Exit Wounds

by Aaron Fisher

  Craig snorted, “Course not. He’s a paedophile not an actual refugee who needs asylum.”

  “I doubt they knew about his sexual tendencies when they gave him his passport, Craig.”

  Craig rolled up the empty crisp packet and grumbled something incoherent as he discarded it into a metal mesh bin.

  Tony continued, “Although, alarm bells must have started ringing when he got moved to seven different dioceses in three years.” Tony scrolled down further but found nothing else of interest. He turned on his chair to face Craig. “I don’t see the connection here. Why would Giacometti want to break out a sex offender?”

  Craig shrugged, “They’re both Italian?”

  “That’s it?”

  Craig’s eyes went to the bottom left as he thought, “Maybe... Well, they do say that most sex abusers were abused themselves...”

  Tony nodded quickly, “Maybe this Father Boccanegra molested Giacometti as a child back in Italy? Giacometti becomes a rapist himself and he wants absolution. Purpose to his actions. He wants revenge.”

  Craig let out a small, dry laugh, “He breaks the guy out, just to kill him himself. Ain’t life a bitch?”

  “He’s been tried by a jury of his peers and sentenced, Craig. He has the same right to live as the rest of us.”

  Craig folded his arms across his chest, “If you say so, Boss.”

  Tony steeled Craig’s gaze over the top of his glasses. “Right now, Boccanegra is the best lead to Giacometti we’ve got. Call Zeddemore and see if he can use S.O.C.A.’s liaison with Interpol to dig up Boccanegra’s Italian background.”

  “Shouldn’t I run this past Colgan first?” Craig asked, retrieving his mobile from his trouser pocket.

  Tony had already turned his back on Craig and busied himself at the computer terminal.

  Craig shook his head and sighed. He dialled the number for Colgan’s office where he knew Zeddemore would be sat behind his boss’ desk. An electronic, unreceptive sound chimed and then a bored, pre-recorded female voice informed him that they were unable to connect his call. “That’s odd.”

  Tony didn’t bother to respond.

  Craig tried again, “I said that’s odd.”

  “What is?” Tony asked eventually.

  “The M.I.T. line is dead.”

  “What do you mean dead?” Tony asked over his shoulder.

  “It won’t ring.”

  “It’s probably just engaged. Try again in a minute.”

  “No,” Craig said, Tony’s attitude beginning to annoy him. “I know when a line is engaged. This was different. It’s like the number doesn’t exist. Like they’ve been cut off or something.”

  With a huff, Tony snatched up his own phone from his right and quickly dialled. An electronic, unreceptive sound chimed and then a bored, pre-recorded female voice informed him that they were unable to connect his call. He turned round in his chair and looked up. “How the hell does M.I.T. get cut off?!”

  Craig shrugged, “Maybe someone forgot to pay the phone bill?”

  M.I.T. (Murder Investigation Taskforce), Cardiff Branch

  “Woah!” Michelle Williams pushed her chair back from her desk and stared at the animated mosaic of coloured pixels that had spread across her computer monitor.

  Similar cries echoed around the room. Michelle glanced over at the other monitors nearest to her. The same nonsensical collage of squares was present on every screen in the bullpen.

  “What the hell’s going on?!” Colgan shouted to be heard over the continuous exclaims of his officers as he made his way to the centre of the room.

  “My screen’s completely frozen!” one yelled back.

  “The phones are down too!” another added.

  “Sharon!” Colgan called out, scanning the room.

  The small woman quickly shot her hand up from behind a computer monitor like a school girl at registration. “Here, sir!”

  Colgan marched over to the desk. “What the hell’s going on?!” he asked again.

  Sharon’s fingers danced over the keyboard as she talked, her face etched with frustration and determination. “I’m...um... I don’t... actually know, sir. I think we’ve been breached. Somebody’s hacked into our system and now they’ve completely locked us out.”

