The Power of One

by Jane A. Adams

She nodded, finally, agreeing there was a degree of sense in that. ‘All right, thank you, both of you. And Stephen, we’ll check in with you every half-hour. If you don’t get a call, contact DI Kendal immediately. He’ll know what to do.’

  Mac and Tim had taken a break at services halfway to their destination. Somehow, he was only mildly surprised to see Hale, walking towards him across the car park.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Tim asked.

  ‘That,’ Mac said, ‘is William Hale.’

  ‘Ah. Right. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?’

  Hale paused a few feet away.

  ‘Are you following me?’ Mac asked.

  ‘I didn’t follow you, no.’

  Mac let it pass.

  ‘I want to talk to the de Freitas’s. That is where you’re going.’

  Mac saw no reason to deny it. ‘Sorry, can’t be done.’

  ‘Believe me, Mac. I have their interests at heart.’

  ‘I find it hard to believe you have any interests except your own.’

  ‘Harsh, Mac. And what do you think those might be?’

  ‘Are you going to tell me? From what little I’ve seen of you, you like to talk even if you don’t give any straight answers.’

  Tim was studying something across the car park, close to the restaurant entrance. Mac followed his gaze. Two of Hale’s men; the two he had met that day in Paul’s apartment – them or their clones – stood waiting by the automatic doors.

  Mac sighed. ‘If you want to talk, you can buy us both coffee. It’s too hot to stand out here.’

  Hale stood aside, gesturing elaborately that they should precede him. Mac began to walk, Tim beside him. He wondered if Tim felt as he did, that though Hale had approached them empty-handed and the suggestion to go inside was his own, he could not help but feel as though he had a gun at his back.

  Hale found them a table close by the window and his men went to get coffee. ‘Biscuits too,’ Hale said. ‘Or cake. Something sweet anyway.’

  Today they were casually dressed. Jeans and chinos and short-sleeved shirts, though Hale still wore a tailored jacket, despite the temperatures. Inside the restaurant, the air conditioning whirred and Mac could feel the chill on his back and arm. He wondered if Hale had planned it that way. The two men joined them at the table and Mac wondered how they might look to the casual observer in a situation full of families and holiday makers. Five men, clearly serious, obviously not in recreational mood and, despite the casual dress, still in albeit invisible uniform.

  ‘So,’ Mac said, picking up directly from what had been said outside. ‘And your interest is?’

  ‘Security,’ Hale said.

  ‘National security?’

  ‘Well, as it turns out, yes. But my initial concern was a matter of industrial espionage. I work for a company that produces surveillance systems. Not your domestic, common or garden CCTV cameras, you understand, but systems designed to detect objects or structures or other systems that governments or individuals wish to hide. Our own government included.’

  Sonar, Mac thought. Some kind of radar. That was Ray’s speculation concerning Paul’s latest work. ‘Go on.’

  ‘The company I work for designs systems for the Ministry of Defence. Some time ago, we were set a challenge. There’s a new breed of submarine designed and built and recently commissioned. You know, I’m sure, all about stealth aeroplanes; this is a submarine with similar capabilities. It’s signature, I’m told, is similar to that of a small dolphin; not bad when you consider this thing is longer than a football pitch and carries up to thirty-eight Tomahawk missiles.

  ‘The other half of its capacity is that of detection. I’m told that its sonar is so well designed that it could, theoretically, sit in the English Channel and hear a ship leave New York.’ He spread his hands in a ‘would you believe it’ gesture. ‘Impressive stuff.’

  ‘And …’ Mac prompted.

  ‘And our challenge was to design a system that could intercept this behemoth; our challenge was to detect the undetectable. If we could do it there was a chance that others could too …’

  ‘And did you?’ Tim asked. ‘Though I suppose you must have done seeing as Paul was trying to figure out how it was made.’ He frowned. ‘No, I’ve got that wrong, haven’t I? You made it, someone stole it …’ He shook his head. ‘Either way you look at it I’m turning Paul de Freitas into the bad guy and I’m not sure I’m happy with that.’

