The line went dead. Karim reached over and pressed the button to end the call.
“Are you completely barking mad, Jenny?” said Jason Edmonds. “Even in SOCO we know his nickname is Tick-Tock. And why. He’s a walking time bomb with a fuse shorter than the match used to light it.” He shook his head. “My advice? Don’t ever be the match.”
“Yeah, Jen, be careful,” continued Alan. “I’ve seen Tick-Tock blow a few times. It’s not pretty. I’ve seen bloody good senior officers reduced to quivering jelly.”
Jenny was surprised at her colleagues. She was fully aware of McLintock’s reputation, but in the two years she’d been based at Holborn, she’d seen no evidence of it personally. She’d only heard the stories third-hand. And anyway, why should she pander to yet another self-aggrandising senior officer? As long as she did her job well she knew she could get away with some attitude. In fact, as a female officer, fronting up some attitude was a necessity. As long as it was based on good police work.
“Come on you lot. Let’s focus on the case and not Tick-Tock.”
“Please! Can you all refer to the Chief Super with the respect he deserves,” said Da Silva.
For a second, Jenny wasn’t sure if Da Silva was making a joke or ordering them to use McLintock’s rank and proper surname. She turned to look at him and spotted a small smirk. Well, well. Perhaps there was hope for Da Silva after all.
“So, what are these investigative priorities you’ve all agreed with DCS McLintock?” she asked.
“Top of the list is Flexbase,” offered Fiona. “It’s the thing that links the two crimes, other than the same MO. Whoever killed them has to know their meeting room booking processes intimately. We’re running down every Flexbase employee, every tenant and all their employees, and even every visitor to either office in the last six months.”
Jenny agreed. It was the highest priority.
“I’m still running with trying to work out if there is any link between the two victims other than the crime scene,” said Karim.
“And I’m after supporting both these strands,” said Harry, the computer expert. “For Fiona I’m automating some background checks of all the employees. We received the employee list from Flexbase about half an hour ago.”
So, the Flexbase CEO had already delivered on his promise to her earlier.
“Are the files limited to current employees?” asked Jenny.
“They are,” replied Harry, and then seeing where she was going added, “I’ll ask yer man for ex-employees for the last two years.”
“What about tenants? When I was at Flexbase earlier, their CEO, David Dawson, said he’d have that info sent over as well.”
“It’s coming. I received the email with the employee file from a . . .” Harry studied his Blackberry. “. . . Magnus Peggler. Yer man says here that the tenant file will follow later.”
“Yes, I met Peggler. He’s their IT Director. You said you were supporting both strands. What about Karim’s?”
“I’m after doing a pile of social media analysis to see if there’s anything in common between the two victims.”
“Anything so far?”
“Just the one hit. On both their Facebook profiles, they’ve both liked the same nightclub in London, called Ice, so it is.”
“That’s fantastic, Harry. A real lead.”
Harry beamed at her praise.
“Yes, I’ve picked that one up,” said Alan. “I’m off over there when we’re done here.”
“My guess, for what it’s worth,” said Fiona, “is that they’ve both ‘liked’ it on Facebook in order to get on the club’s guest list. These days, nightclubs do online guest lists with cheaper entry but in return they get access to your Facebook profile and free advertising to all your friends. The kids all lap it up.”
“Blimey, what a downer, Fiona,’ said Karim. “Our first decent lead and you’re pissing all over it already.”
“Just bringing you old fogeys up-to-date with the modern world,” retorted Fiona, looking round at each of her colleagues. “And anyway, it’s still worth checking it out. Just because they ‘liked’ it to get in on the cheap doesn’t mean they weren’t there at the same time. They might have met each other. Or been chatted up by the same guy. Anything.”
“Okay,” said Jenny. “Let’s also come at the nightclub angle from the other direction. Karim, make sure you check with Anna and Audri’s friends about Ice. Have you tracked down Audri’s friend, what’s her name?”
He looked at his notebook. “Ornetta Stavoli. I’m seeing her later today. I’ll ask her then.”
