by A. M Surtees
Using my pillows for back support, I settled into bed before grabbing the satchel and pouring out the files. After three months, I was able to put a face to the names listed on the small white piece of paper that I wrote on when we first started, which Mack added in with the file folders. This was going to be fun. Making peace with the fact that I wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, I got to work.
From over three hundred employees, the list had been cut down to less than one hundred just by cutting out the men, then you take in to account, the time employed, the people not away on holidays or on overseas missions, and the list is down to what I have in front of me. A massive, twenty eight files. One of these files contained the name, address, date of birth, tax file number, bank details and medical history of the bitch responsible for Penelope’s condition and Marcy’s death.
As I meticulously began assessing the remaining files, I started to sort them into piles based on commonalities, even if the commonality was something as meaningless as hair colour. For the most part, I tried to arrange them by bank deposits, hoping that whoever they were trying to get the information for was paying good money for it but came up empty. If this woman is being paid, it was going into an account the company doesn’t have listed on file.
Secondly, I assessed the medical history. Maybe there was something that would tell me if there was anyone who had nothing to lose like an illness of a sick family member, something to also help determine if there was anything in the information we did have, to determine the likelihood of the existence of an undisclosed bank account. That process highlighted five names but that didn’t mean I could immediately dismiss the other twenty three files and focus solely on the five but it did mean that those five would be kept at the top of my suspect list. For now anyway.
I retrieved the pad and pen that sat next to the lamp on my bed side table and started to make a new list, – one that was sure to change repeatedly in the next few days – outlining from one to twenty eight, who had any kind of motive, be it financial or otherwise, for wanting to take down one of the biggest underground organisations in the country.
After around four hours of checking and re-checking details, I finally had the beginnings of a real suspect list, organizing the files into order to match the list before placing them back in the satchel and sliding them under my bed. It was just after 3am before I finished the first draft listing and I needed some sleep. We were finally getting somewhere and it was like the weight on my shoulders was finally starting to lift.
Chapter eighteen
Sticking my head in the door of the tech room the next morning, I asked Mack to meet me in my office in ten minutes.
I was sitting behind the desk when she walked in, taking a seat in the chair across from me.
“Did the files I gave you open up any new leads to help narrow our search down?”
“Nothing conclusive, but there was one thing I wanted to discuss with you before I move forward with it.”
I proceeded to tell her about Maxine who actually ended up being number four on my list. The three girls listed above her we hadn’t spoken to, so whether they were using avoidance to stay out of our way or not I couldn’t be sure, but one thing I did know was that Maxine was raising even more red flags with not only me but Mack as well and working in such close proximity, Mack would have a better grasp on just how ‘weird’ she’s been acting as well as a better chance of keeping an eye on her without drawing attention to it.
We spent close to two hours discussing the concept – no matter how crazy it seemed – of Maxine being able to do something like this and toyed with the possibility that she may not have been working alone. I still wasn’t convinced that she would be the type to kill someone, putting them in the hospital is one thing, but actually snuffing out someone’s life completely, and so brutally, was another thing altogether. The suffocation of Penelope could be considered a crime of passion forged in desperation but the calculated assassination of Marcy was something else entirely. It spoke to the character of the shooter, they knew what they were doing and how to erase a life without a fuss and then walk back in here the next morning as if nothing had changed. As much as that didn’t sound like IT game, I couldn’t rule them out because of the system breach.
Granted my assumption was slightly hypocritical, there was just something about her that seemed so docile and completely harmless. It’s true that I don’t seem like the type to be an assassin either, but I also don’t look like someone you could get away with trying to hurt. I looked like I could take care of myself. Maxine didn’t.
With an extra twelve pages of information on Maxine added to the file, we decided it was time for a well-deserved break. I gave Mack an early mark to go home, packed all the files back into the satchel – they were not to be out of my sight, ever – before heading downstairs to the café in the lobby for a coffee and something to eat.
As if a football stadium sized lightbulb went off, I mentally slapped myself for not thinking of it before. Grabbing my coffee and a sandwich and racing back to my office, I locked the door behind me and closed the blinds to ensure I wouldn’t be disturbed. As far as the rest of the staff knew, I had gone downstairs for lunch and wouldn’t be back for an hour.
Shaking my head in disbelief at the simplicity of it all, I retrieved the files and laid them out on the desk. What was found on Marcy? Blood, that’s what. Blood that until now, seemed to belong to a ghost.
While we were we still sifting through file after file after file, the answer had been right in front of us ever since we received word about the sample. Because the sample we had, wasn’t on record which of course meant that whoever was behind this, had no recorded priors either because they simply didn’t have any, or much like mine, they’d been wiped. I was on to something. Something concrete that could cut this search down even more. I was so excited I could barely contain it.
