The Dark Web_The stunning new thriller from the author of The Angolan Clan

by Christopher Lowery

  ‘They’ve given permission for the restaurant to open again tomorrow, but it’s bound to suffer enormously from the bad publicity. Most of these independent businesses don’t have much capital in reserve and it could go under. Another unfortunate result of the incident.’

  ‘That could be a motive for a competitor, I suppose. But a bit drastic to poison someone to put your competition out of business.’

  ‘The police followed that line of enquiry too. There’s a lot of competition with the owners of the Taj Mahal, just along the street, but there again there’s no proof of anything untoward. It looks like a dead end.’

  The inquest had been held the next day, where the only witnesses were the police chief in charge of the short enquiry and Dr Alzahabi. Tom had attended on behalf of Scotty’s parents, who were too distressed to cope with the formal procedure. There had been no pre-inquest review hearing and it was clear to him that the police had given up on the investigation. They had no more time to spend on the death of a foreigner, but wanted to get the case filed away as soon as possible. Despite the obvious implication that the toxin had been deliberately administered by someone in the restaurant, the coroner returned a verdict of ‘accidental death by poisoning’. Tom conveyed the verdict to the Fitzgeralds as gently as he could, and they received the news stoically.

  ‘There’s nothing we can do,’ Scotty’s father said. ‘We’re in a foreign country where we don’t understand the procedure. And the sad fact is, our son’s gone and nothing will bring him back. Whatever happened, it’s too late to change it. We just have to try to put it behind us and go back to our life in Florida.’

  Driving back to the XPC building, Tom forced himself to put the poisoning problem out of his thoughts. He reflected again on Shen’s recent attitude. Not only had he shown little sympathy for Scotty’s death, but he immediately suggested that it wasn’t really necessary to replace him. In his opinion, Sharif could run both teams, he was more capable than the Welshman and could fulfil both roles. Daniel Oberhart could help him reorganise the work programme to compensate for Scotty’s absence. He, Shen, would work closer with the teams to ensure that Scotty wasn’t missed. He could also assist Sharif in managing the ACRE upgrade programme. ‘Problem solved,’ he told Tom confidently.

  The American immediately saw the motivation behind this suggestion, and the dangers of accepting it. Shen was a good administrative manager and his overall grasp of the programme requirements was adequate, but he wasn’t up to the complexities of the security algorithms created by Scotty, and was even less able to manage the long-term projects. In Tom’s opinion he was also lazy, preferring to attend sales and industry events and conferences rather than running his department. Although Scotty had never said anything, he was aware that several of Shen’s interventions had caused more problems than they’d resolved. And for some reason he’d always supported Sharif, even when he was wrong, and any criticism he had was reserved for Scotty. But although Sharif was good, he was only as good as the combination of him and Scotty. He was also wary of giving the Swiss SVP any increased responsibilities. He was effectively holding down three jobs and seemed to only just be coping, his recent attitude had been almost unpleasant, he was not a man who engendered affection in his employees. In his areas of responsibility, network management and support services, this was less of a problem, but programmers could be prickly and touchy and needed a lot of stroking. Oberhart was not the guy to provide that.

  No, Tom decided, I need a new team leader strong enough to resist Shen’s ambition to sidestep the structure. Or maybe we need to change our current structure altogether. He wasn’t looking forward to the future discussions, but he knew he had to be flexible. The main – only – objective, was to get the right person to replace Scotty as soon as possible. It would be nigh on impossible to find someone as good as the Welshman, but whatever transpired, he couldn’t afford to lose or alienate any other key people in the process.

  He called Nora into his office and started on his reports. The next few weeks were going to test his mettle, but he was confident he was up to the task.

  Zurich, Switzerland

  ‘The official verdict was accidental death, so don’t worry about bad publicity,’ Daniel Oberhart was speaking on the phone in Swiss German. ‘XPC won’t want to make a big thing of it and the police are obviously disinterested, so I would just forget about that problem.’

  ‘Have you talked to Connor about a replacement?’

  ‘I spoke to him this morning. He’s already looking. We’re ninety per cent away from finishing and the delivery date is end July. That’s more than four months, so if he finds someone quickly, we should be OK.’

  ‘I’ll send you files on a couple of names I’ve dug up. You might be able to point Connor in their direction.’

  ‘OK, I’ll see what I can do and get back as soon as I know anything definite.’

  ‘I’ll call Julius and try to calm him down. He’s been a bit highly strung for the last few days. Have a good evening, Daniel.’

  FIVE

  London, England

  April 2017

  ‘Oh yes, that’s good! Oh yes, darling, don’t stop!’

