by Graham Smith
‘It’s OK. I appreciate you taking such a risk to help save my kids.’
‘Still, I’m sorry.’
‘Forget it. It’s not your doing.’ Victoria patted Lauren’s hand and threw a disgusted look at her husband. ‘Put the kettle on and make the lass a cup of coffee. Looks like she’s gonna have a long night with us.’
Chapter 64
Campbell put his mobile down and sighed. Sarah was doing fine in the hospital and baby Alan was being well looked after by the nurses. She’d understood about his having to work, but they were coming home tomorrow and she expected his undivided attention for the full week’s paternity leave he’d booked.
Campbell hadn’t had the heart to tell her his future career was at risk thanks to a wild scheme cooked up by a man she’d yet to meet. He knew she’d be furious at the gamble and wouldn’t see anything but the financial jeopardy he was placing them in. Whichever way the case went, there was no way it could be kept covered up. Whether they saved those two children or not, come tomorrow morning the brass would be demanding answers. An inquiry would follow. Blame would be allocated as fingers pointed. He was the new man on the team and may end up as the scapegoat.
Is that why Harry Evans had been so persuasive when he asked to be allowed to handle things his way?
He knew he shouldn’t have listened to Evans. He should have reported the kidnapping straightaway and let SOCA deal with it. Now it was too late to do anything but wait and see which way the dice rolled.
Chisholm was silent as he watched his screens. The only sign of movement from him was the flickering of his eyes, shifting focus from one monitor to the other. Bhaki had gone to join a PC on the stakeout and Evans had disappeared in search of food.
‘Grub’s up.’ Evan’s entered the office with three pizza boxes. ‘Got youse a pepperoni each.’
Campbell took his pizza and started to eat while Evans spread liberal amounts of Tabasco sauce onto his own pizza.
‘Just so you know, Jock, I’ve got firearms teams on standby at Carlisle and Kendal.’
Campbell swallowed before speaking ‘How did you swing that with the brass?’
‘Simple. I reminded them about the three shotguns taken from farms, suggesting it would be wise to have firearms teams ready around the county, as we had surveillance in place.’
Campbell found himself marvelling at Evans’s manipulation skills. One way or the other, he always seemed to get what he wanted. Perhaps that was the secret behind his team’s loyalty.
Chapter 65
Disappointed at being sidelined from the more urgent kidnapping case, Bhaki sat with PC Robert Malcolm in an unmarked car, hidden in a barn neighbouring South Fell farm on the southern reaches of Broom Fell. They were watching the screen of a tracker, waiting to see if the quad bike would move. Neither man expected there to be any movement until at least midnight but were professional enough to remain alert.
‘Bloody hell, this is boring.’
‘It’s not so bad. What would you have been doing of you weren’t doing this?’ Bhaki looked across the car at the man who had been detailed to join him on a night’s surveillance.
Robert Malcolm was a long-serving officer who’d never risen above the rank of constable. The bulging belly and constant grousing from his lopsided mouth would ensure he retired at the same rank he’d always held.
‘Paperwork, rounding up drunks or dealing with domestic violence probably.’
‘Paperwork is always boring and the other two just generate paperwork.’
‘You’re not wrong there.’
The two men chatted about football to alleviate the boredom, although Bhaki soon tired of Malcolm’s obvious bias towards Manchester United. He could handle fair debate, but Malcolm couldn’t admit the slightest fault in his team, even though no impartial football fan would say it was their finest team.
‘Gonna have me some soup. Want some?’
‘No thanks. I’ve got some of my own but I’m saving it for later.’ Bhaki reached for his bottle of water.
Malcolm had eaten almost non-stop since he’d joined him at nine. So Bhaki planned to treat the ever-hungry Malcolm to a cup of his mother’s mulligatawny. It was spicy enough to boil itself and perhaps a burnt mouth would prevent the older man from distributing crumbs all over his car.
‘Suit yourself.’