  ‘You are almost there,’ Hale told him. ‘Let’s just say that the people I work for came close to succeeding and that other people got wind of their success.’

  ‘The idea was stolen,’ Mac said.

  ‘The first thing we knew was when the rumours started. A device for sale that looked remarkably like ours, but, we were happy to find, theirs was no better than ours; it was merely different.’

  ‘So you got yourself one of these pirated devices and that’s what Paul was examining.’

  Hale nodded. ‘I’d worked with Paul before he joined his brother in Iconograph. Paul had always done work on the games but he’d also had his own company as you may already know.’

  Mac nodded. ‘It went bust.’

  ‘He was persuaded it would be more profitable if it did. Paul was a fantastic designer, just a little too high profile to be fully useful. As part of Iconograph, he could keep his profile but at the same time be utterly discreet.’

  ‘And did Edward know about this?’

  ‘Edward chose not to. Paul was good for his business.’

  ‘And so, you got the pirated device to Paul. He reverse engineered the technology and …’

  Hale drew a deep breath. ‘He made it work. Ironed out the kinks, designed a new chip set. And then the problems really started.’

  ‘In what way?’ Mac sipped his coffee, and shoved it aside. It tasted, he thought, like soap. ‘Paul, I have it on good authority, was a fundamentally honest man …’

  ‘A statement I would like to agree with. Now. Though I had decided, previously, that Paul was nothing but a crook willing to sell out to the highest bidder. In fact, we had evidence that he’d done precisely that.’

  ‘So you had him killed.’

  ‘No, that wasn’t me. Ian was his minder, not his executioner. Mac, we were still gathering evidence against Paul de Freitas when he was killed but as it turned out the evidence pointed in a very different direction. What we think happened is this: the third party who designed the pirated device got wind of his success. They wanted what he had, threatened him in some way. Paul pretended to give them what they wanted but it must have become clear pretty quickly that he had cheated them. We have to assume they then had him killed.’

  ‘A little counterproductive, I’d have thought.’

  ‘I think they believed they could get what they wanted without him. So far, none of us have been successful in that regard.’

  Mac considered. ‘What was Payne 23? Was that a signal for you to contact him? Or for them?’

  Hale shook his head. ‘You’re slipping, Mac. You should have checked your facts. The number on the advert wasn’t Paul’s. It goes to some kind of automated system which then diverts the call to … to wherever.’

  ‘You don’t know or you aren’t saying?’

  Hale shrugged, spread his hands expansively. ‘I need to talk to Edward and Lydia de Freitas.’

  ‘So, why don’t you talk to the local police?’ Tim said. ‘I’m sure they could arrange it, seeing as how you’re almost a government agent or something.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘You know, my Uncle Charles reckons you’re some kind of freelancer. Work for whoever pays best …’

  Hale frowned. He was, Mac noted, still in control, but Tim had definitely struck a nerve.

  ‘I will ask them if they wish to speak with you,’ he said. ‘But I will not push them to do so, nor will I facilitate it. The best I can offer is for you to provide me with a contact number and the rest is up to them.’ He stood, prepared to leave. ‘Goodbye, Mr Hale. Thank you for the c
offee.’

  Tim followed him from the restaurant, resisting the temptation to look back at Hale and his followers.

  ‘That was weird,’ he said as they got back into Mac’s car. ‘You think they’ve bugged us or anything?’

  Mac shook his head. ‘Who knows. What did you make of all that?’

  ‘A mix of truth and misdirection,’ Tim hypothesised. ‘You know how it is? The best lies are those based on a kernel of truth, but I’m intrigued. How does Abe Jackson fit into all of this? Hale didn’t mention him once.’

  ‘No,’ Mac agreed. ‘He did not.’

  ‘And it all fits in with the notion of there being separate groups, all after the same thing.’

  ‘Which Paul hid … somewhere.’

  ‘Mac, do you think we’re looking for the complete tracking device thing, or just some part of it. The bit Paul got to work?’

