by Sam Blake
‘Quite possible also. The worm in your system is a classic type, delivered by email. They had your email address, but then it’s all over the Trinity College website so it’s not exactly private. We’ll know more when we track its path and take a look at how it’s made. Some coders have distinct signatures.’
Anna shuddered. ‘Do you think someone’s been watching me?’
‘It’s very likely someone got access to it, but not for very long as that email’s only just arrived. And they can only see what’s in front of the laptop when it’s open through the webcam. If you keep it closed when you’re not using it then the camera’s not operational. But it’s always worth covering the camera anyway. No point tempting fate.’
‘I’ll be doing that as soon as your guys are done. How long will it take before they know anything?’
‘A couple of hours. They’ll clean your system so you’ll be good to go again, and download all the data they can about the attack. Then see what they can find out.’
‘Thanks, Rob. I can’t imagine anything worse than ending up as a live feed on a site like that.’ Her voice softened. ‘So how have you been?’
At the other end she heard him sigh. ‘Super busy. Some people just don’t seem to understand how vulnerable they are online or on the phone. They do stupid stuff and then wonder how they get compromised. I mean really stupid.’
She knew he was letting off steam, could hear the tension in his voice, also knew that he couldn’t be specific about anything.
‘I’m guessing the problem is that it’s not only themselves that they’re compromising?’
‘That’s for damn sure.’ She could almost hear him shaking his head.
Ironically, cybercrime formed part of the talk she was giving in London at the end of the week. And even with all her know-ledge she’d still had to call Hope to confirm her suspicions about that email. But perhaps youth was the key, that ability to think outside the box that teenagers had. Most of Rob’s department were recent graduates, but he had a couple of guys working for him who hadn’t ever graduated school, guys who had dropped out when they were the same age as Hope and for whom code was their native language. With ransomware attacks on the increase and the Dark Web completely unregulated, Rob’s job was one of constant change. He’d had to go to the highest level to persuade his superiors that two unqualified teens from immigrant families could be their strongest line of defence, but they’d proven their worth within days. The one thing they could all be absolutely sure of was that there was a whole lot of stuff going on, so well hidden that it only came to the surface when an attack was in progress. And then it was all about reaction time.
‘So where are you taking Hope when you get to London?’
‘The Science Museum . . .’
He burst out laughing before she could continue. ‘I should have guessed.’
Anna laughed with him. ‘And she wants to check out Imperial College. It won’t be long before she has to start thinking about university.’
‘With her grades she should be looking at MIT.’
‘It’s top of her list, but she’d been googling Imperial and discovered it’s right next to the Royal Albert Hall, she’d have music on her doorstep – literally. And it’s a beautiful part of London.’
‘It certainly is.’ He paused. ‘I’m going to have to go, honey, all my lights are flashing here. I’ll call you back when the boys are done.’
‘Thanks, Rob.’
Anna held on for a second after he had hung up, suddenly wondering what she would do when Hope went to university. Hope would be eighteen, wouldn’t need a guardian any more, and whether she ended up studying in London or Massachusetts, she definitely wouldn’t be in Ireland. It was the first time Anna had thought about it properly; perhaps it would be time for her to move back to the US.
Chapter 29
Sunday, 6.30 p.m.
Cathy could see why Karen Delaney was so upset. If her husband had murdered her lover in a hit-and-run, Cathy would be pretty upset too. She sat forward on the sofa and glanced at Jamie Fanning, who was sitting at right angles to them, notebook out. Outside it had begun to rain again, the sound of raindrops on the glazed roof of the house suddenly loud.
‘I just need you to backtrack a bit here. Did Ronan know you were having a relationship with Tom?’
Who had to be at least twenty years her junior, but Cathy wasn’t about to say that. Karen was a very attractive woman in a less than happy marriage and from the pictures she’d seen of Tom, he was pretty devastating looking. These things happened. Perhaps Tom had listened to her, knew what her husband was really like, and one thing had led to another. Although quite what his mum would make of it, Cathy wasn’t sure. But right now that wasn’t her problem.
