The Deadly Lies

by David C. Dawson

  Dominic looked around awkwardly, Jonathan’s arms still wrapped around his waist. Jonathan began to nibble at his ear.

  Alfonso put his arm on Gabriel’s shoulder as he joined his husband at the top of the stairs.

  “Adorable! The lovebirds on their honeymoon.” He turned to Gabriel. “Do you think we should leave them alone again for a bit longer?”

  “No,” said Gabriel, holding out the statue of Adam. “We need to explain where this beautiful bronze man came from.” He turned to Alfonso. “Tell them what you just told me.”

  Chapter 18

  STEVE LAY on the bed in his guesthouse bedroom, exhausted but wide-awake. It was 3:00 a.m. in San Francisco but 11:00 a.m. in London. And Steve was on London time. Nick had dropped him off at the guesthouse just over an hour ago. It was a traditional-looking timber-clad building close to Coit Tower. Steve had booked it through GayBnB. He chose it because it was a short walk from the location for the hackfest. As he had walked up the short flight of wooden steps to the front door, he had wondered what kind of welcome he might receive for being so late.

  After several minutes of ringing the bell, the door was opened by a genial bear of a man, who introduced himself as Anders. He dismissed Nick’s apologies for being delayed, welcomed him in, and closed the door. As he led the way down a gloomy corridor, he explained he liked to play his guitar late into the night and smoke a joint or two. Anders was originally from Finland. He was an easygoing man about fifty years old. He had long thick hair that was almost white and tied in a ponytail, and a white beard.

  Anders invited Steve into a comfortably shabby sitting room, lined with books and furnished with large scruffy settees covered by multicolored throws. He offered Steve a joint and a cup of mint tea, and they talked intermittently while Anders improvised a tune on his guitar. After an hour, Steve thanked him for his hospitality and headed for his bedroom, leaving Anders still strumming the guitar.

  The bedroom was large and furnished with dark wood furniture. Steve threw his clothes on the floor and climbed into the king-size bed set against the wall opposite a large sash window. He turned out the bedside light and attempted to get some sleep.

  As he lay in the darkness, desperate to sleep, he realized the joint he had smoked had failed to relax him as he had hoped. Besides, the puzzle of his father’s missing computer records irritated him, and he could not dismiss it from his mind. Worse, he was feeling increasingly sore underneath his cock after the encounter with Nick in the front seat of the Tesla.

  Annoyed, Steve sat up, turned the bedside light back on, threw back the covers, and examined his crotch. Contorting himself in front of the lamp, he could see a red mark below his cock. When he slid his fingers over the mark, he could feel it was raised and sore, like a large insect bite.

  “Jesus, what was that fucker doing?” muttered Steve to himself. He pressed a little harder on the raised area and felt a sharp pain.

  “Shit, you bastard,” he continued, and he threw himself back on the pillow, gingerly massaging the pain away with his fingertips. “I’m not even going to be able to wank myself to sleep tonight.”

  After several minutes, the pain subsided. Steve sat up, reached for his laptop, and connected it to the Wi-Fi, using the code Anders had given him earlier.

  As he prepared to resume the search for his father’s online records, a message flashed up on the screen.

  There you are at last. We need to talk. Urgently. Dominic needs your help.

  Steve set the laptop to one side, climbed off the bed, and reached for his backpack. After a few moments, he found headphones, plugged them into the laptop, and made himself comfortable on the bed.

  “Good morning, young man!” Jonathan’s voice rattled the tiny earphones, and Steve hurried to turn down the volume. “How splendid to see you,” Jonathan continued. “And with no clothes on! An extra treat for us.” On his laptop screen, Steve could see the faces of four men smiling back at him. Hurriedly, he switched off his computer’s camera.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Jonathan in his ears. “You’re not shy all of a sudden, are you? And I’d promised our dear Spanish friends you’d give us a floor show as well.”

  Steve could hear giggles in the background. “Fuck off, Jonathan. Do you know what time it is here?”

