Playing With Death

by Simon Scarrow

  She subtracts the bottom number from the top using her calculator.

  It still doesn’t make sense. Unless it’s a basic substitution, a letter for each number, perhaps.

  Robbie emerges from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn.

  ‘Gonna watch the rest of the movie now, Mom?’

  ‘I’ll join you in a few minutes, honey. Just got to deal with something first. OK?’

  ‘I guess.’

  Rose calls Owen.

  ‘Hello? Rose? Is everything OK? Brennan just called me about the hacking. Said you had something odd going on at home.’

  ‘I’m fine, but I really need to show you something. Can you come over?’

  ‘Show me something? Damn, I was about to get my chainsaw out to frighten the neighbours’ kids. I’ll be over as soon as possible.’

  ‘OK, thank you. I’ll be in the garage.’

  ‘Not the best day for a yard sale?’

  ‘See you later.’

  She steps into the garage. It’s a cool night. Rose sometimes sits in here to gather her thoughts. She remembers something that is worrying her.

  Scarlet . . .

  She said she was meeting someone tonight. Someone she met online.

  If Koenig could do all this to Rose’s home, could he also be meeting Scarlet, right now?

  She jabs her fingers on her smartphone to call Scarlet. She holds her breath as it rings three times, four, five . . .

  She can feel sweat on her hands.

  ‘Hey, this is Scarlet.’

  ‘Scarlet! It’s me. I just—’

  ‘Ha, fooled you. This is actually a really annoying voicemail for you to ramble to instead. If it’s important, leave a message. If it isn’t, don’t.’

  Rose curses and leaves a message urging Scarlet to call her as soon as she can. She waits a while but her sister doesn’t call back.

  A car pulls up at the front of the house. There’s a knock on the garage door.

  ‘It’s me, Rose,’ Owen says. ‘What’s going on?’

  Rose raises the garage door, Owen stoops down. He’s wearing a light leather jacket and jeans.

  ‘So what’s bothering you? You’re looking more haggard than usual,’ he says, a smile spreading across his face. ‘Had a row with Jeff or something?’

  ‘Screw you,’ Rose says. ‘Jeff and I are good. Or we were until he got himself one of those Skins.’

  Owen raises an eyebrow. ‘Didn’t think he was the type.’

  ‘No, nor did I.’

  And then she tells him about the hacking in her home, her fears about Koenig and now Scarlet. After she’s finished, Owen rubs his beard.

  ‘Boy, when you unload on a guy, you really go for it, don’t you?’ He thinks some more. ‘If you’re worried about Koenig then get some units to keep watch. He’ll screw up soon. They always do. We will get him this time, I promise you. But . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I gotta say, it surprises me if he really is behind all of this. He’s been gone for six months and now suddenly he’s evolved, refined his methods. All this weird hacking shit – if that’s him, then he’s more dangerous than ever.’

  ‘I know.’ Rose shrugs. ‘And now it looks like he’s taking a personal interest in me.’

  ‘Not surprised. You’re the one who almost got him caught, back at the cabin.’

  ‘Can’t we track the bastard down? Now he’s getting all over us?’

  ‘Not easy. Cyber tried to trace the intruder but the line stops at a mirror site on a server in the Bahamas, then bounces from mirror to mirror in territories where we have no jurisdiction. I feel like we’ve been behind every step of the way, mopping up the blood trail.’

  ‘And now he’s threatening me and my family in my own damn home and there’s nothing I can do about it.’

  ‘Is that why we’re out here instead of sitting on something comfortable?’

  Rose nods. ‘It’s the only thing I can think of. In case he’s listening. And there’s more.’

  She hands Owen the card. ‘This was delivered half an hour ago.’

  Owen takes a look at the card and frowns.

  Rose’s smartphone buzzes – it’s Scarlet. She answers, her stomach churning.

  ‘Rose, what’s the matter? I got your message, you OK?’

  ‘I just wanted to make sure you’re all right. Are you with this guy?’

  ‘Not yet. He texted to say he’s running a few minutes late.’