I waited for the computer to start up so that I could begin assessing the police data log files to cross examine who had blood or any other DNA marker samples on record and who didn’t. The blood sample had obviously been run through the police system and our own system; the results monitor being thrown across the room by the forensic examiner – also known as Marcy’s boyfriend Joshua – when it came up empty.
But now it seemed that all was not lost after all. It takes a lot of skill to work in an environment like this and not end up on file and complete data wiping is only reserved for high demand workers like myself and Dimitri who sometimes need to get a little hands on in order to get the job done and minimises the ability to be traced in the rare occasion that trace DNA is left behind. So anyone on this list who doesn’t come up with a DNA file is instantly a high priority suspect.
I narrowed the list down to a whopping seven names. And guess who still remained? Maxine. It was starting to look more and more like Mack was really on to something with her being a headline suspect, every time I tried to narrow the list. There was another name that came up in that seven that I actually found rather amusing because I hadn’t even triggered at the name before; Penelope Stewart. Even though I knew with complete certainty that she was innocent, for obvious reasons, I still kept the file with the others, if for no other reason than to have one file that could be dismissed if I narrowed it down to two names and she was to be one of them.
My list now consisted of Maxine, Penelope, two of Penelope’s ‘girls’ and three other computer techs. I sent a text message to Mack with the computer tech names so she could keep an eye on them and note down any suspicious activity. Even something as small as looking over their shoulder before logging on, Mack was going to keep an eye on every movement that the four suspects made and relay anything useful back to me to add to the files.
As for Penelope’s girls, I was going to be dealing with them myself using their admiration for Penelope as a catalyst to try and get a reading on their guilt, or lack of. If one of Penelope’s girls was behind putting her in the hospital, she wouldn’t be able to show as
much concern or consideration for her condition. Not to mention the fact that if they had a feeling I was squeezing them, their game would be readable straight away. Granted some of these girls had been in the game for four or five years and knew a thing or two about a poker face, I had been in this game for eight years and around it, for twelve. There was nothing they could do that I wouldn’t be able to see right through.
Being able to think way outside the box I did also consider the possibility, no matter how insane, that Penelope was the mastermind behind this, getting one of her girls to put her in the hospital to cover her own tracks. That’s when I decided that telling a white lie about her being rushed back into surgery with hemorrhaging on the brain, would freak out the girl who was helping her. Although I don’t think Penelope could honestly be stupid enough to risk her own life to cover her tracks, or do something like this in the first place, this organisation was her family, just as it was mine but hey, stranger things have happened.
Using the numbers listed in the girls’ files, I contacted each one and arranged to meet in a neutral environment, the local bar, later that night to talk to them about the case, leading them to believe that I was in need of their assistance to catch the person responsible and even going as far as to proclaim to have a lead on one of the boys in IT and wished to ask them about it. If one or more of them was responsible, thinking I was honing in on a guy would give them an opportunity to relax under the notion that I was heading away from them completely.
Thankfully, both girls agreed to meet me at ten that night. I made notes in the files, located the concealable voice recorder that was still kept in the desk drawer from the interrogations, packed up the satchel once again and dashed back to my hotel to get ready. I was going to need the kind of outfit that I could use to conceal a weapon. I wasn’t planning to use it but I wasn’t going in blind. Tonight I had a feeling, I was going to need to wear my boots.
Chapter nineteen
Both girls were waiting patiently on the stools in front of the bar when I walked through the door ten minutes early. I could see why Penelope was so fond of her girls; they had punctuality down to a fine art. I could afford to learn a thing or two from these girls, but don’t tell Jackson I said that. He would laugh at the radical concept of me ever being less than ten minutes late for anything. He would often joke about how I was the type that would be late to my own funeral if given the chance.
Greeting the girls, I motioned for them to follow me to the back of the bar where it would be easier to talk privately, without having to speak at a volume that risked being overheard and also so the chances of my recorder capturing them clearly so I could make notes later, would be greatly increased.
I located a spare table in the back of the bar near the toilets and sat down. The girls looked a little uneasy by my presence; could it be guilt showing in their body language perhaps? Could it be possible that one, if not both of these girls, were behind this mess? Doubt it. I’m never that lucky. I could find a coin on the ground and keep a rabbit’s foot in my pocket and still trip over a black cat, landing face first in dog droppings. It’s a good thing that my job didn’t require luck. It required something I had an abundance of; skill.
I looked up at them with a questioning look encapsulating my face which forced Melody, a five foot eight, blonde haired, blue eyed beauty, to speak.
“I sincerely apologise if we seem a bit on edge. Don’t get me wrong, we are so grateful that you have asked for our help on finding out who hurt Penny, but we’ve heard about some of the things you’ve done while working in Melbourne and they’re a bit crazy. The girls up here refer to you as ‘Krazy Kitty’. No offence, but it’s as if you have no soul, the way you manipulate people then kill them like it’s fun. Some of us do it because we have to pay bills, you seem like you get a kick out of killing people. And there’s something very disturbing about having an intimate moment with someone and then taking their life as if it meant nothing. Myself and the rest of Penny’s girls are usually either assassins or lures, but not both. We work with others who do the killing, Penny would never allow for us to damage our souls by having to commit both acts. But you do it with ease. It makes you very intimidating.”