Finding out precisely what the events were that had led up to Tom’s death, was.
Karen shook her head in answer to Cathy’s question as Fanning passed her a tissue. Karen took it gratefully, smiling her thanks. She dabbed her eyes and wiped her nose before shaking her head again, wringing the tissue in her hands as she spoke.
‘I really didn’t think he did. We were so careful. Ronan’s out a lot and Tom always had a reason to be here, to be working in the studio. When Ronan was here Tom would sometimes come up to the house for a cup of tea and to talk about whatever they were working on, so him being here wasn’t odd. Tom never called or texted my mobile unless it was something practical about the studio. Ronan can be quite dominating, I’m sure he checks my texts. Tom knew that. He was so careful.’
Cathy glanced at 007 again, who was listening intently, his notebook open. He wagged the end of his pen to indicate he was taking it all down.
‘Can you take me through what happened that night? Ronan was at the fundraiser? What time did he leave?’
Karen took a deep breath. ‘He was supposed to be there at seven, the events people called to see if he was on the way. They always get worried, but he’s done this type of thing so many times. He just wants to arrive as late as possible so he doesn’t have to do all the pre-dinner schmoozing. All he’s interested in are the press shots, getting paid and getting out.’
‘So what time did he leave home?’
‘About 7.15, I think. He drove into town – he knew he wouldn’t be drinking. He had to do the early show the next morning.’
Cathy’s ears twitched. ‘So what time would he have left the next day?’
Karen shrugged. ‘About six-ish. He can easily get into town that early. His show starts at seven.’
Cathy shifted on the soft sofa. Ronan Delaney seemed to have a lot of explaining to do. Tom hadn’t been found until 7 a.m. by the dog walker, so it looked like Delaney could have driven past him twice. Unless he’d gone the other way – up to the village to get a coffee or something before heading into town – and therefore had taken a different route. But there was a state-of-the-art coffee machine on the counter in the kitchen, one of those super-expensive ones that looked like it had enough technology to take it to the moon, so collecting takeout seemed a little illogical. The CCTV from Friday morning would help them, though. If he had gone up to the village, driving away from where Tom had been lying, he’d be all over the CCTV; at the very least he’d have had to drive past the petrol station and the post office. Unless he’d deliberately taken a more circuitous route. Cathy made a mental note to check it out.
‘So on Thursday evening you were here alone?’
‘Yes. Tom knew Ronan was doing his mum’s charity thing and I wasn’t going, so he was waiting for me to text. One of the girls from the salon rang and I couldn’t get her off the phone. He texted me about seven, and came over just before eight.’
‘And he walked?’
‘Yes, he’s got a car but he doesn’t . . .’ She corrected herself. ‘Didn’t . . . normally use it to come over in case someone saw him leaving late, we had to be so careful. It was easier for him to slip away on foot. I wish he’d driven on Thursday now.’ Karen’s voice caught.
&nbs
p; ‘His mum said he often went for late night walks. He was coming here then too?’
Karen nodded. ‘Ronan often phones after the show to say he’s going out for a few drinks or to a party. I’d text Tom then, to let him know it was safe to come over.’
They seemed to have it all worked out.
‘And when Tom left that evening, what sort of mood was he in?’
‘Good. He was a bit hurried because Orla texted him and we realised the event must have finished early, that Ronan was probably on the way. We should have been watching it – Orla was live streaming it to the Internet so we would have known when it ended, but well, I didn’t think of it. I panicked a bit when she texted, but Tom was really quick leaving. We’d had a glass of wine, so I rinsed the glasses and ran down to the studio and left the light on there just in case anyone saw him leave. I should have done it earlier but I totally forgot. Then I texted him to say goodnight but he didn’t answer.’
‘And what time was that?’
‘About 11.10, I think, maybe 11.15.’
‘And what time did Ronan come in?’