  “I do, my dear,” replied Jonathan. “Which is why I did you the courtesy of not telephoning. But I rather hoped you might be geeking on the interweb. And of course I was right.”

  Steve had no chance to reply as Jonathan continued in full flight.

  “So, young Steve, Dominic has got us into a big adventure again. When all we wanted was a quiet honeymoon in the sun. I’ll start from the beginning—”

  “Jonathan, will you shut up, please,” Dominic’s voice cut in. His face appeared on the screen. He looked somber, and Steve could see a tension in the body language between him and Jonathan.

  “Steve,” said Dominic. “My mobile’s been stolen, and it’s got a very important text message on it. Are you able to retrieve it somehow?”

  Steve thought for a moment. “How big is this big adventure, Dominic? If it’s like the last one, we shouldn’t be speaking on an open system like this.”

  There was a pause at the other end. Finally, Dominic replied, “You’re right. Do what you need to do.”

  A FEW minutes later, Steve reestablished a connection with Dominic on an encrypted voice link.

  “The answer is yes,” said Steve, “but it will take me a while. I need your telco, your phone number, your address, and your billing ID. You can type them into this secure link.”

  “I can’t remember my billing ID. How am I going to get that?” asked Dominic. “I’m in Spain at the moment. All my paperwork is back in the apartment in England.”

  Before Steve could answer, Jonathan’s voice interrupted. “Oh, even I know the answer to that, my dear. It’ll all be online. Just go and check one of your old emails. I’m sorry, Steve,” Jonathan continued. “Dominic can be remarkably old-fashioned sometimes.”

  Steve heard a few moments of angry whispered conversation. Then Dominic’s voice spoke in his ear. “Steve, how long do you think it will take?”

  “Not long if it’s a recent message,” Steve replied. “Give me half an hour.”

  Steve waited, expecting to hear more.

  “Tell me,” he said finally. “Are you going to let me know what the fuck’s going on? Or am I just playing the part of your handy techno subcontractor again?”

  “I’m sorry, Steve.” Dominic was abrupt. “I’ll get the information for you right now and post it here. Then, when you find the message, call us back. We’ll tell you more, I promise.”

  DOMINIC SANK back into the black leather upholstery of the chrome-framed couch, thinking over what Alfonso had told him twenty minutes before. The news of Bernhardt’s death had been a shock. He looked across at Alfonso.

  “Will I need to identify his body?”

  Alfonso shook his head. “I doubt it. From what I’ve seen on the police reports, they’ve confirmed his identity, and a relative is flying in to Barcelona to formally identify him. I think it’s his sister, but I can check.”

  Dominic sat up. “Anna’s coming?” he asked. “Oh, poor woman. I should be with her.”

  Alfonso stood up, walked around to the back of the couch, and laid a hand on Dominic’s shoulder.

  “She’s not coming until Saturday,” said Alfonso. “By which time you’ll be in San Francisco.”

  Dominic slumped back into the couch again. “I could really do without that at the moment.”

  Jonathan leaned across and rested a hand on Dominic’s knee.

  “Lover, I think it’s exactly what you need right now. A Californian wedding. It will be fun. Anyway,” Jonathan continued, “we need to meet up with Steve in San Francisco. Then we can find out what’s going on with this secret message from Bernhardt.”

  Dominic pushed Jonathan’s hand away. “You can go if you want, Jonathan
. It doesn’t take two of us. And anyway, it’s your friends getting married. I’ve never met them before.”

  Alfonso looked across at Gabriel, who picked up the statue from the table. “Why don’t you make some coffee for us all, Alfonso?” Gabriel stood up. “Meanwhile, I’ll have a look at Adam here and see what I can find.”

  Gabriel carried the statue over to the balcony and began to examine it closely in the daylight. Alfonso walked to the kitchen.

  Jonathan leaned across to Dominic. “I’m sorry, my love. You’ve had a really bad shock, and I’m being insensitive. On top of that, I was rude just then. Really, I was simply trying to be funny. Will you forgive me?”

  “Forgiveness is easy, Jonathan. Forgetting is harder,” Dominic replied. He stood and looked down at his husband for several moments before he spoke.

