“I’ve always wondered what the inside of SemComNet looked like,” Simon said, pacing nervously about the room. “As much from a personal point of view because of Vincent as opposed to my own views on what they do here. It’s ironic isn’t it? Universities are trying to push the ideas of sharing knowledge yet work in cramped, relatively archaic conditions. Whereas companies controlling the information flow and infringing civil liberties have multi-billion dollar budgets and reek of wealth. There’s something wrong with a system like that.”
“We’re in,” Ben interrupted excitedly as attention turned back to the monitor.
The four men watched expectantly as the screen booted up into the internal SemComNet system, providing various options organised by job role: analyst, contributor, editor, super-user, technical support.
Selecting ‘technical support’ the next information screen presented a range of technical options beyond Michael’s comprehension.
“With a few clever shortcuts this should take us right to the kernel of the system, giving us access to UKCitizensNet’s infrastructure - the ideal place to drop off our present. Where’s the flash drive?”
Ben really seemed to be enjoying what he was doing Michael thought as Brown produced the all important drive from his pocket that stored the crucial app. Despite the dangers, it wasn’t every day the R.I.G had direct access within UKCitizensNet. He only hoped their plan worked.
Sliding the flash drive into one of the USB ports on the front of the computer they all watched expectantly as Ben entered various commands into the machine. Michael didn’t understand or care what was actually happening so long as they lay the app into the system. Every second brought him nearer to avenging Colette and Clare’s death.
Ben exhaled loudly, sitting back heavily in his chair, suddenly aware of the magnitude of what he had just done.
“OK, the app’s within the system. We just need to find relevant IP addresses now to direct the app to. This may take a few minutes.”
“Make sure Vincent Trevellion’s the first you find,” Michael said firmly, casting a sideways glance at Simon who didn’t say a word.
But before Ben could respond the entire wing of the building was suddenly filled with the deafening sound of an alarm going off. Michael could feel his eardrums beginning to throb from the force of the sound.
Had they discovered one of the security dogs was missing? They couldn’t surely have found the body. Brown had closed up the hole to prevent that.
As his pulse raced none of the men moved as the sound of heavy boots running into the corridor punctuated the sound of the alarm. Michael could feel sweat beginning to break on his brow as the sound moved past the lab before stopping. The four men looked at each other. Fear etched on their faces. No-one able to move.
With a further deafening crash Michael jumped back as the door imploded into the room, damaged from the thunderous force of the butt of a semi-automatic rifle pounding into the structure. Within seconds the room was filled by four armed security guards. Weapons were raised. Fingers threateningly poised on the triggers.
“Get on the fucking floor, hands on your head,” the leading security guard barked.
Without thinking, and with memories of the men in black from the campus firmly fixed in their minds, the men dropped obediently to the floor.
As Michael lay prostrated, his hands clamped to the top of his head, the alarm finally stopped. The sound of footsteps tapping up the corridor, heading for the lab, filled the air. A pair of polished, expensive looking black shoes appeared in his vision.
Turning his gaze upwards he looked straight into the eyes of Vincent Trevellion who was looking down impassively at where they all lay. Despite the calmness Michael felt sure he could detect the slightest sign of satisfaction cross Trevellion’s sombre features.
As the anger welled up inside him from being in such proximity to Trevellion he became aware of the sound of further footsteps. But these weren’t coming from the corridor. These were from inside the lab itself. Michael watched in disbelief as Brown appeared alongside Trevellion. His hands weren’t raised or on his head. And he wasn’t under arrest.
“Good to see you’re in one piece, John,” Trevellion said knowingly.
“I’m glad I’m still in one piece. There were occasions when that didn’t seem likely.”
“We had to ensure neither Tate nor his men knew you were involved otherwise their attempts to catch you and the others wouldn’t have looked genuine.”
Brown nodded, a malevolent smile crossing his face.
Casting a look across the three men lying on the cold floor Trevellion’s gaze came to rest on his brother. Michael watched for a moment, expecting some sort of reaction or sense of surprise. But instead all he saw was the merest hint of disgust, even loathing. A terrible thought struck him. Trevellion already knew about his brother’s involvement.
“So, did everything go as planned?” Trevellion asked calmly.
“Signed, sealed and delivered,” Brown grinned, looking down contemptuously at Michael.
Michael could feel raw, undiluted anger, rising. The knot in his stomach tightening at this betrayal. But before he could scream his fury he drifted into instant unconsciousness as Brown’s boot thudded heavily into the side of his head.
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
24th June 2010
The pile of presents sat on the coffee table in the middle of the lounge. A delicately arranged tower Clare had constructed, a glittery silver bow perched on top that she’d kept especially for this day.
Michael smiled as he watched his daughter carefully arrange and rearrange the presents, making sure they looked as impressively tall as possible. If ever there was any doubt Clare was Colette’s daughter then this should be proof enough. Nevermind DNA testing, her attention to detail was second only to her mother. Although he wondered for how much longer as she turned gifts over, repositioning them to make the mountain on the table look even more special.
