She wakened Jess and Charlie before she left. They’d been more excited than worried about the riots, jumping out of bed and rushing to the living room to try and see what was happening on Portal. Immediately they wondered whether school would be cancelled. Their school was nearby so she reminded them they’d have to go if they didn’t get any notifications to the contrary from the school’s profile. Their excitement considerably dampened, they trooped back to bed with long faces.
Louisa brought up the currently peaking feed topics and selected the grouping devoted to the riots. From the mass of divergent newscasts and personal opinion feeds it was hard to determine exactly how the rioting had started. The general consensus indicated a protest outside the Portal headquarters had turned violent once the police arrived to disperse the crowd. The trouble had been contained relatively quickly but Portal analysts identified an exponentially expanding number of profiles consuming the news. Intense bursts of communication sparked in localised geographical areas like Brixton and Hackney—in hindsight a clear sign of coordination amongst those who would soon be spilling out onto the streets. For the moment, the police appeared to have the rioters contained but Louisa knew the force would be spread thin. It was no wonder they were recalling everyone who was off duty.
Following the breach Portal had indeed managed to block the Chinese servers that hosted the stolen data, but they were still accessible outside Portal’s network. Portal tried to persuade some of the major UK ISPs to block the Chinese servers’ IP ranges, but the companies weren’t playing ball. By then it was too late anyway—the data had been cloned and was now mirrored on hundreds of servers in America, Australia, Singapore, Russia, Ireland and countless other countries. Anywhere hosting server farms large enough to store the data and with sufficient bandwidth to sate the growing appetite for access.
In the end, Portal’s attempts to prevent Londoners from accessing the data proved futile. Many rushed out and bought mobile phones and tablets from the few shops still stocking them. Mobile networks in London soon collapsed under the demand. Sensing an opportunity to recover customers previously lost to Portal, one network transported in phone masts on the back of flatbed trucks to boost their bandwidth. The rest quickly followed suit.
Once the data was freely available it was scrutinised by every geek, journalist, and government intelligence agency around the world. The intelligence agencies were keeping their efforts at processing the data under wraps but the rest were eagerly sharing their attempts at cracking the encryption. The Cambridge Professor from the news the previous evening had been correct in his assertion that only one key would be required to decrypt the entirety of the data. The Portal newscasts failed to hide their dismay at the revelation.
Portal then released another statement, which attempted to reassure Londoners their data was secure. They had analysed the data and were confident the encryption was unbreakable. It was military-grade, apparently. No computer system in the world had the capacity to brute-force the 4,096 bit private key.
But then, at around one a.m. London-time, a hacker in the Czech Republic somehow managed the impossible; he shared a key on his blog allowing anyone to decrypt the leaked data. He confirmed the dataset did indeed contain real-time profile data for millions of Portal users. To add insult to injury, at the same time, he released a utility for indexing and searching it. He also open-sourced his utility so before Portal could react and slap an injunction on him the code had spread worldwide. It resurfaced on thousands of web sites, cloned and veneered with fancy UI’s making name and Portal ID searching available for even the most non-technical web user.
The only saving grace for Portal was that the timeframe for the leaked data was indeed only seconds in length, but it was little succour for the mauling the company was receiving from media outlets and civil rights NGOs across the globe. Portal followed up by releasing belated warnings to users that, depending on the extensions they used during the timeframe, a certain amount of their private profile data could be included in the leaked data set.
Celebrities were the first to be targeted. Any private pictures and videos they had uploaded or messages they had sent and received during the few exposed seconds began to spring up on public feeds and global web gossip sites and blogs. There were reports of crowds gathering outside the homes of some celebrities after their addresses became public knowledge.
The government had yet to release a statement on the leak. Their position wasn’t helped when it was discovered no ministerial profiles had been exposed. Public feeds exploded with demands to know why they had been protected. So far the government had offered no explanation, which fed fuel to the rumours the government were behind the leak themselves. The theory hadn’t been taken up by the more mainstream newscasts yet who were concentrating on the fact the data was shared from China and were blaming either the Chinese government or rogue Chinese hackers.