A call came through to Bhaki’s mobile. When he hung up his eyes showed both disappointment and concern.
A slurp came from Malcolm. ‘What’s up?’
‘Another case the team has been working on, that’s all.’ Bhaki had to stop himself adding, ‘and I’m sat hear with a moronic suckling pig, while the rest of the team are tracking down kidnappers’. However, he knew he had several more hours in the man’s company and, as bad as it was now, it would be much worse if he antagonised the slob.
‘So what’s he like then, your guv? I’ve heard lots of stories but have only met him a couple of times and he’s been fine wi’ me.’
‘What did you expect him to be like? He’s a good copper who’s just a bit stuck in the past with his attitude to policing.’ Bhaki paused to take a slug of water from his bottle. ‘He can be a bastard at times, but he’s basically fair. If you do your job, he leaves you alone.’
‘Oh right.’ There was disappointment in Malcolm’s voice.
‘Tell the truth I was delighted but nervous when he took me out of uniform to join his team.’
‘Head-hunted, eh? It’s all right for some. Still, I s’pose having you on the team’ll help with the quotas.’
Knowing what the elder man was getting at filled Bhaki with more sadness than anger. He’d thought that such attitudes were in the past. Filling his voice with innocence he repeated Malcolm’s last word back to him as a question. ‘Quotas?’
‘Oh, come off it. You know fine well what I mean. He’s got that slag Lauren Phillips on the team and now he’s got someone from a minority as well. No offence, like.’
‘It’s just a shame that neither of us is a black one-eyed lesbian dwarf. That way he’d only need one of us.’ Rather than rise to the man’s insensitivity, Bhaki had decided to goad him as far as possible. The fact that he was a DC, while Malcolm was still a PC at his age, meant that he was already on a better wage than the elder man. Plus, Malcolm’s obvious prejudices meant he was never going to progress his career.
Malcolm chuckled. ‘Aye well, lad. I don’t think that’s possible but a few of them on the books would leave more spaces for coppers who cared about the job. Bound to be better than a load of people shown favouritism because they fit a demographic.’
‘That’s a very good point you have made. I’ll ask my DI if I’ve been promoted on ability or the colour of my skin the next time I see him. I’ll also tell him that you were the one who enlightened me regarding quotas.’
‘Now wait up a minute.’ Worry showed on Malcolm’s bean shaped face. ‘There’s no need to discuss it with your DI.’
‘Sorry, but there’s no way I can let this rest. You’ve raised a very valid point.’ Bhaki kept a straight face as the older man protested his innocence and tried to extricate himself from the hole he’d just dug.
Bhaki saw Malcolm’s unthinking comments as ignorance rather than outright racism. After all, the aged PC hadn’t been nasty, just outdated in his thinking. For all his guv was old school, he didn’t give a hoot about colour, sex or creed. All he cared about was ability, which is why Bhaki was so pleased to be on his team.
Chapter 66
After she was certain light no longer penetrated the bathroom fan, Samantha pressed her ear against the door of their prison. She strained her ears, listening for sounds of movement within the house. Taking shallow breaths, she kept her ear to the door until she was convinced none of the men were upstairs or near the bottom of the stairway. Throughout the day she’d heard bangs as the front door slammed, but there was no way of identifying whether the men were coming or going.
Now, she could hear loud musi
c but no signs of life.
They would try now. With luck, the loud music would cover any noise they might make. The sooner they got away the longer their escape would remain undetected. Pushing doubts aside she turned to her brother. ‘C’mon, Kyle, we’re gonna go now.’
‘Will it work this time?’ His earlier jubilation at exploring the attic had been replaced by worry they would again fail to escape.
‘Dunno. But it’s worth a try isn’t it?’ Before he could answer she flashed him a smile of encouragement. ‘If it works, we’ll see Mum and Dad again.’
‘Cool.’
Kyle started up the makeshift ladder, tutting at Samantha’s reminders to be as quiet as possible. ‘I’m eight now, Sam. I can remember to be quiet.’
