Wreckoning

by Lee Harding

  “These notes might mention McBride.”

  “Good idea,” Michael said. He gave her an encouraging smile but Alana had started to read before she could see it.

  The journal was ordered erratically. At times her father had written daily for weeks then a gap of several months would pass before he began again. As she browsed through the handwritten entries the same words leapt out: sorrow, pain, mercy, forgiveness, and love. The twisted form of a broken man pleaded in print. The diary was written in the first person addressing him but at times he would break into a conversation with her mum as if she was in the cell with him. Deborah had been part of his life for so long and was clearly once his closest friend. His actions didn’t only ruin their marriage but also an intimate relationship.

  The spectre of death knocked daily on his cell door. He wanted to die but would never take his own life. “It’s not mine to take,” he wrote and Alana held back from weeping as she knew for certain the fishing boat tragedy was an accident. Suicide was never an option. He wrote there was a difference between wishing to be dead and actually doing it. His ultimate desire was that his daughters would search for the truth, warts and all, and maybe come to love him too.

  Between reading and chatting Alana and Michael hardly noticed the seven hour flight go in. Soon they were landing to refuel before continuing west. By the time they landed in San Francisco International Airport it was nearly 19:30 local time. Deducting the eight hours of a time difference, Alana felt she should be in deep REM sleep and not about to meet the leader of a terrorist organization.

  A black sedan met them outside the terminal. Two FBI agents helped them to load the cases into the boot. Alana was disappointed to see they weren’t wearing sunglasses but did notice their side-arms hanging by their chests.

  “My name is Agent Stevens. This is Agent Alcon.”

  “I’m Detective Inspector Michael Grant of Scotland Yard’s Cyber Terrorism Unit. This is my consultant, Alana White.”

  Consultant?

  “Welcome to San Francisco. I’ll brief you as we drive.”

  Alana had hoped to see the fabled mountainous streets and trams that the movies portrayed so vividly. Even a high-speed chase towards Alcatraz Island but the ride was exceptionally boring as were the two armed men sitting up front.

  “We apprehended McBride earlier today,” Stevens said.

  Michael tried not to fidget as he listened. He could usually control his nerves under pressure but the jet lag was taking its toll.

  “He seemed shocked when we told him he was the prime suspect in the Wreckoning attacks.”

  “I assume he’s denied all knowledge?” Michael said.

  “Vehemently. He’s also threatened to sue everyone involved in his detention. His lawyers have been trying all day to get him released but he’s going nowhere until you’ve had a chance to speak with him.”

  “How long do I have?”

  “We have the right to detain him for twelve hours. You have two left.”

  Michael wondered if it would be enough.

  “Miss White,” Stevens said. “What will your role be?”

  Alana hesitated which the heavy-set man noticed. She tossed back her hair and said, “I’m an acting consultant for the British Government to provide a psycho analysis of the subject.”

  “The FBI has plenty of people who can do that.”

  Alana calmed her temper knowing full-well he was testing her credentials.

  “My knowledge of the suspect is quite unique.”

  “Really? How?”

  “McBride has been sending me a series of taunting emails. It was my research that identified him as a suspect and if it weren’t for me he wouldn’t be detained.”

  Stevens glanced at the tiny woman sitting with her arms folded in his rear-view mirror. He did not comment.

  “Alana will not be part of the initial interview. I want her to be able to see and hear everything, though,” Michael said. He had forgotten how feisty she could be.

  “We have a bi-directional mirror between the interrogation room and the viewing centre.”

  Alana’s ears pricked up at the word interrogation and was about to speak when Michael touched her arm and whispered, “Please leave it.” She reluctantly bit her lip and leant back.

  They travelled into the heart of inner city San Francisco. It was Saturday night and much like London people were out to paint the town red. Except high-class clubs weren’t in flames and the revellers weren’t throwing bricks. They were a world away from the insanity back home.

  The car pulled up in front of a tall building constructed entirely of glass. A short plaza led up to the entrance.

  “You can leave your luggage here. Please go with Agent Alcon and he will escort you inside.”

  Michael exited first and Alana shuffled over to step onto the pavement. Or sidewalk, she thought now that they were in America. Agent Alcon joined them and they walked to the entrance. After a thorough search they were issued into the main building.

  “Good evening, Inspector Grant. I wasn’t sure you’d make it in time.”

  A giant of a man extended his hand to Michael.

  “You must be Agent Burns.”

  “And you must be Alana White?”

  Alana reached out to lose her fingers in a frying pan sized palm. “Pleased to meet you.” She turned to explore her surroundings. The light of the small room they were in was dimmed making it much more cramped. A laptop was hooked to a sound recording system. A set of video cameras mounted on tripods sat either side of a massive two-way mirror and were trained on a middle-aged man in the next room.

  Looking at John McBride in real life was vastly different to watching the corporate video on Hydra Security’s website. Gone were the make-up, slicked dyed hair, and polished teeth. The man appeared quite haggard. He pushed his thin frame spectacles up his long nose and rubbed at the trace of stubble on his chin. His tie was undone and his suit jacket lay discarded on the table. Either he had no watch or, Alana guessed, the FBI had removed it to try and disorientate him. A jug of water and two empty glasses were placed next to a microphone in the middle of the desk.

