by Alex Caan
Sometimes she felt she might be taking her eye off the ball, be relaxing too much. That was always when the worst could happen, when she stopped watching for it. The past could surreptitiously cut through her fantastical existence, and she would be left destroyed for a second time.
Kate let the thoughts go, as she buzzed into the secure lift and then used her key card to enter her floor, then another code to enter the section of the floor she lived on. Finally she scanned her forefinger which allowed the keyholes to be opened on the front door. All done with CCTV watching her.
Once inside her flat, Kate shouted out to her mother, told her she was home. The flat was small, two bedrooms, and an open kitchen/diner/lounge. It meant she didn’t have to wear silly wigs any more to stop her mother from freaking out. Her voice would announce her, and her mother would expect her. Plus she was used to the new haircut now. The brown hair down to her shoulders, replacing the blonde hair she used to have. It was enough, she hoped, to disguise her from a chance encounter with anyone from her past.
*
Jane was anxious, and hoped her face didn’t give her away. Kate had showered then picked up takeaway from the restaurant for them. Kate was eating her usual grilled hake with vegetables, Jane was indulging in a spiced salmon burger. She had persuaded her daughter to share a chocolate brownie, said she needed the hit since she had been away from home for so long.
‘Leave the diet, you have a man now,’ Jane teased. She did a fake dance of joy, which made Kate laugh. Jane couldn’t see the happiness in her daughter’s eyes, but she could hear the sound of it, and it felt good. Kate hadn’t laughed for too long.
‘I keep healthy for myself, Mom, not some man. You should know me better than that by now. So how was your day?’
‘The same, I suppose. Eric called. Just to see how I was. He’s a good man. Please don’t push him away.’
‘Mother . . .’
‘I know, you’re old enough to know these things. I just don’t want what happened to me to put you off, to scare you from taking the risk.’
‘Nothing fazes me. I’m your daughter remember?’
Jane smiled, her pride unable to conceal itself. Whatever else she had or hadn’t done, her daughter was an achievement she wanted to take the credit for. And yet, she wasn’t her only child. There were her sons. She understood why they had behaved the way they did, while Kate never could. Jane had been terrorised by her husband for years, and when you were under that sort of fear and pressure, you sometimes felt unable to do anything except comply.
‘Did you go for your walk?’
‘Yes,’ Jane said, again hoping the dishonesty wouldn’t show on her features. ‘It was very cold, so I didn’t go far.’
‘No?’ said Kate. The word lingered. Jane kept her eyes on the TV. She couldn’t recognise the people on screen, but she knew it was a Dynasty box set and she remembered who the characters were. Kate would suffer through re-runs forever with her. The stab of guilt again, the notion that her daughter would be better off without her.
‘You should get an early night, I’m sure you’ll be just as busy tomorrow.’
Kate yawned, kissed her goodnight and headed to her bedroom.
When she was gone, Jane took her phone from her dress pocket, and checked the messages again. Her heart was in her mouth, as the panic pricked at her skin. She remembered the phone calls earlier, the ones that had unsettled her, and upset her routine. She wiped her face, and typed a reply, before hiding the phone again.
She just hoped she could keep this from Kate. She had given her daughter enough to worry about, she didn’t want to add to that list. Not just yet. She could deal with this on her own for now. She would have to.
*
The watcher was in his hire car. Had booked it under a false name. He was parked opposite one of the entrances to Dolphin Square. There was no way he could gain access to cruise the grounds or get any closer to Jane and Kate without being seen.
Still, he could intimidate the old woman from a distance. You didn’t physically need to be present when you had access to someone’s phone. The messages and the phone calls hit just the right balance. Abject terror but laced with a threat that things would end very badly for Kate if her mother didn’t cooperate. And so far she seemed to be.
His phone buzzed. It was Jane. The watcher read her reply. And smiled.
