by Sibel Hodge
My brain screamed a warning at me, but the rest of me turned squidgy. I decided to go with the warning and pushed him away. ‘You did piss me off, Brad. Don’t you remember when you disappeared for three months without a word?’ I moved to the other side of the breakfast bar in order to get some distance between us.
‘I was doing a job for Special Forces, you knew that.’ He frowned and looked genuinely hurt. Either that or he was doing a good impression of hurt.
‘I didn’t know that until you came back. I thought you were dead, for God’s sake.’ I folded my arms and gave him my best cool, detached look. ‘Anyway, it’s ancient history. I’m with Romeo now.’
He rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked down at the floor with an expression that I couldn’t quite work out. ‘I know, Foxy. Believe me, I know.’
‘I’m going to bed,’ I told him before the conversation ended up heading somewhere I didn’t want it to. ‘In the spare room,’ I added hastily, climbing up the open wooden staircase to the room next to Brad’s, with Marmalade hurrying along behind me.
I quickly got ready for bed and crawled in between the Egyptian cotton sheets, but I couldn’t sleep. I touched my lips. I could still feel Brad’s mouth pressed against them. A warm glow pulsed in my cheeks, not to mention other parts. I felt shaky with yearning. What would happen if he did something freaky in the middle of the night? Oh, no! Even worse, what if I enjoyed it? Would that mean I didn’t love Romeo? Or was it really possible to be in love with two people at the same time?
The rest of the night, I tossed and turned. My brain felt overloaded, and I didn’t sleep except for fits and starts. Giving up, I rolled over for what felt like the hundredth time and glanced at my watch with a groan. Five a.m.
This is pathetic, Amber, you’re a grown woman. Stop being so ridiculous. Nothing is going to happen.
Even so, Marmalade and I slipped out of the house at that point, heading back to my apartment to have a cold shower and tidy up before I lost all power to reason.
8
I sat at my coffee-table desk in the Hi-Tec offices, the financial spreadsheets from Fandango’s office scattered out in front of me. I sipped on a super-strength, caffeine-laden coffee, trying to make sense of what I was seeing in front of me. On first glance, the documents looked like legitimate records for sales of Fandango’s fashion collection. The sales had been made to respectable, legal companies, but six months ago a new client popped up, referred to only as EF.
‘What do you make of these?’ I handed them to Hacker.
He studied them for a while, and then closed his eyes and did some deep breathing. He stretched his arms out in front of him and cracked his knuckles.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m centering my chakra. You have to let it flow. It gives you better concentration.’ After a moment or two, he turned back to his computer, and his fingers whizzed across the keyboard.
I tried the deep breathing and knuckle thing, but it didn’t do much except give me a hand ache.
‘Mmm,’ he said as he brought up one program after another, scrolling down and studying them with intense eyes.
‘What’s that?’ I eyed his screen.
‘This is Fandango’s bank account.’
‘You can get into his bank accounts? Cool.’
‘This is just one of them. There may be more. I’ll keep checking, but look at this.’ He pointed to the screen.
For the past six months, a company called Longshore Holdings had been making payments into Fandango’s account. There were hundreds of them, each for ten thousand pounds, and they matched up with the payments filed under EF on the spreadsheets.
‘Smurfing,’ I said, nodding and smiling. It all made sense now.
‘Huh?’ The Hacker looked over his shoulder at me like I was mad.
‘It’s a kind of money-laundering scheme. If transactions go over a certain amount, there’s a statutory limit that requires banks to report the transactions. It’s basically a way of monitoring international financial transactions for the purpose of investigating money laundering,’ I said. ‘Anything over that limit gets reported to the government. Guess what the limit is?’
‘Ten thousand pounds?’ he asked with a smile.
‘You got it in one.’ I grinned. ‘The bad guys keep the payments to ten thousand pounds instead of making larger payments, and they can get away without setting off alarms, and therefore an investigation.’
Hacker stared at the screen, stroking his goatee. I half expected him to break into an excited rap.
‘So, Fandango is into money laundering?’ he mused.
