The CIA team tested their own comms systems, tiny microphones attached to booms from miniature earpieces deep inside their ears. Despite the racket of the engine and whumping of the rotors they tested satisfactorily.
The extraction team was armed and ready.
***
‘Fuck me, Jock. Looks like the kid’s only gone and done it!’ Manny crouched beside Johnny and looked in wonder at the T12. A hologram of Simm’s corporate logo floated above it. Manny touched one of the screens and the logo disappeared, replaced by a three-dimensional representation of the filing system within the T12. He checked through the files in wonder. ‘It’s unbelievable. How he did this I’ll never know. State of the art security.’
‘Aye.’ Jock peered at the machine, the whole thing a mystery to him. ‘Aam whuri fa Sa.’
‘What the fuck are you on about, you useless git? I told you before, don’t talk to me, write shit down. I reckon you need one of them machines like that Hawking bloke – an electronic voice.’ He laughed and imitated the sound the machine made as he said, ‘I can’t understand a fuckin word you say.’
Jock’s face was disgusted as he jotted a note and shoved it at him.
Manny read it and spoke normally. ‘Yeah, Sam is taking his time, but it don’t matter, Jock. The boss’ll be made up with this. We’ve got everything he wanted now. We won’t need the girl. And I ain’t worried about Sam, he can look after himself.’
Jock grunted. He shook Johnny’s shoulder, but there was no response. The boy was collapsed forward on the desk, his arms acting as a pillow for his head. Jock looked at Manny and shrugged.
‘Johnny?’ Manny lifted Johnny’s head back and tried to sit him upright. Johnny’s head lolled and a streak of rich red drool trickled from his chin and flopped on to Manny’s arm. ‘Aw shit!’ Manny backhanded Johnny’s blind eye.
Nothing.
‘Is he dead, Jock?’
Manny turned his attention to the T12, assessing what they had as Jock checked Johnny’s vital signs.
‘Nah.’
Jock popped open another vial under Johnny’s nose. This time the reaction was much slower. Johnny gradually surfaced. Manny slapped his face, again battering his dead eye. There was barely a response.
***
‘Have you sent this to the boss yet?’
Johnny could not feel anything. He was somewhere else.
Nothing here was real. It was all a dream. The reptile in front of him was talking. A hand cracked against his skull, his head moved, but there was no sensation. Johnny laughed. It was all just a dream, a nightmare.
‘What’s he laughing at?’ Manny checked behind to see what Johnny’s good eye was looking at, what he was finding so amusing. There was nothing. ‘I think his brain was fried along with his bollocks when you shoved that lightning bolt on the end of his cock.’
‘Aye.’
‘Johnny. DID YOU SEND ALL THESE FILES TO THE BOSS?’
Johnny heard the toad shout. He tried to shout back: Yeah, I’ve sent them, but not to your boss. He laughed aloud, shook his head, spraying blood as he did so.
‘WELL SEND IT NOW!’
Okay. Okay. I’ll play. You’re not real, man. You’ll be gone soon and I’ll wake up by the pool with the girls. It’s my birthday and I don’t want to be a virgin any more. So let’s get this over with. Now.
Johnny’s hand would not move. He willed it but it was like one of those dreams where you have to run, but your legs do not work.
He could not believe how hard it was to make his hand to do his bidding. It crept to the keyboard of the computer linking them to London. The keys felt rock solid under his fingers, they refused to move. He had to use all his energy to push them down. Then Manny’s voice came to him as if from afar, echoing in his head.
‘Christ, you took your time.’ The T12 started the transmission and the contents zipped across thousands of miles to Sir Benjamin. ‘I think you need a drink, Johnny.’ Manny forced a cup of Coke into his hand. ‘His fingers are cold and stiff Jock. I think you fucked him up good and proper.’
Jock lifted Johnny’s good eyelid. ‘Aye.’
Manny fiddled with the T12. ‘I’m gonna keep this, Jock. If I can work out what he did to get it unlocked.’