‘Just a few minutes later. I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking at the clock, but it felt like he could almost have met him at the gate. I was terrified he’d seen him. We had a plan worked out if anyone did see him, but Ronan . . . I was frightened he wouldn’t believe me. He gets so angry. Sometimes when he’s got an idea in his head, it doesn’t matter what I say.’
‘But he didn’t see him?’
Karen shrugged. ‘He might have done – I wasn’t going to ask. It was really dark and Tom had put the hood on his jacket up before he left, so he might not have realised it was Tom if he did.’
‘How did Ronan appear when he came in?’
‘I don’t know. I ran up to bed as soon as I’d put the studio light on – if he asked I was going to pretend I’d been reading in bed and hadn’t realised Tom was there. I heard him come in but he didn’t come upstairs. I think he got himself a drink. I heard him on the phone down here. I don’t know who he was talking to, though.’
Cathy’s mind was working fast. ‘And where’s his car now?’
‘In the garage, I think. I can’t remember what he said. I’m sorry, I’ve been so upset it’s been hard to concentrate.’ Tears began to fall again. ‘Oh, God, I want to leave him, but the publicity would destroy my business, he’d make sure of that, and he’d spread enough lies about my sanity to make sure I never worked in the media again. I’m just totally trapped.’ Cathy glanced at Fanning. Really you could never guess what went on behind closed doors, what secrets people were hiding. It took Karen a moment to recover. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t worry, we appreciate this is very hard. Does the name Lauren O’Reilly mean anything to you?’
Karen sniffed and dabbed her eyes, thinking for a moment. ‘There’s a Lauren who worked at the station last summer who was in college with Tom. I don’t know her surname. Ronan liked her. Tom mentioned her last time he was here, if it was the same girl.’
‘Really? In what context?’ Cathy kept her voice level, as if it wasn’t important.
Karen frowned. ‘Something about a video. Someone filmed her or something. Someone showed him the video, he said, but he hadn’t realised it was her to start with. Then, when he did, he was pretty upset. He was worried about her because he said she’s really shy. I’m sorry, I don’t really remember – I think he said he was going to help her, he said he’d called her about it and he was going to stop the video going onto Facebook. I’m not sure. It sounded like one of those revenge porn things. He was just telling me when Orla texted, and we never got a chance to finish the conversation.’
Cathy smiled, her mind whirring. ‘That’s really helpful. If you remember anything else that he might have said about it, can you let us know?’
So Tom had known about the video? Did he know who had filmed it? More questions jumped into Cathy’s head. Had Lauren wanted to meet him to talk about the video? Both the pay-as-you-go phones had been connected to this area. But . . . Cathy suddenly realised there was an obvious explanation for one of them.
‘How did Tom contact you if he couldn’t text your mobile?’ Cathy had a feeling she knew the answer.
‘I got a cheap mobile, one of those pay-as-you-go ones.’ Karen hesitated. ‘But someone must know, someone else has the number. After . . .’ She faltered. ‘After the accident someone was trying to call.’ She sobbed again. ‘I didn’t answer, I was terrified Ronan had got hold of the number and had someone call it to confirm it was mine.’
Chapter 30
Sunday, 7.45 p.m.
Even from the road, Cathy could see the yard behind Dun Laoghaire station was packed, members’ cars parked in every available inch right up to the pale blue security gate. Fanning slid down the window and punched in the entry code. The gates rattled and began to grind open slowly. Always impatient, he nudged forward as the gap widened, squeezing through, swinging around the side of the station. O’Rourke’s BMW was parked in his spot in the corner. There was one empty space and as Fanning pulled into it, Cathy glanced up. O’Rourke’s light was on in his office.
‘You get the coffee, I’ll update O’Rourke and see if he wants us to bring Delaney in after his show tonight or question him at home.’
She checked her watch; it was almost eight. There didn’t look like much chance of her getting over to Phoenix – it was just as well she’d got there this morning. The championships were getting closer by the day and Cathy wasn’t quite ready to admit to herself that she was nervous, but she was. Coming back after so much had happened in the past year felt like an uphill struggle. But she was good at climbing, and as McIntyre always said, she just needed to keep her eyes on the prize.
