Chapter Eighteen
Bridger was staring at his face in the bathroom mirror, his eyelids were stuck together with sticky secretions, and small broken red veins lined his nose. There was scratchy dark growth on his cheeks where they had been smooth a few days previous.
Bloody hell Mike, you really do look like shit, he thought.
Last night they had spoken, or rather, Laura had spoken and he had listened. She was not happy, she never saw him anymore. He was drinking too much, not taking care of himself, to introvert when she tried to reach him. Their relationship was suffering and he did not seem to care. The bloody job was too important to him; he needed to find more balance in his life. She was not getting any younger; it was not a happy healthy home to bring a child into, he needed to change. He was just bumbling along in his life with no real ambition to change things. She needed a break to sort her head out. She needed space to think and take stock.
Bridger had sat quietly, listening to her reveal emotions long suppressed. She had obviously been harboring some grievances. Why had he not seen them?
Most of it seemed to stem from his drinking, but instead of trying to contribute to her monologue and offer assurances of change, he had been nervously waiting for her to bring up the matter of his infidelity. He selfishly hoped that she would not bring it up, even if she had suspicions. He was not sure what he would say to that question. He did not know whether he could lie to her face when she was showing him her deepest emotions. One thing he did know was that he was sure she could not be dumb enough not to suspect he had been seeing someone else.
They had finished the bottle of wine between them and had made inroads on a second. She needed the drink to talk and he needed it to listen. After she had finished talking she looked at him with a strange expression. It was as if she wanted to say something else but could not bring herself to, and so felt pity for him instead. Fifteen years together and he did not have much to say in his defense. He felt like a coward, he was not able to come clean about Jane; instead, he had let the conversation take its course.
Surprisingly to Bridger they ended up in the bedroom.
They had made love in their bed, neither of their hearts really in it. It seemed it was more for comfort sake than love. Maybe it was a test, Bridger thought, and a way to see if she still turned him on or maybe she had expected him to tell her about Jane.
She had got up after that without saying anything more about their train wreck of a marriage and left. She was going to stay with a girlfriend for a while. She would call and talk later. Bridger had got out of bed and turned to the Jamesons for comfort.
He had finished most of the bottle by the time he went back to bed. He thought he could remember tears, brought on by the mix of bitter emotions and alcohol. He could not remember the last time he had cried, not even when he buried his father. He was not sure whether he was upset at the possible loss of a person he thought he loved or the possible loss of his comfortable routine, in which he could be married, have a supportive wife at home to listen to his troubles. Companionship when he needed it and everything else that went with being in a relationship. Was there even a difference between love and everything else? Was that what love turned into, comfortable routine.
Staring at his reflection now, he thought about calling in sick, climbing back into bed, sleeping off his hangover, waking up in a more positive frame of mind. It would give him time to work through what they had discussed. Was it really that bad, he worked hard, she worked hard, and of course, that would get in the way of any relationship, wouldn’t it? He did not think he was incapable of letting her into his life as she had said.
Jane's face popped into his head, she was smiling suggestively, as if she knew he would be home alone. He felt himself get slightly aroused at the image. He could not think straight, he needed a distraction. If he stayed home, he would just turn to the bottle again. It was not the answer he wanted, he needed to get out. With staying home not being a good option he set about trying to put his work face on.
Looking in the bathroom cabinet he suddenly noticed a lack of feminine items; he did not recall Laura packing much before she left. He wondered if she had already packed before he got home. It would mean her leaving was premeditated.
His police officer instincts kicked in and he checked her drawers and cupboard, both empty. His stomach churned, what a bloody mess, it did not look like a short stay away was her plan.
His phone rang in the bedroom, he half hoped it was Laura checking he was all right, but to his disappointment, the display had Grant Wylies name on it. He answered to hear Grants urgent voice, "Mike you had better come in early, there's been a development".
Looking at the clock, he saw that it was still only six thirty, time for a much needed shower.