I shook my head. ‘I don’t know yet. It’s possible that someone in Fandango’s organization is using him as a blind. Longshore Holdings probably are money laundering, but who are they?’
‘I don’t know. But give me some time, and I’ll find out.’
‘Can you try and find out who this EF is, and look to see if you can find out what CB means?’
‘No problem. I’ll let you know when I come up with something.’
As he bent back over his keyboard, Brad silently crept up behind us like a Stealth Bomber. ‘Hi.’
I jumped and bit my lip, feeling hot and flustered as I remembered what happened in the kitchen last night.
‘Yo,’ Hacker said, engrossed in his work. Brad answered him back and then turned to me.
‘What have you found out?’ he asked.
‘Smurfs,’ I said.
‘What?’ Brad looked at me like I’d just been let out of a mental home for the day.
‘You know – little blue creatures who live in Smurfsville and wear white trousers and itsy-bitsy white caps. Some of them have funny little–’
‘Foxy, have you lost it completely?’
I fought the urge to whack him over the head and filled him in.
‘So, Longshore Holdings is laundering money by paying Fandango for a fashion collection?’ Brad asked.
‘That’s certainly how it looks, but if you really think about it, something about the whole situation just feels off. Because if that was the case, why steal the collection and kidnap Fandango?’
Brad frowned, looking as puzzled as I felt. ‘Did you find anything on the computers in his office?’
I pulled a face. ‘They’ve been wiped.’
‘Mostly people just think they’ve wiped off the files, but usually the information is still stored on the hard drive somewhere. If there’s anything on it, I can find it,’ Hacker said. ‘I’ll go back with you later, and we can check.’
‘OK, it’s a date,’ I told him, impressed. I turned to Brad. ‘Have you got any night vision goggles?’
‘No, I’m fresh out of them this week. Why?’ Brad asked.
‘I need to check out the Cohens’ warehouse at night, and it would be easier to see things with some goggles.’ Then I had a sudden flash of genius. ‘It’s OK, though. I know someone who might have a pair.’
****
I had three choices, none of which were particularly appealing. I could go back and hassle Callum Bates about his far-fetched insurance claim, I could stake out the Cohens’ warehouse, or I could try and find Paul Clark. I didn’t fancy another run-in with a tin of paint, and I figured that nothing much would be going down at the warehouse during the day, so I decided to go with Clark. That way I could pick up something to eat, as well, and kill two birds with one stone.
My goal set, I entered Asda from the end opposite the produce section, figuring it was better to be safe than sorry. I grabbed a basket and stuffed it with custard doughnuts, cinnamon doughnuts, and chocolate doughnuts. I was of the firm opinion that a girl could never have enough doughnuts. I had just approached the large deli counter when I saw Clark. He was straight ahead of me at the opposite end of the store. I had a clear line of sight as he worked stocking shelves. As I watched, he moved, twisting sideways to the big pallet of canned corned beef that sat next to him, and back again to load the cans on the shelves. If he
had a bad back, then I was a chocolate teapot.
I grinned to myself, rummaging around in my rucksack for the camera. It was about time.
One minute, I was standing there, camera in one hand, basket in the other, inching my way toward Clark with the element of surprise and a guaranteed slam dunk in my sights. The next thing I knew, a boy of about twelve ran around the corner of the aisle and bumped into me. The collision sent me flying head-first into a cardboard display stand that was crammed to the brim with condoms.
Aagh! Condom explosion. Packets shot everywhere.
I gasped as the ‘Are you having safe sex?’ banner sailed through the air, landing face up on the floor next to my head with a loud slap. As I lay there, sprawled among the condoms, I closed my eyes and desperately hoped it was all some kind of bizarre mind-trick. I was really fast asleep, tucked in bed, just having a very peculiar dream, wasn’t I?
‘Are you OK?’ a voice said over the mutterings of nearby shoppers.
I pried one eye open, gazing up at Paul Clark, who was looming over me with his huge bug-eyes.
Shit. Not a dream.
