‘Yes, I can understand you that far.’
‘That’s why I’m going to use social engineering. Like I told you, it focuses on the idea that, in a whole IT system, the human being is the weakest link. The majority of passwords that users set are things like “1111”, “1234”, the word “password”... Others use their date of birth or anniversary, their pet’s name... That’s what social engineering is based on: investigating the user in order to try to work out their passwords. I’ll try finding that kind of information on their social media, to see if there’s any luck.’
‘And if there isn’t?’ asked Natalia.
‘Then I’ll use a brute force attack program. Don’t worry about anything,’ said Gus, caressing the lid of the other laptop. ‘I’ll be inside these computers sooner or later.’
‘Make sure it’s sooner,’ said Carlos, winking at him. ‘I’d like to catch our killer before he kills his third victim. If we manage to solve this without having to admit Natalia’s right, I’ll invite you over for dinner.’
CHAPTER TWO
Carlos got out of the car, leant on the bonnet, and took the packet of cigarettes out from the back pocket of his jeans. Even though it was still October, that morning was very cold, enough for the smoke from the cigarette to merge with the vapour coming out from his mouth, causing immeasurable clouds.
The door to the pub opened, and Sebas came out with a coffee in each hand. He went up to Carlos and handed him one of the plastic cups:
‘You take it black, don’t you?’
‘You didn’t have to go to the trouble, you know,’ Carlos told him, as he took his cup.
‘Yes I do. You don’t know this, but at headquarters there’s a sweepstake for guessing how long I’m going to last as your partner. If, on top of that, you end up bashing my face in, the winnings double. I’ve bet that we’ll last at least three months, so I have to do everything possible for us to get along well.’
‘Wow, that bunch of bastards. They make me sound like an ogre,’ grumbled Carlos.
‘That’s because they know you well.’ Sebas winked at him and walked over to the passenger side door. ‘Where are we going now?’
‘Well to tell the truth, I’m sick of talking with the victims’ female friends. We’ve spent all morning hearing, “She was a very normal and loyal woman. She loved her husband so much”. They lie, more than talk.’
‘Maybe they’re not lying. One doesn’t go around airing their infidelities. People tend to be discreet about these things.’
‘Talking about being discreet, don’t even think about mentioning anything about this case at headquarters. Remember that one of the victims was the wife of Salazar, the medical examiner. The man’s got enough going on, what with having lost his wife, without there being, on top of that, a rumour starting that she cheated on him.’
‘Don’t worry: I haven’t said anything. The truth is, it’s rotten luck what happened to him, that of being on the verge of performing the post-mortem on his own wife. I think about it, and I feel ill.’
‘Yes, it must be horrible. Aguirre offered him the option of taking some holiday time to recover, but he’s preferred to carry on working. He says the walls are closing in on him.’ Carlos squeezed the plastic cup between his fingers, as if trying to offload his rage onto it. ‘We’ll catch that bastard.’
‘I agree. Where do we go next?’
‘I thought about going back to the hotel where Carmen Ortega was. It’s possible that the killer also met there with Andrea, the first victim, so, now that we know the date of her disappearance, we could go and ask them to let us take a look at the security camera recordings from that day.’
Sebas nodded, opened his door, and got into the car. In less than half an hour, they had already parked in front of the hotel. No sooner after entering the reception, they were met by the same young man from the previous time, who greeted them with an expression of annoyance.
‘You again? What is it you need now?’
‘Exactly the same thing as last time.’
‘Do you want to see the recordings from the car park cameras?’
‘Yes, but now we need the ones from other dates: the eighth, ninth, and tenth of September.’ Carlos turned towards Sebas. The latter took a look at the notes in his notebook and nodded. ‘Could you check whether on any of those days there was a reservation in the name of Andrea Martínez?’
‘Of course. My boss told me that I had done the right thing by not posing any obstacles the other time, and that I should demonstrate that we are an establishment that complies with the law and collaborates with the forces of order.’
‘Your boss is a very smart guy. That way it avoids us starting to wonder whether this hotel, with such discreet hourly-rental, could come to be used for carrying out prostitution, or meetings for shady matters.’
‘I assure you there is none of that, sir,’ the receptionist hurried to say.
‘And I believe you.’ Carlos shot him his most innocent and charming smile. ‘Go ahead, check the reservations of those days for me.’
The young man consulted his computer and, after a couple of minutes, he nodded:
‘Yes, there’s a reservation in that name on the eighth of September. The code to the door had also been used twice. Once at eight thirty, and again at nine.’
‘Was there also an order for a bottle of champagne for that room?’ asked Sebas.
‘Yes. A bottle of Moët & Chandon Imperial Brut.’
‘It’s our guy,’ said Carlos. ‘Let’s see those recordings.’
They went behind the counter and waited whilst the young man searched for what they had asked for. When he found it, he began running through the images at full speed. Every time a car could be seen entering the garage, Carlos asked him to pause so that he could cross check the number place with that of the car belonging to Andrea Martínez.