  ‘Maybe you should give it a miss and go home.’

  ‘Screw that! I haven’t been out for weeks. And his profile picture is hot. I’ll be fine, Ro’. Trust me. Bye.’

  ‘Wait—’

  But it’s too late.

  ‘Trouble?’ asks Owen.

  ‘No. It can keep. Any progress on those numbers? Is it a sum?’

  ‘I think they’re coordinates,’ Owen suggests. ‘Longitude and latitude. A geotag maybe?’

  Rose types the coordinates into her smartphone using TagFinder.

  ‘Where is it?’ Owen asks.

  Surely not . . . Rose swallows. She retypes them again. Same result.

  ‘It’s outside Koenig’s cabin. Look.’

  Owen takes the smartphone and stares before he zooms in on the map. ‘We’d better let Baptiste know and get over there right away. Perfect trip for Halloween.’

  58.

  Scarlet shivers on the corner of a street a safe distance from her home (she never gives out where she lives until the third date) as the cool evening breeze plays across her shoulders. The short black lace dress she bought in Zara specially for tonight doesn’t help with the chill. And now, with Rose’s warning to be careful, she’s nervous too. Her date is already ten minutes late and Scarlet is wondering if she is going to be stood up again.

  It happens from time to time, and the anger and hurt she felt on the first occasion has long since given way to a ‘screw you, I’ll go out and enjoy myself anyway’ attitude. It’s actually more depressing when you build your hopes up about a date and it goes south, she reflects. Scarlet can usually tell with the first few exchanges of messages whether a man is on her wavelength. That, and his profile pictures.

  Which is why she is hoping ‘Tony’ is going to turn up. You can never assume that the name they give is real, even if it isn’t one of the cute profile names that many hide behind before they feel confident enough to reveal more of themselves. Tony had looked good enough to stop her search in its tracks.

  Not movie-star handsome, but good-looking in an honest, clean-cut kind of way. Neat hair, a firm jaw and kindly eyes. Well built (tick) and posed against the Porsche he says he owns (tick). The profile mentions a recent divorce (OK, as long as he’s not on the rebound), the kids live with the mother (tick), he has a job in the movie industry (tick, tick), likes to travel (who doesn’t?) and is honest, with a good sense of humour (that remains to be seen). All very promising, and the first exchanges had been polite and not too pushy, without making her do the running. So far he had not put a foot wrong, except for being ten minutes late.

  Scarlet reaches into her bag for her smartphone to message him. Then she sees a saloon car slow and head towards her kerb, the headlights sweeping across her body and making her blink. She feels a vague disappointment. No Porsche, then. Cautiously she approaches the passenger door, squinting through the window. The man’s face is difficult to see.

  Suddenly the interior light is flicked on. The man smiles at Scarlet as he opens his door and steps out. She recognizes him from the profile picture.

  ‘Scarlet?’

  ‘Yeah. And you must be Tony?’

  ‘Sure. Wow, you look wonderful. Even better than I thought you would.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  �
�Oh, I’m so sorry I’m late. Traffic was stopped on the freeway.’

  ‘That’s all right. I forgive you.’ Scarlet laughs and then places the smartphone against her ear and pretends to talk to her sister in a serious tone. ‘Rose, it’s my guy, not a serial killer.’

  He frowns. ‘Sorry?’

  She drops the smartphone in her bag. ‘My sister. Halloween joke. Never mind.’

  ‘Sure.’ He hurries round the front of the car to open the door for her, and Scarlet gives him a grateful smile as she slides in. A moment later he is beside her and clicks his seat belt in place.

  ‘What happened to the Porsche?’ Scarlet asks.

  ‘Oh, that. Part of a previous life. One of the things I had to leave behind when I divorced. Along with the house and my kids.’

  ‘Too bad.’

  ‘Yes. Well, these things happen. You ready to go and eat?’

  ‘Sure am. I should warn you that I have quite an appetite.’

  Tony turns his head to look at her and his lips lift in a slight grin. ‘Really? And so do I . . .’