A peaking feed topic caught Louisa’s eye and she flicked it up onto the windscreen. There were thousands of first-person feeds being shared of the rioting, both from onlookers’ viewpoints and even from those participating in the violence. One first-person feed was from the point of view of a rioter. Aghast, Louisa watched as he lit a crude Molotov cocktail made from a sugar and petrol concoction held in a glass bottle with a rag stuffed in the top. He hurled it towards a line of riot police. One of the officers caught it on his shield, smashing the glass bottle releasing its contents in a spray of liquid. The rioter cheered along with the rest of the mob as a fireball engulfed the poor man. Luckily he was doused in fire-retardant foam by fast-reacting fellow officers.
Videos of rioting weren’t uncommon, but the first-person feeds were chilling. It was like taking part in the riot yourself. More and more first-person feeds were being shared now. Louisa shook her head in disbelief. Had they taken leave of their senses? In the aftermath of the riots the police would know exactly who they were from their profiles. It was as if they’d ceased to care about the consequences of their actions. The extension indicated the feeds were being avidly consumed throughout the capital. Reaction from watchers varied from revulsion to admiration. Louisa could only hope public opinion would sway towards the former. If the rioting gained popular support then it was sure to spread, and the MET would rapidly lose control of the situation.
*
Louisa found Rick asleep at his desk and gave him a gentle nudge. When that didn’t work she shook him.
‘Wha—I’m awake.’ He squinted at her through red-rimmed slits. ‘Stop shaking me.’
‘You stink of booze,’ Louisa said. ‘Are you wearing the same shirt and tie from yesterday?’
‘I went for a few drinks after work, that’s all. Then as soon as I got home the bloody recall alarm went off on my terminal.’
‘Any sign of the DI yet?’
‘I heard the super’s calling all the DIs together for a briefing. If I were you I’d try and get some sleep while you still can. We have two homicides racked up so far.’
Louisa sat at her desk and logged into the MET Subnet. She scanned through the two new case files. ‘But these are nowhere near the riots.’
‘Yeah, I know. Two domestics by the looks of things.’
‘The first is a woman who allegedly stabbed her husband,’ Louisa read out aloud. ‘The arresting officer found her on her knees beside the body, sobbing, with a bloody knife in her hand. This can’t be related to the riots, surely?’
‘It’s the Portal leak,’ Rick said. ‘Check out the wife’s statement. She discovered her husband was shagging her sister from some private messages she found in the leaked Portal data. She blubbed all the gory details to one of the female constables at the scene. Probably thought she would empathise. Wait until you see the second case file—it’s going to keep us busy all night.’
Louisa opened the second file and scanned through the activity feed. It appeared to be another domestic at first. Mrs Godfrey was found strangled at her home with no signs of forced entry. Then she rea
d down further and saw the woman’s husband was also discovered dead at the scene. He’d apparently hanged himself. ‘A murder-suicide?’
‘Looks that way,’ Rick said. ‘The son called it in. He’s only fifteen. Woke to find his mother lying on the kitchen floor and his father hanging in the garage. I bet you anything we find out Mrs Godfrey was having an affair. Either that or her husband discovered something else in the leaked data he didn’t like.’
‘The whole city’s going to hell.’
‘Tell me about it. The first thing I did when I read these two was check what was available on me. Nothing much, thank God. The leak covers a few seconds around half eleven on Saturday night. We were on the drugs squad stakeout at the time so there’s only some live sense strip footage streamed from the MET Subnet to my profile.’ Rick yawned, stretched out his limbs and arched his back, cat-like. ‘I’m off to get some coffee. You want some?’
Louisa shook her head. The canteen closed at six in the evening. Afterwards you had to brave the coffee-like sludge from the vending machines.