  Jenny Bishop was in an unusual situation. After nine years of celibacy since the death of her husband Ron, she was having wonderful sex. But that was not the most unusual aspect of the event. Jenny didn’t trust bankers or divorced men, and Bill Redman, the man she was in bed with, was both.

  Jenny was in London for a meeting with one of her business partners, and Bill had a flat in Gloucester Place, near the Hyatt Regency Churchill Hotel, and had managed to get a table for dinner at Locanda Locatelli, the hotel’s Michelin-starred Italian restaurant. She was not a regular drinker, and after sharing a fine bottle of Vino Nobile de Montepulciano, from Tuscany, Jenny accepted his invitation to go back to his flat for a nightcap and one thing had led to another.

  She was not at all unhappy at the turn of events. She hadn’t been affected by the wine as much as it seemed, and used it as an excuse to let down her guard and see what happened. And what happened was better than she had hoped for, much better. Bill was an ardent but considerate lover, more concerned with her pleasure than his own. After so many years, Jenny had forgotten what it was to drop her defences and enjoy the moment. Several moments, in fact. It seemed she was determined to make up for lost time, and the night had been one long delightful journey of discovering each other’s desires and fulfilling them. Jenny was sated, replete and happier than she could remember being for a very long time.

  She had known Bill for three years, since Patrice de Moncrieff had introduced her to Fletcher, Rice & Co, the UK subsidiary of BIP, Banque Internationale de Paris, a global financial institution. Jenny had severed her relations with their Swiss bank, Klein, Fellay, several years ago but still banked with their Spanish arm, Banco de Iberia in Marbella, where Patrice, the husband of her friend Leticia, was now branch manager. Bill Redman was a senior UK partner, and because of her long-standing relationship with BIP, he decided to give her his personal attention. Jenny was an attractive and intelligent woman and he continued as her personal advisor. The substantial funds to be handled justified his decision to the other partners. She’d since learned that he’d previously lived with his family in Bury St Edmonds, just twenty miles from her home in Ipswich. He was now involved in prolonged divorce proceedings, so he spent most of his time at his London flat. By coincidence, like many UK businessmen, he also had a house near Marbella, and they started to meet from time to time for a meal in London or Spain.

  Bill was good company, and she gradually became fond of him. He was thoughtful and funny, unlike some bankers she had met in the past, notably in Switzerland. Also, from the little he mentioned about his divorce she was convinced that he hadn’t and didn’t intend to act badly. He was principally concerned about the effect on his two children, and that was the reason the split-up was quite protracted. Jenny was wary of entering into a complicated liaison, and unt
il last night their relationship had been totally platonic. Now, she was glad she’d changed that. What’s the worst thing that can happen? she asked herself. I’m not getting any younger. I’ll make the most of it as long as it lasts.

  They both had meetings in London the next morning, so after a shower and coffee, Jenny kissed him goodbye. ‘I hope that’s the start of something and not the end,’ he said.

  ‘I hope so too,’ she replied. ‘I’ll call you when I get to Marbella. Let me know your plans.’ She went out to find a taxi, feeling quite radiant. In the cab, she felt a pang of guilt, having planned the event so carefully. But she didn’t regret it, not for a moment.

  Dubai, United Arab Emirates

  ‘Good morning, Tom. Mind if I join you, unless you’re busy?’ Daniel Oberhart put his coffee cup on the table and plonked his backside on the chair across from his CEO in the canteen.

  ‘Oh, hi Daniel. No problem, I’m just catching up on last night’s emails.’ He finished flicking through the messages on his mobile. ‘Most of them are hardly worth reading, mostly people just reminding me they exist and they’d be happy to see me sometime. I guess I haven’t had much time to socialise these last few weeks, too many problems to sort. Anything special you wanted to talk about?’ Connor looked tired, dark shadows under his eyes. He sipped his coffee, looking expectantly at the Swiss man.

  ‘I was wondering about Scotty’s replacement. No progress on the headhunting I suppose?’

  ‘Nothing worth reporting.’ He frowned. ‘Between you and me, it’s a lot more difficult than I expected. Seems like I’ve looked at a thousand job search sites and CVs and had a hundred phone interviews and I’ve got nothing to show for it. Scotty was an outstanding encryption programmer, but I didn’t think it’d be impossible to replace him. Any suggestions?’

  Oberhart shrugged. ‘I’ve had a few thoughts, but it’s not really my field.’

  ‘At this juncture, any help would be welcome. What were you thinking?’

  ‘I suppose you’ve been looking mainly in Europe?’

  ‘Seemed logical. Given our time frame, I figured that was my best option.’