Johnny sat dribbling silently, his hand clutching the Coke, but not moving, his mind failing to force the words to his lips:
Shit man I’m so tired. I want that drink. Better still, I wanna wake up to a cocktail. I’ve done everything you want. Why won’t you let me go now? Answer me you fucking toad.
The room faded, then Johnny slipped unconscious.
***
The desktop screen transformed into Sir Benjamin’s face – the man was visibly fizzing with excitement. ‘Manny, tremendous job. I’ve received everything? The entire contents of George’s laptop?’
‘Yeah. This kid’s pretty good, cracked it wide open. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes I wouldn’t have believed it possible.’
‘You’re certain I’ve got everything?’
‘Absolutely. I think the kid’s a bit fucked up though. Needs a hospital.’
‘Is Sam there?’
‘No, he’s still not back. Jock’s worried.’
‘I see. In that case I need to speak to Jock.’
‘He’s here but he’s fuckin impossible to understand.’ Manny glanced across at the Scotsman who was fiddling with his lightning stick. ‘Jock, boss wants a word.’
‘Aye.’ Jock moved to the screen.
‘I take it Sam briefed you on this mission, Jock. In its entirety?’
‘Aye.’
‘Including tying up the loose ends.’
‘Aye.’
‘Splendid. Well done to you all. I’ll secure a bonus for you and Sam, Jock. Goodbye Manny.’
The screen faded as Manny turned to Jock and said, ‘Bonus? What about me? I’m the one wot got the files for him! The snotty cunt.’
The Scotsman ignored him and touched the end of his lightning generator to the T12.
‘Don’t do that, you fuckin moron! That thing’s priceless!’
The machine exploded into flame.
‘I wanted that, you stupid fuckin toss –’
Manny almost completed the insult as Jock whirled and stabbed the spiked ends into his throat.
***
‘You guys really pulled out the stops. I just want to say thanks, and congratulations. It may seem premature but the British police will be raiding the London address anytime soon, and the extraction team is on its way to the site in Thailand. It looks pretty certain our man’s there.’
The Skunkworks team stood and gave themselves a round of applause.
‘None of us have slept much. Let’s hope we’ll be able to catch up on some shuteye when our new recruit is finally working for the good guys!’ Teague smiled and joined the applause. He turned to Cody as the team drifted back to their seats aimlessly, loitering, just waiting to hear they had finally captured the genius they had been hunting for the last four days. Then a voice split the lethargic atmosphere, surprising him.
‘Yee-hah! Cody, man. Boss, sir. You will not believe this!’
Cody and Teague ambled over to the man’s monitor, nothing urgent in this, their moment of glory.
‘Is that what I think it is?’ Teague stared at the image on the screen. An FBI file labelled Operation Candyman.
‘Need to check it out but it looks genuine enough, sir.’ The man swivelled his chair and looked at his bosses.
‘How can we authenticate it if there’s nothing to check it against? Cody?’
‘Well sir,’ an analogy popped into Cody’s mind immediately, ‘it’s like a piece of a jigsaw. You’ve got say, ten thousand pieces, and one piece is missing. It still only fits in that one space.’
‘Right. So, if this file is the original, it’s like that missing piece of the jigsaw?’
‘You got it sir.’
‘There’s more boss.’ The man flipped up another thirty
-one files, similarly labelled. ‘There’s a load of other stuff, not US government files. About one-eighty gig. Image files mainly. Some systems programs for a site in Moscow. Looks like some offshore banking details too. It’s gonna take time to assess what we’ve got here.’
‘Where did it come from?’
‘Our guy in Thailand. Same location. He’s lighting up like a flare every time he sends us something. He must be there right now.’
Teague picked up the man’s phone. He didn’t care what time it was, that it was still dark outside. He wanted to tell the Director the good news.
George Simm’s missing file was back.
***
Detective Chief Inspector Robbins had worked on Operation Ore, the UK element of the paedophile operation the Americans had designated Candyman, many years previously and his old contact from the FBI called him personally.
‘Hi Robbo! We’ve got something for you. We’d like you to chase it down for us soonest if you can.’ Abe Cheyney had become a firm friend to the Flying Squad officer and, on his regular visits to the UK, they often got together for a drink.
