“Elspeth?” She presses the intercom.
“Yes?”
“Could you get someone to make a record of all the numbers that have called here today?” It's a place to start.
Elspeth is silent for a moment. Then, “Of course. Anything else, ma'am?”
“No. Thank you, Elspeth.”
“Certainly.”
Sue cannot think of someone she would rather see, right this moment, besides Lisa. But she cannot risk making their connection public. Not now. Cannot risk calling her from work. She will have to wait until this evening, when they are scheduled to meet.
First, she wants to hear if they can trace the call. That is worrying: threat; blackmail. Whoever made that call, meant business. And it sounds personal. Sue wants to reach the bottom of this first.
Then there is just the morning, with discussions with the Mining Times; an interview for the paper; the afternoon meeting with the construction people. Eight hours before she can tell Lisa. Before they can meet and plan and decide what to do. Together, she is sure, they can do anything.
Chapter 11
“Titus?”
Lisa is at work; reading through reams of files; her computer fired up and screens of past articles; records of past cases, open in several windows. Her desk is littered with hard copies; records from the archives of the firm.
“Yes?”
“Have you read the paper today?”
“You mean, am I keeping up with your case? Yes. I have.” Titus sound grim. “This is deep shit, Lisa.”
“Mmm.” Lisa agrees. “Tell me about it.”
“That place sounds like a complete mess, the way the paper reports it. There's no way to defend that.”
“That's what I would also have thought.” Lisa agrees. “Ask me last week, I would say the same thing.”
“And now?”
“Now...I'm not so sure. Does the term “media bias” sound right?”
“Well...you could say that.” Titus concedes. “They're taking a hard line on Gold Ridge. It does seem a bit...personal?”
“Yes!” Lisa sounds animated, passionate. “That's just it.”
“Well, don't go getting too excited.” Titus advises. “I don't wanna have to defend you for maligning the papers.”
Lisa laughs. “I'll stay safe.” She promises.
In the back of her mind, his words have sparked a thought. It does sound personal. It is personal; Lisa has no doubt. She knows that Sue's ex-husband is editor of the Local Independent. She knows how much pain he caused Sue; how much he envied her. But how much does he hate her? Lisa asks herself. Enough to enjoy her current situation; enough to report it badly. But is that all he's doing? Would he stoop to sabotage?
Lisa wonders.
“The Local isn't a client of ours too, are they?” She asks Titus.
“Why? You thinking of accusing them?” Titus asks, cheerfully.
“No”, Lisa smiles. “Thinking, is all. Idly curious.”
“They were, I remember.” Titus offers, thoughtfully. “Our dear Pravin Naidu did some work for them, I think? Back in the day.”
“There'd still be files from then?”
“You could look.”
Lisa smiles, sets down her pen. Heads for the front office. Yes, I could.
Four hours later, and Lisa feels herself getting cross-eyed. Old case files cover her desk, and her notebook is open, the pages covered in precisely-written notes of all that she has read. The desktop of her work computer has dozens of open files – company profiles, magazine spreads; newspaper articles. On two of these, Sue's ex-husband smiles out at her. The more Lisa sees of him, the less she finds to like. Her eyes glance over the text, words blurring under her tired gaze. It's seventeen-twenty in the afternoon. Almost time to go; to meet Sue at the restaurant. This time, they need to discuss the case. She glances idly through the articles. “The latest reports from our new senior reporter, returned from the Border.” One article states. Lisa reads the sentence. Stops. Reads it again. “Clarence Shipton; our reporter on the ground in Swaziland, has returned from peacetime service on the Border. The paper welcomes him back for fruitful work.” The words are appended to the longer article on the history of the Border war; dating from 2009; a twenty-year retrospective. One picture shows Clarence, dressed in full uniform, smiling out at the camera. “I wonder...” Lisa murmurs. His military past is something Sue has not mentioned; something he does not generally make known, now that he is chief of the Local Independent. Why is it a secret?
Now at least she has a date to work from. Clarence was in the army six years before. There must be records of him.
A brief search turns up a short summary. He entered the permanent force in 2005, at age 28; following journalism studies and a few year's work at the Independent. He rose through the ranks, ending up as a captain by 2008. There is a list of names of his junior officers. Lisa notes them down. Something connected to one of them could lead to whatever it is he is keeping secret.
The searches seem rather unexciting – Lisa finds herself turning up Linkedin profiles of respectable ex-servicemen in their mid-thirties, early forties. All building their newlty-made careers, all stable; all above-board. Then, on the third name on the list, she turns up something different.
“David Lacey is Northern Enterprise hacker, court rules.”
The article states that David Lacey was convicted of hacking in mid-2011, when he hacked into the system of a major export concern, and stole data including bank account details. He was sentenced to two year's imprisonment, but later appealed and was granted bail. There is nothing to link Clarence to this case, except that they were in the army together. And this man is an expert hacker. Lisa's mind races.
