by Linda Coles
Speechless, Amanda closed and locked the door behind her, then turned to Jules. It took all her self-control not to scream at her.
“I thought we had a plan, Jules? Did you have a different version to work from?”
Jules sat quietly as though realizing she’d gone too far.
“Speak to me. What have you done? What have you given him?”
“It’s only a roofy, nothing more. He’ll be awake in an hour or so.”
“Oh, well, that’s okay, then. A roofy. Bloody perfect!” She paused and drew in her breath. “And where the hell did you get a sodding roofy from?” she screamed. “You just happened to have one on you, did you? Do you realize what you’ve done? How this could royally screw things up? What is your plan from here then, eh? Do tell, because I’m struggling here.” Amanda sizzled like a sausage in a hot pan. “What will happen when he wakes up and realizes?”
“We’ll be long gone. He’ll be none the wiser. He doesn’t know we’re on to him, remember?”
“I’m a sodding detective, for heaven’s sake,” Amanda yelped. She could feel a vein pulsing in her forehead. “I can’t be a part of drugging a suspect, and he is only a suspect – remember? We have no actual proof of anything yet.”
A knock at the door brought her screaming to a halt, and she took the opportunity to catch her breath. From the other side of the door came, “It’s me, Ruth. Let me in.”
Amanda opened the door and Ruth strode past her, a laptop wedged under her arm.
“Oh great,” groaned Amanda, staring at the laptop. “Now I’m involved with theft as well as drugging and possible kidnapping. What else have you two got planned? Because I hope it involves finding me another career. I’m going to need it, since this one is over.”
Ruth spoke quietly as she opened the laptop and started tapping. “I’m a civilian and so is Jules, and you had nothing to do with this. Give me a minute to see if I can get in and take a look around, then we’ll talk, okay?” Ruth was doing her best to defuse the fireworks going off inside Amanda’s chest. “Give me ten minutes then we’ll talk.”
Amanda flopped down on the corner of the bed, exasperated and also more than a bit concerned. This had been a shit idea. Smeeks’ bare feet hung over the bed and were level to her knees. She moved away a little, not wanting to be part of this stupid plan gone wrong.
Ruth said, “It’s password protected, as you’d imagine. I’m going to need some help.”
“You can’t take it out of here, Ruth!”
“Then we won’t take it out. I’ll get help to come here.”
Jules spoke up now. “I know someone, a person to help if you don’t have one. Shall I call him?”
Ruth frowned at the laptop. “If you have someone in cyber intelligence someplace, then yes, go ahead.”
Both women looked at Amanda for confirmation. Amanda threw her hands in the air.
“Oh, what the hell. I’m screwed anyway. May as well solve the case while I get my arse kicked from high above to hell and back. But tell them to hurry. That laptop isn’t leaving this building, understand?”
Jules nodded and dialled. A brief conversation ensued and then she hung up.
“He’s on his way. I have to take it to his car, though. He’ll never get in here. I’ll slip out the fire exit out the back and bring it back as soon as he’s done.”
Amanda ran her hands through her blond hair. She felt like tearing it right out, clump by frustrated clump. What choice did she have with the laptop now?
“Well, while we wait, can I suggest you put his clothes back on? He doesn’t need to know you stripped him. Whatever the reason, the plan – I don’t want to know what it was. So much for a simple look-see.” Looking around the room and up at the ceiling she added, “I hope there are no cameras in this room.”
No one had thought of that.
Chapter Eighty-Two
What a complete screw-up. This was not how she ran an operation. Why the hell had she thought involving a couple of civilians was a good idea? Yes, Ruth was smart and resourceful, but she was probably also in big trouble along with Jules though not as much as she herself was. She’d be lucky if she were put on traffic duty with new recruits, if she even had a job anymore. The whole mess needed salvaging somehow, so at least she could get the culprit in the shambles. At least that might appease the DI a little. She checked her phone for the time. Jules’s contact would be here any minute.
“So how do you know this guy, Jules, and does he have a name?”
They’d been sat in contemplative silence since Amanda’s outburst.