‘That’s it,’ said Carlos, pointing at the screen. ‘Would you be able to be play it now at normal speed?’
The receptionist nodded and resumed playing the recording. The car parked, and a blonde woman got out of it. In spite of the darkness that reigned supreme over the garage, she was wearing an enormous pair of sunglasses which gave her an air of sophistication, like a Hollywood actress. She was dressed in a pair of tight-fitting jeans, high-heeled shoes, décolleté shirt, and an elegant black blazer. The woman closed the car door, looked at both sides of the garage, as if trying to make sure that nobody was following her, and then headed towards the lift.
‘Damn, she’s arrived alone too,’ commented Sebas.
‘Yes, he must have arrived earlier, around eight-thirty, to order the champagne,’ hazarded Carlos.
‘But we haven’t seen him come through.’
‘He very likely came in through the other garage door. Lets see how this one ends, and then we’ll check through the images from the other camera.’
On the recording, the lift opened its doors half an hour later. A tall man, dressed in dark clothes, with his hood up and his faced covered, appeared in the garage. In his arms, he was carrying Andrea. She was unconscious, and her head was bobbing with the man’s every step.
After arriving at the car, the man opened the boot and put Andrea inside. He did it carefully, almost with affection, as if not wanting to wake her. After closing the boot, he got into the driver’s seat and left the garage.
‘We’ll have to take a copy of those images again,’ Carlos said to the receptionist. ‘It seems there’s no point this time either in which the face is visible, but they’ll have to try to analyse them anyway.’
‘Can we see the images from the other camera now?’ asked Sebas.
The receptionist searched for the recording they asked for and fast-forwarded to twenty-five past eight. A couple of minutes later, they saw how the same individual, dressed in dark clothing, came into the garage, with his face covered, and without looking directly at the camera at any point. The man crossed the garage at a fast pace and went up through
the emergency stairs.
‘Shit, damn it. We still don’t have anything.’
‘Don’t be so sure. I think that we do have something important,’ said Carlos, gesturing towards Sebas for him to follow him.
They came out from behind the counter and moved away a few paces so that the receptionist could not hear them. Sebas stood still in front of Carlos, in the hope that the latter would explain himself:
‘Come on; stop creating suspense. What is it we’re supposed to have?’
‘Well, something very important: the place where our killer likes to meet with his victims. You already know that Natalia thinks we could be after a serial killer...’
‘An idea that you’ve been rejecting from the start...’
‘Yes, but that’s because I love to drive her out of her mind. I’d like it if it wasn’t that way, but this stinks of a serial killer from a long way off, and, if she’s right...’
‘The murderer will kill again,’ Sebas completed the sentence.
‘Yes, and we know where he’ll try to catch his next victim, so we only have to wait for him.’
‘That could be an incredibly long wait,’ commented Sebas. ‘Who’s going to be responsible for it?’
‘How do you feel about infiltrating as a receptionist?’
‘No, Carlos, please... This is going to be a right pain in the arse...’
‘I know, but you need to see the positive side of the matter,’ Carlos put an arm around his shoulders to encourage him. ‘The more time you spend here, the less time you’ll be spending with me and that will increase your chances of winning the sweepstake at headquarters.’
‘All right,’ Sebas resigned himself. ‘Someone has to do it.’
‘Perfect, I’ll mention it to Aguirre so he can prepare everything.’ Carlos turned towards the receptionist and, upon seeing his tight shirt and pink tie, could not avoid a smile. ‘You’re going to be absolutely adorable in that uniform.’
*****
Gus took his eyes off Andrea’s computer screen to check Carmen’s. The program that was trying to find the password that would allow him to get in was still working, but it had been hours now and still there was no result. With Andrea it had been much easier. He had managed it on the third attempt, upon entering her date of birth. He loved users that were trusting.
He returned his gaze to the screen and continued searching for information. He had already gone over Andrea’s inbox and had not found a single email from anybody named Azkar, either in her personal or professional account. Now he was searching amongst her contacts on Facebook, but so far to no avail. At least Andrea did not have an interminable list of friends. He only had to check some three hundred names and read their conversations on Messenger. Fortunately, it seemed that she did not like talking via that system, because she had few conversations and they were short.
When he finished, he remained motionless for a few minutes, with his gaze riveted on the ceiling of the room. He had not found anything interesting, and he did not know where to go next. He was beginning to think that he would not find anything, no matter how much he investigated.
He decided to open the browser in order to see her final searches, more for his own entertainment than anything else. After all, they were paying him, so he would have to make out that he was doing something whilst the program he was using on Carmen’s computer worked out her password.
He did not find anything interesting amongst her recent searches. She had been on the post office website searching for post codes; she had entered into the web page for her bank; she had looked up a recipe for chicken curry... It did not appear that any of that would have put her in the path of her killer. He decided to open up the whole search history and start checking all of the pages she had been on in the last six months, even if he died of boredom in the attempt. Straight away, his attention was caught by a page with a logo consisting of two hearts pierced with an arrow: Quicklove. What was that page about? He had never heard of it before...
