by Sarah Sky
“So what happened? Did Rodarte stop the leak or Westwood?”
“Neither,” he admitted. “Both agencies are baffled. The Collective simply missed the deadline. LibertyCrossing hasn’t published the list – either fully or in part – and hasn’t contacted MI6. We’re still monitoring online but there’s no sign of The Collective since the prison breakout this morning.”
She frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why has LibertyCrossing suddenly lost interest in Lee Caplin?”
“I’ve no idea. But that’s one thing less to worry about.”
“So? Hit me with it. The thing you don’t want to tell me.”
His green eyes bored into hers. “You were right about Margaret. She’s among the prisoners who are missing.”
Jessica bit her lip, nodding. It was hardly a surprise. Margaret had probably spent months planning this breakout with The Collective. The hack on Saturday, obscured by the attacks on all the other prisons, had been a fact-finding mission.
“What else?”
“They’re investigating your theory that we were set up to visit the prison, to somehow trigger the escape. Rodarte agrees The Collective could have taken a punt that we’d visit at some point. But what worries them is the fact they knew it was happening today and were prepared. Rodarte’s done a full security check of its own computer systems. It hasn’t been hacked. The Collective didn’t find out from us.”
“Well, it can’t have come from hacking into Westwood either. No one knows we were there today.”
Zak flinched slightly as he took another slurp of coffee.
“Please tell me Westwood doesn’t know we were there.” Her heart almost skipped a beat. “Does it?”
“Not yet, but Rodarte doesn’t know if any footage identifying us remains. It had to pull out of the CCTV system as soon as the prison went into meltdown. It couldn’t wipe any film. I’m not even sure it managed to cover its own tracks.”
“Great. So you’re basically saying that Agent Hatfield could launch a dawn raid on my home to arrest me if she recognizes us from the security tapes?”
“Rodarte’s doing its best to avoid that.” He pushed his cup to one side.
“Oh, gee, thanks. That makes me feel a lot better. I mean, it’s not like you dragged me into this mess or anything.”
Zak’s phone vibrated with a message. “Oh God.”
“What is it?”
He stared dumbly at his phone. “Lee Caplin.”
“What about him?”
Zak jerked his head as a newsflash appeared on the TV screen.
“We’re receiving reports of a major US prison breakout at Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary in Kansas thirty minutes ago,” the blonde-haired presenter began. “We’ll keep you posted on developments as they happen.”
Jessica gasped. “Lee Caplin’s prison.”
“It sure is.” Zak snatched up his phone and bolted out of the restaurant, colliding into a woman balancing plates and cups on a tray. They slipped and smashed on the floor. She watched him disappear, stunned.
This could not be happening.
For the next half hour, she flicked between news websites, devouring every scrap of info she could find about the Kansas prison breakout. She clicked on an updated CNN story on her phone.
MAJOR PRISON BREAKOUT IN US – LEE CAPLIN ON THE RUN
Federal agents are hunting at least two hundred prisoners who escaped from the Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary in Kansas this morning.
Insiders report a total security breakdown that enabled all doors in the high-security prison to open shortly after visiting hours began at nine a.m.
At least two dozen prison guards were seriously injured, along with eight visitors, as inmates went on the rampage.
Among the prisoners on the loose are sixty-year-old Victor Enrique, who was jailed for forty years for tax evasion, and British cyberterrorist Lee Caplin, who recently began a thirty-year sentence for computer crimes.
The teenager almost started World War 3 after hacking into the Pentagon’s computer system and has been declared highly dangerous by the FBI.
The Foreign Office said it had been informed of the situation but had no further comment to make about Caplin.
American authorities say they are confident all prisoners will be accounted for within forty-eight hours.
Jessica glanced up as Zak returned, white-faced. He sat down, shoulders sagging.
“I don’t get it,” she said, scanning the details online again. “Why would the leader of The Collective show his hand to MI6, demanding the release of Lee Caplin on Saturday, if he’d already planned to break him out today? Surely it would have been better to keep a low profile and then strike without warning?”
“Rodarte thinks it’s all been smoke and mirrors. Everything that’s happened up until today, including the hacking competition, has been a distraction to keep MI6 and the CIA busy while Lee’s breakout was planned.”
“It’s certainly worked,” she said, biting a nail. “The fact that LibertyCrossing hasn’t bothered to publish the agents’ list suggests that’s not what he was really after.”
“Exactly. Rodarte doesn’t believe the leader of The Collective gives two hoots about freedom of information across the web, given his history for using hacking as a way to make millions. That was a ruse to take everyone’s eye off the ball. The target all along was Lee Caplin. LibertyCrossing knew the US would never release someone as dangerous as him, so he devised an elaborate, prolonged smokescreen to disguise the breakout.”
“After carrying out a successful test run at Margaret’s prison first,” she noted. “There was a four-hour lapse between the two attacks, and they used an identical modus operandi; a total breakdown in security timed to coincide with visiting hours. That has to be significant.”
Zak nodded. “The CIA’s analysing the security footage from the US prison. We’re checking every visitor that came in to see if there’s any connection with The Collective. So far, it’s drawn a blank.”