Kate Riley’s days were limited. He was sure of that.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The city was baying, calling him in the form of screeching tyres and police sirens. Zain sat in the dark, naked except for his boxers, in front of his open window. He was burning up, sweat trickling down his back and his face. Was this withdrawal or the need for another fix?
He turned the silver foil over in his hands. There were no ingredients he recognised on the packaging; he had taken the pills on blind faith, purchasing them using the TOR browser for the dark web. TOR gave him the access and the anonymity he needed. He blocked out the thought that it also gave the same to the criminals he often found himself up against. Instead he focused on the pills. He wanted their effects. Help with his PTSD, anxiety, nightmares, insomnia.
Zain popped one of them out of its casing, and put it on his tongue. It was approaching zero outside, and despite the cold air coming through his window, he was still on fire. He lay down on his sofa, his skin sticking to the leather, making sucking noises as he settled himself, and closed his eyes, hoping sleep would come.
*
Zain was feeling refreshed by the time he got to the office. He had slept deeply, waking up to a frozen room, his skin goosed, his mind hazy on where he was. So much seemed to have happened. He could barely remember the explosion from two nights before. In the mirror he could still see the scratches and scorch marks on his skin. They were superficial, or so he was told. He didn’t need any more scars; he had enough already etched on his body.
The office was empty except for Michelle.
‘Where are the others?’
‘Out, working.’
‘And DCI Riley?’
‘She’s giving PCC Hope a briefing.’
‘It’s nine-thirty, I thought I was early.’
‘You are, comparatively.’
‘Hey, what can I say? I work late to make up for it all.’
‘And none of the rest of us do, of course,’ said Michelle. She was in the zone, focusing intently on whatever was on her screen. Zain pulled up a chair next to her, and looked over her shoulder.
‘What’s the craic?’
‘It’s Natalie Davies’ work history. I contacted the temping agencies she’s been with.’
‘Anything interesting?’
‘I’m not sure. Yet. She’s mainly done office-admin roles, didn’t last long at any of them. Her temp agencies often let her go.’
‘I’m not surprised. She must have been a crap employee with all her issues.’
‘Yes, looks that way. Only, see here?’ Michelle pointed to her screen, Zain followed with his eyes. ‘Can you see?’
‘Raxoman?’
‘They’re a pharmaceutical firm. She managed to stay with them for a few months.’
‘Probably stealing the Prozac.’
‘I’ve been trying to find out exactly what they produce.’
‘And?’
‘They’re one of the leading providers of neurokine modulators in the country.’
‘Yes . . . and?’
Michelle picked up her green tea, and took a swallow. She blinked and stretched, and started typing away at her screen.
‘Neurokine modulators are used to treat rheumatic pain, I mean extreme rheumatic pain. They work by inhibiting the brain’s synapses. They are formed from using neurotoxins.’
‘Fuck,’ said Zain. ‘You think she was squirreling away the raw ingredients from the neurokine modulators? Or do you think Raxoman are secretly testing a messed-up version of a neurotoxin?’
‘Only one way to find out.’
�
�Where are they based? Raxoman?’
‘Industrial estate out past Romford in Essex.’
‘I’ll send Rob over to speak to them, shall I?’
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Michelle.
‘Julian Leakey’s laptop has been brought in. I’m going to crack the bastard.’
Michelle’s eyes lit up at the prospect.
‘Yeah, fine, you can help,’ he said. She punched him on the arm. ‘I’ll need someone to watch Natalie as well. Make sure she doesn’t do anything weird, especially if she’s feeling panicked or worried at all.’
*
The laptop stared back at him. A Lenovo ThinkPad, secured with encryption panels on the edges. It was government standard issue, so Zain hoped it wasn’t locked up as tightly as those used by the MoD. He switched it on, and immediately it asked for a Bitlocker code.
‘Nice,’ he said. ‘We enter a wrong password here, it will lock the stupid fucker for an hour at least.’
‘Any inkling what the password might be?’ said Michelle.