Finally, taking a step back, having moved the silver bow once more, she turned to him.
“There. Now it’s perfect,” she said finally, admiring her handiwork.
Michael stroked her blonde hair gently, nodding approvingly. There was only one thing missing from the birthday celebrations. Colette.
“When is mummy going to open her presents?” Clare asked, not for the first time that morning.
Looking at his watch, Michael shook his head, still smiling at his daughter.
“Soon, I’m sure. Mummy has to finish some work first which is very important otherwise her nasty boss won’t be happy on Monday.”
Clare’s expression dropped a little and she sucked her lips in slightly as she thought about the horrible man making her mummy work on a Saturday. But not just any Saturday. This was her mummy’s birthday.
“In the meantime, though,” Michael continued, lightening the atmosphere, “you can finish off your birthday surprise, can’t you?”
Clare nodded enthusiastically, skipping in the direction of the dining room and kitchen. And in a second she was gone, her determination to make the day special reinforced.
Looking back at the tower of presents Michael sighed inwardly, gazing at the gold clock on their dark wood mantelpiece. The time was approaching midday and Colette had been stuck at her computer working since before 8am. On her birthday.
The insurance brokers he worked for were demanding, and long hours were sometimes part of the job. But it didn’t compare with what Colette had to endure, particularly recently. SW Technologies certainly got their money out of her. Whether it was long hours at the office, or at home, or nights and days away at various events or meetings. Her workload was immense and she worked all the hours she could.
But despite the pressures on her she always found time for him, and most importantly Clare. It was a sign of the strength of both their marriage and her bond with their daughter. Never once had her work put a strain on their relationship. Somehow she managed to balance being a mo
ther, a wife and a highly successful career woman. He really didn’t know how she did it. But it was one of the many things he loved about her.
And in Clare he could see the same determination and desire to succeed in everything she did. Whether it was excelling in her school work or just ensuring a pile of presents looked as impressive as they could. Her talents were clear to everyone.
They both knew she would eclipse any of their achievements as she grew into adulthood. Some parents might have felt threatened at the prospect of this. But not them. They wouldn’t try and live through their daughter. They’d live it with her. Supporting her all the way. Emotionally. Financially. Whatever way she needed. She would always be their proudest achievement.
Climbing the stairs Michael slipped into their bedroom, aware of Colette typing steadily at her keyboard in the study next door. Reaching into his bedside drawer he pulled out a further gift. One he wanted to give her privately.
Gently knocking on the door to their study he entered the room, keeping the present concealed behind his back.
“How are you getting on?” he asked quietly.
A look of absolute concentration was etched on Colette’s face. Her long hair was drawn back in a ponytail, her brow furrowed as she pondered yet another technological issue. Folders glistening in plastic wallets where stacked up next to the keyboard. A green box file sat on a stool next to the desk.
Looking up, she smiled wearily, rubbing the tiredness from her eyes.
“It’s never-ending. It really is. I think I’ve solved one problem and then two more crop-up. I’ll be glad when this bloody tender is over and I can get some sleep.”
Michael squeezed her arm gently, looking into her tired face. Even with her hair scraped back and no make-up on she was still stunningly beautiful. High cheekbones were offset by her large brown eyes, and although normally framed by her luxurious hair, he’d been mesmerised by her looks since the first moment she met. Years of marriage still hadn’t dulled that for him.
“What exactly are you doing?” Michael asked, perusing the folders on the desk, their meanings largely lost on him.
Leaning back in the swivel chair, and fiddling with her ponytail Colette tried to distill all the information she’d been reviewing.
“You know the big tender we’re bidding for. Well, if we don’t get it, or at least part of it, then huge parts of our core business are going to be automatically hoovered up by our competitors. And that means one of two things. Either mass redundancies and a major streamlining of the business and its operations, or SW Technologies goes to the wall.”
“So you could lose your job?” Michael asked, concerned at this new revelation. He knew Colette was involved with a major IT project, but she’d never discussed it with him in these terms before.
“Potentially, yes. Although if I did I’d get a very sizeable separation package as I’ve been with the company for so long. We’d be OK, so don’t worry. What I’m trying to do is work out a business plan that safeguards all of the jobs at SW Technologies. And that means winning the tender.”
Michael nodded, absorbing his wife’s problem. If anyone could write the appropriate business plan then it was Colette. And if they needed to entrust someone with saving jobs then she was exactly the person for the task. Direct when she needed to be, but compassionate also, always putting others first. It was one of the first things that had attracted him to her.
“Look, I know this is important, but why don’t you take a break? It is your birthday after all. You’ve been working since before 8. And besides Clare has a surprise for you downstairs which she’s been working really hard on.”
At the mention of Clare and her endeavours the strain on Colette’s face ebbed away, replaced by a warm smile. It was typical of Clare to have done something like this, whatever the surprise was.
“OK, you’re right. I probably do need a break. It’ll help me clear my head a little. The rest of this can wait until tomorrow.”