‘Shush then.’
Seeing his legs disappear into the roof space, Samantha clambered after him, the makeshift steps biting into her bare feet. At the top, Samantha moved in front of her brother and crawled forward on the narrow boards that ran the length of the attic, until she reached the hatch. She fumbled as she tried to lift it, but it remained stuck fast. Her fingers weren’t strong enough to haul the piece of plywood from the opening.
She needed some kind of tool or lever. She groped around, looking for any kind of implement or tool to aid her efforts. Every careful sweep of her arm disturbed more of the glass-wool insulation, which scratched at her bare skin until it was almost unbearable. Gritting her teeth against the itches, she searched around her using touch alone. Her eyes were useless in the pitch-black attic, though her ears were alert for sounds of discovery. She concentrated on the messages sent by her fingertips.
‘What’s up?’ whispered Kyle from across the attic.
‘The hatch won’t open. I’m looking for something to help me open it.’
‘I’ll help.’
‘No, you stay still. I don’t want you falling through the ceiling.’
She again tried to haul the plywood hatch cover free with her bare hands. Carefully, she reached down through the insulation. Her fingertips brushed against a series of screw-tips poking out from opposite sides of the hatch. Cursing whoever had sealed the hatch, Samantha returned to sit beside her brother and tried to think of another way out of the roof space.
Set in the roof were two ancient roof lights. A foot wide by two long, they consisted of a single pane of glass held within a cast iron frame. Samantha examined them with care before discounting them. The roof was too steep for them to exit that way and the rain battering against the glass would only make the roof slippy. They’d end up sliding down the roof and crashing to the ground. Clambering across the roof would see them killed or crippled.
A new wave of despair was starting to flood over her, when an idea began to blossom. Leading Kyle to the end of the attic, she positioned herself over what she reckoned was the men’s bedroom. Her mental map of the house told her it was the furthest point from the lounge, where the men would be. Folding back a section of the prickly insulation, she exposed the ceiling below. As her fingertips found the lath and plaster framework, she whispered to Kyle her new plan. It would call for more urgency than stealth, but with the deadline looming ever closer she was running out of options.
Setting herself in position, she raised her already painful right foot and clenched her jaw. Then she slammed her foot into the plaster. Pain shot up her leg and she had to swallow the scream lest it escape her lips. Her teeth clamped together as her foot stomped on the ceiling for a second time. The ceiling started to give way. Encouraged by her success she stamped again and again until she had created a narrow hole.
Light poured upwards from the bedroom, but no shouts or running footsteps accompanied it. For once luck was on their side. The hole was above a bed.
They haven’t heard us!
Samantha fed her legs through the gap and dropped onto the bed. When she was certain she hadn’t been heard, Samantha helped Kyle make his descent from the attic. His jubilation at getting free of the attic could barely be contained. She had to throw a hand over his mouth before he shouted out in glee. ‘Quiet, remember?’
Wriggling free from her, Kyle crossed to chest of drawers and lifted an iPhone connected to a charger. ‘Look Sam.’
Oh, my God. We can call the police and be rescued.
‘Quick, pass it here.’ Samantha took the phone and pressed the button to bring it to life. Wiping her finger left to right she activated the phone’s menu, only for the display to show a numerical screen.
Damn, damn and double damn. I don’t know the security code.
She tried a few combinations unsuccessfully, then handed it to Kyle. ‘Put this in your pocket.’
Grabbing a grubby sweater from the floor, Samantha pulled it on, ignoring the smell of nicotine and sweat. Leading Kyle, she crept down the stairs expecting to see Elvis at any second. Using as much stealth as possible, Samantha turned the handle to the front door only to find it locked as before.
Bugger.
