by J. D. Weston
The four of them sat in the mess room which was around thirty feet long. One end had been arranged as a lounge with two dark-coloured, two-seater sofas, and a large TV on the wall. The end near the door had a dining table which doubled as a meeting table, with two large whiteboards hung on the wall behind the table. It was an efficient use of the space.
Reg sat on a sofa with his feet on the coffee table in front of the TV, which was turned off. Denver perched on the arm of a sofa while still wiping his hands with the rag. Melody stood near the coffee machine waiting for it to finish filling the pot. Harvey sat at the table. He didn't lean back, or forwards. He didn't make himself comfortable. He just sat upright and waited.
Frank walked into the room.
"Ah, we're all here, good," he began. Frank placed his files on the table and picked up a whiteboard marker, "We have a development in the human trafficking case."
The four all knew of the case and didn't react. Dead hookers turned up all the time, but the team had received other intelligence. Not only were girls being brought into the country to serve as hookers, but a certain gang were bringing them in and offering wealthy men the opportunity to torture, rape, hurt, and kill the woman in exchange for vast sums of money. Oscar Shaw had been one of those men.
"Reg, I believe you have the number of a possible lead? I want to know who the number belongs to, and frequent numbers called and received."
“I can give you a location of the phone, plus SMS details and any email or service accounts that are associated with the phone.”
"Perfect. Let’s get as much as we can. Melody, please work with Reg to build up a profile. Once you have the name, I want his history and any information we can get on him, known associates, previous records, anything."
"It's probably a burner, sir," said Melody.
"Anything you can find."
"Denver, how's the fleet? We need to be in a position to move at a moment’s notice."
"The fleet is good, sir. The Audi is brand new, and I've just replaced the exhaust and suspension on the VW. New wheels should be arriving any day now."
“How about inside?”
“Why don't I show you, I’m rather proud of it.”
“Okay, I’ll take a look when I come down.” Frank smiled briefly. He knew that whatever Denver had done to the van would be impeccably over and above the team’s requirements.
“Mills, as soon as Reg has a fix on the location of that phone, I need a recce. I need to see numbers, who’s going in, who’s coming out and who’s not coming out.”
“No problem, sir.”
“Stone, work with Mills, you’re going to need a way in. No drama, I need video feeds set up for Reg so we can take this down. We are not looking to take them all out. We need arrests not toe tags.”
Harvey didn't respond.
"Right, get to it," finished Frank.
Melody left the room first, she was eager to get started on the surveillance equipment. Denver followed, eager to complete the oil change on the VW.
Reg followed and went directly to his desk. He used the virtual KVM switch and rotated the order of the screens. His security test was shifted to a higher screen, and an empty window was dragged into the central screen in front of him.
Harvey left the room last and walked back down the steps and past Reg.
“Got ya,” Reg said to himself. Harvey stood behind him and watched him work. He saw the interface of Shaw’s phone on Reg’s centre screen.
“The number was in his messages, he said he didn't save it as a contact,” said Harvey.
"Okay, so here's his messages. What's this one?" Reg opened a message from an unidentified number. The message read 'Thank you for last night, let's do it again sometime x.' "I'm guessing neither of the dead hookers sent him that."
“They’re not dead hookers, Reg. They’re the victims here, remember,” Melody chimed in, defending Camp Female.
“Yep, right. Not hookers. Victims. Got ya.” His eyes were blazing over the screen, he zipped in and out of messages and opened and closed threads, until, "Bingo." Reg switched the window to his left-hand screen and opened a new window on the centre screen. He typed a command, and a small program opened up with a search box in the top right corner. Reading the number from the phone, he typed it into the search box and hit enter.
The program ran some checks, and a progress bar showed up below the search. He sat back and breathed out sharply as if his work had been on a timer and he just beat the clock.
The search results began to show.
"Okay. The phone's last known location was here," Reg pointed and copied the GPS coordinates into the satellite imagery program, then dragged that into the right-hand screen in the centre row. He let the image render and turned his attention back to the phone.
"Okay, the last known callers are here, incoming up top, outgoing down below." He dragged the tab off to the screen next to the satellite imagery.
"Next, we have messages." Reg hummed a few bars of some indistinguishable tune, "Okay, let’s put these here." He dragged the messages window next to the window with the callers.
“Now for the fun part.”
"We have wildly different definitions of fun," said Harvey.
"That's why I'm the master technologist, sitting behind an array of hardware performing all manner of incredible things, and you're..."
“I’m Harvey Stone.”
“That’s right, Harvey. What is it you do for fun again?”
“That’s a truth you’re not ready for.”
“Right.” Reg sensed he had stepped too far.
“So?”
“So what?”
“So what’s the fun part?”
“Ah, yeah, we know where he was last, we know who he’s spoken to, and we know who’s been messaging him. Now to find out who he is.”
"This is the part where he finds out it’s a burner," called Melody from across the room, "he won't be able to trace the owner.
“Ah, damn it.”
“It’s a burner?” asked Harvey.
