Doing wrong was, quite simply,...wrong.
Doing wrong intentionally, and after careful thinking and planning... that was even worse.
And, of course, there was always the possibility that he might do something really stupid, make a careless mistake and in spite of TOR, make it easy for the authorities to one day trace any cyber tracks back to him.
The consequences of that didn't bear thinking about it.
So, he determined not to think about it at all.
Anand already knew how to hack into his own company’s network. He'd done it before many times, just for fun, without any real purpose or intention.
Of course, he had his own password, so once on the network he could get straight in if he wanted to, but that would be stupid.
Anand needed to be able to access the network and play around with the systems on it anonymously, drawing no attention to himself or his work at Swiss Insurance.
Anand would ensure that there would be no connection between what he was just about to do and Anand Mhasalkar, the dedicated and hardworking employee.
As long as he was careful, it would never be possible to establish that connection.
As long as he was careful.
A tingle passed down his spine as he thought of the risk. It was like electricity.
An amazing feeling.
Anand smiled.
For the first time in months he felt alive.
Then he began.
-------------------------
Radisson Blu Hotel
The Royal Mile,
Edinburgh
Tuesday 11 p.m.
Tommy McNunn's tongue stretched out and gently licked Caroline's nipple.
She purred and stroked the back of his head as he did so.
"Tell me more," he commanded, although in a soft, friendly voice.
"That's all I know," she said. "He didn't take it well. Even threatened to kill the police officer who handcuffed him and pushed him into the back of the van. It didn't help his case at all."
"The man's a bastard. He gives the industry a bad name. He's uncouth. Has no class. Not like yours truly..."
His tongue abandoned the nipple and slowly coursed its way down and around the contours of her breast.
"So, what happens next?"
McNunn thought briefly about telling her his plans. The first of the executions would take place in two days. Followed swiftly by another one every couple of days when the opportunity presented itself.
With any luck, by the end of the week, all Petrovsky's lieutenants would be gone. The rest of his organisation would be looking around for a new leader. And if any of them thought about taking on the job themselves, death would be dealt to them swiftly, and without mercy.
Tommy had to be careful though not to stir too much interest from the police. It would be wrong to get the police too interested in their turf war, at least, not until Petrovsky was sentenced and was firmly behind bars.
Once inside, Petrovsky's days would be numbered.
He already had so many enemies inside that Tommy would probably not have needed to offer a bounty on his head, but being the perfectionist that he was, Tommy had arranged for several people to compete for the honour of claiming ten thousand pounds for ensuring Petrovsky's death.
Tommy was so lost in his own thoughts that he forgot to stop moving downwards, his tongue continuing to explore her body the further south he journeyed.
Caroline began to moan.
As Caroline pulled and pushed at Tommy's head, encouraging him to stay where he was and not to stop, Tommy, for once, obeyed.
-------------------------
Andheri
Near Mumbai, Maharashtra
India
Wednesday
01.55 a.m. India Standard Time (IST)
Anand had enjoyed himself. Enormously.
The job was almost done, and he was beginning to feel a sense of satisfaction the like of which he hadn't experienced in years. Not since passing the last set of exams he’d sat at university.
It had been years since he had tried anything this adventurous before. It was also probably the first time that he had done anything which was truly illegal.
That didn't worry him though. He was mentally past that now.
Once he had started, not for one moment did he stop to think that he was doing wrong or putting himself in possible danger. On the contrary, he was spurred on the whole time by an image he conjured up in his mind of Mr Stuart... Jonathan... opening his front door to see who had rung his doorbell, and discovering that it was the garage returning his fully repaired, hand-polished beloved Ford Mondeo. When Anand thought of the surprise and happiness this would bring Jonathan, it made him feel great.
The process for making that dream come true was relatively simple.
In essence he had only needed to change two documents.
First, he had hacked into the Swiss Insurance network and escalated his user privileges so that he could gain access to the different systems he needed. He had gone into the Jonathan's files and found the correspondence they had received from the garage that estimated the damage done to his car, and the value of the car itself. Copying the relevant documents into a graphics editor, he had edited copies of the documents so that they stated the value of Jonathans Ford Mondeo as being £1945, instead of £345. This made the cost of repairing the vehicle significantly less than the value of the vehicle, ensuring that the work would be automatically authorised and carried out when the file was next reviewed. All he had to do was to officially review the paperwork the next day back in the office and then call the garage in Scotland and tell them to fix the car. He would also instruct them to valet the car and polish it.
Secondly, Anand accessed the files that Swiss had amassed that related to Mr Tommy McNunn. Reviewing all the files, Anand was surprised to see that Mr McNunn owned quite a few very expensive cars, and seemed to be rather wealthy. Discovering this made Anand quite angry. 'Why had he been so mean to Jonathan? Why had he lied about the accident?' It didn't look like he was short of any cash.