DI Fuller appeared moments later and strode towards his office. He looked as weary as Rick, but Louisa guessed he hadn’t been out on the town, merely dragged out of bed like her. He hadn’t bothered to freshen up either. A waft of stale sweat trailed in his wake.
‘Morning, sir,’ she said.
The DI turned and frowned at her, as if he hadn’t noticed she was in the room. ‘Detective, my office, now.’
The DI half-collapsed into his chair, which creaked alarmingly at the callous assault. Louisa had a vision of the chair collapsing and the DI lolling around on the ground like a walrus on a beach.
‘All MITs have been recalled to deal with the homicides arising from the Portal emergency,’ the DI said. ‘Current case files have been frozen.’
‘What? For how long?’
‘For as long as I tell you, Detective. The new homicides are now top priority. You, however, won’t be working them.’
That caught Louisa off guard. ‘Sir?’
‘I have received orders from Superintendent Keller for the temporary transfer of a Murder Investigation Team under my command to the unit operated by DI Lenihan.’
‘James Lenihan? From SCD7?’
‘Yes.’ The DI glared at Louisa. ‘He has requested your team, Detective.’
The DI leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk. He interlocked his fingers and fixed her with a hard stare. Louisa waited for the DI to continue, but the silence stretched out and started to become uncomfortable. She realised he was waiting for her to speak, to tell him what she knew about DI Lenihan’s operation. He’s going to be waiting for a long time, then. She didn’t know why DI Lenihan had requested her. She suspected her boss was out of the loop too, and his ego was preventing him from asking. ‘Are we to report to SCD7 on Prince’s Row then, sir?’
The DI’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yes.’ He waved her away. ‘But I want a full report when you return.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Louisa said, ‘only if the operation isn’t classified, of course.’
The DI’s face darkened to a dangerous looking burgundy and Louisa fled the room.
*
The MET’s Serious and Organised Crime Command units were based in a four-storey Edwardian terrace near St James’ Park. From the outside the building was unassuming, surrounded by much more impressive looking modern office blocks. The reception was a tiny space, with one sleepy security guard who directed Louisa and Rick towards a couple of plastic chairs after she flicked him her MET ID.
They didn’t have long to wait. DI James Lenihan emerged from a lift a few minutes later. His tie was loosened and his shirtsleeves were rolled to the elbows. If he was as tired as everyone else, he wasn’t showing it. He reminded her of the DI’s of old she used to work with. Like Simon Carlyle in fact—coiled springs, with boundless energy and a dynamism that proved infectious to those serving under them.
‘Thanks for coming straight over, Detectives,’ the DI said. ‘Sorry for the rush but we’re in the middle of an operation I’d like to get your input on. My team is working alongside SIU in our incident room so if you come with me, I’ll take you straight there.’
*
The SCD7 incident room was similar in function to the one Louisa used, albeit on a much larger scale. An auditorium-style set of three tiered levels funnelled down from where Louisa, Rick and DI Lenihan entered. Four Portal consoles were laid out on each tier but only those on the lowest level were in use, with a single officer manning each one. Facing them a large semi-circular Portal screen took up the entire wall.
The auditorium was quiet, unusually so for an active incident room. Granted it was the middle of the night, but the officers were half-slumped at their terminals, eyes glazed and idly flicking through case files. Their manner spoke of those attempting to look busy when in fact they’d zoned out and were killing time. It had all the hallmarks of a stalled investigation. One in which the leads had dried up, leaving the officers bored and frustrated.
‘My unit in SCD7 is the Central Task Force,’ the DI said as they made their way down the steps. ‘In conjunction with Trident Gang Crime Command we routinely monitor gangland activity and keep an eye on all of London’s major players as a matter of course. Over the last four hours three senior members of a gang called the Clothwell Syndicate have been murdered. The syndicate was formed ten years ago when a number of London-based gangs merged. The Clothwells as a result have become the city’s largest single criminal organisation. Their revenue is derived from a wide range of sources, but primarily from drugs, gambling and prostitution.’