  “We’ve kept him in there all day. His only visitor was his lawyer.” The big nodded at the mirror. “I’ve been trying to get something out of him for hours. You came a really long way to meet this guy. I hope you have a plan.”

  Michael turned to leave. Alana watched the door of the interview room open. Michael walked in and sat down. He laid down his tablet computer but didn’t say a word.

  John McBride straightened in his stool when Michael entered. He started to ask when he would be released when he realized the other man wasn’t replying. In fact Michael didn’t open his mouth for one, two, then three minutes. He sat in silence as McBride grew flustered.

  “I’ve already told you I know nothing about the attacks on Britain. Well? Are you going to say something or not?”

  Michael did not. Alana checked the clock above the mirror. Eight minutes had passed and he hadn’t asked a single question. She could distinguish traces of a London accent in certain syllables in McBride’s voice.

  “Your friend does realize this is an interview?” Burns said.

  She knew Michael wasn’t intimidated or shy but had some reason for keeping quiet. After ten minutes he reached forwards and swiped on his tablet. He swivelled it around and pushed it across the table towards McBride. Alana could make out the frozen image of a skeleton mask.

  “It must have been difficult not to have a voice for so long: when you were arrested twenty-three years ago; your remand time in prison; when you declared yourself bankrupt and then Mary left you. You never really had a voice, did you, John? It was robbed from you by the police, the courts, and of course those low-lives the press, who stalked you night and day even after the trial. Losing your freedom to speak is like losing your manhood. They cheated you of your life, didn’t they, John? I can’t say I blame you for wanting to get even. If I had my balls ripped of
f I’d want revenge too.”

  “You think I give a damn about any of them?” McBride said with unbridled disdain. “They did rob me but I don’t need my voice heard. Only egotistical maniacs like this do.” He held up the face of Wreckoning.

  “You don’t care if no one pays for treating you like that?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t believe you. What I see is a very intelligent man who thinks revenge is a dish best served cold. A hardened man who quietly slipped into the shadows to build his fortune so that one day he could emerge and shatter the institutions that ruined him in the first place.”

  “You think Hydra was my way of getting back at them?”

  “As a front for Wreckoning it was perfect. It gave you access to the single thread that connected them all in a modern age – their IT backbone – and you set it up so you could smash their spine.”

  “I told you I don’t care about that life anymore. I came to the States to start afresh. Hydra Security was always my dream but I only pursued it after everything else shattered. I built it from scratch; it is my legacy. Why would I want to destroy it or my new life by organising a terrorist attack? I have too much to lose. Do you know how much these Wreckoning hackers have cost me in a share drop alone? Billions.”

  “Out of the hundreds of billions that Hydra Security is worth. That seems a small price to pay to seek vengeance on those who ruined you when you were only a little man, John.”

  McBride looked away from Michael’s accusatory stare. Alana and Agent Burns noticed it together. “Maybe he’s getting through,” the big man said.

  “How many times do I have to repeat myself? I am no terrorist. My company stands to lose a fortune. It makes no sense.”

  Michael stood and walked to stop beside his suspect. He sat on the edge of the table and put one foot on McBride’s stool. He swiped the tablet screen revealing the image of a red-headed woman.

  “Do you recognize her?”

  McBride studied the photograph. “No.”

  “Her name is Tara Lucas and we have her in custody for being a member of Wreckoning. Surely when you recruited your team you researched them thoroughly?”

  “I told you...”

  “Her online handle is Mr Knox.”

  Sudden recognition flitted across McBride’s narrow face.

  “I’ve heard of him but didn’t realize he was a she. Knox attacked our European servers last summer and left a calling card; an animated cartoon character wrapped in bandages. However, we detected the intrusion immediately and shut it down before it could infect the rest of the network.”

  “So you knew of her expertise?”

  “I knew she was a dangerous criminal and the antithesis of everything Hydra stands for.”

  “And everyone in Hydra drinks from the same cup?”

  “We are very selective in our recruitment process. We carry out a meticulous background check on all employees.”

  Michael put his finger on the tablet again and slid it sideways. “Perhaps you could explain this then?”

  Enlarged was the image of a security pass for Hydra’s London offices. A pretty, red-headed woman looked up from the screen and her name and staff identification number was next to it.

  “Tara works for Hydra Security as a Systems Engineer. She had access to your organization’s systems for over a year.”

  “She’s a saboteur. Obviously she bypassed our enrolment procedures,” McBride said. Spittle flew from his mouth.

  “And how do you think she did that?”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  “It was probably someone in your London branch that hired her, I’m guessing. Nothing to do with you.”

  “Hydra employs thousands of people around the globe. No, I had nothing to do with Tara Lucas’s recruitment.”

  McBride followed Michael’s finger as it hovered ominously in the air then dropped to reveal the next image.

  “This is a scan of her job acceptance letter. We found it hidden in a secret compartment when we raided her flat. Notice anything strange about it?”