“Yeah, untraceable.”
“What about the numbers?”
"That's all we have to go on. Let’s make it work."
“So you can search each number that the phone has been in contact with and come up with a list of names and locations?”
“Yeah, as long as they aren’t burners too.”
"Can you put a list of names together with a map of the owners’ addresses or last known locations? We might be able to find a common denominator. Use that map as the central point and place the…"
“Customers?”
“Customers around that location. We’ll build a web.”
Melody had walked behind them both and was looking at the collation of the data.
“That’s a great idea,” she said.
Harvey turned but didn't reply. He acknowledged her comment with the slightest of nods and turned back to the screens.
The satellite image showing the phone's location had finished rendering. The image showed a spot in the Essex suburbs outside East London. Reg zoomed into the location and found a small cluster of buildings off Pudding Lane near Hainault.
“Essex countryside, Reg. It’s rife with crime.”
"Apparently so," replied Reg. They were referring to the bust that had landed Frank and his team with the new dark ops unit. It had happened at Harvey's foster father's converted farmhouse, which was also in the Essex countryside. Harvey had tortured and killed Sergio, and had left a wanted sex offender and twelve missing Heckler and Koch MP-5 sub-machine guns for the police to find.
“Okay we have a location, Melody,” said Reg.
"Send it through to me," she said, walking back to her desk.
"On its way, now let’s put some faces to some numbers."
"Last caller was one Mr Shaw, would you believe it? Next, we have a Barnaby Brayethwait, cool name."
“Can we run a match on any common numbers between them?”
"That's happening as we speak. Right, next we have a Mr Cartwright, Donald."
Harvey was looking at the profile of Barnaby Brayethwait on the left-hand screen when the name registered.
“Stop.”
“What’s up?” asked Reg.
"That last name."
Reg read it off the screen again, "Mr Cartwright, Donald."
"Find me the location of that number."
“Well yeah I can do, but I’m building a database here, as soon as we’ve been-”
“Stop the database, find me the location of that number.”
Melody heard the tension and rose from her desk. She began to walk over. Harvey stepped across to his bike and pulled his leather jacket from the handlebars.
The satellite image began to render as Harvey walked back to Reg.
“What’s happening here?” asked Melody.
“How recent is this location?” asked Harvey pulling his helmet on and ignoring Melody.
“It’s live, he’s there now.”
The image showed the exact same location as the burner.
“Harvey?” asked Melody.
He swung his leg over his bike then turned to her. "There's something I need to do," he said as he turned the key in the ignition and nodded at Reg to open the doors.
4
The One That Got Away
Harvey felt the constant vibration of his phone in his inside jacket pocket during the thirty-minute ride to the spot where the satellite image had shown Donny to have been. Harvey pulled into the car park of a nearby pub called the Maypole to stop and deal with the team. He wanted an update from Reg anyway.
He called Reg's phone.
“You alone?” he asked as soon as Reg answered.
"The whole team is here, you're on loudspeaker," Reg replied.
“Donald Cartwright, what’s his location?”
"It's not as easy as that, Stone." It was Carver. "You don't get to run free and take care of your own personal projects, especially when they compromise the entire case."
They was a long silence, then, “I need to do this,” said Harvey.
"You're either with us or against us, Stone. There is no half-way point."
Harvey didn’t reply.
“You come back now and we can work this case together, you might even help us arrest your brother.”
“Foster brother.”
“Well, like I said. If you choose to go your own way, you’ll be on the ten most wanted list in under an hour, and every cop in the country will be onto you. I can’t have rogue agents, Stone. I can’t just watch you go after a known suspect. We need the man behind the operation, the source, and that isn’t Donny.”
Harvey didn’t reply.
"Harvey, what d'ya say? Come on back, and let's do this together. We want you in this team."
“I can’t. I need to do this.”
Harvey disconnected the call and pocketed the phone. He pulled his helmet back on, then turned right out of the car park. He took the turn into Pudding Lane three hundred yards later and rode slowly along the quiet, narrow road. Harvey knew the lane well and knew the group of buildings he had seen on the satellite image. The area used to be a large farm which had been divided into smaller plots and bought out. The buildings had been converted into small business units over the years and were now independent of the farmland that surrounded them. Harvey took a slow ride and approached the long driveway.
He had no intention of entering the property but instead wanted to get a lay of the land. He needed somewhere close by so he could park up and wait for Donny. The buildings were four hundred yards away. He could see a few cars parked outside them. One of them, in particular, caught his attention. It looked like a black Mercedes. Donny had had a black Mercedes before. Back when they were brothers, back when Julios was alive. He rode on slowly and found a turn off that led nowhere, it was two hundred metres past the entrance to the old farm on the opposite side of Pudding Lane. He pulled in and turned off his engine, then removed his helmet and considered the move he'd just made.
He was torn. Part of him had enjoyed working with Frank and the team. It was structured and organised and played to Harvey's methodology. A large part of him had, however, longed for freedom. He’d never actually got to enjoy the place he'd bought in France, Frank had caught up with him within a week and laid the options on the table. Go to work for him and put his skills to good use, or go to prison for a very long time.