“Do you know yet if Lee Caplin received any visitors?”
“Funny you should say that.” He fished out an iPad from his rucksack and entered his password before handing it to her. “Lee had agreed to be interviewed by this journalist from the Wichita Eagle.”
“Helen Hamlyn,” she read. “A feature writer and mother of three who’s worked for the Wichita Eagle for the last twenty years. She now edits the women’s page. Helen was due to interview Lee about his mother’s death and the impact of his lengthy extradition process on her health.”
She frowned as she stared at the photo of the middle-aged woman. Had Helen Hamlyn helped engineer the breakout for The Collective? It didn’t quite ring true.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Zak said. “Helen doesn’t fit the profile of The Collective’s hackers, who are male and aged sixteen to twenty-five.”
“Exactly.”
“Helen’s work and home computers are being analysed remotely. So far, there’s no evidence of contact with LibertyCrossing or any hackers connected to The Collective. In fact, she only appears to use the internet for researching women’s health articles and uploading family photos on Facebook. Her editor says she received an anonymous phone call at work, offering an exclusive interview with Lee. He said it was short notice and Helen jumped at the chance to go.”
“Where’s Helen now? Has she been interviewed? She may have seen something useful without even realizing it.”
“Unfortunately, she was injured during the breakout. Prisoners ripped up their cells and used the debris as missiles. We’ve got agents waiting on standby at the hospital to talk to her when she regains consciousness.”
Zak’s phone buzzed. He raised an eyebrow as he checked the message. “We’ve retrieved some visuals from Helen’s visit as she waited to see Lee. The rest is corrupted.”
“It’s not supposed to be very interesting,” Zak said, trying to grab the iPad back. “She goes through after that.”
“Hold on. Isn’t that an Ossa Cosway raincoat?” She paused the footage and enlarged the picture. “You see the piping around the collar and sleeves? Margaret commented on this earlier.” She held up her own trench coat. “She recognized Ossa’s distinctive detail. It’s the same on all his coats and jackets.”
“Big deal,” Zak snorted. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Probably nothing,” she admitted. “But it might be worth a look. You could get your agents to ask Helen how she can afford a five-thousand-dollar coat. I got mine for free. How did she get hers?”
Zak shrugged. “Maybe she got a discount or saved up her hard-earned pennies. Who cares?”
“I thought you were supposed to work for Rodarte? Isn’t that kinda your field, you know, working a fashion angle?”
“Not this time. Do you have any idea how stupid it’ll make me look to create a big deal out of the fashion label on a coat when the biggest prison breakout in US has just happened? It’d be career suicide.”
Her phone buzzed.
“Anything important? Or is Jamie telling you he misses you?”
Jessica couldn’t be bothered to retaliate. She showed him the single-word text message: Tulips.
“So what? I don’t get it.”
“It’s the code word my Big Issue contact said she’d use if she found Henry Murray.”
“What are we waiting for?” he said, rising to his feet. “Let’s go.”
Paranoia was the best policy. Zak and Jessica didn’t want to take any chances. It was possible LibertyCrossing had disappeared back into cyberworld now he’d released Lee Caplin, but they couldn’t presume this was all over. The only safe option was to visit Lucy in person – rather than text or call – to find out what she knew. Henry Murray was a loose end that The Collective might still plan to tie up.
Once they arrived back in London, they agreed to return home to dump their ID passes and credit cards before hooking up again at Earl’s Court tube station at six thirty p.m., with only cash to get them through the evening. Rodarte hadn’t ruled out the possibility that one or both of them had been carrying electronic bugs, planted in their belongings, which allowed The Collective to listen in and discover their plans to visit the prison this morning. They needed to get to Lucy’s spot at High Street Kensington and onwards without detection by The Collective or MI6.
Thankfully, the house was empty when Jessica arrived. Her dad had left a note saying he was out on a job and Mattie was meeting up with her book club friends tonight. Even better. She scribbled a note, saying she was staying over at Becky’s, and left it on the hall dresser. To be doubly safe, she texted Becky saying she’d gone down with flu. She didn’t want her friend dropping by unexpectedly and ruining her cover story. Next, she checked the landline for messages. Nothing. Nathan wasn’t exactly beating her door down to invite her to return to Westwood. Neither was her school. Her dad had rung Nathan and begged him to analyse their home computer as well as the school’s IT system. She was confident that Sam would give an unbiased assessment, but that could take time; other things were higher on his agenda, like investigating the two prison breakouts. Would he discover her and Zak’s faces on the footage at Margaret’s jail?
Jessica went upstairs and flicked through the bulging wardrobe in her bedroom. It’d grown considerably since she’d been signed as the face of Ossa Cosway – designer day dresses, skirts, blouses, jumpers and trousers arrived every few weeks, together with cocktail dresses and evening gowns in an array of colours, coats and accessories. She’d packed as much as she could in among her day-to-day New Look and Topshop staples and vintage items she’d discovered in markets and second-hand clothes shops. The rest, she’d had to squeeze into the wardrobes in the spare bedroom as well as her dad’s.