  McBride enlarged the writing and pushed up his glasses. “The signature is Helen Chang’s, my Head of Personnel.”

  “Do non-US employees usually get signed off by HQ?”

  “Look, I don’t know why Helen did this. You would need to ask her.”

  Michael gave a toothless smile. “We will, don’t worry. After we arrested Mr Knox do you know what she told me?” McBride sighed. “She said, You can cut a head off us but another will replace it. Wreckoning cannot be stopped. The Hydra was a mythical, multi-headed monster. If one head was lopped off more grew back. How many heads are there, John? Do you have someone to replace Tara in Wreckoning from the thousands of your people around the globe?”

  McBride was sweating. His palms stuck to the table.

  “I’m not saying another word. I have been accused and treated like a criminal once again by the British police without a single shred of evidence. My lawyers will laugh you out of court if you dare try and charge me. Unless you can find a skeleton mask in the boot of my limousine then I order you to release me at once.”

  Michael chewed the inside of his cheek before turning his head towards the two-way mirror. He nodded twice.

  “I’m guessing that’s my cue,” Alana said.

  As the interview room door opened and Alana stepped in a trace of recognition flickered over McBride’s face. He narrowed his eyes as if trying to solve a puzzle.

  “Do I know you?” he said.

  Alana had rehearsed this meeting a hundred times on the plane. It took a great deal of effort not to march over and slap his face.

  “You knew my father. Because of him you started your personnel vendetta. When he was arrested your life fell apart and now you want revenge on everyone.”

  McBride’s eyebrows raised and his mouth hung open in astonishment.

  “You’re Cameron Faith’s daughter,” he said. “The last time I saw you you were hiding behind your mother’s legs. What are you doing here?”

  “Don’t be coy. You’ve been sending me anonymous emails about my dead father. Trying to punish me and my family for what he did to you.”

  “I did no such thing. I–”

  Michael cut him off by displaying a copy of the email sent from al@n.a.

  “We traced it back to Hydra Security’s offices in New York and San Francisco. Would you care to tell me where you were on the 13th of this month?”

  McBride’s confidence plummeted and his red, blemished skin turned an ashen grey.

  “New York.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  “I had some urgent business to take care of.”

  “Like sending me hate mail?”

  Alana stood with her fists clenched.

  “Certainly not. I was your father’s friend for years. We studied in University together.”

  “I already know that. Professor Preston was my lecturer in Upton too.”

  McBride seemed relieved to have a positive connection with her. “We developed the blueprint of the security software I employed for Hydra. Cameron was a genius and no one could match his talents. I tried to get the business off the ground in England but he only wanted to develop puzzle games. I had no notion about what he had done until the day the police raided our office. I admit I did resent him for a long time but I moved on with my life and so did he.”

  “You never moved on and I’m sure you’re glad he’s dead.”

  “I was sad to hear of his passing. I know you won’t believe me but I bear him no ill-will. In fact, I actually owe him as his software has made me a very wealthy man. I’m only sorry I didn’t share it with you and your sister.”

  The interview room door banged open. A man with a $200 haircut marched in followed by Agent Burns. He stopped by McBride’s side, turned to Michael, and thrust up his wrist to show him his Rolex.

  “My client is now free to go. I’m leaving with him immediately.”


  McBride gripped his suit jacket and flung it over his shoulder.

  “Goodbye, Alana. Give your mother my regards.”

  He walked briskly out with his lawyer and the door slammed shut behind them.

  “Seems McBride didn’t want to confess after all,” Agent Burns said with a frown.

  “Not in so many words,” Michael added. “But he’s spooked and scared men make mistakes.”

  “He’s too rich to be scared.”

  Alana was staring at the seat as if McBride was still there. “Did you notice his face when you mentioned New York?”

  “What was he up to there?”

  Michael turned to the FBI agent. He licked his lips.

  “Agent Burns, I know it’s getting late but would I be able to ask a favour?”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  Chapter 22

  25th November 10:10

  The twinkle of the sunlight across the rolling waves of the Bay could be seen for miles. They crashed against the pillars of the towering Golden Gate Bridge which spanned the strait to Marin County. A flock of geese sailed lazily through a clear, cool sky heading south for the winter. The ding of a tram’s bell could be heard faintly in the distance as those with the will to rise early on a Sunday morning set off.

  The atmosphere in the hotel room was in direct contrast to that outside. Printed papers were sprawled across the bed, some pinned to the flowered wallpaper. Facts and figures created a montage that at first glance appeared sporadic. Hunched over two chairs by a laptop and phone, Alana and Michael sat immersed in their respective reading materials.

  “It was kind of Burns to share intelligence on Hydra Security,” Alana said not looking up.

  Michael thumbed over a sheet. “Looks like they’ve been keeping tabs on them for quite some time.”

  Alana flicked through the surveillance photos of Hydra’s Board of Directors. Six men and four women had their business credentials and full background profiles outlined.

  She set down the paperwork and stood to stretch. They had been pouring over the files throughout the night. So far neither had flagged anything of significance.