Harvey had spent his entire life doing two things. Working for his criminal foster father, John Cartwright, and hunting the man that had raped and killed his sister. Donny Cartwright.
Donny was now less than a mile away. He could just walk in there and wring his neck but knew that Reg and the team would be tracking him, watching his every move. He would be taken down before he could get away. Besides, the death would be too quick, the scenario left no room for suffering, and Donny needed to suffer. No, it was best to just follow Donny to see where he lived and what his habits were; take the fight away from the scene. Patience and planning.
Donny would be treated the same way as Harvey's targets had been; using Julios' methods. Harvey knew that they were the key to success. During the years he had been hunting for Sergio, Harvey had honed his hunting skills on known predators. The media always announced them one way or another. Harvey had cleansed the world of thirty-three sex offenders. The number would have been thirty-four, but he'd donated the last one to the law when he made his escape to France. Frank had claimed that victory when he'd walked in and found the boiled remains of Sergio along with a recorded audio confession from them both.
The black Mercedes cruised passed the turnout where Harvey was parked. Harvey pulled his helmet on, started the bike and pulled to the end of the road. A silver Nissan SUV was directly behind Donny, which worked in Harvey’s favour as Donny would recognise the bike and the rider in his mirror.
He followed the cars at a distance for fifteen minutes then, when Donny turned into an underground car park of a swanky looking apartment block, Harvey prepared to carry on straight without stopping, but the Nissan pulled into the car park behind the Mercedes. They were together. Harvey rode on.
Stopping at a petrol station, he ordered a salt beef and mustard bagel from the sandwich counter inside. It was more to pass the time than to quench any grumblings of his stomach, and Harvey didn't know when he would next eat.
Harvey gave Donny and his accomplice time to settle in while he developed a plan in his head. The best plans were developed in his head over time, which he was rapidly running out of.
His bike was recognisable to Donny; he needed something he could get closer with. The team's Audi would have been ideal.
He was sat in a side street, hidden from passing cars while he ate with his helmet off. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he ran a search for Barnaby Brayethwait. Harvey preferred to use a secure VPN when performing searches on targets, but needs must.
There were a surprising amount of Barnaby Brayethwaits. According to the search engine, one was a plumber in Manchester, another a musician, and then he found the man he was looking for. Barnaby Brayethwait was a local Labour MP. He looked to be mid-fifties, slightly overweight, with a full head of thick grey hair and a false smile. He was definitely a politician.
Harvey thought about finding him. He no longer had the luxury of time, a laptop and Reg's resources. Running a search for Brayethwait’s name and address would leave a direct trail to Harvey’s phone, which was linked to the unit and would compromise the team. He hated that he thought that way. Was he turning?
Instead, he searched for the Chigwell Labour office and found the jurisdiction fell under Redbridge. The website pointed him to Epping, where the office was based. He made a mental note of the address and shut down the search.
It was getting late, the office would be closed, and Harvey needed to think. He found an Airbnb nearby and got his head down. It wasn't ideal, and the lady was slightly put off when she showed him
the room and he closed the door on her without so much as a thanks. He showered in the en-suite and lay on the cool sheets. His Sig lay next to him on the bed. His clothes were neatly piled on a chair and his leather jacket hung on the back. He stared at the ceiling, planning.
Frank had finished the briefing and returned to his office to mull over the potential flaws in the plan. He often did this while the team carried out research and prepared, and created a list of potentials that would question the integrity of the plan they devised.
He heard the shutter doors open and Harvey's bike start, so he rose and went to stand at the handrail.
Harvey was sitting on his bike. Melody stood nervously watching him, and Reg reluctantly opened the doors. There was a tension in the room. He was about to call out when Harvey revved the engine and rode out of the unit.
Reg closed the doors behind him.
"What just happened?" Frank asked.
Melody turned in surprise and looked up at him, “Harvey, sir. He just left.”
“Yeah I saw that, but why? Where’s he going? What’s going on?”
Reg Tenant sat back in his chair and began to pull up LUCY on the central screen. LUCY was Reg's own creation. It was a combined hardware and software solution that, among other functions, monitored the satellite & GPS tags that he had planted on all of the team. They all knew about the chips in the vehicles and phones, except Harvey, it was a security protocol Frank has instructed Reg to carry out in case Harvey disappeared.
Reg had built and developed LUCY himself. The system was an extremely powerful software and hardware solution that, officially, stood for Location and Unilateral Communication Interface, or LUCI. However, Reg preferred the unofficial name of Lets Us Catch You, so she had been christened LUCY and, in Reg's eyes, had a full personality.
As far as hardware, LUCY was a combination of four servers, one master and three slaves. Each server contained twenty-four multi-core processors plus one hundred and twenty-eight gigabytes of memory.
LUCY's interface ran on a virtual operating system so that if ever the system crashed, a new instance would fire up on a slave server to ensure continuity and zero downtime.