  “Locked us out? Of our own system?!” Colgan’s thoughts instantly went to Richard. They knew Giacometti wanted him to write a program that gave them access to their servers. He didn’t want to believe that Richard would ever do such a thing but they had lost contact with him hours ago. There was no telling what Giacometti had done to him in that time. He shook his head, dismissing his thoughts. The task at hand. He needed to get M.I.T. control back up. That was his priority. “What about the phone lines? Why are they down?”

  “Well, all calls are filtered through the system to log and monitor. My guess is that they blocked our lines when the shut down our access.”

  Colgan reached into his pocket, “But they can’t block our mobiles, right?”

  Sharon broke from typing and considered this for a moment. “I don’t think so...”

  Before he could even press the unlock keys Colgan’s mobile started to vibrate in his hand. Recognising the number he immediately accepted the call. “Richard! Where are you?”

  “I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m out,” Richard answered.

  “How?” Colgan asked quickly.

  Richard glanced over his shoulder at his brother, busy tending to Gary’s gunshot wound. “Paul saved me.”

  “Yeah, and don’t you forget it,” Paul interjected.

  “Listen. Andrew, there’s a lot I’ve got to catch you up on, but the most important thing is that Giacometti has access to the M.I.T. server.”

  “Yeah, I kinda noticed that.”

  “I’m sorry Andrew. I didn’t have a choice. They knew about Jade and the kids! Andrew, they knew everything about me. Even my fucking arrest count for Christ’s sake!”

  Colgan knew what that meant. There was a leak in their ranks. Somebody inside was working with Giacometti. He did his best to hide his concern. “It’s ok. We’ll sort it. Sharon’s working on getting us back in now. Aren’t you, Sharon?”

  Richard didn’t have any idea who Sharon was and the mumble that he heard in the background of Colgan’s end didn’t give him any clues but he nodded anyway. “Okay.”

  “I don’t suppose you know why they wanted to get in our system do you?”

  “Something to do with getting into the Joint Intelligence Committee’s server. It doesn’t make any sense though! M.I.T. doesn’t have access to the J.I.C.!”

  “Oh my god.”

  Richard didn’t like the sound of that. “Andrew? Andrew, what is it?”

  “Zeddemore’s here. He’s in video conference with the J.I.C right now!”

  “Andrew, you’ve got shut his computer down right now. Pull it out of the mains if you have to! Just sever the connection right now!”

  “I’m on it!” Without thinking Colgan dropped his mobile and ran as fast as he could out of the bullpen and down the corridor towards the video conference room.

  Zeddemore was already heading towards him, ranting about the screen freezing. Colgan pushed past him without a word and darted into the room. He sprinted over to the power terminal and on his knees pulled out every cable he could find as fast as he could.

  “Have you gone mad?!” Zeddemore shouted at him.

  Somewhere in Cardiff Bay

  Richard turned round in his seat. Once they were sure they weren’t being followed he had parked up in another of the bay’s industrial estates behind a long row of prefabricated storehouses to call M.I.T..

  Paul was hunched over Gary, pulling tightly on the bandage he had made out of what was in the first aid kit and the sleeve of his shirt.

  “He gonna make it?” Richard asked.

  “I’ve stopped the bleeding for now,” Paul replied. “But that round is still in there.” He looked up from his handiwork to Gary’s face. “We’ve gotta
get you to a hospital.”

  “No!” Gary shouted.

  “I’ve done all I can, Gary. I’m a soldier, not a magician.”

  “You can’t! You can’t! You promised, Paul!”

  “Promised you what?” Richard asked, turning further in his seat.

  Paul ignored his brother. He held Gary steady by the shoulders as he wriggled to sit up. “Gary, if you don’t get to a hospital you are going to die.”

  “I help you save your brother and then you let me walk. That was the deal!”

  “Are you fucking deaf? You’ve got a bullet in your belly! You’ve been shot, you stupid sod! You need medical attention!”

  “And I’ll get it! But not at a hospital! You have to let me go, Paul,” Gary insisted.

  Paul bit down on his bottom lip and shook his head, “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”

  Gary made a noise that was half snort, half laugh. “The words pot, kettle and black, immediately spring to mind.”