  ‘That I don’t know. Ray and Lyndsey said that whatever he was doing was now missing from the lab. I saw the layout on the bench. Spread out, it covered, I don’t know, six feet by two. Put together, we’d be looking at, I suppose, something that would fit into a large holdall or sports bag. Theoretically, I suppose, either one of them could have walked out of Iconograph with a bag and no one would have looked twice. Security was tight around that central lab, but I don’t think it was an issue in the rest of the building. Not from what I’ve seen of the place at least.’

  ‘Which leads me to another question. Would the MOD farm out such a project to an outside company, knowing that security was, well, a bit average?’

  ‘Maybe they didn’t know,’ Mac said. He glanced into his rear-view mirror. ‘Hale and co. don’t seem to be following us,’ he said. ‘The way I see it is this. Whoever Hale works for was working for the MOD. They didn’t let on that the competition was maybe ahead of the game. Instead, they got hold of the pirate device, gave it to someone who, on the face of it, seems utterly unlikely, i.e. Paul de Freitas, a man who works with his brother in a company creating computer games. We know he did outside design work. Perfectly legitimate work. Tim, it’s low-key, unlikely, safe.’

  ‘So Hale wants to recover this device, recover whatever it was Paul improved and not let on to the powers that be that anything went missing in the first place.’

  Mac shrugged. ‘Something like that, I guess. Problem is, he’s not the only one chasing the prize.’

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Rina may not have met Abe Jackson but she had no trouble in recognising him and he obviously knew her. The man with the tanned face and wind-reddened cheeks walked purposefully across the marina terrace, a young woman with dark curls keeping close behind.

  Abe moved with confidence, glancing from side to side, but with no sense of anxiety. In contrast, Rina could see that Lyndsey was scared. She clutched at her shoulder bag, held her lightweight jacket closed across her chest with a hand so tight-fisted the knuckles were white. Her face, pale beneath the scatter of freckles, was tight and tense.

  ‘Sit down, my dear,’ Rina said to her. ‘Mr Jackson would like to be where you are, Matthew, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Of course, Rina.’ Matthew moved from his chair and Abe took his place. Matthew had been sitting with his back to the clubhouse wall, his position enabling him to see the entire terrace and the little walkway leading from the harbour. Re-seated, Matthew had his back to the water and to the crowded terrace.

  She noted the twitch of amusement as Abe sat down. He accepted without comment when Rina ordered her favourite Pimms for them all.

  ‘Not a place I would have chosen,’ he said. ‘No vehicle access, no way out if we run into trouble.’

  ‘I already have that covered, Mr Jackson,’ Rina told him. ‘But you’ll understand that I like to be on my home ground. I know the regulars here and I can spot the tourists and I’d like to think that I’d notice anyone like you, anyone that didn’t belong.’

  ‘Fair point. And your fall-back position?’

  Rina laughed, delighted that he’d decided to accept her into his game. Lyndsey looked up sharply, startled. Mirth was clearly not something she could handle just now.

  She flinched when the waiter brought the drinks, hugged her bag more closely and shook her head when Rina pushed the drink towards her. Abe sipped at his, interested to know what it tasted like but unconvinced that it was for him.

  ‘My fall-back position,’ Rina said. ‘You see the line of little boats tied up just below this terrace. You see the red boat with the outboard engine, third from the left as we are looking at it? Well that belongs to a friend of mine. The keys are in my pocket and I suggest, should you need to use this fall-back, then you round the headland, look for a tiny beach at the base of the cliff. There’s a small cave there and at high tide, which is between now and about three this afternoon, you can drift the boat right into the cave. I know, because my friend tried it out a few weeks ago. You might get a little bit wet, but there’s a rather rickety set of steps that will take you back up on to the cliff path. You’ll come out close to the De Barr Hotel, not a bad place to hide out, but if you want something more private, then I suggest you turn to your right and follow the path. The next house along happens to be empty. It was a children’s home until quite recently. For the last few months it’s been closed for renovations, but they are now complete and the builders gone.

  ‘Now, what did you want from me?’

  Abe was laughing. ‘And how do we get out of there? What about my car? Don’t tell me, you have a tame driver as well as a tame boat owner.’

