While I read Beth’s notes, I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to bring fresh evidence into what we already have without anyone knowing that I’m involved again with Neva.
Beth doesn’t mention any of the crew’s friends or family, so I take a look at some of the people who have left comments for Astor. I follow the trail of the accounts, and find the so-called friends are all much of a muchness with similar profile pages. I do a reverse search on the image of one young man and find the picture is actually a male model. Tick. It’s obvious that this profile is fake. I search a few more. Some seem to be real people that Astor has befriended to fill out his lists and feed, but the majority, some thirty or more friends, I can confirm are bogus. Especially when I observe that all activity on these accounts stops the day before the flight disappeared.
I type up my observations and add it to the folder. Then I look more closely at Minchin. Minchin appears to be a real person. I see normal patterns of communication and organic threads on his newsfeed. He has a small Facebook page that has friends and a few family members. It’s surprisingly transparent, a hacker’s dream to be honest, because he has his ‘friends list’ open for anyone to see. He also puts public statuses up all the time. This man has nothing to hide or appears not to. That could be a tell – an appearance of innocence; his lack of paranoia could be misleading. A woman has posted on his feed, asking where he is. A few others have commented on it. ‘Yeah, Frank… Where are you?’ I click on the woman’s name and check her profile page because it’s also open and I see at one point she’s asking publicly again if anyone has heard from Frank. There’s a thread discussing the fact that no one has had any recent contact with him, and the authors of these comments express some concern.
I make a note in the folder again to contact these people and enquire about Minchin, and I glean what I can from their Facebook pages that will make it easy to search the DVLA database to find their contact details.
After that I search out the first woman. Her name is Carolyn Minchin Read, and she appears to be a relative of Minchin’s. Because this is a way of ruling him out, I look for Carolyn’s details first. Once they’ve been found, I add the information to the file. It might not be me who contacts her, but at least this piece of information might help narrow down suspicion to Astor – who is looking more and more probable to me as being the hacker Neva told me about.
I save the file and go and get myself a coffee. When I get back to my office, I find a message from Security Agent Brinkman asking me to call her.
‘I just read your file additions,’ she says. ‘Ray told me you were good… I didn’t expect you to get so much so quickly. Anyway, I want to hear what you’re thinking that you didn’t put in the report.’
‘Well, we pretty much know that Carter was replaced by someone. I doubt she was working alone. Too big a job,’ I say.
‘Go on,’ she says.
‘I looked on social media for Astor and Minchin. As I pointed out, Minchin’s is pretty average, but Astor’s isn’t.’ I run through my thoughts, reconfirming what I’ve said in the report.
‘Look, I know we have to deal in facts,’ Brinkman says. ‘But tell me what your gut is saying right now.’
‘Astor was working with Carter. They were probably both doppelgängers. Astor’s fake profile goes back three years. He’s been in play for a while,’ I say.
‘What about Carter? Why no Facebook page?’ Brinkman says. ‘Surely it’s suspicious that she didn’t have one?’
‘Carter was a late addition. They didn’t have time to establish her. There probably was a Facebook page for the original Angela Carter, which they brought down. Better to have it gone, than to have to pretend to be her online with real friends and family,’ I explain.
‘That makes sense. It also means that no one missed her after the plane disappeared.’
‘Yes. Unlike Minchin, who has been missed. I think we need to search Astor’s apartment. I’m sure Leon and Beth had this on their list of to-dos before we were distracted by another case,’ I say.
‘Right. That happens in my department all the time too. I think you’re on to something,’ Brinkman says. ‘Let’s meet at Astor’s apartment and check him out.’
After we flash our badges, the manager of the building gives us access to Astor’s apartment, which is on the top floor. The first thing that strikes me as Brinkman and I enter is the solid wall of window in the open-plan space that overlooks London’s docklands. Astor lived way beyond his means. And this place has the best of everything.