“Valance Douglas. He’s a private investigator who deals in cyber intelligence – off the books.”
“Great – he’s a hacker! Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.”
“He prefers to call himself a forensic PI. He runs a legitimate business. He was the one I turned to see if this louse was still getting access.” She flicked her thumb over her shoulder to Smeeks, who was still out cold on the bed. Thank god. Jules’s phone buzzed with a text and she looked at the screen. “He’s out the back now.”
Ruth stood up. “I’ll go with you in case you have any problems. You might need a hand. And he needs to know what he’s looking for.”
Amanda stood by and watched, pretending she had no part in what was about to happen. In her mind she had her hands over her ears like a child, saying La la la out loud. It had always worked back then and she hoped it would now.
“We’ll be back shortly. He shouldn’t wake up yet,” Jules said, and the two women left the room, leaving Amanda and a comatose Smeeks alone. Shouldn’t? Amanda hadn’t thought about what she’d do if he did wake up in their absence, but since he was now fully dressed again, she supposed she could badge him and tell him he’d fainted. Since she was a police officer, he might believe her lie.
She looked around the room again for possible hidden cameras but couldn’t see anything. The key, of course, was the word ‘hidden.’ She sighed. Passing the time in the room was painful and she was tempted to ring Jack, but it was nearly midnight and he’d be fast asleep. And what could he do, apart from berate her and ask if she’d lost her marbles? There was no point. He’d get his chance tomorrow when this all came out and he was looking for a new work partner. Amanda squeezed her eyes tightly to get rid of the image. A knock on the door brought her back to the present situation and she got up and opened it.
Two leather-clad women rushed back in and it took Amanda a moment to realize it was Ruth and Jules. No, she’d never get used to this. Both were breathless with excitement.
Ruth spoke first. “We’ve got him! It’s all on there. His client list, a list of operators and a nice bit of software where he watches the whole thing unfold. And video recordings of events. Obviously, we couldn’t look too deep because we only had a few minutes, but yes, Amanda, you’ve got him!”
She and Jules beamed at Amanda, who stood dumbfounded. “And the list goes back more than fifteen years – that’s how long he’s been supplying victims to high rollers who could afford it. Oh, and this room and the others are recorded so we did delete that little file.” She grinned self-consciously.
Amanda groaned and closed her eyes, then opened them again. Nope, she was still inside the room. No magic fairy had intervened and whisked her away.
Ruth carried on. “There are going to be some embarrassed individuals when this all comes out.”
Amanda thought about that for a second. “Why would they be embarrassed? Why would their names be made public?” What was she missing?
“That’s the only way to get Smeeks without you getting into bother with all this mess. It was Valance’s idea, actually, and it makes total sense. We leak it. Remember WikiLeaks? We’ll do the same here and find a reporter, too. That way, you’re in the clear. It just means a couple of embarrassed faces, but that can be their punishment for their purchase.”
Amanda had to agree: on the surface it made sense and would keep the sticky mess aw
ay from her front door. She’d need to percolate the idea first, though, to be sure. “What’s the plan from here, then? I’m assuming you’ve got one.”
“First off, we get the hell out of here, and leave Smeeks where he is. He’ll have a sore head when he wakes, but that’s tough. I’ll slip his laptop back where I found it. Valance has what we need on a drive, so we can look at it when it suits. I suggest you and I meet him tomorrow first thing and hatch out a plan properly.” She stopped for a moment to collect her thoughts. “Or I can do it on my own, now that I think about it. That way, you can truly deny all knowledge and involvement. And don’t tell Jack. He doesn’t need to be a part of this, and no one else needs to know.” Ruth beamed from ear to ear, as did Jules. Amanda looked from one to the other. It sounded so easy, so simple. Jules went on,
“That should work, and none of us will get into bother. It will have to stay our secret, though, so if any of us is thinking of coming clean, don’t bother. I shall deny all knowledge of my part. And I suspect you two will as well. Let’s keep this quiet.”