He clicked on the icon. Immediately, there opened up a page with a fuchsia pink background. In the centre of the page, the icon of the two shot hearts beat strongly. A few seconds later, a new page opened up. In the background were photographs of couples hugging or kissing. It looked like a contacts page, but the photos did not belong to normal people, the kind you would cross paths with on the stairwell of your building. They were all exceedingly attractive and wearing very short skirts or dizzyingly plunging necklines; that was when they were not simply just in underwear. The guys were a parade of muscular bodies and open shirts which emphasized the kind of abs you don’t get in just three months. In the centre of the page stood out a slogan written in white letters: “Your next adventure only a few clicks away.”
Gus searched the upper part of the page for the sign in button. After clicking it, he smiled in appreciation. Andrea was making it easy for him again. Her username and password appeared already written out on the entry login. He clicked the button to gain admission, and found himself in a chat program. On the left-hand side of the screen appeared the list of Andrea’s contacts. Many of them had a photo. Gus realised that they were all men, and appeared to be between thirty and forty years old. He read the list and felt a shiver run down his spine. It was there, the name was there. He took out his phone and made a call:
‘Natalia, drop everything you’re doing and get here immediately. And bring Carlos. I’ve found Azkar.’
CHAPTER THREE
Natalia and Carlos came into the room where Gus was waiting for them, sitting in front of Andrea’s laptop with his arms folded across his chest and a smile of superiority on his face.
‘Didn’t I tell you I’d manage it?’ he told them by way of greeting. ‘Here we have our guy.’
Natalia sat down beside him and moved the computer in order to see what was showing on the screen. Carlos remained standing, with his hands resting on the back of the chair that she was in, and leant forwards to read.
‘What’s this supposed to be?’ she asked, as she manoeuvred the mouse in order to see the entire page.
‘It’s Quicklove, an online dating site in the style of Tinder or Meetic. It isn’t a page for making friends or talking about love. These people know what it’s all about.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Carlos.
‘Well, it’s because we’re not facing another Charon, and the victims aren’t innocent little girls to charm, either. On this page, the people become acquainted, send a few photos, and meet up to have sex. Just like that, without any further complications or sentimentalities.’
‘Wow, how direct. I think I liked Charon’s style better,’ commented Natalia.
‘Well I like this one way more,’ commented Gus. ‘This way I’m not going to have to spend hours reading sickeningly sweet chat threads. A couple of conversations per victim, and sorted.’
‘Well, that has its negative side,’ said Carlos. ‘We have far less chance that the killer has let slip any important piece of information about himself. What have you found out?’
‘The first thing is that you were right: Azkar is the killer’s nickname. To tell the truth, it’s not an entirely suitable name.’
‘Why do you say that?’ asked Natalia.
‘Well, Azkar means quickly in Basque. If what you’re offering is a shag, then saying that you’re quick doesn’t seem to be the best cover letter. I would have chosen something that meant fiery, powerful, hot...’
‘That’s because you’re a more randy git than anyone,’ joked Carlos. ‘Do we have any information about him?’
‘Not much. On this page, people are fairly discreet, so they don’t give much personal information. According to what he puts on his profile, he’s thirty-five years old, single, and from Bilbao. This is his description: “I’m a happy and active guy who loves to travel and play sports. I like good music, animals, and cooking.”’
‘You have to put all those hobbies down just for sex? What more is it to you whether he lik
es animals or not in order to have a roll in the hay with you?’ asked Carlos.
‘I can’t believe how stupid you are. You need to write something on the profile and put those kinds of things you favour which could start a conversation. What do you want him to put? I measure eight inches and I like light S&M?’
‘I’m beginning to feel uncomfortable with this conversation,’ intervened Natalia.
‘Well then don’t open his chat thread with Andrea,’ Gus recommended. The following second, Natalia was clicking to see the conversation. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
‘My God! Is that a penis?’
‘Yes, Natalia, it is. I don’t know why I bother speaking, if you never pay any bloody attention to me. I’ve already told you that on this site they don’t mess about.’
‘But there are photos of Andrea naked too...’ Natalia was astonished. ‘And then people are surprised about what’s happened to them.’
‘What the hell do you mean by that?’ asked Carlos.
‘I don’t know... Sending these kinds of photos, meeting up with men they don’t know from Adam in order to have sexual relations... They were asking for it.’
‘My God, Natalia...’ Carlos took a couple of steps away from her and stood looking at her with his mouth open. ‘It’s one thing for you to have had a traditional education, and another for you to allow your grandmother to talk out of your mouth. How were they asking for it?’
‘I’m just saying that if they hadn’t met up with guys they didn’t know, this wouldn’t have happened to them.’
‘I’m genuinely gobsmacked at you, Natalia. I know you’ve never been one to go out and flirt, but there are concepts you have to understand. When a woman goes out looking for sex, she goes out looking for consensual sex with the man she chooses. That does not give any pervert the right to say vulgar things to her, become a pest, or place a hand on her. And much less gives a madman the right to kidnap, torture, and kill her.’
The White Corpses Page 8