‘I’ll do what I can. What is it Abe?’
‘We’ve tracked down a location for a suspect, believed to be holding information stolen from FBI files back when we were working together. Information on paedophiles.’
‘Yeah? Here in London?’ The Inspector’s voice tightened, he hated people who exploited and abused kids.
‘That’s right. It’s a club of some sort. The Cromwellian Club in Mayfair. You know it?’
‘I’ve heard of it. People like me don’t get invited to join. It’s very exclusive.’ He laughed, a harsh sound without a trace of levity.
‘Well, we need you to raid it. There’s someone there using a computer to download some missing confidential files from Candyman, details of people involved in kiddie porn and a whole load more. Whoever it is will probably still be there.’
‘How do you know that?’ Robbins would certainly go for it, if it was a good lead.
‘We got the same files copied through to us a few minutes ago. Well my colleagues at Langley got them. Believe me, there’s stuff here to make your toes curl. I’ll priority flash through details for you.’
‘I’ll get straight on to it, Abe. Thanks.’ Dick Robbins got his team together and briefed them. Within thirty minutes of the call the Flying Squad had a search warrant and eight armed officers arrived at the very exclusive Mayfair club.
The uniformed commissionaire looked up as they entered, and was about to protest as Robbins thrust his police identity at him.
‘You have secure computers here, linked to the internet through an anonymous virtual private network. Where?’
Robbins could see the man was not quite sure how to handle this. This sort of establishment never had trouble with the police.
The commissionaire obviously thought attack was the best form of defence.
‘This is a very select club, Inspector. I think you’ll find your Chief Superintendent is a member. Can I suggest you speak with him before you take any further action.’
Robbins slapped the search warrant on the desk. ‘This allows me to tear this place apart and I don’t give a shit if the Queen is having lunch with the Pope in there.’ He pointed to the members’ lounge as a couple of the crusty old farts looked up from their newspapers to see what the kerfuffle was all about. ‘Now answer me. WHERE ARE THEY?’
Co-operation clearly seemed the better alternative to the commissionaire now. ‘We have general wi-fi for all members of course, but we also have two totally secure fully equipped online media and video conferencing suites they can use. Only one is booked today. I’ll call through to Sir Benjamin.’ He reached for the phone but his arm was stopped in mid-air by the Inspector’s hand.
‘Don’t! Just tell me who this member is and how long he’s been using the machine.’
‘Sir Benjamin Courtney. He’s been there for a couple of hours I think. I can check.’
‘Don’t bother. Is he the only member who’s been using your private network here today?’
‘Yes.’
‘Take me to him. Now.’
***
Sir Benjamin shut off the connection and downed his drink. Things had gone rather well after all. He had quickly checked the contents of the files Johnny sent him from the T12 and he was very satisfied indeed.
He poured himself another scotch and savoured the moment. The only copies of the files were now in his possession and Jock would destroy any evidence. Manny was also being taken care of.
But best of all, he had the details of George’s Cayman Island accounts, the secret repository of his illicit profits, and Sir Benjamin had the access codes to transfer the money to his own offshore account.
This morning, when his Chairmanship was taken from him, then he had to deal with the fiasco at SimmpleTravel, including Knight’s resignation and the shares being suspended, he had resigned himself to having a very bad day with the prospect of losing millions of pounds this week. Instead he was now over eighty million up – regardless of what happened to his investment in SimmpleTravel.
A very satisfactory outcome he thought as he relaxed on the sofa, raising his glass to George Simm, his benefactor.
He mulled things over as he swirled the liquor in his glass. They have nothing on George now, the President would announce his innocence to the world and Sir Benjamin’s SimmpleTravel shares would leap back to life. He had the Palace and, with the files from Thailand, all of George’s illicit business was in his control. Perfect.
He swigged from his crystal glass, eyes closed. ‘Thanks George,’ he muttered.
Then he heard the door fly open and the commissionaire start to apologise. Sir Benjamin bellowed at him, ‘I said no interruptions, you idiot...’
