Catwalk Criminal
Page 10
“Be very careful how you speak to me, young man,” Agent Hatfield hissed. “You’re in this country by invitation only. That can be revoked at any time, and you’ll find yourself on the first plane back to Washington.”
“I’ll handle this, Zak.” Nathan strode over to Jessica and placed his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’ll do everything I can to help clear your name, but you’ll need to go with them now.”
“That’s it?” Zak’s tone was outraged. “That’s all you’re going to do for your own god-daughter?”
“That’s all I can do at present.”
Zak clenched his fists, his green eyes sparking with anger.
“No, Zak. Stop!” She stepped forward, blocking him as he approached Nathan. He looked as if he were about to throw a punch. “It’s OK. I’ll go with them. I can clear my name, I know I can.”
She turned to face Nathan. “I did access the Sargasso file, but I swear that’s it. I had nothing to do with the hack on MI6. Please look into Margaret for me. I know she’s connected to this somehow.”
Nathan didn’t reply.
Zak caught Jessica’s hand as she walked past. “This isn’t over by a long shot. I’ll make sure of that.”
She managed a small smile. Had she been wrong about him? He’d come into the briefing all guns blazing and dissing her in spectacular fashion. Now he was fighting tooth and nail to protect her from her accuser, Agent Hatfield.
“Thanks, Zak. I appreciate it.”
Before she could protest, he pulled her towards him in a tight embrace. She inhaled the woody scent of his aftershave and felt something heavy drop into her pocket as she broke away.
“This way, please, Miss Cole,” one of the guards said.
As she followed him out, she felt in her pocket. Her fingers curled around a mobile phone. Zak was going out of his way to help her, but why?
“So how does it feel to be the muse of the most talked-about fashion designer in the world right now?” Hillary St Joseph asked.
The Teen Vogue journalist smoothed a wrinkle from her red Ossa Cosway shift dress and flashed a smile at Jessica. She was doing an interview alongside Ossa to go with her front cover and photo shoot from the other day. Normally, she’d have tucked into the delicious pastries and cakes served with afternoon tea at Claridge’s, but she didn’t have any appetite today. She’d been booted out of school and Westwood, and her iPad, computers, gadgets and MI6 phone had been confiscated. That had only happened yesterday, yet it felt like a lifetime ago. Somehow she had to clear her name, but how?
“Sorry, what was the question again?”
Hillary rolled her eyes. Jessica could feel the journalist’s patience beginning to wear thin. She had to admit, she wasn’t a dream to interview.
“I asked what it feels like to be Ossa’s muse,” she repeated.
“It’s a huge honour,” Jessica said, pushing her plate to one side. “I never expected to be picked by Ossa. I love his clothes.”
“I have to ask, Ossa, do you give Jessica lots of freebies?” Hillary said. “I couldn’t believe it when I was given this dress. I’m so grateful.”
“Jessica receives items from each collection I launch,” Ossa said, stabbing a profiterole. He watched the cream ooze out, suddenly distracted.
“Lucky you!” The journalist sighed enviously.
Jessica smiled dutifully. Would Hillary still be jealous if she knew the truth? Her contract stipulated she had to wear Ossa Cosway clothes any time she wasn’t at school in case she was snapped by the paparazzi. It was another way to advertise the designer’s clothing range since the pictures could get picked up by newspapers and magazines across the world.
Sure, she liked Ossa’s clothes, but sometimes it’d be cool to pull on a pair of old trackie bottoms and her favourite Topshop sweatshirt to run to the corner shop for a bag of crisps, instead of having to promote something posh and branded. Still, she shouldn’t complain. She was unlikely to get any sympathy from this journalist who was coveting the navy pea coat and grey sweater dress she’d been instructed to wear for today’s interview.
Hillary nodded encouragingly at Ossa. “Can I get more background detail about how you made it to the top? You said you graduated from Central Saint Martin’s College three years ago, right?”
Ossa smiled. “That’s correct.” He fiddled with his watch, which was attached to his waistcoat with a gold chain. He was wearing his trademark three-piece suit, which had recently been stocked in Macy’s department store in New York.
“How did you manage to launch your collections so quickly?” Hillary persisted. “Usually that takes years to pull off. No one from your graduating class has had anywhere near your amount of success so quickly.”
“I was very lucky,” Ossa explained. “I recruited an amazing team of dressmakers, who are all expert seamstresses and work very fast. Plus, my financial backer has been very generous. The cash enabled me to launch Ossa Cosway Ltd in my final year at college.”
“Who is your backer?” the journalist pressed.
“I’d love to tell you, but he’s a very private person. He doesn’t want any publicity.”
“You’re still with him?”
“Yes, his funds enable me to continually expand the global brand. We now have branches in Paris, Tokyo and New York. I can also afford to experiment with innovative ways to create outfits, such as the hashtag dress that promotes the latest digital technology.”
“Brilliant!” Hillary exclaimed. “I need one more thing from you, Jessica. How do you manage to juggle your schoolwork with modelling? Are your teachers very understanding?”
