by Rob Wyllie
'And me also,' laughed Boegenkamp.
'So anyway,' Frank said, 'enough of this hilarity Campbell. Just tell us what you've found.'
'Can we wait for Zak?' she asked. 'He's just gone to the loo.'
He remembered her mentioning him before.
'Oh aye, he's the web-crawler guy.'
Dr Jansen let out an involuntary giggle.
'I'm sorry Frank,' she said, 'it sounded so funny.'
'I gather that,' he replied, without malice.
A few seconds later, they were joined by a smooth-skinned youth who looked as if he should still be at school. Primary school. He wore old-fashioned horn-rimmed spectacles with a mass of thick brown locks tidied into a ponytail. Frank knew the dress code in this building was shirt and smart trousers, and whilst Zak's attire just about obeyed the letter of that law, his light blue shirt though clean, was clearly antique and had not been ironed that morning or any other. The trousers were of a brown corduroy, and they too were un-pressed. The general effect was of a second-world war code-breaker, brilliant but so scruffy that he had to be hidden out of sight in some top-secret country manor house.
He raised a hand in greeting. 'I'm Zak. Zak Newton. Welcome to Maida Vale Forensic Labs. Eleanor probably told you, I've been trying to help with your da Vinci guy thing?'
Zak seemed already to be ending his sentences with that rising inflection thing that had become the norm for anyone under thirty-five, so Frank wasn't sure if he was expected to answer. But he did anyway.
'She told me.'
'Sweet. So I've been running the sweeps through GCHQ's Hitachi for the last couple of days. It's awesome capability but the beta version that we've got is fairly slow and a bit unstable.'
'Beta version?' Frank had heard Eleanor use the phrase many times in the past but didn't know what it meant.
'It's like untested software,' Zak explained. 'It's got lots of bugs and it falls over and some things don't work at all, but the developer guys get feedback from us so that they can fix it and make improvements and stuff. Once they've done that it goes alpha.'
Frank smiled. 'Sounds a bit like what my bank does to me every time they have an upgrade to their app.'
'Yeah, just like that,' Zak said, smiling. 'So this software is all about replacing manual analysis. It's state of the art and a lot more accurate. It can identify thousands of phrases and scan two hundred thousand documents an hour. Pretty awesome.'
Out the corner of his eye, Frank saw Boegenkamp giving a subtle tip of the head. Cottoning on, he looked over at Dr Jansen, who was wearing a face like thunder.
'Aye, nice one Zak,' hoping to steer proceedings in Jansen's direction. But he didn't need to intervene any further because Zak had picked up the atmosphere in the room. Not that you could miss it.
'But of course, it's nowhere compared with Hanneke's kit and well, her software is just off the scale, capability-wise. So I decided to hand over the problem to her and Eleanor. Always best to use the right tools and the right people for the job, don't you think?'
Frank chuckled to himself. This lad should dump his career in tech and join the diplomatic corps.
'Awesome,' he said, shooting a smile in Boegenkamp's direction. 'So Dr Jansen, perhaps you could take up the story from here?'
Returned to centre stage, her frown melted away. This was a woman who obviously craved the limelight. Something to remember for the future, although he wondered why Marco hadn't mentioned it to him. Maybe he hadn't noticed. Or maybe it was just her Dutchness.
'Of course Frank. So perhaps I can start with some history?'
'Please do.'
She smiled. 'We are the cyber security research group at the University of Leiden, and I of course am the leader of that group. For this project, we worked with the admissions administrators to recruit a control group of a thousand student volunteers. Each of them were asked to write one hundred posts on various social media platforms, under their usual handles. And then my A-I software, running on some high-powered computer hardware set up specifically for the purpose...'
'That's the Crays,' Frank said.
‘…right. So the Crays analysed all the posts, looking for commonalities in the phraseology, comparing them with a control document prepared by each participant also.'
'Cool'.
'When they compared the identification data with the control document,' Jansen continued, 'there was about an eighty percent match. And the cool thing is, my A-I software learns from experience, so it gets better the more data it gets.'