‘Any leads yet on who is responsible?’ Louisa asked as they reached the bottom of the steps.
‘No. Fortunately the Clothwells don’t know either. If they did we’d be seeing a lot more bodies on the streets. Our informants within the syndicate don’t believe the murders are the result of an internal feud. Our best guess is that another gang is using the mayhem resulting from the Portal leak to weaken the syndicate. It appears to be working. The Clothwells are in a state of confusion, but it won’t last long. They’ll be looking to strike back before the night is over. We need to identify the gang responsible before the Clothwells do.’
The wall screen’s display was quartered, with a map in the top-left section and the remainder displaying the open case files for the three victims. Louisa ignored the case files and concentrated on the map. Three blue pulsing circles indicated the location of the murders. They were all in central London and within half a mile of each other. The first took place on Shaftesbury Avenue. The next one occurred near Leicester Square and the last looked to be in or near Tottenham Court tube station. From their timestamps Louisa noted they all took place within the space of two hours.
‘Are you sure the murders were using the Portal breach as cover?’ Louisa asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘How long do you think it took to plan the murders? The first was carried out, what, less than three hours after news of the leak broke? They were in dead zones as well, right?’
The DI frowned. ‘Yeah, how did you know?’
Louisa nodded towards the case files. ‘You don’t have any suspects listed. If you’re drawing a blank on possible suspects it means you have zip on the sense logs.’
The DI didn’t look convinced. ‘But the Portal breach couldn’t be a coincidence. It’s the perfect cover. It must have been part of the plan.’
‘The perpetrators needed to learn their target’s schedules, scope out their security details, then find somewhere to kill them clear of sense strips, all in the space of a couple of hours? I don’t think that’s possible, do you? It must have taken weeks of planning, if not months.’
The DI nodded and gave her a thoughtful look. ‘The killer knew what he was doing all right. The murders all took place in or near a crowded area with zero sense coverage. Each site has been ringed in a solid sense perimeter. We’ve positively identified every person who cros
sed the sense perimeters and have scrutinised them all for previous criminal activity. Given the level of professionalism shown by the killer it’s highly likely he would have been associating with others involved in gangland activity. The history graphs indicated no such interactions with criminal elements. For those present without profiles—tourists and British nationals living outside London—we matched them to their passport or British ID card biometrics. They’re clean too.’
‘Wait, you’re not suggesting a single person is responsible for all three murders?’
‘We think so, yes. But I’ll let you draw your own conclusions when you’ve reviewed the sense logs of the crime scenes. We brought in mobile strips and scanned the locations as soon as we were alerted to the identities of the victims.’
‘How did you manage to run history graphs on everyone at the scenes without identifying them as suspects?’
‘You’ve forgotten about the emergency protocols built into the CSCA, Detective.’
It took a moment for Louisa to catch on to what the DI was talking about. ‘You mean because of the riots?’
‘Yes. During instances of civil unrest the security forces are given extended powers to scrutinise each and every Portal profile they believe, on the balance of probabilities, to be linked to the disturbances.’
Louisa recognised the quote from the CSCA. ‘Is that why you’re so keen to find this guy tonight?’
‘You’ve got it in one. Once the riots are quelled those emergency powers will be rescinded, and our killer will be in the wind.’
Louisa took a second to try and recall from her training what the extra powers could allow them to do. When they were in place the burden of proof required to run a full history graph analysis on a profile was much lower—that was the main difference. In essence, they could legally execute a history graph analysis on anyone with a relatively minor connection to a crime. The minor connection could even include a physical proximity to the crime scene. There had been a few cases over the years where she would have given her right arm for such a capability. So why then hadn’t they collared the guy already? Then it hit her. ‘You think the killer’s using a forged profile.’ The DI kept his face impassive but his lack of response was confirmation enough. ‘But it’s more than that. You should have been able to ID him with facial recognition from the sense perimeter logs so…you think the sense strip data is compromised too?’
The London Project (Portal Book 1) Page 14