Her teachers hated her guts right now, as they thought she’d posted their personal details on a dating website. If they saw her, they’d probably string her up. She had plenty of time to model since she was kicking about at home with absolutely nothing to do.
“School’s been great,” she said through gritted teeth. “My teachers have been really accommodating. Obviously, I try not to let modelling interfere with my schoolwork too much. I want to get good grades and eventually go to university.”
The journalist nodded. “Anything else you’d like to add, Ossa?”
“Jessica is strong, intelligent and beautiful – an inspiration to girls and women all over the world. She’s a true role model.”
It was a good job he didn’t know what else she was – an ex-Westwood agent and suspected member of a sinister group of hackers, The Collective. That would definitely damage the Ossa Cosway brand.
Jessica’s new mobile buzzed as she left Claridge’s a short time later.
“Meet me at Café Panorama. Heading there now.”
Zak had picked a venue close to her home in Ealing, West London; he must have done it for convenience. He couldn’t have known that was where she usually met Jamie after school. She checked her watch. She had time to grab a quick drink with Zak; Jamie had football practice today. It was the least she could do considering Zak was the only person who’d stood up to Agent Hatfield yesterday. He’d given her this disposable mobile and was her only contact with Westwood now. She had no way of monitoring developments without his help.
The Underground was hit with signal failures again; the Piccadilly and Central lines weren’t running, no doubt due to another hack from The Collective. Despite a long-winded route back to Ealing, Jessica still managed to arrive first at the café and grab a table. She texted Jamie to say she was running late, which would hopefully delay him. As she sipped a camomile tea, she picked up the newspaper lying on the table.
MI6 LEAK: AGENT ALMOST KILLED BY LYNCH MOB
MI6 operative Aarash Sadai was airlifted from Afghanistan yesterday after his identity was mysteriously leaked to a news website.
Sources in Afghanistan say that Mr Sadai narrowly escaped with his life when his home was firebombed by an angry mob.
MI6 has refused to comment, but insiders claim that an internal investigation has been launched to discover the source of the catastrophic security leak.
Jessica pushed the paper aside. What a nightmare, but at least the agents were safe. That was something. Plus, it didn’t look as though The Collective had approached the press, claiming responsibility for the hacks, so MI6 could keep a lid on what was happening. However, another agent’s identity would already have been leaked this afternoon, and their life would be in jeopardy. Had they been as lucky as the others?
Jessica glanced over her shoulder, wondering whether to order another tea. She spotted Zak stride in and place an order at the counter. For some reason, she had butterflies in her stomach and her throat felt dry. She took a last gulp of tea and knotted her fingers. What did she have to be nervous about?
He flung himself down across the table from her and ran a hand through his curls. His chin was covered with stubble and dark shadows circled his eyes.
“I guess you didn’t get much sleep either?” Jessica had resorted to piling on bucketloads of under-eye concealer ahead of her magazine interview after a night spent on the sofa, channel hopping with the TV remote control.
“I pulled an all-nighter. So did Nathan. It’s been intense with the whole list thing, plus the general hacking problems.”
“They targeted the Underground again today.”
“Along with Manchester airport, eBay and the Guardian and Wall Street Journal’s Twitter accounts. Hackers are flooding websites with demands for the million-dollar jackpot. They’re desperately trying to get LibertyCrossing’s attention in a bid to win his hacking contest.”
“And have they?”
“Who knows? There’s no news about the jackpot. In the meantime, LibertyCrossing’s troops are getting careless. MI6 has made some arrests already. More hackers will be detained this week.” He flashed the attractive waitress a dazzling smile as she delivered his chocolate chip muffin and hot chocolate. Jessica watched as he devoured the muffin in a few mouthfuls.
Zak wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “Sorry. No time for lunch today.” He glanced down at the newspaper and pointed to the story on the exposed agents. “Have you ever worked with either of them?”
Jessica shook her head. “I haven’t done a foreign mission before. Well, not officially.” Sure, she’d spied in Paris and Monaco, but she hadn’t been part of Westwood back then. She dug out the mobile and placed it on the table. “Do you make a habit of carrying around spare disposable phones?”
“I do, as a matter of fact. They’re an essential tool of the job. You should stock up too.”
Jessica bit her nail. She was usually good at getting the size of people, but Zak was a hard one to figure out. She still didn’t know what to think.
“Why are you helping me? You seemed to think I did a rubbish job at the Shard and at the boarding school.”
“I thought your Westwood backup was rubbish, but not you. From what Nathan told me, you were the only one to show any real initiative. You were fearless that night on the Shard. You weren’t to know…” His voice trailed off.
“That I was going to be ambushed and attacked?”
Zak’s cheeks coloured. “Yes. Anyway, that’s not why we’re here. It’s D-Day tomorrow afternoon. The US won’t release Lee Caplin, so the entire agent database will go up online unless we can stop The Collective.”
Jessica shivered. How many agents would lose their lives if that happened?
“What are you doing about it?” she asked.
“Now you’re out of the picture, I’m supposed to liaise with Bree.” Zak raised an eyebrow. “Which I’m thrilled about, naturally. She’s not exactly Miss Super Spy.”
“It could be worse than that. She could be a double agent.”
