by T. M. Parris
“Bourbon?” asked Carmel.
“No, I hate that stuff. Gimme a Scotch.”
Carmel did, and floated off.
“So what’s more important than the South China Sea stand-off?” asked Fairchild.
“Your hackers.”
“My hackers? The people who’ve taken James?”
“I spoke to some people. The FBI runs a special cross-agency team dedicated to finding and neutralising hackers across the world who attack US targets. They have a broad remit to operate internationally. Your Japanese group rang a bell. They’re trying to trace a group that calls itself Fire Sappers. These people are slippery. Because there are so many of them and they’re all over, they’re mighty hard to identify. Their attacks could be made from anywhere in the world.”
“What kind of attacks are we talking about?”
“Ransomware, most often. The hackers paralyse a firm’s critical systems and copy their databases, then demand a payment to restore them. Usually in crypto. Many companies just pay up and keep quiet. That’s a problem.”
“I wouldn’t blame them though. Particularly if the ransom payment’s covered by insurance.”
“Yeah, but then the hackers get what they want so they keep on doing it. They’re more and more confident all the time. This is why it’s a priority now.”
“So what do they know about these people? Presumably they try and trace the money.”
“Yeah, they spend a lot of time doing that, but the methods to hide transactions are pretty sophisticated. They must be cashing the ransom money in somewhere, but it just disappears. That’s why they’re jumping on this. They’re desperate and they think they’ve caught a break.”
“With this Japanese group?”
“Yeah. They intercepted something that gave them the online identities of a group in Japan who pulled off some event ticketing scam. They think three of them are a match with the people whose photos you sent.”
“Based on what?”
“Their avatars. One of them calls herself something like the Scarlet Sorceress, but in Japanese. It’s a character from one of those manga, apparently. The others in the group match up as well. Though there’s one missing.”
“How do you mean?”
“The team thinks there were four of them. You only sent three.”
“We only know of three.”
“Well, the fourth one models himself on some boy robot who has his hair in a quiff and can fly. So if you spot anything like that, could be our fourth guy.”
“I’ll keep an eye out. So this group is into some serious stuff?”
“Fire Sappers? For sure. They’ve got away with millions in ransomware demands and filched a load of credit card details that they can sell on to anyone who wants them.”
“And the Japanese group?”
“Only this one hack that we know of. But there’s a connection. They’re linked. Fire Sappers is global, like I said. They have people using pre-written code to carry out ransomware attacks in their own regions.”
“Which they get a cut from.”
“Yeah. Like licensed software.”
“They must have methods of enforcing that. In case any of their licensees feel like not paying. Rose spotted someone tailing the Japanese scarlet woman who looked like mafia.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me. We’re talking massive sums of money. All crypto, but still.”
“You can spend crypto. It’s accepted more widely all the time. That ought to make it easier to trace.”
“Well, this team isn’t in the mood to sit around and wait for someone to mess up. A sniff of a chance to get to Fire Sappers and they’re all over it. There’s a bunch of them arriving tomorrow. Headed by a hard-ass by the name of Agent Alice Rapp. I’m seconded onto it, as liaison.”
“You’re going to introduce us?”
“Yeah. And make sure we all work together. Whether you like it or not. That’s how it was put to me.”
“Why would we not want to work with the FBI? We’re all after the same people, aren’t we?”
“Kind of.”
“Only kind of?”
“You’re helping Rose Clarke get her brother back. Agent Rapp doesn’t give a rat’s ass about Rose Clarke’s brother. Or anyone else except getting to the heart of this hacking network. She has a reputation, Fairchild. For not being too bothered about collateral damage. If you were being nice, you’d say she was focused.”
He drained his Scotch. “That’s why I’m here now. I’m giving you a heads-up. I’m meeting them tomorrow morning and bringing them here.” He looked regretful. “You don’t have a lot of choice about this.”
“Well, not being a US citizen, I don’t feel the need to accept the authority of the FBI on foreign soil. And I’m pretty sure Rose Clarke will feel likewise.”
“The Feds have already been onto MI6 and okayed it all with them. If she’s using MI6 resources, she’s now part of the team, period.”
“Well, we’ll see about that.” Zack must be seriously worried if he showed up in advance to warn him. Usually he was pretty adept at US agency power games. “Thanks for the heads-up. Sounds like I owe you now.”
“I like the sound of that.” Zack gave him a cheesy smile underneath his shades. “How about another drink?”
Chapter 23
Twenty-four hours was pretty much enough for the terraced house to showcase all its characteristics. The main one was that it defied comfort in every way. It was all but impossible to warm up a room with one of those ceiling heaters, with all the draughts and inadequate glazing, and in any case it was no good getting the ceiling lovely and warm when folk here were in the habit of sitting on the floor. James took to carrying his sleeping bag downstairs and draping it over himself where they sat, but it was really the wrong shape for that, and he was getting a little fed up of the fact that it was far too small for him. He asked for a blanket, but that didn’t seem to be an option. And if there’d been something to do in the place to take your mind off things, that would help. Time really did drag along very sluggishly when there was nothing to do but stare out of the same two windows.