Twenty minutes later, he was driving down hill towards work feeling lucky he was in the work car. Driving slightly over the speed limit, these days, would normally get you stopped by the traffic boys, and the way his breath smelt, he would not blame them to put him straight on the breathalyzer. He just hoped the breath mints he was crunching between his cheeks did the job before he got into work.
A few minutes later and he found himself entering the rear yard at the police station. The lonely smokers inhaling tar in the shelter eyed him as he went by. Parking in the basement garage, Bridger smoothed his clothing took a deep breath then headed up to the office.
Walking in the door, he found Grant and Becky hunched over a computer monitor. Both looked mesmerized by what they were looking at. He could hear someone speaking through the small speakers.
"Morning you two", he said making them both jump.
"Bloody hell Mike, did you tie one on last night? That Mrs. of yours must be a saint to put up with you".
Bridger did not know how to reply so just grunted.
"Have a look at this", Becky spoke without taking her eyes off the screen.
Bridger peered over her shoulder; it took him a second to make it what he was looking at. It looked like the set of a strange play. There looked like there was a puppet on strings in the middle of a room lit by a spotlight. The puppet was dressed in a white dress and was hanging limp. There was no movement whatsoever. Bridger listened closely to the commentary that accompanied the strange scene.
"This is how it's going to work, I'm going to ask you some questions, you're going to answer them, and then I'm going to tell you a story. A story that you could have been a part of, but you were not. This story will bring you right up to date, then it will end, right here in this room. I have already written the ending, you will follow the script; there will be no room for improvisation on your part. Tomorrow we will begin".
It just went on and on in a continuous loop. Bridger looked at Becky and Grant, they both stood there silently. Becky spoke first.
"It's Marion..., John saw this last night, but was out with friends so called me and left a message. I did not get the message until early this morning when I got up for a run. Do not ask me how John came to see this, he did not say. She was moving around a bit when he saw it apparently, that's when he recognized her".
Well one thing we know for sure is that it is not an online advert for the play she is in, thought Bridger grimly, remembering Jonas's description of his script.
"Is this live, where is it?” he said.
Grant answered.
"All we can see at the moment is that it's being streamed through a website called Revenge.com, it advertises itself as a place to publicly get even with someone. It guarantees a huge worldwide audience; perfect to make sure that the intended victim is well and truly humiliated. All you need is a web camera and a broadband connection, the site has specialist software that lets it stream live, or upload pre-recorded items".
"You sound like an expert Grant, how do you know all this?”
"It's all in the terms and conditions, we needed to agree to them to get onto this site".
"Which one is this, live or pre-recorded?”
Bridger was hoping for the latter.
"I'd only be guessing but I'd say it's live, it's been streaming all night. It looks like it started streaming late yesterday afternoon. Which makes the words 'Tomorrow we will begin', mean today..., but what the hell is about to begin?”
"Right, well we can safely say she is not there of her own accord", Bridger said, "No one would willingly subject themselves to that. Which changes this from a missing person to abduction", Bridger said as he picked up the phone and dialed some numbers.
The clock read just after seven o'clock, he hoped Matthews was still in bed so he would have the pleasure of waking the prick up.
"John and Jo will be in at eight o'clock, do you want me to get them in any earlier Mike?” Grant was asking him, as the phone was ringing in his ear.
"No leave them, but get onto a computer tech will you, we need to find out where this place is".
A clipped female voice answered the phone, the type of voice that you listened to and did not question. She sounded much put out when Bridger asked that Matthew's morning routine be disturbed to come to the phone. For his part, Matthews sounded very reasonable, stating he would make a couple of phone calls then be right in. Not quite the response he had thought he would get.
In less than an hour Bridger's small office, cramped with his staff alone, had doubled in numbers, even the district organized crime staff had joined the party. Matthews looked like he had dressed quickly; his uniform shirt was un-tucked at the rear.