Zain closed his eyes, drew down the facts about Julian Leakey that he knew. He tried combinations in his head for names of his family, dates of birth, work dates. He couldn’t make them gel.
‘It would be something before he got married, something from his childhood. Julian would think that was secure. In none of the conversations about him we’ve had is there any mention of his family. They haven’t spoken to him in years, not properly. His parents are devastated but were honest enough to admit he hadn’t seen them for close on two years. Christmas was only a phone call.’
‘Heartless,’ said Michelle.
‘Just the reality of life. He lived and moved in different spheres to them. He was a genuine boy-done-good story. Working-class background, grammar school, Cambridge. Peer’s daughter.’
‘You sound like you admire him?’
‘I admire what he managed to do. I don’t know him enough to make any other decisions about his character yet.’
Zain opened his eyes and stared at the blinking cursor. What could it be? Names of his parents, siblings, a combination of names and dates? He could reboot and try his password-cracking software, but it would take a while to run. There must be an easier way? Zain took his phone out, and dialled Emma, back at Julian’s office. She answered on his fourth attempt.
‘DS Harris,’ she said, very loudly, obviously trying to antagonise her colleagues. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Emma, I’m trying to access Julian’s laptop. There’s a bitlocker password when I switch it on, do you know what the password is?’
There was shuffling at the other end, and Zain heard Emma’s breathing, followed by a door closing.
‘Sorry didn’t want those two listening in. All our laptops use the same password for that bit. Leakey1st. I know, a bit rubbish, but there you go. I don’t know his actual password, but Simon should if you need to access it?’
‘No, that will do fine. We couldn’t find a laptop at his home, only Anya’s desktop. Do you know if he had a personal one?’
‘I don’t think so; he seemed to use the one you have most of the time.’
‘Including his personal web surfing?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Thank you,’ said Zain. He ended the call and turned to Michelle. ‘Ok we have the bitlocker password.’ He typed it in and it started up his Windows, which then prompted him for the username and password to his system.
‘Now what?’
‘Now, I call Simon Wells and threaten to knock him into next week. In a nice way.’
Simon was less forthcoming, claiming he didn’t know the password, but Zain did get the username from him. He then set his password-cracker software up to find whatever password Leakey had used.
It took an hour, but then it was done. Zain and Michelle were in, ready to comb through Julian Leakey’s Internet history.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The tinderbox of Julian Leakey’s laptop opened up to Zain in minutes. The history wasn’t deleted, Leakey assuming nobody would have access to his computer apart from him. Zain downloaded a snapshot as they found it, and Michelle got to work freezing it as evidence. Zain started to surf, like Leakey. The man had no awareness of security, not online at least. He had saved his passwords, his cookies, his form data. Every website Zain clicked through let him in, no questions asked. His security obsessed brain couldn’t accept that somebody could be so careless.
‘This just doesn’t make sense. How can someone this important in a position that has access to the most sensitive data in our nation, who has direct access to the Prime Minister and Buckingham Palace, be so fucking stupid?’
‘Come on, not everyone’s a tech genius. Most people upload Norton and McAfee and then think they’re covered; they stop protecting themselves with common sense.’
‘It makes me angry. There is so much information out there, so many warnings about the risks. People need to get smarter. The criminals certainly are.’
Zain opened up private messages Leakey had sent online, even saved chat histories. The pictures were the most embarrassing. Selfies that would make a Kardashian blush.
‘Fuck.’
‘Just don’t tell me it involves children, please.’
‘No, thank God. This guy was shameless though. His wife must have known, there is no way he could carry on like this otherwise.’
‘You would be surprised what husbands and wives hide from one another. I mean, mine is at home looking after the children. They’re in nursery and school part of the day, so do I know what he’s up to then?’
‘Don’t lie Cable. I so know you’ve got secret webcams all over the joint.’