  “Yes, you were rude, Jonathan,” he said. “But you know it’s not the first time. Whenever you ignore me, or you ignore what’s important to me. Whenever you belittle me in front of people or fuck someone else—” Dominic searched for the words he wanted to say next. “We’re on our honeymoon, Jonathan. Yes, it’s been wonderful. Well, to start with. You were wonderful. You made me feel special, and I hope I made you feel special. But since all this has happened—”

  Jonathan stood and faced Dominic. His eyes were wide, and he was breathing deeply.

  “And how do you think I felt,” he said, “when some little German shit tells me my husband was fucking his partner just two weeks before our wedding? Do you think I felt special then?”

  Dominic was lost for words. He paused. He wanted to keep his voice calm and steady when he finally spoke.

  “Jonathan,” he began. “I’ve told you several times that Karl Michael is lying. Bernhardt and I had nothing more than a friendship and a business relationship. I’ve also promised to tell you all about Bernhardt. But it’s got to be when the moment’s right—”

  “And when will the moment be right?” interrupted Jonathan.

  Dominic could no longer contain his anger. “He’s dead, Jonathan! Don’t you understand?” Dominic closed his eyes and looked away. “I don’t know what I’m feeling right now.” He took a deep breath before he looked back at his husband. “If you continue to push me like this, you’re going to push me away.” He sat down on the couch.

  “Perhaps,” said Dominic finally, “I should never have accepted your marriage proposal in the first place.”

  Before Jonathan could reply, there was a shout from Gabriel.

  “I’ve done it!” said Gabriel. “I’ve found something hidden in the base of this statue. Come and take a look.”

  IT TOOK Steve less than twenty minutes to find the message store for Dominic’s mobile phone number. He felt proud at breaking yet another personal database hacking record. Steve relished the challenge of breaching the security of corporate systems, and he was always careful to leave no trace of his visit. He was already familiar with Dominic’s telco, having hacked into it twice before. He was grateful to note the company had failed to strengthen its security since his last visits.

  “Hey, Dominic. I’ve got the message,” said Steve after he reestablished the secure video link on his laptop. “Now. Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

  Dominic’s face appeared on the screen. He looked downcast, and his voice was subdued.

  “Of course,” Dominic replied, holding a small object close to the camera for Steve to see. “But before I do, have you any idea what this is?”

  Steve peered at the grainy image on his laptop screen. It was about half an inch square, black, with a series of silver studs around its edge. It was wrapped in a clear plastic film, through which some white printing was visible.

  “Looks like a memory chip, or a module for a computer,” he replied after a brief examination. “Can you hold it still?”

  “Excuse me” came Jonathan’s voice. “I know you’ll think it stupid, Dominic. You usually do. But I’ve got an idea.”

  There was a blur of activity as hands moved backward and forward in front of the laptop camera. Finally the hands cleared, and Steve could clearly see a bronze statue of a male nude, apparently standing close to the laptop’s camera lens. In the statue’s hand nestled the memory chip. Steve took a snapshot of the image, enlarged it, and then rotated it to read some white characters printed on the surface of the chip.

  “That’s very strange.” Steve began to search through pages of serial numbers on the internet. “Where did you get this from?” he asked as he read through a specification sheet on his screen.

  “It’s quite a long story,” began Dominic. “I think it belonged to a close friend of mine from Germany. He was driving from Berlin to meet me here in Spain. The memory chip was hidden inside a small statue.”

  Dominic paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and continued, “A friend of ours, a Spanish police officer, found the statue. It was in the wreck of my friend’s car. He was killed in an accident not far from Barcelona.”

  Dominic’s voice faltered, and Steve switched his screen back to the camera view of the statue.

  “Are you all right, Dominic?”

  There was a pause. “Not really,” Dominic replied, “But I’m sure I’ll get over it.” Dominic coughed and cleared his throat before he went on. “You said something about it being strange. What did you mean?”