“Good.”
“I’ll talk to Kim Chang, Anna’s friend, about it,” said Jenny. She turned to the Crime Scene Manager. “What’s the latest from the crime scenes, Jason?”
“Well, we can definitely pin down the same perpetrator to both crime scenes - the same fingerprints, DNA and trace evidence all show up at both meeting rooms, but nothing on our databases. We’re still eliminating employees though, just to make sure.”
Da Silva asked, “What about the cleaning services company?”
They all stopped and stared at him. Seeing their dubious looks, he explained himself. “Well, most office firms outsource the cleaning to some specialist company. I’m thinking they won’t be on the employee list for you to eliminate. You never know, the same cleaner could have been to both sets of offices and cleaned both meeting rooms, leaving the same fingerprints, DNA and trace evidence.”
“That’s actually a bloody good point, sir,” said Jenny. And then realising she had sounded a little condescending added, “It really is. You got that, Karim?”
“Yeah, okay.” His displeasure at his mounting workload was patent, but he wrote his action down.
She turned to Dr Gorski. “And pathology?”
Jenny leaned forward to listen attentively to ensure she understood Gorski through his thick accent. “Nothing that you do not know already. It is same dagger used on both victims. Slicing motion from right to left across throat is cause of death in both cases. Both were raped. Analysis of semen recovered from both victims indicates it is same killer, but we will wait for labs to confirm.”
“So everything points to the same perpetrator. We are still proceeding as a linked series?” she asked Da Silva, who nodded.
“Have the press got wind of this yet?” She looked at DS Schuster, the press officer. Jenny had only met him two or three times. As before, he was sharply dressed in a plain black suit with a white shirt and plain grey tie. It was as if he wanted to give the press the image that everything he said was absolutely straight. No colour was being added.
“Not yet, but they will. And in the next few hours, in my opinion. My recommendation is that we announce it first. That way we can maintain some control.”
“I agree,” said Jenny.
“And so do I,” said Da Silva, “but DCS McLintock doesn’t. He wants us to announce it at the same time we make an arrest. And, as he said, an arrest that sticks, this time.”
Jenny looked at her watch. “The odds on us making an arrest in the next few hours are pretty slim. We’ve got some good leads to trace down, but I just don’t see it happening.”
“The boss is the boss, Jen,” stated Alan helpfully.
“What about this SecretlyWatchingYou website, DI Price?” asked Harry. “Are you sure there’s nothing in it? I took a quick look when you told me about it on the phone earlier. It’s hosted in Russia. If all those locations on there are like the Saxtons and are being broadcast without their permission then, for the life of me, it must be breaking hundreds of invasion of privacy laws.”
“What does all that add up to?” asked Alan.
“In layman’s terms,” said Harry, “it means its the Devil’s website.”
Jenny spoke. “There is an outlandish theory I’m going to check out later to do with SWY.”
“SWY?” asked Da Silva.
“Sorry, sir. Short for SecretlyWatchingYou.com.”
“Since when do you talk like a geek, Jen?” asked Alan. He turned to Harry. “Sorry, Harry. No offence, mate.”
“You’ve gone and got yourself some outside help,” accused Fiona, with a smirk. “Harry not good enough for you anymore?” And then, putting two and two together added, “So, who’s this witness who came forward about SWY?”
“All right, all right. The witness is called Brody.”
“Brody who?”
“Brody Taylor. The point is that the website might be being used by the killer to stalk the victims, gathering the information he needs to trick them into going to a Flexbase office.”
There was complete silence while everyone processed this.
Harry broke the silence. “I hope your theory is wrong. From what I saw, the site is a fortress and there’s not even a cat in hell’s chance of the Russian police helping us.”
“So what you said to Tick-Tock earlier was a complete lie,” pointed out Alan, shaking his head at her foolhardiness.
“Not really, Al. It’s such an outlandish idea the odds on it being for real are pretty slim.”
“How are you going to test this theory?” asked Edmonds.