Ignoring her designer clothes, she pulled on her favourite grey cashmere sweater and jeans. It felt good to be in her normal clothes again. So what if she got into trouble for breaking the clause in her contract? She had absolutely no intention of being photographed by any lurking paps; they wouldn’t be hanging out anywhere near where she was going tonight.
The doorbell rang. Had her dad finished his job early and forgotten his key? She flew down the stairs and opened the door, excuse ready.
Her mouth fell open. “What are you doing here?”
Jamie frowned. “That’s a nice welcome. Aren’t I allowed to visit my girlfriend? I thought I’d swing by and see how you’re doing.”
“Sorry. It’s great to see you. I was surprised, that’s all. I wasn’t expecting you.”
Jessica reached forward to give him a kiss, but he turned his cheek.
“Clearly,” he said drily, noticing her coat and rucksack lying on the floor. “Going somewhere interesting?”
“No. Not really.”
“So can I come in or not?”
She quickly checked her watch. She was supposed to meet Zak in thirty minutes.
He sighed. “I’ll try not to take up too much of your valuable time.”
“Don’t be daft.” She held open the door. “I’ll put the kettle on.”
He followed her into the kitchen. “So is there any news?”
Jessica frowned. “About what?”
“Duh. Returning to school, of course.” Jamie rolled his eyes impatiently. “Or have you got something more important on your mind right now?”
She had, actually, like trying to find Henry before he ended up dead.
“Last time we spoke, you seemed to think your dad would be able to help clear your name,” he prompted. “He was getting the computer software checked.”
“Yes, about that—” The doorbell rang.
“Saved by the bell,” Jamie said. “You get that and I’ll make some herbal tea. Do you want your usual?”
“Please.” The last thing she wanted was a cup of camomile, but she didn’t want Jamie to take offence again. She walked back into the hallway and flung open the door.
“Oh God. It’s you.”
“Thanks for the Hollywood welcome.” Zak stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. He’d changed into a navy sweater, jeans and a black anorak. “We need to talk. I couldn’t ring or text you, so I thought it’d be easier to swing by here first.” He tossed his rucksack on to the floor, next to hers.
“Get out!” she whispered.
“Why? Is someone here?”
Jamie appeared in the hallway.
“Oh,” Zak said, shooting a worried look at Jessica.
Jamie strode angrily towards them. “This is why you were so anxious to get rid of me, because he was coming round? Again?”
“It’s not like that.”
“So you’re not going off somewhere with him? Behind my back?”
“I am. I mean, it’s not behind your back. It’s nothing like that.”
“Brill, Jess. You know, you could at least have had the decency to break up with me before seeing someone else. I didn’t think you were the kind of girl who’d cheat. I see I was wrong.”
Zak walked towards him. “There’s absolutely nothing going on between Jessica and me. I promise you. We’re just friends.”
Quick as a flash, Jamie leapt forward, fist flying. Zak stepped neatly aside and grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back.
“Stop it! Let him go, Zak.”
“Not until he calms down.”
Jamie struggled against him harder. “I’ll give you calm!”
“You’re going to break his arm,” Jessica yelled.
“Let go of him.”
Zak obeyed and Jamie staggered forward, clutching his wrist. She reached out to touch him but he pulled away, glaring furiously.
“You have to stop this, Jamie. You have to trust me.”
“Why? How can I possibly do that when you continually lie to me?”
She caught her breath. “I’m not lying to you now. I love you, Jamie. Honestly, I do.”
“If that’s the case, why do you keep cancelling whenever we arrange to meet? Why are you spending so much time with Zak?”
“I’ve told you about London Fashion Week already.” Why had she brought that up again? Even she thought it sounded like a lame excuse.
“Yeah, right. Like he needs regular meetups to discuss, er, clothes. I’m not that stupid.” He paused. “I know you’re lying about where you were on Saturday when we were supposed to meet at the café.”
Jessica froze. “What do you mean?”
“You said you were helping Becky learn her lines but you weren’t. Becky said she hasn’t met up with you since your girls’ night in. You’re too busy to see her even though she needed help with a French essay. You haven’t returned her calls, or mine, these last few days. She doesn’t know what’s going on either. Where were you? This time tell me the truth.”
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. What could she say? She couldn’t possibly admit that she’d been called to an emergency meeting at Westwood. But there wasn’t an alternative, plausible explanation he’d actually believe.
“Jessica was with me on Saturday,” Zak said finally.
“What?” she mouthed.
Jamie clenched his fists again. “I knew it.”
She shook her head vigorously. What was Zak thinking, or wasn’t he? She should have found something to say quicker. If only he hadn’t opened his big mouth. He was making things a lot, lot worse. Was he deliberately trying to make trouble with Jamie again? He’d enjoyed winding him up the first time they’d met.
“I wanted her to help me practise my walk ahead of the shows,” Zak continued. “She didn’t want to tell you because she knew you’d freak out. But that’s all that happened that day, I swear.”