Both John and Jo had arrived at work; John had just looked sheepish when Bridger had asked him why he only left a message on Becky's phone when he had first seen Marion on the site. His answer was entirely unsatisfactory and he made a mental note to follow up on that when he got the time.
Grant introducing the computer technician interrupted him.
"Mike, this is Sam, he's from the electronic crime lab".
Sam held out his hand and Bridger shook it. He looks like he has just left school, he thought.
"Grant explained what's going on so I can sort of give you some forewarning. If we can get a hold of the people behind the host server, they may be able to give us an IP address for the computer streaming those pictures. It is not going to be so easy if they have not listed any host details on the site. They could be IP spoofing or hiding behind a proxy in which case we could be chasing our tails for a while. Then we have the problem of the offending computer doing exactly the same thing. Even if we get an IP address, it would rely on the ISP to be holding accurate details of the person it provides the service to, either way we may need search warrants to obtain the information".
Bridger's fuzzy head did not understand half of what was being said; just nodding when he thought it was appropriate and making agreeing noises. Bridger watched as he set up more computer equipment and plugged various things into various places.
"Right", Sam said, "Let's get to it".
Feeling redundant as far as the computer stuff went, Bridger turned to Matthews who was hovering near his shoulder. Matthews had actually waited to get his attention this time before offering his pearls of wisdom.
"Bridger, I need you to attend the crime meeting as discussed. We need to disseminate the information on this, the more eyes we have out looking the better."
Bridger's eyes glanced quickly from Matthews to the computer monitor and back. It was hardly likely they would find Marion walking about the streets of Dunedin if the video stream was live. However, who was he to argue. It would give him some thinking time. He needed to formulate a reasonable plan of action and his hangover was not helping in the thought process.
Matthews spoke up as he was leaving the room. "Right everybody, this is pretty serious, Marion is in trouble, we need to find her, and I know that you will all work hard to ensure that we do".
As far as pep talks went, Bridger thought, that one would not even inspire a starving man to eat a free meal.
"One thing we do know", Bridger added to Matthews’s speech once he had left the room, "Is that whoever has Marion wants to get even with her for something. That usually means a spurned admirer or ex boyfriend. We need to revisit the people she knew and see if they can shed some light on anyone she may have had a falling out with, or if she was having trouble with anyone".
Looking at the clock he realised that the meeting was about to start down on the first floor.
"Grant, can you hand out the information on her friends and her boyfriend Mat", he said quickly.
Grabbing a picture of Marion and the name of the web site she currently had a starring role in, he made his way out the door and into the corridor.
He saw Matthews standing along the corridor beside the lift. He was talking to a smartly dressed man with his back to him. Matthews looked back at Bridger and said something quietly to the man, and then they both looked at Bridger. Then the inspector and his companion started to walk towards him.
Great, that is all I need, thought Bridger.
"Sergeant Bridger, I trust you know Glenn Gallagher, CEO of one of the biggest firms in this fine city of ours, and very influential with our city council".
"I know of you, but we have never met", Bridger said, giving him weak smile.
Gallagher put out his hand and Bridger took it. He noted the weak and sweaty shake, along with the smarmy smile.
"The Inspector tells me you are working on the missing girl, you know I used to be in the job to, so I know a bit about how these things work. Tell me do you have any leads yet, do you know who's taken her?”
"I'm not at liberty to discuss that yet," Bridger said, looking at Matthews. "We have only just found out ourselves that she has been taken and not just gone off on her own somewhere for a while".
"Quite right Sergeant", Gallagher said. "Please don't hesitate to ask for my help should you require it, I used to be quite good in a crisis when I was a copper. I have had my fair share of adventures. The Inspector knows how to get in touch".
Not likely, you tosser, Bridger thought. "I'll keep that in mind Mr. Gallagher, but if you will excuse me I need to get to the crime meeting".