  “Paul, we can’t let him go,” Richard interrupted. “We’ve got to bring him in. He’s part of all this!”

  “He helped me rescue you. He’s alright. I promised him I’d let him walk.”

  “I don’t care what you promised him,” Richard told Paul. “I’m a police officer and I can’t let a suspect just walk!”

  “Fine. I’ll take the blame. I wasn’t asking for your permission anyway.” Paul finally turned to look at his brother. “The guy helped save your life, Rich. The least you can do is let him keep his freedom.”

  Realising that he was hitting a brick wall headfirst, Richard tried another approach. He lowered his voice and leant towards his brother. “Paul, whatever Giacometti’s up to, we’re the only ones who can stop it. This guy is our only lead. We need to know what he knows.”

  “I’ll tell you what I know!” Gary shouted, hearing despite Richard’s efforts to whisper. “Just let me go!”

  Richard ignored him, keeping his eyes on Paul’s. Paul held the stare and then climbed out of the car. He went round to the opposite door and eased Gary out.

  Paul steadied Gary onto his own feet and handed him the painkillers he found in the first aid kit. “They’re pretty weak. Don’t know what good they’ll do you but still, better than nothing I guess.”

  Gary took them and nodded his thanks. He knocked a couple back and sighed, “You had better get going. You need to get to the old Taff’s Well quarry pretty fast if you’re gonna stop Dean.”

  Paul held his out his hand. “Thanks.”

  Gary shook it. “Yeah, you too.”

  Gary went to finish the shake but Paul held his grip a moment longer. “You’ve got a second chance now, Gary. Don’t waste it.” He turned back to the car before Gary could say anything and climbed in the passenger side next to his brother. Richard hit the accelerator and within moments they had sped off into the distance leaving Gary far behind them.

  The car Richard and Paul had taken to the meet that morning was M.I.T. issue standard. It had the same hidden compartment in the back for weapons and other tactical equipment and the basic first aid kit under the front passenger seat. Due to the undercover nature of their operation though, it lacked the police radio and of course the siren. Usually the flashing lights were concealed behind the metal grill but criminals had become quick to spot the glint of the glass behind the metal. Richard himself had been the one who decided to remove the blue and reds, but now as he raced through Cardiff’s streets in an unmarked, unannounced vehicle he was beginning to wish he had kept them.

  He struggled to swerve round a green saloon that pulled out in front of him and swore.

  “We should have brought him in you know,” Richard told Paul, finally breaking the silence between them.

  “Maybe.” Paul stared out of the window as the roads passed by in a blur.

  A man struggled in the chair, his wrists tied to its arms and his legs bound to the foot rest. His mouth was gagged with a cloth tied behind the back of his head and his clothes were tailored with the same gory splendour as the rest of the room.

  The man looked up at him, his panting face covered in blood and dust and etched with pain. Paul brought his rifle up again and put a round between his eyes.

  “Hey? You ok?” Richard asked, breaking Paul’s line of thought.

  Paul nodded, “I’m fine.”

  “You sure?”

  Paul turned to his brother. “In the last seven hours I’ve had my face beaten in with the butt end of a rifle; I’ve broken in and out of prison; survived a car crash head on into a river and shot my way out of a serial rapist’s drug factory.” He smiled, slowly. “So not bad for my first day being a copper.”

  Richard wasn’t sure how to react so he was grateful when his phone started to ring, offering a way out. He struggled to pull it out of his pocket whilst he drove. Paul told him to pull over or ignore it but instead Richard ignored him and finally retrieved it. He accepted the call and hit the speakerphone button as he pushed it into its slot on the dash.

  “Richard?”

  He hadn’t bothered to check the number before accepting the call since only Colgan had this number so the voice surprised him. “Tony? Is that you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you at M.I.T.?”

  “No. Actually I’m at Cardiff Prison, watching footage of either you or your brother help break out a convicted prisoner.”