“I’ll check whether Anna Parker’s place is on . . . the site.” She had been about to say SWY again but quickly changed tack.
“With Brody,” said Fiona, in the voice of a teenage girl talking about some hunky boy.
Bloody hell; was she that easy to read?
“Yes, Fiona. With a key witness who is able to help us with this line of enquiry.”
Jenny’s phone vibrated in her handbag. Normally she wouldn’t answer her phone during a meeting, but she needed a way to distract everyone from the weird turn it had taken. She looked at the caller ID and saw that it was a mobile phone number, but not one she had programmed in.
“DI Price,” she answered. And immediately kicked herself. What if it was Brody?
A female voice spoke through tears. “Jenny?”
Jenny sat up and the room hushed.
“Yes?” Jenny suddenly recognised the voice. “Kim, is that you?”
“There’s something strange going on here, Jenny,” Kim said through sobs.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I broke a light in Anna’s room. By accident, mind . . . ”
Where the hell was she going with this? Jenny waited patiently. Her colleagues stayed silent, cognisant of Jenny’s serious tone.
“Anyway, this electronic bit came out of it. Patrick said it’s just the dimmer bit of the light, but that can’t be right, can it?”
Jenny had no idea what Kim was burbling on about. “Sorry Kim, I’m not following you.”
“Well, I took it out of the bin and had a proper look at it.”
“What is it?”
“Jenny, I think it’s some kind of camera. I think someone’s being spying on Anna.”
Jenny felt the whole world tip on its axis.
CHAPTER 13
Brody abruptly stood up from his desk, clenched his fists and stomped away from his computer. He paced three circuits of his living room before throwing himself onto the leather sofa and burying his face in the cushion, which muffled his bellowed groan of despair.
“Did you say something?” asked a cheerful Leroy, leaning his head out of the kitchen. Leroy held a half-full glass of red wine in his hand and was wearing an apron displaying the image of a white, muscly naked man sporting a massive, erect penis. Against a soundtrack of loud drum and bass blasting from the kitchen speakers, he and Danny were concocting a romantic meal for themselves to dine in on later. They had already set the table for two in the seldom-used dining room, lighting candles and laying down enough cutlery for four courses.
“No,” said Brody, the pillow failing to stifle his exasperation.
“What’s wrong, mate? This one got you beat?”
“Go away, Leroy.” At that very moment, Brody wanted his apartment back to himself. He wanted peace and quiet. Room to think. To strategise.
“Uh, excuse me,” retorted Leroy. “But aren’t you the one who should be going away? You do remember offering us the flat to ourselves for the night to celebrate our fifth anniversary, don’t you? You promised you’d be missing in action tonight.”
“Did I?” But Brody knew full well that he’d offered them this as an anniversary present to them both. He’d just forgotten all about it in the midst of the SWY hackathon.
“You know you did, mate.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I do remember,” he said, sitting upright.
“Why don’t you work some more magic on that hot police lady tonight?”
Brody glared at his best friend. Leroy retreated into the kitchen.
A beep sounded from Brody’s tablet PC. He sat back in his chair. It was a message from Doc_Doom inviting him to a private chat room for a catch up. Brody clicked on the link.
Doc_Doom: Hate to state the obvious, but you’re running out of time. You making progress, Fingal?
Fingal: Hi Doc. I thought I was, but it turns out my whole strategy was flawed.
Doc_Doom: Anything I can do?
Brody thought for a moment. He hadn’t accepted anyone’s offer of help since he was a kid. Everything he’d ever done in his life, online or in real life, he’d done on his own. But then he’d never failed to overcome an obstacle before. He found himself not quite accepting, but going a step further than he’d ever expected.
Fingal: Actually, I’d appreciate walking you through things so far. Perhaps another perspective will help.
Doc_Doom: Well, if I can help, it would be a real pleasure, especially for someone of your ilk.
Fingal: Enough with the flattery.
Doc_Doom: LOL. Okay, where shall we start?