Funny whom you see sometimes, Bridger thought as he walked into the briefing room on the first floor. He was most likely the face in the car outside Mrs. Watson's house the other day. Was Gallagher the person putting pressure on Matthews? He made a mental note to find it if Gallagher was connected to Mrs. Watson.
Looking about the briefing room, he saw the same old faces in attendance, seated more towards the rear of the room, avoiding the front seats like a bunch of teenagers at a school assembly, the more senior officers lining one wall, mostly Senior Sergeants and above. Bridger often wondered how many job descriptions were stretched a bit to accommodate so many senior staff. He saw John Maine sitting towards the rear of the room so made his way over and sat next to him
"How's things Mike? I hear you have sort of found your missing girl".
"Well we can see her; we just don't know where she is".
A loud cough from the front turned their heads, "Right, let’s get started".
The meeting followed the same format as always, the intelligence officer reading out any occurrences overnight and listing those currently cooling their heels in the cells downstairs. There was just the one this morning, an unknown female arrested on drugs possession overnight. She had not communicated anything to them since her arrest so consequently they did not know who she was.
People never learnt, Bridger thought, the police were not likely to let you go if they did not know who you were.
They gave Bridger centre stage next due to the urgency of the Job. He hated public speaking but he thought he gave as eloquent an account as possible of what they knew and what they needed to know. He looked about the room at a lot of nodding heads, but did not see anyone who looked like they could assist in anyway. No one spoke up to offer anything.
They were probably thinking, rather you than me, he thought sourly, he had no idea how he would pull this one off
either.
So much for the whole of policing approach, he thought.
He would normally have a chat to Brian when he had issues, Brian's experience and level head always made a good sounding board, between them they would normally work out a decent plan of action. He thought about calling him now, but knew he would have his hands full down at the court. It looked like it was up to him.
"Did you see who came in to see Matthews?”
The question bought Bridger out of his inward thinking.
"I did," Bridger said. "I also had the pleasure of an introduction. He told me he was in the job, seemed arrogant to me. How long has he been out of the job now"?
"About Fifteen years I think", Maine, said, "Long enough to get to be the right hand man of the Mayor, he's done well for himself. I did not think he was that close to Matthews back in the day, but thinking about it, they have similar personalities so I guess they could be friends. I cannot think of any other reason he would be visiting Matthews personally. Do you know what it was about?”
"I have no idea, but he did ask me about how the missing girl".
"Did he? Did he say anything else?”
"I didn't give him a chance really; I was already running late for this meeting".
"Have you met him before? I can't remember if you arrived before or after he left the job".
"That was before my time here. What was he when he left?”
"He made inspector before giving everyone a break and leaving. I didn't have much time for him to be honest," Maine said. "He was a bit of a player with the ladies. Even other cops wives weren’t off limits".
Bridger saw a look of bitterness in Maine’s eyes.
"He was not my type of policeman at all. But then people can change can't they, I was certainly no saint in those days".
"It's funny but I saw him driving away from the side of the road where Mrs. Watson lives the other day", Bridger said, "She is our missing girl's mother".
"Dunedin's a small place", Maine said, looking straight ahead.
Not that small, Bridger was thinking.
The meeting was ending and people were shuffling for the door, jokes and insults traded on the way out. Life goes on as normal in the police station whatever jobs you had on the go.
"I forgot to say Mike; I took a look at the note left by your suicide the other day. She was one troubled girl. Her parents are coming down from Auckland in the next couple of days; they mentioned that they would like to talk to the officer that found her. I do not think they meant Jo and Steve. Would you be able to have a chat with them when they arrive?”
"I'll see," Bridger said, not wanting to commit. "I'm not very good at that sort of thing, my minds not compassionate enough I think. I never know what to say".
Maine pulled the white envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Bridger. "Take a look; it might help you understand a little about her".
"I'll see," Bridger said, putting it in the inner pocket of his jacket and heading for the door. The last thing he wanted was to read about someone's inner demons and troubled life. He had enough of them himself.