Occasionally the men brought food, cold rice cakes and noodle pots from a convenience store. It was okay but inadequate for a western appetite, and while James unashamedly hoovered up everything left by the other three – who didn’t seem to want anything very much – he was getting hungrier all the time. Of course they had it easy compared with some kidnap victims that you read about, but it was starting to get oppressive now, and the thought of how much worse it might be when these mysterious hackers arrived filled him with dread.
The only item in the house designed to provide comfort was the heated toilet seat. Odd set of priorities, it seemed to him. A hot water bottle would have made much more of a difference, but he’d take what was on offer, and when cold or boredom got the better of him he’d wander off and plonk himself on the throne for a few minutes. He explained this by inventing a dicky tummy, patting his abdomen and looking pained. No one seemed to want to question him about it.
None of the captors had any devices of course, but there was a laptop in the house which was kept locked away. Judging from the stickers all over it and its knocked-about state, it probably belonged to one of the Japanese youngsters. After getting a phone call, one of the guards retrieved the thing out of a locked cupboard and passed it with some terse instruction to whichever of them was the nearest. It was Tomo who led, the brigadier, who’d donned his snazzy jacket for warmth although the epaulettes were looking sad. The three of them huddled round as the machine booted up, and the guard stood behind them glaring at the screen. Tomo did some tapping then stopped, and they read what was in front of them. It didn’t cheer them, whatever it was. They exchanged glances then nodded to the guard who grabbed the laptop and stowed it again, putting the key in his jeans pocket.
“What was that about?” asked James when they were done. “A message from those hackers?”
Mirai nodded for
lornly.
“Does it change their plans at all?”
She shook her head.
“Not nice. Not nice people.” That was all she would say.
The next day they were sitting around in the downstairs room – it didn’t deserve the title of living room – and the same thing happened again. This time James watched the opening of the cupboard very carefully, and timed a visit to the heated toilet seat precisely, so as to see Tomo’s hands dance over the keyboard to enter the password. On the way back he didn’t even glance over at the huddle. It wouldn’t do any good to demonstrate an interest, but an idea was forming in his head. A rather desperate one, he had to admit, but one borne of the heaviness slowly accumulating in his gut at the prospect of these unpleasant people arriving and making their demands.
In the middle of the night when all were quietly sleeping, James got up to go to the loo. Well, you did, didn’t you, if you had a dodgy tummy? The guard let him past and he padded down the carpetless stairs to the downstairs toilet, just as he did the previous night, which was when he noticed that there was no guard in the main room. By the front door, maybe, and upstairs, but not here as well. Any others must be asleep on some rota system, he’d guess. Anyway, that wasn’t his concern. He paused, then flushed the loo to cover the sound of him opening the door and creeping to the cupboard. It was locked, with a key that was probably in the pocket of a gently sleeping gangster. So that wasn’t an option, but the cupboard itself, like most things in this house, was a flimsy insubstantial thing and while the cistern was still filling, the noise echoing off all the hard surfaces, James got out a chopstick he'd kept earlier, inserted it into the gap between frame and door, and ripped the thing open.
The lock came away from the inside of the cupboard, taking a big chunk of chipboard with it. So much for Japanese quality. Unfortunately, the door kept swinging open so he couldn’t push it shut and hide the fact that it was broken, but at least he had the laptop in his hands. He scurried back and locked the door. Sitting on the loo he opened it and powered up. The keyboard was littered with Japanese characters but luckily the old QWERTY was there as usual. What he’d noticed passing by before was that Tomo’s password wasn’t a BIOS password. It was a password to the operating system of the machine, not one that you needed to boot up the device itself. You’d need Tomo’s password to get into his files, but that wasn’t necessary. What he needed was to get connected. James hit the function keys to bypass the default start-up. Ah! This brought it all back. Good old command prompts. Like riding a bicycle, this. You only needed a few lines of text. That was the easy part. And he’d had plenty of time to decide what the message would say. The problem was that they’d see it, if he didn’t cover his tracks, and that was trickier. But he was still composing the email when he heard footsteps. The guard was coming down the stairs.
Done! He sent the email. It wouldn’t mean much at first glance, but if Rose was who he thought she was, she’d know people who could make sense of it. The guard let out a cry. He’d seen the open cupboard door. Oh dear, he didn’t have long at all! Now for the cover-up. He worked quickly, fingers flying. The guard was pulling on the door and others were running to join him. A few more keystrokes and he’d be done.
The door crashed inward and banged against the wall. The mafia guy was standing there with his foot in the air. He grabbed the laptop from James’ hands and kicked him in the shin. James tried not to cry out, but it damn well hurt. Another guard pulled him by the shoulders and dragged him out into the main room. He pushed James onto the floor and kicked him in the ribs. James couldn’t breathe. He clenched as much as he could. More was coming, he knew that. The next kick was to his abdomen but it caught his hand as well and might even have broken a finger. He was a soft vulnerable mess, lying on that floor with those big boots looking to inflict the most pain.