  He slips the shift into drive and accelerates smoothly away from the kerb and down the street, the tail lights burning bright red in the darkness.

  Three hours later Tony drops Scarlet off at the same place. She’s had a good evening. The restaurant, a chic seafood place off Fisherman’s Wharf, was romantic enough. Soft lights, easy cocktail music from the resident pianist, fine food and no question over who would pay the bill. Tony seemed to know about wine, and Scarlet could see that even the sommelier was impressed as he went to fetch the red that had been ordered. The conversation had been easy and interesting. He had told her about his work as a script editor and delighted her with some insider industry gossip. She in turn had told him a little about herself and her family, her work in the real estate business. They had enough in common for Scarlet to want to see more of him.

  Tony pulls over to the kerb and leaves the engine running.

  ‘This OK for you?’ he asks. ‘I could drive you to the door if you like. Might be safer at this time of night.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Scarlet smiles. ‘Besides, I don’t give out my home address until the third date.’

  ‘Pity.’ He looks a bit crestfallen.

  ‘Relax, Tony. You played your cards well. I like you. You’ll get invited in for coffee soon enough.’

  ‘So, there’ll be another date?’

  ‘Of course. You free next week?’

  ‘Sure. Same night? Same time?’

  His eagerness is transparent and Scarlet’s heart warms to him even more. ‘OK, then. Sounds great.’

  She hesitates a moment, then stretches towards him and kisses him lightly on the lips. The scent of his aftershave is pleasingly musky and there’s a faint hint of something else. Something like cleaning fluid. She pulls back and strokes his cheek.

  ‘Thanks for a lovely evening, Tony.’

  ‘The pleasure was all mine,’ he responds gallantly, flashing a quick smile. ‘I’m looking forward to next week already.’

  ‘Me too . . . Well good night, then.’

  He makes to scramble out and open the door for her, but she’s too quick and is halfway out of the car before he can even reach for the seat belt release. She closes the door and bobs down to offer a quick wave and a smile before she retreats onto the kerb. Tony puts the car into gear and eases away, driving steadily down the street. Scarlet waits a moment, just to be sure he doesn’t do anything creepy like pull over, or turn round and try to follow her back home. But the tail lights twinkle into the distance and are lost amid the traffic at the next intersection. The cool night does not bother her as she turns on her heel and strolls in the direction of her home, happy and content.

  A quarter of a mile away, the car pulls into the parking lot of a burger outlet. Tony’s warm expression of a moment ago has vanished. Koenig takes a packet of wipes from the glove compartment and clears the foundation from his scars. Cold eyes glance back from the driver’s vanity mirror as he reflects on what he has learned. It has been a useful evening. Maybe he will see Scarlet again. That pretty little head would make a nice trophy indeed, he reflects. But first he needs to get closer to Rose. Her family is her Achilles heel. That’s how he can get at her. Lure her into a trap and finally take the revenge he has been thirsting for ever since that night at the cabin.

  59.

  It’s the dead of night when Rose and Owen pull into the gravel driveway outside Koenig’s boarded-up cabin and climb out into the cold night air. Three squad cars from Santa Cruz PD park behind them, followed by a bomb squad van, and the cops step out and look around warily.

  It’s been a ninety-minute drive, after having dropped Robbie off on the way at her father Harry’s place. Robbie had said nothing but Rose could see the disappointment in his eyes, as if he could not be trusted to be left in the house alone. But she was not happy leaving him, given what had happened earlier that evening. She silently curses herself that Robbie is involved at all, but at least with him at her father’s in San Jose, he will be safe. Dad’s an ex-marine, has a gun and knows how to use it.

  As they have no idea what these coordinates could be leading to, Baptiste has insisted they take precautions. They have SWAT standing by. Owen, wearing body armour, takes the lead, peering at the glowing smartphone screen in front of him.

  Koenig’s cabin is in a private area of Redwoods Retreat. The mountains of Santa Cruz, with their towering redwoods, are the backdrop, and there are some eighty miles of trails nearby, along with numerous creeks and marshes.