He opened his eyes to see the ‘idiot’ being jostled aside by several very angry armed men, one of them flashing a police badge at him.
***
Kate was sick of waiting. She looked at her watch for the twentieth time in less than five minutes. She shook it – it can’t be right. Doug had been gone for hours.
‘Kate,’ Doug whispered in her ear.
She almost died of shock. He had crept up on her so silently, like a wraith appearing out of thin air.
‘God! Doug, you scared me. I’m already bloody terrified!’ She slapped his arm harder than she meant to, then realised it was his bandaged wound.
He didn’t even flinch, just grunted.
‘Oops! Sorry. Is Johnny here?’
‘Seems likely. There are windows to the office but I couldn’t see in too clearly. Looks like him, sitting behind a computer screen. I think he’s dozing, like you said he does – fallen asleep while working. I also reckon I could see Simm’s computer.’
‘The one you stole?’ That klaxon started up again in Kate’s mind. What was it Chief Lee had said about that? She stared at him and Doug’s face showed his concern at her tone. ‘Yeah. And if that’s here then the sleeping guy must be Johnny. There’s a door leading in to the office just round here.’ Doug pointed round the corner, back the way he had come. ‘I’ve checked out the whole site and there are only two guys with him. I’m going in. I want you to stay here. You raise the alarm if I don’t come back.’
‘No way.’ She ignored the klaxon. She had to help her brother. ‘If Johnny’s in there, I’m coming too.’
Doug’s features tightened, his mouth a rigid line. Kate really did not like the way he was looking at her. She realised then, she did not know this man at all. Her intuition, her instincts, forced the klaxon louder...
He jerked his head, concentrating and staring at the horizon. ‘Helicopter. Coming this way. It could be more bad guys. I don’t have time to argue.’
Kate listened but could not hear it. Then what she did hear was an animal screeching in rage against insufferable torture, the primal scream goose-bumped her flesh instantly.
Doug was galvanised into action. He flew roun
d the corner to the entrance and Kate sprinted behind, trying to catch him. She saw him disappear inside the door, her mind trying to blot out the animal noise still echoing around her.
It couldn’t be human. It couldn’t be Johnny.
Please God, don’t let it be Johnny.
Kate crashed through the door to the office – Johnny’s prison. She saw her brother slumped forward and coated with blood. Kate screamed as she took in the rest of the scene.
A fat man was on the floor, writhing in agony, his mouth stretched open, howling, his throat smoking and his eyes a bubbling mess on his cheeks.
Another man spouted gouts of blood over Johnny, the liquid pulsating from the severed arteries gaping in his throat.
And Doug, behind the man, grasping his victim’s forehead with his left hand, the commando knife glowing red in his other. His face that of a madman, a vile caricature of her lover.
The klaxon in Kate’s mind drowned out her screams as she finally realised who he was. She fainted.
***
Doug let Jock’s body crumple to the ground. He saw Kate collapse but tended to Johnny first – the pulse was erratic and weak and Doug knew the lad needed urgent hospital treatment.
He stepped over to Manny, who had finally gasped himself silent, hollow sockets raw and burnt from a second jab of the lightning rod into his eyes. Doug checked his pulse.
Dead.
He hurried to Kate. He held her, as the sound of the helicopter grew louder, tried to bring her round. ‘Kate!’ He gently tapped her cheeks thinking he had no way to escape, the brother and sister both unconscious, deadweight. At least the two kidnappers were down.
The windows rattled in the downdraft as the helicopter clattered into view. Doug wondered what he would do when they arrived. He couldn’t run, but couldn’t leave them at the mercy of more villains. ‘Kate?’ Her eyes rolled open.
Doug was frantic, his own eyes scanning the room for a weapon, something other than a knife to fend off the latest arrivals. Then he glanced through the window and saw the markings stencilled on the side of the helicopter as it landed.
The US Marines!
Fantastic, but how the hell did they know? Doug relaxed and said to Kate, ‘It’s okay – Johnny’s alive. The cavalry has arrived. We’re gonna be fine.’
The Hack Page 33