'I get it so far,' Frank said, lying. 'What about you Marco?'
'Crystal clear also.'
Frank shot him a smile.
'So once we were happy with our matching technology, then I needed to develop a method to search across the internet.'
'Isn't that simply google?' Boegenkamp asked. Riskily, in Frank's opinion, and being rewarded with a withering look from Dr Jansen.
'Many people would think that,' she said in a smug tone, 'but of course we cannot use that facility because that is owned by the American corporation Alphabet Incorporated and they do not grant access to their databases or algorithms.'
'Aye, so that's why your team had to develop the web-crawler thingy.' Frank remembered Eleanor explaining this to him earlier and he was feeling pleased with himself for recalling the conversation.
'My team was involved, yes, but it was mainly me,' she replied, a hint of frostiness creeping into her voice. 'It is something I specialise in also.'
'Well that's all great Hanneke,' Frank said, trying to hide his impatience. 'So the big question is, how have you got on?'
It all went a bit quiet at that point. Meaning it didn't take long for him to realise that Dr Jansen might have oversold the good news bit when she'd spoken to Boegenkamp earlier.
'Frank, do you know the song, two out of three ain't bad?'
He nodded vaguely. 'Aye, Meatloaf, isn't it? But a bit before my time.' Jesus, did he look that old?
'Yes perhaps it was. But it is a very good old rock song in my opinion, one of my dad's favourites. Well this week, we change the song to be one out of two ain't bad. That's what we have achieved this week, so maybe we can call it a little success.'
And then came the excuses, which, showing great leadership, she left Eleanor to deliver.
'It's like a problem,' she said, frowning, 'if the person we are trying to detect doesn't have a big web presence. If they like don't have a Twitter or an Instagram for instance.'
'So, like if they're like over forty?' He hadn't meant to mock her way of speaking but it had just come out that way. 'It like, won't work? Not awesome.'
'It's not our fault,' she said defensively. 'If the data isn't there in the first place, we can't make a match, can we?'
There was no denying it, even he could see that. But then, totally out of the blue, an idea popped into his head. And if he made a fool of himself in front of these techie geeks, then so what?
'Listen, I get what you're saying. The guys we're looking for are villains, not bloody social-media stars. But I know one place where their words of wisdom are faithfully recorded for all time. You see the chances are we would have had them in for questioning at some stage in their pathetic little careers. And when we have them in for questioning, they have to make a statement, don't they?'
'And we record these statements in our computer systems,' Boegenkamp cried, catching on.
'Exactly Marco. So why can't we connect Dr Jansen's magic phrase-matching technology up to the Met's criminal records system?'
'It would be very difficult,' Jansen said, frowning. 'Several months work I would think.' He detected the sour tone. The tone that said it won't work because I didn't think of it.
'Our criminal records system has an API,' Zak said suddenly. 'An application program interface. You don't need to know what that means, but it like lets us connect to external systems very easily. I know some of the network services guys and I'm sure they could help set it up if it'
s too technically difficult for Eleanor or Dr Jansen. A day or two's work at the most.'
God, thought Frank, I love this guy. And evidently he wasn't yet finished.
'And of course Hanneke, I assume your software has an API too? It's pretty much mandatory these days, isn't it? You wouldn't write an app like yours without it.'
Ambushed. But to her credit, she seemed to get over it quickly, and five minutes later she and Eleanor were buzzing with excitement as they savoured the interesting technical challenge that lay ahead. One day, two days at the most, and they'd be able to do a sweep against the Met database, when maybe the abductor would be nailed on account of not paying attention in his English class.
That left just one question to be answered.
'One out of two ain't bad, that's what you said. So does that mean you've found out who da Vinci is?'
They had. And when they told him who it was, he couldn't help but laugh out loud. Now he couldn't wait to tell Maggie and Jimmy the news.
Because when it came down to it, professionals were going to beat amateurs every time.