Out in the corridor Steve Kirkland stopped him with his trademark fake punch. "Nearly got you there sergeant, you will have to attend remedial tactical and safety training if that happens again". He grinned, flexing his pectoral muscles absently. "Actually have you got time for a quick chat, Mike?”
Bridger looked at his watch, more out of habit than anything else, not really, he thought to himself. "I can spare a couple of minutes Steve, what's it about?”
"Gillian and I stopped a car last night near Fryatt Street, he was fair moving as he came round the corner. Some ponce from the university, he had a young female student with him, quite a cute wee thing. The dirty little lucky bastard… Anyway, while I was talking to him I smelt a bit of Cannabis, when I started with the search the girl with him sort of freaked out and handed Gillian a big bag of Cannabis. She is down stairs still now. We could not get anything out of her; she looked like she was on something. She completely freaked out. Live scan fingerprints didn't come up with an identity for her either".
"Why didn't you ask the driver of the car?” Bridger queried.
"I sort of thought Gillian had got her details, I was busy dealing with the driver and when I let him on his way....., well that's when Gillian told me she had not been able to get details from her girl. I haven't seen the driver since to speak to him".
Bridger could imagine what Gillian Holler had to say about that little stuff up, as he remembered she was not one to hold back on the junior staff if they made simple errors.
"What's all this got to do with me?” Bridger asked.
"Well that's the thing, after he finished telling me he knew nothing about the Cannabis the girl was holding, he told me he had already spoken to you that night. His name was Jonas something..., just thought you would like to know".
A flash of recognition sparked in Bridger's mind.
"Thanks Steve, I think I may know who your mystery female is, it’s possibly a girl named Beth. I will go down to the watch house and confirm it".
"Cheers Mike".
The grateful look on Steve 'the muscle' Kirkland’s face was priceless, and Bridger, despite the circumstances both personal and professional, could not suppress the grin on his face as he headed downstairs to the cellblock in the basement.
There was no love lost between those two then, Bridger thought as he descended the stairs, Jonas practically leaving her to carry the can for what he knew would have been a joint enterprise. Bridger smiled again at the pun. His mood lifted slightly.
Bridger found the Jailor with his feet up reading a book; he did not know the face.
"Not a lot on this morning, Constable?”
Jumping up the Constable looked embarrassed, "Sorry mate I didn't see you there....” A look of recognition crossed his face and he corrected himself. "Sorry Sergeant, I've only got one in the cells and she's not saying much so we can't process her yet".
"Well I think I can help you with that", Bridger said, glancing at the book he had been reading. It looked like a police manual or university textbook. It would have been a men's magazine in his day he thought. "Let me take a look at her and I will confirm it".
The officer showed Bridger through to the female cell area; he opened the heavy door and saw Beth curled up in a ball on the concrete floor beside the bed. She looked awful, tears and snot on her face, her dark hair all over the place. She was whimpering slightly like a sleeping puppy. She just stared through glassy eyes at the two men in the doorway, not saying a word.
"That's Beth Johansen she lives in Castle Street North".
He looked at the charge written on the board just outside the door, 'Possession for Supply'. So it must have been a little more than enough for the two of them, he thought. Although he did not know her at all, Beth did not strike Bridger as the type to be a major drug dealer. If anything her reaction to being arrested attested to that. Tough on the outside but went to pieces when confronted with anything out of the ordinary.
Jonas has to be the supplier. Maybe that is what they were doing when he saw them getting into the car together. Even with the urgency of finding Marion, Bridger did not like the idea of Jonas leaving Beth on the hook.
"I'll get one of my detectives to come down and have a talk to her, she spoke with her yesterday on an unrelated matter, so may be able to use that to her advantage and get her to talk. I will clear it with Gillian Holler the arresting officer".
He knew Becky would not be too happy about moving off the team to deal with it, but they needed to follow it up before they released Beth. He went back upstairs to break the news to Becky.