Michelle blushed. ‘I do not,’ she said in a muted mumble. ‘That’s not the point though; he could be doing anything. Same for me. I say I’m going to work, I could easily pull a sickie, and how would he know?’
‘Because I’d tell him.’
‘Yeah well, what’s that p-word Stevie used for you?’
‘Are you being racist?’
‘Prick,’ said Michelle, blushing deeply again.
‘If you can’t take the heat, Cable, don’t be using that language.’
Zain began saving more files and images, building up a picture of Leakey that conformed exactly to Natalie’s allegations.
*
Zain cornered Kate after her meeting with PCC Hope to let her know what he had found. She looked like she normally did after any interaction with him. Her face was infused with anger, and she was banging at the keyboard on her desktop. He felt an urge to reassure her, touch her shoulder.
‘That bad?’
‘No, the usual. That man, I have never met a more patronising, selfish, narrow-minded . . .’
‘Oh, hi, Commissioner . . .’
Kate looked over her shoulder.
‘Not funny, Zain, not even remotely. And quite frankly, I would be glad to say all of these things to his face.’
‘I’m sure you have, many times.’
‘I believe in standards of professional behaviour, DS Harris. I will not fall to his level.’
‘No, instead the hatred and anger can eat you alive.’
‘What have you got for me?’
Zain told her what he’d found on Leakey’s hard drive.
‘Seems a little too easy?’ she said.
‘People are naive sometimes. I think he was too.’
‘Still, surely you would expect a senior government employee at his level to have some sort of sophisticated security?’
Zain had just assumed Leakey was old school, didn’t really care for security measures the way he did. Now Kate had said it, though, he was considering her words carefully. She was right, his IT department would have added a number of layers of security.
‘I’ll do a check with the DFID IT team, and have another look.’
Kate observed Zain. He felt her eyes on him, as her thought processes worked. She made a decision and
told him. ‘DCI Raymond Cross was here earlier.’
Zain nodded. He’d guessed as much from the description Rob had given of his panama hat earlier. ‘He was assisting Hope, they needed SO15 involvement in case it was a terrorist attack, and to create a media blackout. I believe SO15 and MI5 may have been investigating parallel to ourselves.’
Having worked for both GCHQ and SO15, Zain wasn’t surprised. He followed her reasoning through and came to the conclusion before she told him.
‘Accessing Leakey’s laptop is easy because someone has already been in and done the hard work. Fuck’s sake: I am basically looking at the handiwork of some spook somewhere. Bastards.’
He saw the concern on her face, which stopped his outburst. He hated how immediately she could alter his state, but he couldn’t help it.
‘It saved us valuable time, Zain.’
‘Why didn’t they look into his private life, then?’
‘I don’t think adultery is their thing.’
‘Since when is it ours?’
‘Since it might be why a highly toxic weapon has been deployed on the streets of our city. And if it’s been used once, you can bet your bottom dollar it will be used again.’
She was right. This was his existence now. For a moment he had thought he was about to chase terrorists again, and secretly still hoped there might be a link. Then he felt guilty. Millions at risk so he could get a thrill from his work? He shook his head and let the idea go.
His job now was to find out why Julian Leakey had been so hideously killed. And the women he had been cheating on his wife with might be the key.
‘This one is particularly interesting,’ said Zain, giving Kate a printout of a chat transcript between Leakey and a woman named Bianca. ‘He is basically telling her to back off, and stay away from his wife. You see, she contacted Anya as well, just like Natalie. So Anya’s version of the perfect marriage is beginning to unravel quite quickly.’
‘I think you should speak to Mrs Fox-Leakey about these other women, and while you are doing that, it might be worth asking about an alibi.’
Zain smirked. ‘Still doesn’t explain how she got the neurotoxin.’
Michelle joined them. ‘I might have an idea. Didn’t Professor Gerard say there were rumours about the Russians carrying out tests on toxins prior to the fall of the Soviet Bloc?’