Chapter 25
It was a rare treat indeed for Maggie to get the opportunity to collect her son from school. Theoretically since she worked for herself she could have arranged her workload around the school schedule, but in practice it seemed there was always things to do and people to see which inevitably got in the way. Today however it had been forced on her because her nanny Martha had to fly to Poland at short notice to tend to her sick mother. Inconvenient, but in truth it wasn't much of a problem. In the last day or two they had received a few enquiries for new work, and so Jimmy had been sent off to Kent to interview a local councillor who had contacted them directly about some irregularity or other in the accounts of the local leisure centre. It wasn't their normal line of work, but bills had to be paid whilst they were waiting for the next big assignment from Asvina. To his credit, Jimmy had assented to the mission without protest, citing the opportunity to look up an old army chum whilst he was down there. It seemed to Maggie that he had an old army chum in all four corners of the country and probably beyond too, and for a brief moment she mourned the loss of camaraderie she had suffered after her semi-successful barrister career had crashed and burned. But then when she thought about it again, they were all shits, so really, it was no loss.
They'd had a laugh on the phone after Frank had told them the crazy truth about da Vinci. That their client Charles Grant, right-on warrior for social justice, had, unbelievably, been trolling himself. She could just imagine the headlines in the Mail and the Telegraph if it ever got out. Leftie actor invents fascist foe to reinforce victimhood narrative. It hadn't been his smartest choice, that was for sure, but that seemed to be the pattern of his life. Evidenced by his bonkers decision to invest his whole future in Sharon Trent, when the feelings were all too clearly one way.
But then she thought about it again. If this ever got out, the poor guy would be totally humiliated, and knowing his strong self-regard, it would surely break him. So, what if Benjamin Fox or Allegra Ross or both had found out about it? With Grant's fragile state of mind, she could quite imagine him seeing murder as the only way out. This was something she would need to bring up with Frank as a matter of urgency. But that would have to wait until after she'd fetched Ollie.
The school stood at the head of a leafy cul-de-sac on the northern edges of Hampstead village. After the terrible events of the Alzahrani affair she had moved Ollie from his old private school to this state primary. It wasn't in any way a political statement on her part, the school having been chosen mainly for its convenient location to their home, and she knew it wasn't exactly an inner-city catchment area. The parents were no less middle-class than those of his old school, but tended to be of that group who liked to signal their virtue in all things, including and especially, the choice of education they had made for their kids.
The environment being the great concern of the age, the school encouraged parents if at all possible to leave outsized SUVs parked on driveways and to walk their children there instead. Encouragement was backed up by enforcement, the entire cul-de-sac a no-parking zone patrolled by a suitably officious female traffic warden in a conspicuous hi-viz jacket.
Maggie made sure she arrived outside the gates in good time, being unfamiliar with how long the walk would take. Group of mothers and childminders had already gathered, laughing and smiling as they enjoyed their familiar daily routine. She didn't know any of them, although she recognised a woman of about her own age who she recalled had recently moved in a few doors down the street from her and to whom she had spoken once or twice. Olivia, that was her name, easy to remember for someone with a son called Ollie. She stood a little detached from the others, her arms clasped protectively across her chest. From her City uniform of grey business suit, white silk blouse and heels, Maggie guessed an accountant or a banker, or heaven forbid, a lawyer like herself.
She smiled at her. 'Hi Olivia, I guess this isn't your normal afternoon. Me neither. But it's nice isn't it, to be able to fit it in occasionally?'
The other woman nodded. 'It's Maggie, isn't it, from number twenty-two? Yes, you're right, it is very nice. I don't generally get the chance. We've got a young French au pair who normally does it but we've only had her a couple of weeks and she's turned out to be hopelessly unreliable. Not because she's French or anything,' she added hastily.
Maggie gave a sympathetic laugh. 'No, I think it just comes as standard with these young girls, no matter where they are from.' Except for good old Martha, as solid and reliable as the day was long, and she was only twenty-four. 'It's Josh isn't it, your little boy? We must arrange to get together some time soon, I'm sure my Ollie would love to have a friend so close by. I bet they would get on very well.'
'Oh yes, that would be wonderful. Perhaps you could pop in for a coffee when we get back today and we can arrange something? Maybe this Saturday afternoon if you're both free.'