  Richard shot a glance at his brother. Now the security uniform made sense. “We were undercover, Tony.”

  “Yeah, Craig told me all about it.”

  “Craig?” Richard repeated, confused. “How does Craig even know about it?”

  “Everybody knows about it now, Richard. A lot’s happened since you went dark.”

  “Zeddemore’s taken over for one,” Craig’s voice interjected from the background. “And we can’t get even get hold of M.I.T.!”

  “Yeah, that’s because the server has been hacked.” Richard said. He left out the part about him doing the hacking. “Giacometti wanted to use Zeddemore’s uplink to hack into the J.I.C..”

  “Listen,” Tony started suddenly. “We need to meet up. Bring each other up to speed.”

  “I haven’t got time for that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “One of Giacometti’s men, a man called Dean, is going to be at the old Taff’s Well quarry any time now.”

  Tony went silent. Richard thought he had lost signal for a moment when finally he asked, “Quarry? What for?”

  Richard shot Paul a scowl as he spoke. “We don’t really know. That’s all the informant would say.”

  “Informant?”

  “It’s a long story, Tony. See if you can dig up anything on him. He’s in his early twenties. Got a thin, vertical scar running down the left side of his face. I know it’s not much to go on, but do your best.” Richard hung up without saying goodbye and concentrated on getting to the quarry as fast as he could.

  HM Prison Cardiff, Adamsdown

  Tony stood up immediately and made for the door. Craig was quick to follow and made a little chuckle. “Guess we’re heading back to M.I.T. then.”

  Tony shook his head, “No. We’re going to that quarry.”

  M.I.T. (Murder Investigation Taskforce), Cardiff Branch

  Colgan took his time to explain the latest chain of events to Zeddemore slowly for two reasons: One –whilst his superior was much younger than he and most certainly had an adequate understanding of computers, he himself was still coming to grips with the ideas of servers, mainframes and admin privileges. And two – because at Colgan’s age, a mad dash like that left him rather out of breath for a good few minutes afterward.

  Zeddemore pivoted from one foot to another after Colgan had finished, “Do we know if we were in time to stop him before he gained access?”

  Colgan hid a smile. We? He shook his head instead. “No, Sharon’s still trying to regain control over the M.I.T. system. We won’t know the full extent of the infiltration until
we’re up and operational again.”

  “And how long will that take?”

  “No idea. They’re actively blocking every attempt Sharon makes at accessing the commands to unlock the server.”

  “Damn it Andrew that’s not good enough!” Zeddemore did a 360 on the spot and let out a long sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair. He clapped his arms against his sides. “There must be something we can do. We can’t just let them run amok in our system! Jesus Christ! Do you know the kind of sensitive information that is on the M.I.T. server? Let alone the J.I.C.!”

  It was a rhetorical question so Colgan didn’t answer.

  Zeddemore stamped his foot down hard in vented frustration, “Fuck!”

  “There is one thing we could try.” Colgan said finally.

  “What is it?”

  “We could cut all power from the system. I don’t know what damage that would do to the infrastructure or if rebooting it would give us control back. Those are questions you’d have to ask Sharon and the tech department. But it’s safe to say that if the systems not on, they can’t access it.”

  Zeddemore nodded, “Do it.”

  Colgan started towards the door but stopped and turned back. “There is something else we need to consider, John.”

  “What?” Zeddemore was already sallow. The anger had left him, replaced now with worry and anguish. Colgan thought he saw the last of the colour leave his face.

  “Giacometti is clearly not just some psycho killer. He’s targeting a governmental authority. That’s terrorist action. We know where he is and I think we need to act upon it. If we don’t, there’s going to be serious questions asked of us when this is all over.” Colgan had more up his sleeves to argue his point but Zeddemore was already waving his hands.

  “You’re right. I’ll send in the A.T.S.T.,” he chuckled wryly. “You know, I’m gonna have to call up the Bristol Branch.” He shook his head and laughed again. “Cardiff’s not deemed a significant enough target to have its own anti terrorist strike team.”