The space is modern, clean. It has an open-plan kitchen, large dining area and a living room with expensive furnishings. The type of place that a wealthy person would love to entertain in.
‘How could he afford this?’ Brinkman says.
The place looks lived in. There are the remains of milk and food in the fridge, as though Astor expected to return. And in the bedroom the wardrobe is filled with normal clothing that any man in his thirties might wear. There’s nothing particularly notable about them, unlike the clothing in the photographs we’ve seen him in on his social media
In the living space there is a large flat-screen television hanging on the wall in front of a plush L-shaped sofa. I pick up the remote control and switch it on as Brinkman searches through his kitchen cupboards.
‘Look at this,’ I say. ‘The programmes he records: sports, car shows, the occasional film. Looks like he’s a football fan.’
I go into his bedroom and look around. The bedside table drawers have little in them, not even men’s magazines. But I find one Playboy under the bed. I flick it open. It’s full of naked women. Perhaps he was bi?
I find a laptop left open on his dresser. I switch it on, but it is password protected.
In his bathroom, his medicine cabinet has the usual toiletries you’d find in most men’s: aftershave, shaving gel, deodorant.
I take the laptop with me as I leave the bedroom.
‘We’ll take this. See if the tech team can get into it,’ I say to Brinkman as I place it on the kitchen worktop.
‘Right,’ says Brinkman. ‘And I’ve sent for a forensics team. Let’s lift some prints and DNA and see if this guy has a record.’
I return to the office convinced that this is the hacker Neva told me about. The only detail that casts doubt on my suspicion is the condition of the apartment: it was left as though Astor believed he was going to return. Brinkman’s forensics may confirm that Astor is Granger but only if he previously had a record. I’m expecting this to draw a blank though. No one working for the Network would ever have a traceable past. They were too careful about that.
I consider using the system to look up Granger but dismiss this as it’s likely Ray will be checking my work. I would if I was him. I can’t do anything that will give away my connection with Neva or put my loyalty in any doubt. Not if I want us both to stay out of prison.
Instead, I go in search of Beth to discuss the case and to see if she has anything back from Baker. She’s on the phone when I go into her office.
‘No, I’m not going to fight it,’ she says. ‘He can have custody.’
She looks up and sees me standing by the door.
‘Draw it up and I’ll sign it,’ she says.
I turn to leave to give her privacy.
‘Wait, Mike, I’m almost done…’ she says.
Then she finishes the call and hangs up.
‘Sorry. My solicitor,’ she says.
‘I didn’t mean to interrupt,’ I say.
‘That’s okay. How can I help you?’
‘Just checking to see if Baker had sent you the autopsy on Stanners yet?’
That slight flush of the cheeks again. Interesting.
‘He’s not flown back from Glasgow yet. It’ll probably be tomorrow.’
Even more intriguing is that she knows Baker’s whereabouts.
‘I’m giving up my kids,’ she says. ‘I know that’s weird. But I’m a terrible mother. Callum will be
better for them fulltime, and I’m having them alternate weekends.’
‘Beth, you’re going through a divorce. That’s a very emotional and stressful thing. Do you really want to make such a tough decision now?’
‘I’m not wired like other women,’ she says. ‘I had them for Callum. The truth is they are probably the main cause of our break-up. People think it’s normal to get married, have kids, and that is their idea of “happy ever after”. It was … hell for me. I liked us being a couple. The kids just divided us. But Callum loves them and he’s a great dad. He makes up for my lack of … empathy.’
I don’t know what to say in response to this candid outburst. I sit down opposite her and offer a sympathetic ear. Which is all I can really do.
When she’s let all of her thoughts out, she switches back to business as though it’s never happened. I almost wish I had the luxury of telling her how I feel about things too. This verbal sharing of emotion can help you deal with it all. But I can’t tell anyone about Neva, especially not Beth.
‘So… I believe Brinkman took you out today to see Astor’s place?’ she says.
