial.

  “Thank you, for that,” he said. “We don’t have a lot of time, but will you help me?”

  “You know I will.” She shrugged. “That’s why I’m here, listening, instead of screaming for rescue.”

  He smiled, but it faltered quickly. “Okay. I’m pretty sure I know who it was. Not the actual person, but the people behind it. They want something from me. Something Joss and I developed together. A programme.”

  “Okay. And what does it do?”

  “Again, it’s best if you don’t know the details.”

  “I don’t know how you expect me to help, if you won’t tell me anything.”

  “Same fiery Emma. The new hair colour is cute. Ginger suits you.”

  She mock-scowled. “It’s not ginger. It’s auburn.”

  “Suuure.” He tapped her nose. “I’m serious, Em. I’m on my own now, apart from you. And it scares me shitless that they might target you next. That’s why we need to move quickly. I need to get my programme back, and then fuck off.”

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “The police will be watching the house. Can you get in, to look for it?”

  “Your house is a crime scene. It’s all taped off. And it looks as though someone has been searching it. It was trashed. Every cupboard and drawer opened.” The memory of walking through the desolate house made her pulse race. And then, what came after… She took a sip of coffee and bought herself a moment to calm down. “Is it going to be on a laptop or something?”

  “The source code was on my master PC, but it was encrypted to fuck. If they got that, it should self-destruct before they gain access. Joss made a copy, though. She told me it was in a safe place.”

  “What would I be looking for?”

  He shrugged. “Probably a data stick.”

  “Seriously? You want me to search the entire house for a data stick? You didn’t see the mess. Do you know where she’d keep it?”

  “No. From what you’ve said, I guess they’ve taken my hard drives. I can only hope Joss hid the backup in a really good place. She didn’t give anything to you?”

  “No. There wasn’t time. What is it, anyway? What does the programme do?”

  Caleb slipped the shades off and rubbed his eyes. “Let’s say there’s a tool that everyone wants. And I mean everyone. Law enforcement, government, military, and the bad guys. Mafia. Drug barons. Human traffickers. Every flavour of bad fucker you can imagine. And they all want this utility. They harass Joss and terrify her. They break into my house and steal my computer systems and think they’ve got it, but then it doesn’t work. What are they going to do? They’ll come after anyone who had contact with me, to find it.”

  “This sounds like the plotline of an action movie. Is it really so valuable?”

  “You’ve heard of the dark web?”

  She nodded.

  “The main browser, Tor, is like an onion, with layers upon layers of connectivity protocols. It’s supposed to make each transaction completely untraceable. Right?”

  She nodded again. “I remember a story in the news, about a big drug bust in Auckland. Some teenagers buying stuff on the dark web, and then dealing to their friends.”

  “Yeah. They were sending the gear to their home addresses. Amateurs.” He rolled his eyes. “Point is, the police were tipped off by the postal service and Customs’ working together. Up to now, there’s been no way to unpick transactions on the dark web. If they were able to do that, they could’ve broken the supply chain much quicker.”

  “Is that what you’ve written?”

  “I nicknamed it Ekho, after the Greek spirit of distracting noises. In simple terms, it leaves a hidden breadcrumb trail that enables traceability. No more anonymity.”

  “Does it work?”

  He smirked. “What do you think? It’s fuckin’ awesome.”

  Emma thought back over what he told her. “I sense a but coming.”

  “Yeah. It works so well that, like I said, everybody wants it.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  He shook his head. “Think about it. They want my tool, not me. It’s the only currency I have.”

  “You’re disposable?”

  “Yep. What they did to Joss was a message to me.” He curled both hands into fists on the table. “My plan for the last few months was to break out, grab the programme, and sell it for a shitload of money. Use that to disappear. Me and Joss would have gone to Europe and vanished. But now, things are different.”

  She shivered at the ice in his voice. “Go on.”

  “Now I’m going after the bastards that hurt my sister. And believe me,
Em—I’m going to make them pay for what they did.” He opened his hands and stared at them, but his gaze was unfocused. “If I had a PC, I could start to recreate the code, but it would take me months. Years, even. My best bet is to find the backup, and that means figuring out where Joss stashed it.”

  “And you’ll use the programme to figure out who did this?”

  “It’ll help me narrow down the shortlist.”

  “Assuming you find it, can’t you take it to the police? You said the government agencies would all want this tool.”

  “Em, you have such an innocent idea of the world. In your book, you have good guys and bad guys, right? Police are good, drug dealers bad?”

  She was irked at his simplistic view, but she nodded.

  “What happens when the people at the top of the good-guy tree are rotten?”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I know it’s a risk I can’t take.”

  Emma sat back and nursed what was left of her drink. “Do you have a plan from here? Somewhere to go?”

  “Yeah. And no offence, but I’m not telling you where.”

  “If there’s any way I can get into the house, I will. But where do I look?”

  “I’m hoping she meant a safe place literally. I installed a secure cabinet years ago—an old gun safe I bought from a mate. It came with one of those fake wall sockets. You know the type. It looks like a regular electrical socket, but when you unscrew it, there’s a tiny storage space inside. That’s where I hope she put it.”

  “In your old room?”

  “Yes. Underneath the main window. It’s got a plug in it, connected to a lamp I never use.”

  Could Emma do this? As long as she could get in and out of the house. She blew out a breath. “Okay. But if I find it, how do I get in touch with you? How can I find you?”

  “What social media accounts do you have?”

  “None. I closed them all down.”

  “Do you have an Amazon account?”

  “Well… yes. I buy Kindle books.”

  “Okay. When you want to make contact, go onto Amazon.com and leave a book review on To Kill A Mockingbird. Give it a one-star rating and say the story didn’t cut it for you, or something like that. I’ll come find you.”