Had to admit, her comment touched me. Yeah I know, that’s a really twisted thing to say, but I was. I never thought of myself as a soulless monster but hey, if the shoe fits. Both girls looked completely astonished at the proud smile that I could feel warming my cheeks. They knew I wasn’t offended by the label I had been given and that it was quite the opposite.
One thing did annoy me with Melody’s proclamation; these girls weren’t much for bloodshed which meant the chances of them having anything in the least to do with this was slim to none. It also explained why they didn’t have records with blood samples. It wasn’t due to skill on their part. It was just a simple lack of balls. They never got into any situations that would constitute them having blood samples to leave behind.
My face to face evaluation revealed that these girls were ex-strippers, putting themselves through college or something equally boring when they were recruited by Penelope and put to work for a hell of a lot better pay. From what I could gather, neither of them had a backbone to save themselves. They didn’t really do much more than simply laying back and spreading their legs. The hard stuff was left for the men in the field. I swear, if Jackson ever met these girls, he would probably kiss me and call me an asset to the company. Personally, I think that entitles me to a pay rise.
Scrapping my initial idea to lie through my teeth about Penelope. I opted to instead give them confirmation that she had in fact been released from hospital and was back at her apartment under the guard of James and Dimitri.
James was the muscle, which wasn’t to say that Dimitri couldn’t be considered muscle, but he was simply there to aid James if there was any trouble and to also keep an eye on Penelope’s condition to make sure she was recovering well and to minimise any risks of her relapsing and ending up back in the hospital.
Giving the girls Dimitri’s mobile number I told them to arrange with him a suitable time to go and visit their dear friend and mentor, instructing that they visit in groups of no more than three at a time so as to not overwhelm her and risk causing her any kind of distress. The last thing any of us needed was for Penelope to end up back in a coma before Dimitri could help trigger some helpful memory about the night she was attacked.
The girls agreed to my terms, vowing to call him in the morning so they could visit her before grabbing their things and leaving the table, thanking me numerous times as they departed. To be perfectly honest, I was glad to see the back of them, they were less than tolerable. Girls in this field really should not be so, whiny. It’s not becoming in a call girl, let alone one who works in this kind of organisation. I was both embarrassed and ashamed for them. Being around them really made me miss the girls back home. At least Jackson’s girls had balls.
Retrieving the recorder from my pocket and hitting the ‘stop’ button, I picked up my bag and made tracks back to the hotel to make notes in their folders. The only thing I could deduce from this venture was that Melody had more balls than Camille. She actually addressed me, telling me what she thought whereas Camille just sat quietly, avoiding eye contact with me at all times. It was as if she thought she would turn to stone if our eyes met. How she survives in this job I just don’t know. I’m not that scary. My nick name wouldn’t be Kitty Kat if I was.
Her lack of ability to look at me did make me question her slightly but considering what Melody said about my capacity for intimidating them and making them feel like inferior children, I just put it down to her being afraid of me and left it at that.
Chapter twenty
Arriving back at the hotel, I found Daniel sitting on the floor with his back against the door, waiting for my return from the bar. Judging by the look of him, I would assume he’d been waiting a while. He had his head rested on his right shoulder and his eyes were closed. He had been waiti
ng so long he had fallen asleep.
I gently tapped him on the shoulder to wake him up so I could open the door and invited him inside. He rubbed his eyes and slowly walked through the door behind me, remaining silent. His behaviour was starting to concern me a little, first camping out in front of my room so long he’d fallen asleep when he could have called me and now being eerily silent, I had to admit, it had me on edge.
Grabbing a bottle of wine and two glasses from the kitchen, I placed them down on the table and took a seat beside him on the sofa in the small living area of my suite. Handing him the glass, I dared to ask him what the problem was and why he was here so late at night without calling first.
“I didn’t know where else to go. I came here to talk to you and when I discovered you weren’t home I decided to wait. How long was I in the hall for?”
Truth is, I had no idea, but when I told him it was almost twelve thirty, he looked like he’d seen a ghost, proceeding to tell me he got to my door around nine. I felt bad for him having to sit out there by himself all this time, especially when he looked so down, but he really should have called first. If he had, he would have known that I had arranged to meet up with Melody and Camille to have a drink and swap stories about Penelope’s mentoring.
Would I have openly lied to him like that I hear you ask? Yes, I would have because we agreed that only the five of us from Melbourne, would know any of the nitty gritty details about the case, so that we could be certain that no one would get wind of what we knew. Letting it get out that we were also investigating the tech and file theft would be far too risky and it was a risk none of us were willing to take, especially not after losing one of our own.