She turned and peered along the corridor. The door to the lounge was closed, so she went the opposite way and entered a room that appeared to have once been an office. Old desks were pushed into a corner and the walls were adorned with rows of empty shelves. The wall opposite the door was blank, the other two walls sported identical windows. Samantha thought about what she knew of the house: the window on the left probably faced away from the road, so it would let them out to the rear of the property. Samantha tried it. It was stuck fast. Years of being painted without being opened had glued the sash in position, never again would it slide upwards. She crossed to the other side and tried the front window. It opened with ease. The counter-weights rumbled as the sash went higher.
Poking her head out, Samantha checked the farmyard for signs of life. It was silent. She clambered out and had turned to help her brother when a shout rang out.
‘Hey!’
Samantha grabbed Kyle’s hand and took off, not daring to look back and see who was pursuing them.
Chapter 67
Andrew Woods swung his feet round and lifted them onto his desk, crossing his legs at the ankle he reached for the Tupperware box. He retrieved one of the bland salad butties his wife was forever supplying him with. Using the fork she’d provided, he ladled a scoop of low fat coleslaw onto the nest of rabbit food. Thank goodness she didn’t know about the stash of chocolate bars kept in the bottom drawer of his desk. This was his ten o’clock snack. At two he would have a bigger meal followed by another snack at six. He hated the night shift; there was nothing to do but routine maintenance jobs after midnight. Before midnight there would be spikes in activity as people came home from work and logged on to the Internet.
Certain events would see a spike in activity on Twitter or Facebook as the public applauded or condemned some minor celebrity, politician or sportsman. His desk was festooned with monitors displaying reports from the banks of servers on the main floor. Row after row of servers were connected, forming a supercomputer to handle the millions of queries typed daily into his employers’ search engine. He’d thought working for Google would have been more energising, romantic or at least exciting, but it transpired he was little more than the night-watchman for the digital security systems protecting the server farm.
An alert sounded from his computer. Pushing the last of the sandwich into his mouth, he turned to see what the problem was. It was the daddy of all problems. The entire server farm was showing an overload. Normally the server ran at seventy per cent capacity with spiked peaks up to ninety – during the Olympics it had hit an all time high of ninety-seven point two three per cent as people used social media to discuss the opening and closing ceremonies – but never before had he seen it hit one hundred per cent.
Woods set off his system of searchbots to determine what was causing the increase in searches. As he waited for the results, he scanned the Internet news channels to see if there were any breaking stories driving people online. Nothing he found seemed important enough to cause such a sudden upturn
in traffic. Within minutes the searchbot delivered its report. Ignoring all the irrelevant data such as dates and times, Woods focused on the important parts.
System Check: Compromise Found
Source: Unidentified IP: 00.000.000.000
Details: System Check – Code: brainpeg
Status: Ongoing
‘System check?’ His voice was a confused mutter. He scanned the report again. The IP address rang false: a full row of zeros. Someone was cloaking their identity. He was savvy enough to work out the code brainpeg was an anagram of the surnames of Sergei Brin and Larry Page, Google’s founders.
Woods deliberated a second. This was a new situation as far as he was concerned. The system had never been compromised before. Then he put in a call to Google’s UK head office on Buckingham Palace Road, London. He adjusted the settings on the server farm to a maximum of eighty per cent capacity while he was being routed to the head of Digital Security. It was a protocol that allowed them to replace or maintain individual servers without the remaining servers risking an overload.
When he was finally put through, Woods explained the effects of the compromise, watching in disbelief as his monitor showed the rogue programme commandeer more and more server space, while pushing out all other search queries. Where once it had occupied thirty per cent of the server’s full capacity it now occupied forty per cent of the new limit.
Relaying the information to the man on the other end of the line he was given an immediate answer.
As instructed he cut the servers back to twenty-five per cent until the man had contacted Google’s head office in Los Angeles to see if they knew anything about the compromise to the server farm.
Chapter 68
Bhaki and Malcolm had fallen silent. Malcolm was reading a horror novel, using the interior light to illuminate the pages. Bhaki fiddled with his phone, texting back and forth with the girl he’d met on Wednesday night.