  He sobered, glanced around at the crowd on the terrace. Rina raised her glass and sipped elegantly. ‘All locals,’ she said, ‘apart from the family having lunch over there, but I suggest you start talking, Mr Jackson. I may have organised an escape route just in case, but I really don’t want to have to use it. I have enough of a reputation for eccentricity without having to create a diversion while you borrow a boat.’

  ‘This friend of yours. Does he know you’ve volunteered his pride and joy?’

  Rina shrugged. ‘Oh, he’ll get over it. He shouldn’t leave his keys in the ignition if he doesn’t want them used. But to business, Mr Jackson.’

  Abe nodded. He glanced anxiously at Lyndsey. ‘Ian and Lyndsey were having a … relationship,’ he said. ‘Ian was my friend and he was also the second man on Paul’s boat. Towards the end, he was getting worried that things were getting out of hand. That Paul’s life might be in imminent danger. I promised to keep an eye on Lyndsey, should anything happen to him.’

  He went on to tell Rina and Matthew about the men at Lyndsey’s flat, how he had hidden out with her at the farmhouse. How he now needed to get her somewhere safe but didn’t know who he could trust.

  Rina considered. ‘Did Ian say why he felt the danger was so great? Did he give any clue as to why anyone would want to kill Paul? As I understand it, he was doing some work for the security services.’

  ‘And quite a number of people seem to have wanted it. Lyndsey thinks he tried to keep what he was doing safe by spreading the information around. Just a week before he died, Paul went out with Lyns and Ian and the other guy they work with. Ray. He was in a good mood, isn’t that right, Lyndsey?’

  The girl nodded. ‘Yeah. He was joking around, talking about some new level he was developing for an old game he and Edward made years ago. It was going to be re-released soon, but he said he was playing around with a new concept. A kind of real world element. He wanted there to be hidden stuff out there in the real world and he said he was going to start by hiding bits of the puzzle for us to find.’ She shook her head. ‘We thought nothing about it. I mean, he treated everything he did like a game and he was always pissing about. We’d get to work sometimes and he’d have reprogrammed our computers so we had to test a level on a new game before we could even log on. I never even thought about it.’

  ‘So, what changed?’ Rina asked.

  ‘Ian and I met up a few days later and he said he thought there was more
to it than that. He said Paul was worried about threats. Someone had been threatening his brother and Lydia and it was because of what he was working on. Ian thought Paul’s game wasn’t a game and he made me promise if anything happened I’d try and get my puzzle to the right people and I’ve been trying to do that. But it’s all screwed up, isn’t it? Paul’s dead. Ian’s dead. I was nearly dead.’

  She sounded furious, bitter and angry.

  ‘How?’ Rina asked. ‘How did you try?’

  She dug in her bag, took out the news clipping, and handed it to Rina.

  ‘I’ve seen this,’ Rina said. ‘And the other one, posted a couple of weeks later.’

  ‘I was to phone that number,’ Lyndsey said. ‘Tell them I had what they wanted. I tried a couple of times and no one would talk to me. I tried again last night. I’d decided that would be the last time. There seemed like there was no one there but just this clicking on the other end, like someone had picked up but then all I could hear was background noises. I told them I had part of what they wanted, then I rang off. I didn’t know what else to do. After a bit I decided to go home and then … well Abe told you the rest.’

  ‘This number,’ Rina said. ‘We’d all assumed it was Paul’s?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t know who it is.’

  Rina frowned. Big mistake, she thought. Neither she nor Mac, so far as she was aware, had even thought to check and that was a fairly fundamental mistake. She let her gaze drift across the crowded terrace. The family had left now and the table was occupied by two men ordering drinks and poring over the lunchtime menu. Two other newcomers, a man and a woman, perched on the harbour wall. They were dressed in shorts and T-shirts, the man with a short-sleeved denim shirt over his.

  ‘Do you know them?’

  ‘No,’ Rina said. ‘The man and woman don’t look right. The other two, I’m less concerned with.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I just saw them holding hands under the table.’

  Abe chuckled again. ‘Could be a bluff. Rina, I know you got the de Freitas’s away from here. Can you do the same for Lyndsey?’