Pulling open the back door to the station, Fanning was following her when his phone rang. Turning to look at him, he answered it and gestured for her to go ahead. It was probably one of his harem. She headed inside taking the stairs two at a time, knocking gently on O’Rourke’s door.
‘Come.’
O’Rourke was at his desk, looking tired. He was wearing his pink shirt, the cuffs rolled back and a pink silk tie loose at his neck. He had a pile of printouts in front of him, the gold Cross pen she’d given him a hundred Christmases ago in his hand.
‘You busy?’
He looked at her and half-smiled, a sort of tired smile that admitted he was close to the edge – the type of smile that he only let her see. In his role it didn’t do to be too honest, but Cathy knew he let her in more. He ran his hand over his forehead.
‘I’m always busy, unfortunately the gurriers out there don’t take weekends off. Sit down.’ He waved the top page on his pile in the direction of the guest chair on the other side of the desk. ‘How did you get on with Ronan Delaney?’
Cathy came in, and closing the door gently behind her, sat down, leaning forward on the desk.
‘Haven’t talked to Delaney yet, he’s at work, but we had a very interesting chat with his wife.’
‘Go on.’
‘So it turns out Tom wasn’t going to the pub or for an evening ramble that night.’ She paused for dramatic effect. He gave her a withering look.
‘And?’
‘Sorry.’ He obviously wasn’t in the mood for teasing. ‘He was visiting Karen Delaney. They were having an affair, had been for about six months.’
O’Rourke’s eyebrows shot up, and he suddenly looked more alert.
‘Really? And does her husband know about this?’
‘Well, she thought he didn’t, but looking at the timing, there’s a distinct possibility that he might have done. Tom worked for them so he sort of had a reason to be coming out of their house at eleven at night. But equally, if Ronan Delaney saw him he might have thought it was a bit odd. Or it might have confirmed his suspicions if he wasn’t sure before.’
O’Rourke raised his eyebrows again and shook his head. ‘I think I’d be wondering what he was doing there at that time all right, whe
ther he worked for me or not.’
‘There’s more. Tom told Karen Delaney that someone had made a video of Lauren and he was worried about her.’
‘Did he know who?’
‘He didn’t say, just that he was going to help her with it.’ She pursed her lips, thinking. ‘But there’s a chance Ronan saw Tom leaving and doubled back. The timing works. According to Karen, they realised the event was over when Orla texted Tom, sounds like it was a close thing Delaney didn’t walk in on them.’
He put down his pen slowly, thinking, then steepled his fingers. ‘And where is Delaney now?’
‘On air until nine.’ She checked her phone. ‘Someone called in sick. He’s on live.’
‘And does he know we’re looking for him?’
‘He knows we were at his house enquiring about Tom, but nothing more.’
‘What sort of man is he?’
Cathy shifted in the chair, pulling her necklace from under her sweater. ‘Controlling. I get the impression Karen is quite frightened of him.’
She ran her dog tag along its chain, could feel the nicks in it where it had been dented in the explosion. She’d never met Ronan Delaney but she didn’t like the sound of him one little bit. Domestic abuse was constantly on their radar; in her experience it took a long time for women to report an assault, and then about twelve reports before they were prepared to press charges. By then the violence had usually escalated significantly and they were often in fear of their lives. Karen hadn’t reported anything, but everything about their relationship rang alarm bells for Cathy. And Karen had the added problem of media interest in everything she did. It never ceased to amaze Cathy how otherwise brilliant, intelligent, independent women got caught up in abusive relationships. But she still had more to tell him.
‘The other interesting thing is that Delaney’s car’s in for repairs.’
‘Really?’ His eyes on her necklace, O’Rourke watched her fiddle with it. ‘And he knew Lauren, didn’t he? She worked at the radio station?’ Cathy nodded as he continued. ‘I’d imagine with the hours he keeps that he’d be quite familiar with some of those drugs that Lauren had in her room.’