Her wording is odd, as though I need to be ‘taken’ places or have to be accompanied in order to do my job.
I choose not to read more into her words, and I tell her what we’ve learnt so far.
‘It might be a lucky break,’ I say. ‘But I don’t think Astor was gay as his social media suggests. He had a reason to pretend, which could confirm that his whole profile is fake.’
‘What did we ever do without you?’ Beth says, though I note the twinge of irony. ‘I’ve been a little distracted. I should have noticed all of those things. Promise not to make it too obvious to Ray, please? I’ll be much freer now I’ve sorted … that.’ She glances at her mobile phone. ‘I just want to concentrate on my job.’
‘It’s not a competition, Beth,’ I say. ‘We are a team. One day I won’t see something you’ll see.’
Beth laughs. ‘Oh man! Am I hoping that day will come soon! I’m really going to rub your nose in it when it does happen.’
I find myself laughing with her but can’t help thinking, Many a true word is said in jest. Beth’s personal decision has lifted her mood though, and the tense lines that have been obvious on her face of late fall away as we laugh together.
‘Hey, what’s with you two?’ Leon says from the doorway of his office.
This makes Beth laugh even harder. Leon, not having much sense of humour at the best of times, goes back in his office and closes the door.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Subra
Subra Semillon pulls a scarf up over her hair as she waits in the cool darkness of her hallway. Since the downfall of Beech, she’s taken up residence in Israel: a place she often visited to do the work the Network required of her.
As a woman of wealth, she is protected from the world, and rarely ventures outside without a team of well-armed security guards. She lives in a rambling two-storey house, set in several acres of desert landscape, on the outskirts of Jerusalem. The house is surrounded by miles of electric fencing and monitored by cameras. Armed guards are posted in towers around various points of the perimeter and they watch with wary attention, both the desert and the city. To the casual eye it may seem that Subra and her household fear intruders.
As part of the Network’s long-term plan to destabilise the respective governments, Subra has been working to fuel the unrest between the Palestinians and the Israelis. Such disruption ensures that the powers that be don’t delve too deeply into the cover of the corporate businesses that the Network hide behind.
Subra is a vital cog within a well-oiled, corrupt and violent machine and she enjoys her role.
After the virtual meeting with the committee a few days ago, Subra prepares herself for yet another. She walks from her house and steps into a large black people carrier. Sitting in the back with her are two of her most trusted men. As the car drives out of the gates of Subra’s home, a second black vehicle follows. Inside are several other guards: all armed to the teeth.
They make their way along the main road, skirting the city and driving into the wilds of the desert. After an hour they reach another perimeter fence. The vehicles follow the fence around to a guarded gate entrance. To a casual passer-by this place smacks of military. Though piled high with security, it is far from official.
In the centre of the camp both vehicles pull up beside one of the buildings. Subra and her men exit the car. She walks with confidence to the building and the three of them go inside. The men in the other vehicle get out and loiter. Some smoke, while others idly talk with the residents of the camp. They are all familiar to each other and very comfortable together.
Inside the ramshackle building, Subra finds a young man. He’s wearing combats and has a gun and holster slung low over his hips. He’s sitting by the door to a locked room.
‘How is our guest today?’ asks Subra.
‘He’s refusing to eat,’ the young man says.
‘I’ll talk to him,’ she says.
The young man opens the door and Subra goes in. Inside the sparse room is a military bunk bed, a table and chairs and toilet.
A man in his mid-fifties is sitting on the bunk with his back pressed to the wall. He has black hair that is greying at the temples, and other than his slightly ruffled clothing he has a sense of dignity about him. He doesn’t look at Subra.
‘Armin,’ Subra says. ‘You disappoint me. I thought you had a greater sense of survival than this. You need to eat.’
‘I don’t see any point. It’s obvious you’ll kill me when you get what you want,’ Armin says in the clear British upper-class accent that he picked up after his years studying at Oxford.