The clock says seventeen-fifty. Lisa starts. Ten minutes to get across town. She has to call Sue; tell her she has found new information; tell her she'll be late.
She reaches for her mobile.
“Sue? Sorry. I'm running late. Wait for me? I think I've found something important.”
Chapter 12
Later, Sue and Lisa are sitting in a restaurant, heads together. This is a new place; more modern; the walls almost black-brown, and hung with modern, abstract paintings as decoration. The tables are black wood; a single purple orchid in a thin glass vase between them. The music is lively Latin music; and the acid scent of cocktails wafts across from the bar; the conversation loud, and the whole place alive with people talking; gesturing; dancing. Their table is in almost-darkness; lit with a single light in the wall above. The surrounding conversation makes it impossible to overhear their conversation. They have been talking now for about twenty minutes; their glasses on the table between them; half-full.
“I remember Dave,” Sue is agreeing to something Lisa has said. “He and Clarence were close. I...I barely remember the case. I just remember Clarence saying that he thought it was preposterous. I don't know, but I think he helped with bail.”
“So they could be in contact now?” Lisa presses.
“Yes. Yes they could. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised. Clarence never lost touch with his Army friends.” Sue agrees.
“Do you think they would help him to do something...illegal?”
“I am sure they would. Dave in particular. After the trial, Clarence supported him. I do remember that. I am sure that they would help each other if either of them needed it. They were all close.”
They sit in silence, thinking.
“Do you think that Clarence could be...could be behind this disruption?” Lisa asks. It is a delicate question. The thought that her ex-husband could try to undermine her business is likely to be hurtful.
Sue thinks, slowly, then nods.
“I do think so.”
They both pause, digesting that information.
If it is Clarence; he has the contacts with which to do it. Men who have experience with all kinds of military equipment and tactics; for whom damaging a crane or changing the brakes on a truck would be easy; who could intimid
ate the foreman into abusing his workers; who could break into the mining compound unseen. Of all the people who could do it, these would be the men. And he knows them all.
“What could we do, to prove it?” Lisa asks.
Time to prepare for the case is running out. It is next week, on Tuesday. That means they have five days. Five days to find whoever is responsible; to gather all the evidence they need to make a case. Five short days, to clear Sue's name, and the name of the company. They need a good plan, and they need it fast.
Sue thinks for a moment.
“Well, we would have to show, first, that Clarence contacted Dave; that Dave is responsible for hacking you.”
“True.” Lisa agrees. “Good thinking.”
Sue grins. “Thank you.” She inclines her head, smiling.
“So.” Lisa continues, “We need to catch him out. Show that they are connected.”
“We could follow him? Follow Clarence?” Sue suggests. “See where he goes?”
The idea is simple. Risky. Truly daring.
Their eyes meet across the table.
“Cheers to that?” Lisa asks.
“Cheers.”
Chapter 13
It is sometime around eight. Night has fallen swiftly; making the road completely dark. Lisa and Sue are behind the wheel of Sue's car; parked across the street from a low-roofed, box-like house in an upmarket housing estate across the town. Clarence's house. They have watched for twenty minutes; seen him return from work. Seen the lights go on – the hallway, the bathroom, the kitchen. Seen the television go on, and waited.
Time passes slowly. The night outside is warm, and alive with small sounds. The trilling of birds, the rustle of grass; the whispering of the breeze through leaves hanging overhead. Sitting in the total darkness, Lisa feels Sue's warm presence beside her behind the wheel. Their fingers are clasped loosely together; leaning on each other for support.
Thirty minutes pass. Nothing happens.
“Sue?”
“Yes?”
“How long should we wait?”
“Let's give him until ten.” Sue suggests. “I can't imagine that he'll leave after that.”
“And tomorrow?” Lisa asks it “If he doesn't go anywhere tonight..?”
“Tomorrow we do the same.” Sue replies. “If he is responsible; he must be meeting with his...associates...quite often.” Sue adds, drily. “Since there have been small incidents on the mine almost every other day.”
“And he can't be planning it at work.” Lisa agrees. “Even he wouldn't have that kind of arrogance.”
“Don't bet on that.” Sue; wryly.
Lisa smiles.
They are silent for another ten minutes. Across the street, they see a silhouetted figure cross the room; see him lift the telephone and answer. Talk for five minutes; replace the handset.
Another ten minutes pass; then:
“Sue! He's leaving.”
Sure enough, someone has come round the front of the house to the gate. Opened the garage door. Driven out into the street; a long SUV a dark form against the black sky.
“Right. You keep an eye on him. We need to give him time to get ahead, so he doesn't see us starting up.”
After a minute, as he pulls away, Sue starts the car.