The next part was a bit trickier and took considerably longer.
Anand copied the emails and correspondence that McNunn had contributed to his file, and digitally altered and edited them so that instead of blaming the accident on Jonathan, McNunn had effectively admitted to driving straight into the back of him. Once edited, he carefully saved the new files back on top of the old ones, using a cheap hacking package that he loved, to edit the dates of the files so that the new ones still had the dates of the old ones.
Luckily all the documents had been typed, and nothing involved copying or editing handwriting, which although difficult, would still have been possible.
He then went through all the paperwork on McNunn's side to make sure that there was nothing else he had to change. He made a few more edits, but nothing more significant.
Anand was confident that when he was finished with it all, it would be weeks before anyone checked the files again.
By then Jonathan would be driving his new car.
Anand wondered, if he ever finally managed to visit Edinburgh, would Jonathan keep his promise and drive him to see the Hibs play at Easter Road?
As he closed everything down and removed himself and any traces of his online presence from the Swiss Insurance Network, Anand couldn't help but think of the English hero Robin Hood.
Just then, Anand felt just like him.
When he finally crawled into bed on his mat in the other room, Anand slept soundly for the first time in months.
Chapter 20
The Fiddler's Arms
Near Greyfriars Bobby
Edinburgh
Wednesday
00.30 a.m. GMT
DCI McKenzie sat on one of the chairs at the back of the pub in the corner beside the Ceilidh band.
Campbell had been coming here for years.
He had always been a fan of Scottish folk music and loved the sounds that a fe
w people with a couple of instruments could generate.
As the folk music washed over him, he could lose himself in his own thoughts, and relax.
The beer helped. As did the odd wee dram of whisky.
It was in fact here, sitting listening to the sound of the Scottish fiddle and a penny whistle playing alongside a bodhran- a round Irish flat drum played with a little stick - that he had solved some of his best cases.
Whilst he stared into space and hummed along with the melody, answers would just pop into his mind, connections would be made between elements of evidence that previously had no obvious connection, or ideas would form.
Tonight, McKenzie had ended up here for several different reasons.
First, after three pints it was time to distance himself from his team. And especially Wessex. For reasons he didn't want to admit to himself and couldn't entertain, ever.
Secondly, because something was troubling him.
He didn't know what it was, but he knew that this was as good a place as any to try to find out.
And lastly, because now he had got the bite, he fancied another drink.
McKenzie didn't drink so much anymore, and for the most part, was now very disciplined about how much alcohol he ever imbibed.
The problem was that McKenzie knew that he liked to drink. A lot.
A few years before it had threatened to become a problem.
Arguments with his wife had become commonplace, getting up for work in the morning had become harder, and his judgement at work had begun to suffer. He didn't drink as often as others he knew, but when he did drink, he drank way too much.
Luckily, he had recognised the danger he was facing, and with the help of Mrs McKenzie, he had managed to cut back before it became a real problem.
These days he never drank alone at home, and he only ever drank alcohol once or twice a month. If he did drink, it was always with friends or in a social context.
For now, he excused himself with the fact that he knew the fiddler in the band by his first name, so technically he was with a friend. Which meant he wasn't drinking alone.
It was half way through the fourth pint of the evening that the first of several questions materialised in his mind.
Question number one: who would be stupid enough to steal any drugs from Petrovsky? Either they were complete idiots, or knew exactly what they were doing, and probably did it for a reason. In which case, what was that reason? That would then be question number two.
Question number three: How big was the shipment of drugs? McKenzie was racking his brains to think of anything large that had been seized over the past months. The way Urqhart had described it, it sounded quite substantial.
Question number four... McKenzie's mind went blank. Blast, what was question number four? It had been on the tip of his tongue. And now it was gone.
Closing his eyes, and resting his head against the wall of the pub, he felt a wave of alcohol wash over him.
Beside him, the band started to play "Flower of Scotland" and his thoughts changed.
He started to hum the melody and then sing along.
Fifteen minutes later, resisting the urge to buy a wee, small dram of his favourite malt, he stepped outside and flagged down a taxi.
Time for bed.
It had been a long day.
-------------------------
Andheri
Near Mumbai, Maharashtra
India
Wednesday
1.55 p.m. India Standard Time (IST)
Anand had already tried ringing Jonathan's phone several times, but he had not picked up. The worry was killing him.
Where was he?
He would try again later. And then again tomorrow. And the next day. And every day until he managed to speak to him.
Today was Wednesday.
The car would be fixed by Friday.
For now, that was his only consolation. Anand had spent the best part of his day imagining the look of surprise on Jonathan's face as he stepped outside his door in Portobello, Scotland and saw the car sitting on the road outside. Repaired. Polished. Looking almost new.