Fingal: Right here goes. As we discussed last night, the site is exceptionally well defended. No frontal assault I can come up with gains any traction and I can’t find any zero-day exploits on the deep web that will work with the site’s configuration . . .
Brody added the ellipses and pressed enter as a form of online chat pause, just in case Doc_Doom wanted to jump in with anything. He did.
Doc_Doom: Yeah, you mentioned you’d found a back door.
Fingal: Ah. Yes, I did, didn’t I? Well, turns out there is a back door, but I was looking for it in the wrong place.
Doc_Doom: ?
Fingal: From what I can tell, the webcams are all physically located in the UK. My back door was to find one of these webcam locations and track the route that the webcam feeds take back into the SWY site, in the hope it was less well defended.
Doc_Doom: Wouldn’t that be hard to do from over there in Australia ;-)
They were back to that old chestnut: Doc_Doom trying to get Brody to admit he was physically in the UK. He could bluff as usual. Or should he consider trying the truth for a change? But trusting someone in cyberspace whom you’ve never met in person was a difficult step to take. Brody recalled his argument with Leroy just two days ago about the quality of online friendships over real world ones. Although Brody had defended his cyber-friendships strongly, in the face of making a leap of faith, he did accept that Leroy had a point. Without being able to physically look someone in the eye, trust was much harder to achieve online. You really did have no idea who was on the keyboard at the other end of the chat. He and Doc_Doom had been online friends for three years now. Maybe it was finally time for him to take another step and break his own rules.
He hesitated before typing.
Fingal: Okay, okay. I’m trusting you here, Doc. I can trust you, can’t I?
Doc_Doom: Of course Fingal. I would have thought you’d have figured that out by now.
Fingal: Fine. And yes, you’ve been right all along. I am in the UK, not Oz.
Doc_Doom: I knew we were both English.
Fingal: I didn’t say I was bloody English!
Doc_Doom: LOL
Well, it was done now. He had crossed a line he never thought he would. And, surprisingly, it act
ually felt good.
He decided to get them back on track.
Fingal: So I tracked down one of the webcam locations to an address in the real world . . .
Doc_Doom: Blimey. That’s impressive. How’d you do that if you couldn’t hack into the site?
Fingal: Trade secret :-)
Doc_Doom: Okay, smart arse! Did you go there?
Fingal: Yes. Figured out the webcams all send their video streams wirelessly to a network video recorder PC on the same local wireless network. The PC is accessed by a website called HomeWebCam.com. The owners of these webcams log into it remotely to view their webcam feeds.
Doc_Doom: Sounds logical. Let me see . . . so you thought SWY was also logging into the same network video PC and stealing a copy of the webcam streams and then publishing them without the knowledge of the owners?
Brody was impressed at how rapidly Doc_Doom figured that out.
Fingal: You got it in one. But . . .
Doc_Doom: SWY isn’t getting the feeds this way?
Fingal: Yup.
Doc_Doom: How can you be sure?
Fingal: I hacked into the concentrator PC itself and looked at every packet going in and out of its network interface.
Doc_Doom: Okay, that’ll do it! Hmm, that only leaves one other explanation: SWY must be getting its video feeds directly from HomeWebCam.
Fingal: Agreed, it’s the only other source.
Doc_Doom: Do you think HWC is in on this?
Fingal: Not sure. I’ve been searching for a link between the two sites for the last few hours. Short of hacking in, which I’m pretty sure I could do given a day or so, all I’ve found out so far is that HWC is hosted in Delaware in the USA and SWY is hosted somewhere in Russia.
Doc_Doom: That doesn’t mean they’re not run by the same people behind the scenes. If I’d set up an illegal site like SWY, I’d host it in Eastern Europe.
Fingal: Agreed. But HWC seems to be completely above board. It’s got helpdesk phone numbers, the lot. Whois records even point to the same people listed on the about pages on their website.
Invasion of Privacy: A Deep Web Thriller #1 (Deep Web Thriller Series) Page 30