I breathed out a heavy sigh. So much for the element of surprise. I could hardly catch him out now, could I?
‘I think so,’ I mumbled.
‘Here, let me help you up.’ He held out his arm for me to grab onto as I maneuvered myself up, much to the entertainment of an audience of shoppers and store workers alike. They started clapping when I gained my feet.
A hot glow of embarrassment crawled up my neck.
‘Er…thanks.’ I stood up, wobbling slightly, and pushed away the hair that was now matted to my sweaty face.
‘Do you need any more help?’ Clark asked.
‘Doughnuts,’ I said, and headed, somewhat dazed, through the crowd of people, straight to where my basket now lay, in serious need of a sugary doughnut rush.
****
Well, Amber, that went just brilliantly, didn’t it? How hard could it be to take a bloody photo, for God’s sake?
I sat in my car, cramming doughnuts in my mouth until I felt better. It took four, which was pretty high on the sugar scale. I wiped the crumbs off my top, cranked the engine, and motored toward my parents’ house. It was definitely time for some unconditional parental love.
I spotted the white Ford Explorer SUV in my rearview mirror, as soon as I left the parking lot. This time the tail was more covert, sitting a few cars behind me as I drove around the industrial area, the town, the hospital car park, and then headed toward the A10. It stayed with me all the way, growing bolder the further I drove. Now it was right behind me. Two mean-looking guys sat in the front, glaring out. One was bald, and the other had bushy, black hair.
After driving up the A10 to Ware and back again, I turned off at the Hertford exit, drove around the roundabout six times just to piss them off, and headed down the hill with them sitting on my bumper. I swung a nifty right into the police station parking lot and watched as they sailed past me and carried on down the road.
I parked and stared at the large building, wondering if Romeo and all my ex-colleagues were inside cracking drugs rings and investigating murders, instead of traipsing around, being attacked by paint tins, condom displays and large arachnids. I fought the urge to go inside and look for Romeo, but stayed put since I didn’t particularly fancy a run-in with Janice Skipper. I was buzzing on sugar, and there was no telling what I might do.
I sat tight a little while longer, making sure the ugly goons had well and truly gone before I edged out of the parking lot, keeping an eye out for the SUV the entire drive to my parents’ house.
****
Dad opened the door wearing a baggy, flowery blouse over black leggings, his head topped with a long, blonde curly wig. I had to do a double-take to make sure he wasn’t Mum, until I noticed what I hoped was a gun stuffed down the front of the leggings.
‘Amber! What do you think of the outfit?’ He did a twirl.
My jaw hung open. It didn’t quite hit the floor, but it was close. How strange. All my life people had commented on the fact that I looked so much like Dad. I had his small ski-slope nose, his huge cow eyes, and the same color uncontrollable hair. Not now, though. Now, Dad looked a lot like Mum.
‘Impressed?’ he asked, hopeful.
‘That would depend on what you’re trying to achieve,’ I said slowly, following him into the living room.
‘Surveillance disguise.’ He sat down, crossed his legs, and squashed his gun between his thighs with a grunt. ‘The neighborhood watch group is lapping it up. They didn’t have a clue what they were doing before I got involved. And now there won’t be a crime within a five mile radius of my patch. I can guarantee it.’
I heard the front door open, and Mum’s dulcet tones echoed down the hall. ‘Amber! Are you here?’
‘Yes,’ I shouted.
‘How are you, hon?’ She came in and gave me a hug, then moved to stand next to Dad. The resemblance between them now was uncanny, apart from Dad’s bowed legs.
Sabre, Dad’s giant German Shepherd, an ex-police dog with slightly schizoid tendencies, bounded into the room and jumped up on me, knocking me to the floor.
‘Get off!’ I tried pushing him away to avoid being licked to oblivion, but he didn’t feel like moving. After what felt like an eternity, he finally gave up with the licking and just lay on me instead.
‘Sabre, come,’ Dad said.
Sabre growled, gave Dad a filthy look, and decided a little more licking was called for.