“Really? Go on.”
“Nathan says she’s good, but I don’t trust her. You saw her coming down the stairs that night at the Shard. She could have attacked me and stolen the USB flash drive. It’s possible she helped The Collective find a way to hack MI6 and tipped them off about the raid on Henry’s boarding house.”
“I’ll get Rodarte to run its own background checks on her,” Zak said, stroking his stubble. “But to be honest, I’m not sure I trust anyone at MI6. Neither should you.”
“Nathan’s my godfather. I can trust him.”
“Are you sure? From where I was standing yesterday, he rolled over when Hatfield went for you.”
Jessica nibbled another nail. She wanted to disagree but couldn’t. He was right. Nathan hadn’t put up much of a fight against Agent Hatfield. Maybe he was worried that she could drag him down with her and was trying to protect his own career with MI6.
“Why are we really here, Zak?”
“I want your help.” He fiddled with the sugar sachets in the bowl without looking up. “Work with me to bring down The Collective.”
“I’ve been thrown out of Westwood, remember? I’m not much good to anyone.”
“Officially you’re out, but you can assist me off the books.”
“I’m flattered you’re asking, but what can I do? I no longer have access to Westwood info. I have no idea what’s going on with the investigation. I’m completely out of the loop.”
“I can regularly update you on everything that’s going on at Westwood and Rodarte to do with The Collective in return for a favour.”
Jessica’s mind whirred. She couldn’t think what he was after. “Which is?”
“Help me get to Margaret Becker.”
She sat forward in her chair. “I’m listening.”
“My bosses are interested in your theory that she’s involved in this somehow. They believe she’s a lead worth pursuing, yet MI6, which has the jurisdiction to organize a prison interview, has ruled out the possibility, as it’s concentrating on other clues. We believe that’s a mistake.” Zak rubbed his forehead. “That makes things difficult for us. Time’s running out for Britain and America. When that list goes live tomorrow, British agents working in hostile countries overseas could be captured and tortured; undercover US operatives could be endangered by association too. Plus, we have the president’s visit to worry about. He’s insisting upon going ahead, against the advice of the National Security Council, because his daughter won’t pull out of London Fashion Week. The CIA has to act. Rodarte wants me to visit Margaret, but I can’t do that alone.”
Jessica’s mouth fell open. “You want me to come with you?” Helping Zak get to Margaret in prison was one thing, but actually having to see the traitor who’d repeatedly tried to kill her was another.
“You know Margaret,” Zak said. “She’d never agree to speak to me, but the two of you have history. She could open up to you.”
“Why on earth would she ever want to talk to me? She gained a life sentence because of my evidence against her in court. She hates me. She wants me dead.”
“Isn’t it worth a shot? Shouldn’t we try to save all those agents before it’s too late? They might not be as lucky as Aarash and Annette.” He jabbed a finger at the newspaper story.
“You must have read the file on Margaret by now. You know it’s possible there’s a link between her and the death of my mum in a helicopter crash? My dad and Nathan think she was paid by a terrorist called Vectra to sabotage the chopper.”
“Surely that’s even more reason to confront her? As I said, you have personal history with her. You know which buttons to hit. I don’t.”
Jessica picked her finger. The skin around her nail was ragged and bleeding. Zak had no idea who he was dealing with. Even behind bars, Margaret was manipulative and highly dangerous.
“Margaret won’t even consider helping us unless there’s something in i
t for her,” she said finally.
“We’ve already anticipated that.”
“So what are you offering her? A get out of jail free card in return for her full cooperation? I won’t be part of any deal like that. I want Margaret kept behind bars where she belongs, whatever happens tomorrow. She’s a psychopath.”
Zak shook his head. “It’d be nothing like that, I promise. There’s always something a prisoner wants – a better cell, more privileges, and a higher paid job on the inside. What do you think? Will you help me if I can set up a visit? It could be our only chance to stop that list from being made public.”
Jessica closed her eyes. She felt sick at the thought of seeing Margaret again and having to listen to her taunts. She’d enjoy torturing her by mentioning her mum and then refusing to help them. “OK. I guess.”
“Brilliant. Thank you. It’s going to take some organizing our end to ensure the prison authorities cooperate. I’ll text you when it’s sorted. We’ll need to leave early tomorrow to get to Durham, so come up with a cover story. You can’t tell anyone, including your dad or Mattie, in case they tip off Nathan.”
Spilling the beans about visiting Margaret wasn’t something she was keen to do with anyone in her family. She could pretend she had another modelling shoot with Ossa; it was believable. This contract was taking up a lot of her time.
“I promised I’d keep you up to speed with everything in return. So here goes. I can tell you that Henry’s still missing.”
He handed over a brown file marked “Henry Murray”. She flicked it open and stared at the first document – a photo of the blond, blue-eyed teenage boy.
“Are you any closer to finding him?”
“Not really, but he has resurfaced.” Zak leant over and fished out a grainy picture from the file.
“This was snatched from CCTV cameras late yesterday – a young man begging near Notting Hill Gate. We ran it through facial recognition technology. It’s definitely Henry.”