“Perhaps we should do the pinkie thing like when we were kids?” said Ruth, holding up her hand.
Amanda groaned and rolled her eyes at Jules. Ruth said the dumbest things sometimes for such a bright woman.
“What?” said Ruth, putting out her lip like a child. Her expression looked ridiculous with her outfit, and suddenly Amanda started to giggle. Really, dressed in tight leather and wearing ‘don’t-fuck-with-me’ boots, they both looked stunning, and Amanda was suddenly helpless with laughter.
Ruth and Jules looked at each other, confused.
“Sorry,” Amanda said, wiping her eyes, “but looking at you both reminded me of Charlie’s Angels. They would have got into a mess like this, and happily dressed up like you too. Apart from Sabrina that is – she’s got to be me, hasn’t she, in a roll-neck sweater?”
Jules spluttered as she caught the joke, and they both joined in the laughter, leaning on each other’s shoulders, tears streaming down their faces.
A groan from the bed startled them into action, and all three ran for the door at once as though a firework had gone off, scrambling through it together. They looked, thought Amanda, less like Charlie’s Angels and more like the gang from Scooby Doo.
Chapter Eighty-Three
The story broke two days after their visit to the nightclub. Ruth, Jack and Amanda were having a casual breakfast together at Ruth’s place, each reading from their own copy of the same newspaper that Ruth had bought on her way back in from her run. A pot of tea stood steeping in the centre of the table; a rack filled with toast went untouched. Never before had the kitchen table seen so much interest in a local newspaper story. Three sets of eyes frantically read the copy, the odd murmur of appreciation or surprise the only occasional sound in the room.
The story covered both the front page and a two-page spread in the centre and went into great detail of what had been happening to women all over London, and maybe beyond. There were photographs of several unfortunate clients who had been caught up in it as well as a mug shot of the alleged organizer of the service, one Chris Smeeks. The words ‘whistle-blower’ and ‘dark web’ and ‘hackers’ fairly leapt off the pages. The reporter’s anonymous source had provided ample evidence – video files, photos, and client lists – and the reporter had handed everything over to the police.
It was estimated that the service had been going on for more than fifteen years, but thanks to a couple of victims who were willing to tell their story and to the anonymous source, it was being shut down. The police had asked the reporter to hold off printing the story until their suspect was in custody for questioning, and the man was now helping CID with their enquiries.
Believed to have started the service for a bet, he’d gone on to find a surprisingly lucrative market and had convinced the many people needed to pull it off that it was all a game and they were vital players. These players had even been even rewarded with virtual badges when they reached certain levels. It was virtual gaming in real life. A list of the players’ names was also in the source’s possession but since they had had no idea what they were involved in, the source didn’t see the need to divulge it.
Amanda was silent when she’d finished reading it all, as was Ruth.
Jack, on the other hand, smelled a rat. “Wow, that is a twist, isn’t it?” Jack looked at both women like they were two children hiding the fact they’d taken the biscuit jar to their room and eaten the contents. And he didn’t believe that was all they’d been up to. He detected some chocolatey fingers somewhere. Ruth answered first.
“It really is, though I’m glad he’s been caught. It must be terrible to wake up with your hair missing one day, to know that someone has been in your room while you slept and touched you. Horrendous, actually. I’m glad he’s in custody. A bit of excellent work.” She quickly put her head back inside the newspaper and pretended to be reading another story.
Jack pursed his lips and turned to Amanda. “Tell me again how all of this came to light.”
“Not much to tell, except Jules Monroe followed Smeeks to his club and confronted him. He denied her accusations, as he would, but another man overheard her shouting at him. He was intrigued by her looks and took a photo of her without her knowing. She’s quite distinctive, as you know, with that white streak of hair. Anyway, he found her name by doing a reverse image search on Google, then found her model agency, put two and two together and handed over what he had. Then he went to ground.”
Amanda hated lying to her friend, but she was anxious to keep him out of her screw-up, for his own good. Jack wasn’t long off retirement and she’d never forgive herself if she jeopardized it for him. This way was a much better bet. She smiled sweetly at him and added, “Couldn’t have come at a better time, eh?”