Anand had personally called the garage to make sure that they had received the email that he had sent them earlier that morning, authorising the full repair of the car.
He had told them to try to do whatever they could to get the car fixed and back to its owner by the weekend, and they were only too happy to oblige.
They were just a small garage, business had not been so good recently and Anand had promised to fast-track the electronic payment for their repairs, as soon as he got notification of their completion.
For the rest of the day, Anand had kept his head down and answered as many calls as possible, trying to avoid unnecessary attention from any manager wandering around.
Answering the phones was one thing, but he was finding it incredibly difficult to continue being so unhelpful. Several times in the past few days he had helped people. Actually helped people. Given them good advice. Recommended that cars should be fixed instead of being scrapped. Or tweaked the information they provided in their favour instead of the insurance company.
Each time he had done it, he had felt a rush of adrenaline. It made him feel great.
Already he was addicted to it.
Addicted to helping people and providing real customer service.
It was a new world, and Anand was loving it!
Anand knew that he had to be careful. The phone calls were being monitored and he couldn't behave in a way that would bring him too much attention. He needed the job. His family needed the job. Anand couldn't afford to mess it up.
For the most part he would still have to toe the company line.
He could, however, be creative. And clever.
Once again, he thought about the English hero Robin Hood.
From now on that was who he was going to emulate.
Whenever possible, he was going to turn the tables on his company and steal from the rich and redistribute some of its wealth to the poor.
"Hello?" Anand said, taking his next caller. "How can I help you?"
Chapter 21
St Leonards Police Station,
Edinburgh
One day later.
Friday
8.30 a.m. G.M.T.
Operations Room, Basement
DCI McKenzie welcomed the team and recounted the highlights of their progress of the past few weeks since the body of Keith Urqhart had been found at the bottom of the crags.
"So, now we have Petrovsky in custody," McKenzie rounded up his summary, "... it's essential we get as much evidence as possible to make him stay there. Agreed? Good! So, who wants to go first this morning?"
Several hands went up.
" Detective Lynch?"
"Yes, thanks. I've got some news back from Glasgow on the body in the morgue. It's good news. They took a detailed look at the wound on the throat of the body they have on ice over there, and they were able to detect and isolate some DNA from residue which has turned out to be the saliva of a dog. And it matches the sample I sent them. It seems almost certain that it was Petrovsky's dog that ripped the man's throat out."
"Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant!" McKenzie smiled, and thumped his two hands together at the same time as an excited murmur made its way around the briefing room.
Two other hands immediately shot into the air.
" Detective Wilson? What have you got?"
"I was looking into the car full of drugs that Urqhart had intercepted. I tracked it down to an arrest that was made six months ago. A stolen car was spotted in Leith, and when Urqhart and his partner went to investigate they found the car had nine kilograms of cocaine in it. Two men were arrested, and both are suspected to be employees of Tommy McNunn. Their trial is next month."
"McNunn?" McKenzie repeated his name aloud, glancing over at Wessex, before quickly gathering his thoughts and looking back towards DS Wilson.
"Yes. The men denied any connection w
ith McNunn and swear they were working alone. They said they'd got the drugs off a boat in the harbour. A small private cruiser which had apparently docked in Leith that day. They wouldn't say anything more and enquiries didn't manage to find any boat that fitted the description."
"Did you get a copy of the file?"
"Yes. I'll drop it by your office later this morning."
"Do that, please. I'll look forward to seeing that one. Now, did anyone find out anything about the whereabouts of Petrovsky's car that evening? Can we figure out how he got Urqhart up to the top of the Crags without being spotted by anyone else?"
Unfortunately, the room collectively drew a blank.
Neither had anyone else managed to find any witnesses who could place Petrovsky anywhere near the Queen's Park that evening.
After that, there was nothing else of real significance. A few actions were handed out, and McKenzie wrapped up the meeting.
As they all filed out, McKenzie turned to Wessex.
"Coffee?"
Wessex nodded.
It didn't take much for Wessex to figure out what McKenzie wanted to talk to her about.
McNunn.
Tommy 'I told you he had something to do with this' McNunn.
-------------------------
DCI McKenzie's Office
St Leonards Police Station
Edinburgh
Friday
9.45 a.m. G.M.T.
"So?" Wessex asked as she walked into Campbell's office.
McKenzie was standing by the window, looking out towards the Crags.
From where he was he could count at least five people standing near the rim of the cliff face, either peering over the edge or walking their dogs.
Campbell turned to face her, gesturing for her to sit down, although such little acts of authority between them had started to dry up months ago, just after their shared drunken kiss one night, and shortly before McKenzie had realised the drinking was getting a little out of hand.
"So 'what?'," McKenzie asked, innocently.
Say You're Sorry: A Gripping Crime Thriller (A DCI Campbell McKenzie Detective Conspiracy Thriller No 1) Page 14