But now children were beginning to appear through the double doors of the school entrance, at first a trickle and then a steady stream, the noise level increasing exponentially as more and more emerged. Through the crowd she spotted her son, engaged in a mock-wrestle with another boy whom, as they got closer, she recognised as Olivia's Josh. She caught his mother's eye and smiled.
'Looks like our boys are ahead of us Olivia.'
'Mummy, what are you doing here?' Ollie shouted as he caught sight of her, immediately running over and throwing his arms around her waist, so forcibly that she was almost knocked off her feet.
'Wow, have you been doing rugby practice today darling? That was a great tackle.' She squeezed him tightly to her and kissed him gently on the forehead. 'Martha had to go and visit her own mummy in Poland so you've got me instead today.'
Momentarily he looked anxious. 'Can we still go to the shop for sweets on the way home mummy? Martha always lets me.' It was news to Maggie, and strictly against instructions too, but that was her good-hearted nanny all over.
'Well if you can show me the way, maybe we can do it as a special treat just for today. And perhaps Josh would like to come too if his mummy is ok with that?'
Olivia laughed. 'I don't think I could stop him even if I wanted to. Of course it's fine.'
They set off along the cul-de-sac, the boys hyper with excitement and the mums relaxed, chatting easily about work and houses and schools and husbands - dead husbands in Maggie's case. Time seemed to fly by as they trooped the half-mile along the busy main road to where they would turn off, disappearing into the warren of leafy suburban backwaters. Looking up, she saw that the two boys had sprinted ahead and then stopped at a junction which was unfamiliar to both the mothers.
'Do you know where you're going?' she shouted, struggling to make herself heard above the roar of the traffic.
'Of course mummy,' he shouted back. 'It's just along here a bit. Mr Aziz's shop is on the next corner.'
'Well don't go too far then,' she said, knowing they
would ignore her. 'Wait for us!'
Across the street the occupants of a black BMW SUV sat quietly observing proceedings, as they had done for the last three days. If you were a politician or a celebrity or a prominent business person, you were likely to have had personal security training, which would have taught you the importance of avoiding regular routines in your day to day life. Change your times, change your route, change your mode of transport, that would make it more difficult for those that meant to do you harm. But kids going home from school, why would they know anything about that? Inside, the men had to make a decision. Same time, same place and there was the kid they were after, but today he wasn't with the fat girl, and today they weren't alone. It wasn't what they were expecting but a fraught phone call with the boss had left them in no doubt. It was to be done today, and so what if it was a bit more complicated, that was their job in the organisation. Just get it sorted, understood?
They left the engine running and clicked open the powered tailgate with the key-fob. It was quiet in this street, that's why they'd picked it, but it didn't pay to hang around any longer than was necessary. Just grab the kid, stick the bag over his head and cable-tie his hands, bundle him in the back, beat it. Didn't need to be more complicated than that.
To the mothers, now some eighty metres distant, the horror seemed to be unfolding in slow motion. There was two of them, a thick-set man in a leather bomber jacket, black jeans and trainers and a wiry youth in double denim. They looked around, hoping that they would be unobserved but not caring that much. In a second, they were on the other side of the street, the larger man grabbing Ollie by the hair and dragging him screaming over to the BMW. The boy, initially taken by surprise, now seem to realise what was happening and began to struggle, kicking his legs furiously and trying in vain to push himself away from his abductor. The second man, seeing what was happening, gave him a brutal slap across the cheek to subdue him, causing the other man to react furiously.
'Fuck's sake Vince, careful, we don't want no damaged goods.' He realised his mistake as soon as he said it, but Maggie and Olivia, who had now began running towards them, were still too far away to hear. With an expert motion he put two pre-prepared cable-ties around Ollie's wrist and jerked them tight, causing him to wince with pain. He yanked even more tightly on his hair, guiding him towards the open tailgate, and roughly pushed him into the luggage area. 'You fucking sit there and don't move, understand?' And then he remembered his slip of the tongue. 'Shit, we'd better take the other kid too, we don't want no witnesses. Come on, get him in the back of the motor.'