  Steve flicked his screen back to the specification sheet he had been reading. “This chip isn’t commercially available, as far as I can see,” he said. “It’s bespoke. Made by a specialist company in China. They usually make stuff for the military or the world’s space agencies.”

  He sat back and thought for a moment. “Do you know what’s on it?” he asked finally.

  “No idea,” replied Dominic. “The only reason I knew anything about it is because my friend, Bernhardt, had sent me a strange text message on his way here to Spain. That’s the message I wanted you to retrieve. What did it say?”

  Steve leaned over his laptop and brought up another internet page. “Oh yes, the message,” he said. “It’s certainly weird. Here it is.”

  Steve copied and pasted the text into the secure message window:

  41 38 36.91 68 88 13 53.09 76

  Turn to the feet of Adam

  03152621

  June 1

  “Oh, I get it,” said Steve as he studied his screen. “So that’s a statue of Adam. But what does the rest of it mean?”

  “Well, you’re the computer whiz,” came Jonathan’s voice. “We need you to answer that.”

  The statue disappeared from the screen, and Jonathan’s face loomed into view, wearing a broad smile.

  “And in just over a day’s time, my dear Steve, it will be May 31, and we’ll be joining you in San Francisco. Then you’ll have this little chip thingy to play with to your heart’s content.”

  “Jonathan,” said Steve with irritation. “Could you butt out the way so I can talk to Dominic?”

  Jonathan shuffled out of view, grumbling, and Dominic’s face appeared again on Steve’s laptop screen.

  “Can you help us, Steve?” asked Dominic. “Too much has happened in the last twenty-four hours. I don’t know what this is about, but Bernhardt’s lover was here in Spain, and he warned me to be careful. Then he disappeared, and our apartment was burgled, and our phones and laptop were stolen. Now I find that Bernhardt’s been killed on his way to bring me this memory chip. I really don’t….” Dominic looked away from the camera.

  “Don’t worry, mate,” Steve said briskly. “I’ll sort things out.”

  He started typing into the secure message window.

  “This is the number of a mobile phone I’ve got here in the States,” Steve said as he typed. “Nobody else knows about it. Get yourselves sorted with mobiles and text me so I’ve got your number. Keep that memory chip well hidden.”

  Steve looked up at the screen.

  “And take care, mate.”

  Chapter 19

  EARLY
MORNING sunlight streamed through the skylight windows of 101 Grain Street. Jeff Woodfield shielded his eyes as he padded across the wooden floor of the loft space and headed for the large, airy kitchen to his beloved espresso machine. It was 6:00 a.m., a few hours after the call with Charter Ninety-Nine. He was usually an early riser, even when he was late to bed the night before. Today there was much to do. It was the first day of the hackfest, and for the first time, he planned to leave it entirely in Nick’s hands.

  Jeff intended to make only an occasional guest appearance in front of the admiring audience of geeks and programmers. Then he would withdraw to think through more pressing matters. He needed time to revise the plans for the assault, to consider the Ninety-Nine’s options now that the Originator had disappeared. And of course, there were the British connections to deal with.

  Preparing his first caffeine hit of the day, Jeff pressed the button on the coffee grinder. He needed a strong shot today, so he carefully measured the freshly ground coffee into a chrome filter holder, locked it securely in the head of the espresso machine, placed two espresso cups under the twin nozzle, and released the steam valve. The coffee’s rich aroma filled his nostrils, and he inhaled deeply.

  “Hey, made enough for two?”

  Jeff looked around to see Nick walk naked into the kitchen.

  “Do you want coffee or a blow job?” Jeff smiled, admiring the tumescent end of Nick’s hardened cock.

  “Both would be good,” Nick replied, absently scratching his back with one hand and his cock with the other. He yawned, walked over to stand behind Jeff, and wrapped his arms around him. He slid his hands across Jeff’s bare chest and gently toyed with his nipple rings.

  Jeff turned off the steam valve and reached behind to wrap his hand around Nick’s erection. “Well, the coffee’s made, so don’t let it get cold. Drink up. Then I’ll take care of this for you.”