Somewhere else in the room a conversation was going on. The three Japanese had been herded in from upstairs and ordered to look at the laptop. The moment of truth. Would they be able to figure out what he’d done? He saw Tomo log in, before a kick to his lower back sent a jarring pain through him. He felt sick. These people certainly knew their anatomy. He hoped he wasn’t going to wet himself or something embarrassing like that.
One of them said something sharp.
“Ahh, James-san.” It was Mirai’s timid voice. “They want to know what you did.”
Of course they did. “I didn’t do anything. I couldn’t get past the password.”
An interchange between Mirai and the thugs. This was followed by another kick. James closed his eyes and focused on his own shallow breathing. He felt the cold laminated floor under his cheek. The youngsters conferred quietly. Someone was tapping the keyboard. Did he tidy it all away properly? These people were hackers, despite what Mirai said. James wasn’t, though he spent a lot of time thinking from a hacker’s mindset. Was that enough?
The guards were getting impatient. It was a problem for them, he supposed, if they failed in their task. Who were these absent people that everyone was so scared of? One of the men barked at the students again. They didn’t respond. Even with the adrenaline James was starting to shiver. At least he’d put a t-shirt on before coming downstairs, but that was practically it. Various parts of his body were starting to throb, and his nose felt mushy.
“James-san,” wavered Mirai’s voice again. Bless them, they were as scared as he was. “You send email? Message?”
His heart plummeted. Had they found it? All he could do was stick to his story and hope.
“No! Like I said, I couldn’t get past the password. I didn’t do anything.”
A few words between Mirai and the guards. He braced himself but it didn’t help. The big-booted guy went for the back of his thigh this time, leather on bare skin. It felt like the boot connected directly with his bone. That was going to leave a heck of a bruise. He could taste the sick in his mouth. Though that was the least of his worries. If he chose to, this guy could stick that boot in the right place and kill him. What a spot to be in. He thought of Rose. Had she ever been in a situation like this? She’d know what to do, James was convinced of it.
One of the guards mumbled and strode across the room. Mirai shrieked. James strained to look round. The thug had her on her feet, holding her by the hair, his other hand on her neck. He was shouting at her. James didn’t know what, but got the general idea.
“Now look! There’s no need for that!” he said. “She didn’t do anything! None of them did.”
The boys were staring wide-eyed at Mirai.
“Have a go at me if you want to take it out on someone!” James added, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to him. The thug slammed Mirai against the wall. The other one pointed at the laptop and barked some order at the two boys. They scrambled forward and Tomo resumed his keyboard tapping.
“You can access my mailbox yourselves, anyway,” said James. “You did it before, didn’t you? Take a look. I didn’t send anything. I didn’t get a chance.”
He could tell from Tomo’s alert expression that the boy understood what he was saying. He looked back at the screen and typed some more. Odd, to think he was in the process of hacking James’ email. He thought about asking if there was anything in there from Fiona, but it didn’t seem the right time.
Mirai uttered some muted noise. The animal was pressing on her throat again, and her head was jammed up against the wall. Had he misjudged this? No point getting a message out there if they didn’t survive the experience anyway. But clearly they were wanted alive for something. Though what kind of state they’d be in, who knew? Both youngsters were looking at the screen conferring. They were shaking their heads. Good, good. They looked up at the guards. The hand gestures and everything said what he was hoping, that they didn’t find anything. Nice to know he hadn’t completely lost his touch. Unless of course it occurred to them how he might have done it.
Mirai was released and the three of them trudged upstairs. The laptop was taken aw
ay somewhere. When James tried to get up, a fat hand slapped the back of his head and he collapsed back on the floor.
“Can’t I at least have a sleeping bag?”
That drew another kick in the gut. The one with the biggest boots drew up a chair and sat directly in front of him. James wasn’t going anywhere. He curled up as much as he could, and lay there shivering.
Did he do enough? He’d just have to wait and see.
Chapter 24
By evening, Rose had been walking the streets of Shinjuku for hours. She’d have claimed to be carrying out a rational plan, checking everywhere James could be within a fifteen-minute radius of the capsule hotel, but it felt more like an aimless walk. What was she even looking for? He wasn’t sitting in some bar, she knew that. She passed the cafe where they’d eaten donuts together, and felt tearful. She wasn’t usually like this, but it was different when family was involved. She’d known James her whole life, and even though he’d turned out to be a boring, bumbling buffoon, there was still something of her in him and vice versa. Dangerous situations she could cope with, but when the threat was aimed directly at a part of her life she’d always kept separate, something inside seemed to seize up. It shouldn’t be happening to James. James should be back in Carshalton leading a life of unspeakable dullness. She was the one who should be out there. This kind of thing happened to her, not him.
She’d noticed the huge manga store, and checked out every floor of the place. It would be amazing if James hadn’t been in there. He used to go mad for Japanese comics when he was a kid. She also clocked the pachinko parlour nearby. As she walked past, a man with slicked-back hair stood outside smoking. Tanned face, grimy clothing, tattoos on his chunky arms. She could feel his eyes following her. They must have tracked James to this location somehow. If he’d ambled this way at some point, looking very foreign and very lost, he’d have been noticeable.