A mischievous smile crossed Michael’s face as Colette rose from her seat. She eyed him suspiciously, suddenly aware he was holding something behind his back. Something out of sight.
“What are you up to?” she playfully, trying unsuccessfully, to see what he was clasping.
“I wanted to give you this before you came down. It’s not for Clare’s eyes.”
Raising his eyebrows knowingly he handed Colette the present, a soft item, silver ribbon adding to its decoration.
Quickly ripping the paper Colette broke into an amused smile as she pulled out the black lace negligee.
“I was hoping I might get to see you in that later,” Michael whispered seductively, leaning in to kiss her.
“I bet you are,” Colette laughed wickedly, letting the garment unfold, revealing just how see-through it really was.
“Come on, let’s get the rest of the presents open,” Michael said finally, as their long kiss ended.
Following him out of the room Colette quickly stashed the lace negligee in their bedroom before joining Michael in the lounge.
“I see someone’s been busy,” she said, laughing as she looked at the tower of presents that greeted her. “I’m guessing you didn’t do that.”
“No, that’s far too organised for me,” Michael retorted as Clare stuck her head round the door from the kitchen.
“That’s good timing mummy,” she said, beaming a big smile, a dash of icing sugar staining her left cheek.
“What have you been up to then?” Colette asked warmly, relieved to be away from her computer and all the problems of the tender.
Disappearing back into the kitchen Clare returned, carefully carrying the birthday cake she had made and iced. Different coloured stars were arranged all around the edge of the cake. In the middle was one large royal blue candle. Below it were words, jaggedly iced, reading: ‘Happy Birthday Mummy’.
Colette could feel a lump in her throat rising, fearing she might cry at her daughter’s handiwork.
“I’ve only put one candle on as I couldn’t fit 38 on there,” Clare said cheekily, her eyes sparkling.
“Who told you I was 38?” Colette protested playfully, casting an accusing look at Michael.
After placing the cake on the coffee table Colette pulled her daughter close to her, holding her tightly, as she admired her cake. Her daughter’s talents never failed to amaze her.
Pulling away Clare jumped onto the sofa, patting for her mother to sit beside her.
“Right come on then, mummy. I want you to open my presents.”
Smiling, Colette did as she was ordered. And leaning forward she reached for the biggest present in the pile and began to unwrap.
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
Michael could feel the sweat oozing from every pore. It seemed as if every part of his body was on fire from the pain he was feeling. His shoulder was throbbing from where the Doberman had bitten him. And he was sure the wound was infected. Needless to say the bastards at SemComNet hadn’t attended to the wound. His head also ached from where Brown had viciously kicked him. And now the rest of his body seemed to irradiate pain from the trauma of their situation.
He was going to die. He knew that for certain. The others tied up next to him must have known it also. They weren’t going to be able to get out of this situation alive. Their civil liberties couldn’t be infringed in such a vile way with the prospect of being released afterwards.
He looked down at his heaving, sweaty body. Like Simon and Ben, he had been stripped naked and tied roughly to a chair bolted to the clinical white floor. His wrists and forearms were tied tightly to the arm of the chair. His legs were spread and had also been restrained.
But despite everything, even he hadn’t been quite prepared for had happened next. Two of Trevellion’s henchman had restrained him into the chair, punching him in the right kidney to subdue him, attaching two electrodes to his genitals. The wire from the electrodes led back to a small black unit, resting on a table a few feet in front of where all three me
n were restrained. They’d all received the same treatment.
But now they were just waiting. Waiting for whatever questioning and sick form of torture SemComNet could invent for them. As images of what they’d done to Colette filled his mind, he knew something diabolical was in store. He wasn’t quite sure Simon and Ben knew as much.
On the table opposite, next to the small black unit, was a pack of cigarettes. He wondered who they belonged to and who would be carrying out the ‘questioning’. Would it be Trevellion himself? When he’d come to see Trevellion previously he hadn’t smoked in his presence. And his office didn’t have the stale smell of stale cigarettes hanging in the air.
SemComNet must have someone else in mind to do the deed he thought, looking round their confined cell.
The room was painted completely white; floors, walls and ceilings. There were no windows, computers, phones or electrical sockets. Just a light switch inside the door and the table opposite. It was austere. And that was what bothered Michael most. Lacking feeling or emotion. Just like their captors.
To his right Simon and Ben were strapped helplessly to their seats, sweating profusely, looking like death. How ironic he thought bitterly, as he listened to Ben wheezing from where he’d hyperventilated as he’d been stripped and strapped to his chair. His breathing had calmed down a little. But he was in a bad way. They all were.
Without warning, and with no sound of footsteps from the corridor beyond, the solitary door to the room swung open, revealing Brown and the two security guards who had restrained them earlier. The two guards stood to attention, staying outside the door as it swung shut. Brown perched himself on the edge of the shiny metallic table before reaching for the pack of cigarettes.
Michael looked contemptuously at him as he lit the cigarette.
“So how long have you been on Trevellion’s payroll then you bastard?” he said venomously.
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