They have removed his belt and shoelaces, and he’s monitored twenty-four hours a day through a security camera.
‘I haven’t hurt you so far,’ Subra says. ‘I wanted you on my side. We could have taken control of the Network together. Now, because of your stubborn refusal, we have Annalise in charge.’
Armin looks at Subra now. ‘Annalise? Why her?’
Subra explains Annalise’s erasing of Vasquez. ‘We can’t ignore the support she commands in the Network. Most operatives look up to her. Some would even die for her. She’s been building her own little empire within the castle walls for quite some time.’
‘The idea of bringing her into the committee was to negate an attempted coup?’ Armin asks.
‘I’m trying to appear an ally until such time as we rid ourselves of her influence,’ Subra tells him. ‘We could still work together…’
‘If you wanted my help, why not ask for it? You didn’t need to take me from a plane. You didn’t need to kill all of those people.’
Subra smiles. ‘Oh, but it was such a magnificent mission. And what do you care about the death of others?’
Armin casts her a look of disdain. Subra is always about the glory. She could never be a trusted ally. She wouldn’t be able to resist the drama.
‘Pointless deaths are not glorious, Subra,’ Armin says. ‘As a deliverer of it, you should know that it is the one person that has to die that is far more magnificent. And a hard fight, not an easy one, that gives satisfaction. You on the other hand use your hackers to do all of your dirty work. If you’d come after me one to one then this would mean something.’
A frown flits over her brow, but Subra smooths it away and she gives a small smile.
‘Why were you going to Shanghai?’ Subra asks.
‘You know why. The committee sent me. I had to make sure our business associates weren’t compromised,’ he says.
‘By the Almunazama?’ Subra says.
‘Yes.’
Subra pulls the chair away from the small table and sits down. ‘That’s strange, because my source tells me you were secretly working for them.’
Armin doesn’t answer.
‘You won’t deny it?’ she says.
‘You won’t believe me, so why bother. Y
ou took the word of this source before consulting with me. Now you’re holding me captive. What do you want from me?’ Armin says.
‘The truth,’ Subra says. ‘Are you working with the Almunazama?’
‘No,’ he says.
Subra stands and walks towards him. ‘I’ll ask you again. Are you working with the Almunazama?’
Armin shrugs.
‘Caleb!’ Subra calls.
The young man from outside now comes into the room with Subra’s two guards.
‘It’s time we got the truth from Armin,’ she says.
The two guards seize Armin. He struggles but they overpower him. They drag him to the centre of the room and tie him to the chair that Subra has now vacated.
One of Subra’s guards brings in a small case.
‘You know what I’m good at,’ Subra says.
She lays the case on the table and opens it. Armin’s eyes fall on the knives, needles and scalpels that make up her set of torture instruments.
‘Coward,’ Armin says. ‘Fight me and we’ll see who is strongest.’
Subra smirks. ‘I already know the answer to that. I am. I win. Now and always.’
An hour later Subra comes out of the room. Her clothing is stained with blood.
Another young man is now sitting in Caleb’s seat. Subra smiles at him.
‘Solomon,’ she says. ‘I wondered when I’d see you.’
‘Did you get what you wanted from him?’ he asks.
‘He doesn’t know anything,’ Subra says. ‘Or he’d have talked.’
‘Did they ever recover Angie’s body?’ Solomon asks. ‘Either one of us could have got that dud parachute.’
‘She’s probably fish food,’ Subra says. ‘Either way, she’s not talking about what went down on Zen Airlines flight 723.’
‘She was a loyal operative.’ He frowns. ‘She wouldn’t have talked. She did everything you’d asked of her.’
‘It wasn’t on purpose, I told you that. The man who packed the chutes has been executed for his carelessness. You better believe that will never happen again. But it’s just as well you were carrying Armin. Six months of planning would have been lost in an instant.’
Kill or Die Page 17