Back in the office the room had thinned out a bit, most of the extra staff had either gone out to speak with Marion's friends or gone back to their own work, the initial buzz of the web site find fizzling out to produce only a few more possible inquiries.
The computer tech was busy tapping away on a
keyboard while simultaneously holding a phone to his ear and speaking to someone in a language that only a tech would understand.
Becky was in the corner speaking with Grant, John and Jo, as Bridger came in. Bridger motioned to her to come over.
"Becky, Beth Johansen from Marion's flat is in the cells downstairs, she was locked up last night for possession to supply cannabis. Can you go and have a word with her; she has not spoken since her arrest. I think she was with Jonas Clifton last night; she was in his car when the sectional staff arrested her. Jonas left her to carry the can when I would bet it was him who supplied her".
"Jonas Clifton, he's the dish she was talking about yesterday?” Becky queried.
"I'm not sure about dish, but he sure has a lot of opinions on the ways of the world. For all his bleating about negative influences he doesn’t have a problem with mind altering substances, apparently".
Becky gathered her notebook and a few items from her desk then headed out of the office to speak with Beth.
Bridger went over to his own computer and fired up the national intelligence application to see if the police knew anything of the man who called himself Jonas Clifton.
It took less than five minutes to find that he had no criminal history, which was not surprising, as he doubted he would still be working at the university if he did. They had him listed as the victim of a theft a couple of years back. He had reported his laptop stolen from university common room. What was surprising was that there was a noting attached to his name suspecting him of sexually harassing a female student.
Bridger clicked on the link and read the details.
The victim was a twenty one year old student who reported to police that Jonas had made unwanted advances towards her at a party held at his house. When she refused those advances, he had become heavy and pinned her to the bed. The victim, fearing he might rape her, had only managed to get away when another student barged in on them. The police had spoken to Jonas but he had claimed it was a consensual act until she told him she did not want to go through with it then he had stopped. It was another case of his word against hers. Both of them had been drinking so the police decided not to progress it any further.
A further noting mentioned a second report to police from the same girl claiming Jonas had been calling her all sorts of names and stalking her since the incident, but she wasn't going to take it any further as it was almost the end of her time at the university and she just wanted to get on with her life.
Well, that sheds a new light on Jonas Clifton, Bridger thought to himself. He would make sure to follow up on him after they found Marion.
"Bingo", shouted the tech from the other side of the room, "You thought you could hide from me…, from me…, never, I've found you. How easy was that…, get in there"
Bridger thought he might break into a victory dance with the way he was carrying on. "What have you got?” he said, moving over to the other side of the room.
"I know who is hosting the site, the guys behind Revenge.com..., and guess what; they are locals, right here in Dunedin. In fact, I know them. We were at university together. We didn't keep in touch or anything after, but I definitely know them".
"Well don't hold anything back", Bridger said looking at his watch emphasizing that time was ticking very quickly.
"I found their details hidden in a zip file attached to the main site. I only saw it because I ran a program that scanned the site for Trojans and such. The program found the zip file and flagged it up. The guys’ names are Jack Woolwich and Simon Freeman; they were best buddies at Uni, a bit nerdish, both of them, fancied themselves as the next Bill Gates and Steve Jobs. I wondered if they had made anything of themselves. I guess this answers that question".
Bridger could not hide his impatience, "That's all very interesting but does the information tell us how to get a hold of them?”
Sam looked at his cell phone and started scrolling through the contact list, let me make a call, I may know someone who still keeps in touch with them.
"Right, Grant and Jo, as soon as we get an address get round there and stir them up. If they can track who is streaming this on their site then we are in business".
"Ahh Mike, I think it's started", John said quietly while his eyes were fixed on the screen in front of him.
Bridger and the others looked over and saw Marion begin to move, but she was not in control.
She looks just like a child's Marionette, thought Bridger.
Human Frailty, a Detective Mike Bridger novel Page 19