‘Sabre!’ Dad repeated in a stern voice. ‘Bloody dog. No wonder he was a police reject.’ Dad fumbled in his pocket, pulled out a dog biscuit and threw it across the floor.
Sabre’s eyes lit up, and he made a weird whining grunt before he jumped up and bounded off in search of the biscuit. When he finished, he made his way over to Dad, where he eyed Dad’s foot like it was an industrial-size packet of doggy treats.
‘What do you think of his outfit?’ Mum asked as she cocked her head in Dad’s direction. ‘Don’t you think he needs to accessorize more?’
‘Er,’ was all I could manage as I rolled onto my side and sat up. This place was a nuthouse. No wonder I had issues.
‘Hang on, I’ll show you.’ Before I could stop her, Mum dashed out of the room.
‘How’s the job going?’ Dad asked.
‘Actually, that’s why I’m here. Have you got any night vision goggles I can borrow?’
‘I’ve probably got a pair somewhere. Let me have a look.’ He moved across the room and opened a huge chest. I watched as he pulled out a Kevlar bullet proof vest, a couple of old style straight police batons, a side handled baton, a few pairs of handcuffs, and a large flashlight. He rummaged around at the bottom. ‘Here we are.’ He pulled out a pair of night vision goggles and handed them to me. ‘Why don’t you take the flashlight, too?’
I took both. ‘That would be great. Mine’s been stolen.’
‘Who by?’
‘I don’t know.’
He held my gaze for a minute, sensing my uneasiness. ‘So, how is it really going?’
I looked away. ‘OK, I suppose. Today I was followed by a couple of thugs, so I guess that means I’m getting to close to something.’
‘Don’t give up, Amber. You’ll be great at this job.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I’ll just put some new batteries in the flashlight for you.’ He took it upstairs, giving me a moment to think about his words, then returned a few minutes later and handed the now-working light to me.
‘Thanks.’ I smiled.
‘Now, what do you think of this?’ Mum came back in, carrying dangly clip-on earrings and a chiffon scarf. She held them up next to Dad and turned to me with a huge smile. ‘See, that’s much better, isn’t it?’
9
‘What’s new in the world of hacking?’ I asked as I breezed into the office.
‘Not much. I’m still looking into Fandango’s bank accounts,’ Hacker replied.
I dragged a chair
over to his desk and sat next to him. ‘Are you ready to go to his office and look at the hard drives?’
‘I am.’ Tia suddenly appeared behind us.
‘I thought I told you not to follow me,’ I said to her as I turned, astonished.
‘I’m not, silly.’ She did the snotty hyena laugh again. ‘If I was following you, I’d be behind you.’
I arched an eyebrow. ‘Tia, you are behind me.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ She put her hand over her mouth and giggled. ‘Hey, who’s your friend?’ She gave Hacker a shy smile.
Hacker gave her a huge smile back. ‘Yo,’ he said to her. ‘I’m Roderick.’
It was my turn to giggle. He didn’t look like a Roderick.
Seeing my surprise, he scowled. ‘But no one calls me Roderick. You can call me Hacker.’
‘Yum – I mean, yo.’ She beamed at him. ‘Your plaits are way cool.’
‘Way,’ I agreed, but they ignored me and kept on staring at each other. ‘I saw a Tyrannosaurus Rex last night in my flat.’ That didn’t get them moving, either. I cleared my throat. ‘Ahem.’
They crash landed back to reality and looked at me like I’d spoiled all their fun.
I grinned at them. ‘Anyway, where were we? Oh, yes, we were about to go hard-drive hunting.’
‘Can I tag along?’ Tia asked me.
‘As long as you don’t do anything,’ I said.
‘Does that include breathing? I’m allowed to breathe, right?’
I didn’t bother responding as I strode out the door, Tia and Hacker struggling to catch up.
****
It was eight p.m. and already dark when we arrived at Fandango’s office. Not that the darkness bothered me; I was beginning to feel that I could make the journey blindfolded. As we crept into the unlit building, few stars shone above like pin-pricks in the inky blackness.