They follow the SUV through town; out in another area. Quieter; less salubrious.
“There!” He is parked across the street from a row of houses. As they watch from the car; idling in the street; they see him cross to the door of the second house.
“Right. It was number 7A.”
“We'll give him five minutes to get settled in.” Sue replies.
“We'll listen at the door?” Lisa asks.
Sue nods. “Good idea.”
They wait, a tense five minutes; while the light goes on in the living-room, and the door closes and there is utter stillness again in the dark street.
“Right?” Lisa asks.
“Right.”
They unlock the doors, close them quietly, Pause. Cross the street. Walk slowly to the right house in the row. A dog barks behind a fence across the road. They freeze.
“Shut it, Rex.”
A man's voice. The dog stops.
After what seems like an age, the women move forward. Lisa lifts the latch on the gate. It squeaks a little in protest, and they pause again. They can see the forms of two men inside the window, seated talking, their backs to the street. They are perhaps five meters away, and could turn round and see the women any time. Lisa and Sue stand in the shadows; blending in to the dark patches around the gate. Lisa nods to Sue, and she leans on the wrought iron from the other side, swinging the gate in. The hinges creak. They pause. Open it just wide enough to slide through. Stop again.
Lisa wriggles through; waits. Sue joins her. They drop to hands and knees; keeping to the shadow at the fence.
There is a second door, round the side of the room. Lisa kneels up; makes a sweeping gesture to indicate the door. Sue nods. They crawl around to the door.
They lean against it, still crouched. Place their ears to the wood. Just a murmur.
“The window?” Sue nods.
Next to them, there is an open window. Just wide enough for a small woman to squeeze through.
Lisa pauses, then nods.
“Dogs?” she mouths. Sue shakes her head.
“I don't think so. I hope not.” She adds.
“Here goes.” Lisa grins.
She slides her arm through the gap; unfastens the latch and slides the window back.
Sue slides in first; slipping one leg in and then the other. There is a slight thump, as her foot finds the cement floor inside. Both women freeze.
Sue moves back a little; makes room. Lisa swings her leg through, then the other. Lands neatly inside.
In the darkness of the room, they pause; listening.
“Left?” Lisa mouthes it; a whisper in the dark.
Sue nods.
They inch forwards; walking slowly so that their shoes make no sound. The room is carpeted; laid over cement. At least there are no boards to creak.
They move to the door. The room opens into a hallway, and the hallway leads to the living-room, where the men are meeting.
Lisa and Sue slide out of the door into the hallway, which is bright with golden light that slants in from the living-room. They slip down the wall to the floor, keeping to the shadow. They crawl a little way, but stay near the door, so they can slip out.
“...So, Ian thinks that he can do the brakes?”
It is Clarence. His voice drifts through from the living-room. Mellow, relaxed, at ease. They hear the clink of glass on glass; the sound of a decanter placed back on the shelf. The scent of brandy meets them; washing through the still air inside.
“...Yeah. He said so.” A man's voice replies. He also sounds at ease, affable. “I contacted him yesterday.”
“And you can manage to disable the main drills?”
“Yeah, C. No problem. I'll be on it tomorrow.”
A pause.
“You know how to get into the new area?”
“Yes.” The man swallows. “That map Stu brought...it shows the security tower. I can slip past; no worry.”
“It's better-guarded there now; the new wing.” Clarence's voice. Thinking. “Almost like someone is onto us.”
“Nonsense!” The other man chuckles. “You're imagining things, C.” They pause for a while.
“You'll be there and out by four a.m.?”
“Hell, yeah. Why are you so jumpy?” The other man asks. “Easy, man.” The two men laugh.
“I guess it's just because...we're almost done.” Clarence replies. “It's almost time for the case, and...well; I didn't think things would be so easy.”
“Hell, man! Don't be so gloomy.” The other man chuckles. 'Things are going well?”
“Yes.” A pause. “I mean...I didn't expect I would be so pleased to see this happen.” Clarence's voice.
“I mean...it's turni
ng out to be a real pleasure to see that bitch ruined.”
The two men sit in silence. In the hallway, Sue has gone pale. Lisa's hand slides over hers.
“Well, it's almost done.” The other man finishes.
“Yes.” Clarence. “Yes. Then I can see her stew in court. I want...I want that woman ruined; Alan.”
The other man is silent for a while.
“Well, I need sleep. If I'm going to get up at two a.m. to drive to the mines, I'll be wanting some rest.”
A pause, while both men think.
“Yeah. I'll go. You'll go in at three?”
“Three-thirty. That's the plan. In quick and out quick.”
“I'll come back with the cash tomorrow.” The floor creaks as the men stand.
“It's getting windy out there.” the man called Alan states.
I Stand With You (Gold Streaks Book 1) Page 5