All Jack could do was agree. “One other thing though. How come it was a sports reporter who broke the story and not a mainstream journalist? And a friend of Ruth’s, at that?” He turned to her again. “Griffin Stokes is a friend of yours, isn’t he, Ruth?”
“He is, yes. He’s been spending heaps of time surfing the dark web looking for an alternative surgeon to remove his excess skin after his dramatic weight loss. He’s got such a lot of it, and it’s embarrassing for him as a young man. It’s a really big job to get it taken away, and a long recovery time, and he was looking for a cheaper and quicker way than a UK hospital. The waiting list here is over two years and he didn’t want to wait any longer.
“He met his source in an online group, though I’m not sure which one or what the topic was, but it’s on its way to being sorted now. It’s a bit of luck and a coincidence, though, I agree.”
Jack looked across at Amanda again, and she shrugged her shoulders. Judging by the look on his face, he wasn’t convinced.
Ruth stood quickly to forestall any further questions and said, “Well, I fancy a proper breakfast someplace else. Maybe some bacon and scrambled eggs. Who’s joining me? Jack? Do you fancy bacon and sausages to go with your eggs? Amanda, can I tempt you?”
Amanda stood and scraped her chair back noisily.
“That’s a great idea,” she said, a bit too eagerly. “I’m in. Come on, Jack. Toast was never your thing anyway. I’ll buy.”
Jack knew when he was on the road to nowhere and the conversation was over. Still, they had a suspect helping with enquiries and the cyber boys were now heavily involved working through the mess. It seemed they’d found the time to take it seriously now.
He stood and reluctantly said, “Well, if you’re buying, I’m having a full English. I’ve got some making up to do on the eating front after my hospital stay.”
Behind his back, Ruth smiled knowingly to Amanda, who returned the look, but neither woman said a word. Amanda took up the rear as they filed through the house to the front door. The word ‘coincidence’ entered her head again. “But we don’t believe in them, do we, Jack?” she mumbled.
Nothing missed Jack’s ears. “W
hat was that, Lacey?”
“I said I’ll drive. You choose the music.”
Chapter Eighty-Four
“Who’d have thought it, eh? A right turn-up for the books.”
Griffin and Vee were sat on a bench in the park with a vanilla cone each, frantically licking their rapidly melting ice creams. It was a gloriously warm evening as they sat; dog walkers and families strolled past, enjoying the fresh air.
Griffin carried on “And your experience helped the police nail the guy, so well done, you, for dropping that piece of info into the conversation. Otherwise they might still be hard at nothing.” He took another long lick as a rivulet of ice cream made its way down to his hand. He made a slurping sound as he tried to suck it away.
“So, what’s the plan with the story, then, Clarke Kent?” Vee was being cheeky but Griffin wasn’t bothered. He liked her cheek.
“She wanted me to hand it over to one of the other more experienced reporters but since it was my source, the story is mine.” They both smiled at the word ‘source,’ knowing full well there wasn’t really one, and that Ruth was behind it somewhere. In order to disguise what had really happened, he was happy just to get the story and the notoriety that went with it. And there was a lot more story to come, he suspected.
Vee took a long lick of her ice cream then threw the remainder of the cone to the birds. Turning to Griffin she said, “I want to ask you something.” Griffin picked up on her serious tone and stopped licking.
“Oh?”
“Can I ask you why you spend so much time on the dark web? What do you do, or what are you looking for?”
Griffin was not in the habit of lying, but he couldn’t think of an alternative answer to the truth quick enough. He froze, saying nothing. Ice cream dripped down his hand.
“Whatever it is,” Vee said, “I know it’s important to you and I’m fine with it. It’s just that, after my experiences with the last boyfriend and the videos and so on, I’m wondering what I might be getting myself into again.” She took his free hand in hers. “I really quite like you, Griffin, but in order to go on, I need to know what it is that interests you so much. And I know it’s not the sport and drugs article. Call it a woman’s intuition.”