  Above them looms Koenig’s cabin. It is a large luxury model, complete with a raised platform, good solid log walls and a stone chimney. Abandoned, it looks spooky on this Halloween. Just the kind of place teens recklessly explore in slasher movies, Rose thinks.

  Koenig could be close by tonight, as well. Watching them.

  ‘Rose?’ Owen asks. ‘You OK?’

  ‘Yeah . . . it’s just strange being back here.’

  ‘I know. It’s weird for me too. Let’s find whatever this is and get the hell out of here.’

  Owen consults his screen. ‘OK, this way.’

  They set off through the trees and the undergrowth, twigs snapping and cracking. Flashlight beams flicker from side to side but there is no sign of any movement in the surrounding forest, even as the dark tree trunks crowd in on them. The small party continues for nearly a hundred yards before Owen slows down and stops.

  ‘This is the place. Careful, people. There may be traps left for us. Don’t touch anything.’

  They’ve reached a partial clearing around the moss-covered remains of a long-dead tree. They shine their flashlights on it. Rose and Owen snap on white plastic gloves. Owen peers at the base of the tree. The ground looks undisturbed.

  ‘We’re probably going to have to excavate the whole damn place. Wait here. Back in a moment.’ Owen returns with some shovels from his car and mutters, ‘I wonder what we missed the first time round. Of course, it could have been planted more recently.’

  He consults his smartphone again.

  ‘We’ll start here.’ He cautiously scrapes away the surface leaves and twigs to expose an area of bare soil six feet across. They dig gently, heaping the spoil in a neat pile to one side, in case it has to be sifted through later. It’s warm work, and Rose takes off her jacket and hands it to the nearest cop to look after.

  ‘You know, you could offer to help.’

  He shakes his head. ‘Sorry – above my pay grade.’

  Rose swings her shovel down, slicing into the earth with a soft thud. She digs out a few mounds. After fifteen minutes or so, they have dug down nearly a foot. Then . . .

  Dink.

  Rose pauses as she feels the shovel scrape against something metallic.

  She leans down,
sweeps the loose soil aside with her hands. Owen trains his flashlight beam.

  ‘Be careful. We’ve got no idea what we’re going to find.’

  Rose reveals the top of a grey metal box, and steps away.

  ‘We’ve got a box,’ she says into her throat mike as she backs off. ‘Get your bomb boys up here, now.’

  The commander of the bomb squad unit heads over with his team. While the others pull back, they examine the box for several minutes.

  ‘It’s not an IED,’ he reports. ‘It’s safe to open.’

  He clears the earth from the sides of the box and lifts it out, setting it down on the ground beside the hole.

  ‘Feels like it’s empty.’

  There’s no lock on it, just a simple latch. He looks up at Rose for permission.

  ‘Open it.’

  The man flicks the latch and eases up the lid. Rose and Owen look down into the box’s interior by the light of the bomb squad man’s helmet lamp.

  ‘I don’t get it.’ Owen reaches in with his gloved hand and takes out a faded image. ‘All that for a damned photo.’

  60.

  It’s late before Jeff reaches his hotel room. He has been with Keller most of the evening, prepping him for the next day’s debate. Pandora was there too, taking notes while refusing to meet Jeff’s gaze. But he no longer cares about her. Not after what he experienced with Destiny the other night.

  He’s worried, though, that Rose saw him using his Skin that night. She hasn’t said anything but he can’t remember if he’d left the door slightly open or not. In any case, right now he just wants Destiny and more of what Erotix has to offer. All night long. No distractions. He suits up, lies down on the deluxe bed. He syncs up, enters the StreamPlex and heads into the main meeting area of Erotix.

  ‘Hi. Back again?’ Destiny says with a smile.

  Jeff moves to kiss her on the cheek. She suddenly becomes dormant and her eyes are vacant.

  More jewels required. Confirm credit card.

  ‘Seriously?’ Jeff says, before confirming.