  ‘I got a tip about someone who might be available quickly. Encryption specialist, like Scotty, great reputation. He’s young, very young actually, but he’s already made quite a name for himself in the industry, knows a lot about the IoT.’

  ‘But he’s not in Europe, I suppose?’

  ‘He’s English, but working in California, that’s probably why you haven’t come across him. And he’s not actively looking for a change, but I know his contract’s coming up for renewal and he’s the kind of kid who’d be attracted by a challenge like ACRE.’

  ‘You have a file on him?’

  ‘I’ll bring it up for you after I finish my coffee.’

  Tom got up to go. ‘Great, thanks Daniel, I appreciate it.’

  The CEO left him, and he called a Zurich number. ‘I’ve put Tom Connor onto your suggestion. I hope you’re right about him. We need to get this sorted fast.’

  London, England

  ‘How do you like the circulation numbers for March?’ It was eleven o’clock and Jenny was in the office of Josephine Greenwell, the founder and editor of Thinking Woman Magazine, a business in which she owned a thirty per cent share.

  ‘I think a glass of champers is called for. One hundred thousand has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?’

  ‘When I consider how long it took to get to ten thousand, it certainly does.’

  Jenny’s company, BPE, had first invested in Jo’s business two years ago, and it had been a tough struggle, requiring several additional funding rounds to get to this point. Now, not only had the January circulation finally broken through the 100,000 mark, the magazine had made an operating profit for the first time since Jo had started it four years before. There was a lot to celebrate.

  The two women had met in 2015 at a cocktail party at Bill Redman’s bank, Fletcher, Rice & Co. After inheriting a substantial fortune in 2008, due to the deaths of her husband Ron and his father Charlie Bishop at the hands of the psychopathic killer Ray d’Almeida, Jenny had led a very quiet life for the next two years. Apart from travelling occasionally between her home in the UK and the house she had inherited from Charlie in Spain, she had done nothing useful. Then, in 2010, the abduction in South Africa of her only sister Emma Stewart’s son, Leo, had galvanised her into a period of frenetic activity until he was safely returned to his mother. As harrowing as the experience had been, it had served to reunite the three remaining members of the Stewart family and strengthen the bonds between them. And in a strange way, Jenny had enjoyed the experience; being instrumental in bringing her nephew safely back from Africa had made her feel useful and needed again.

  Jenny was single and only thirty-six years old. Since Ron’s death she hadn’t had a serious relationship, and she missed having someone to share her life with. The reconciliation with her sister and nephew had helped to ease that feeling of loneliness, but it didn’t replace the pleasure of mutual companionship. I have to find something to keep myself busy, get out and meet new people, she told herself. I’m still able to make a contribution to society.

  She thought about it for a long while, considering possible options that might be available to her, trying to assess her personal qualities and defects. Strong-minded, pragmatic, not good at taking orders, creative thinker. (All useful when dealing with pathological murderers) she remembered. Numerically competent with a good education. (She had taught children with learning difficulties, and then managed her husband’s garage business.) Financially independent with no family ties. (Is that a quality or a defect?) she wondered.

  On her next trip to Marbella, Jenny confided in Leticia de Moncrieff, her close friend, co-beneficiary of Charlie Bishop’s will and mother of his son Emilio. As usual, she was impressed with the Angolan woman’s ability to lecture her in one of her adopted languages.

  ‘It’s about time you decided to do something, Jenny. You’re far too clever to spend your time travelling all over the place for no special reason. Why don’t you talk about it with Patrice when you come for dinner tonight? He’s very good at advising people about all kinds of things. I think that’s why he got promoted to manager.’

  Although she still had an apartment there, Leticia had moved out of the house she co-owned with Jenny when she married Patrice. They now lived with Emilio and their second son Joachim in a villa in Puente Romano, a luxurious urbanisation on the beachfront a few kilometres away. Jenny had never been keen on Patrice and they had a rather prickly relationship, but he had obviously been prompted by his wife before her arrival that evening and was bent on fulfilling his task to her satisfaction.

  Knowing she hated prevarication, he came straight to the point. ‘One of my jobs at the bank is to examine investment opportunities for our clients. We get a lot of would-be entrepreneurs with bright ideas, or businesses in early stages who are looking for funding to develop. A few years ago, we allocated some of Leticia’s funds into some of these opportunities and they’re doing really well.

  ‘Because of the Internet, there are more and more of these start-ups coming along. Many of them are specialised hi-tech businesses which I don’t understand, so I leave them alone. But there’s a lot of non-technical opportunities too that would have been difficult to introduce before the Internet, now they’re much easier. They use the Web to commercialise and manage them, but you don’t need to be a technical genius to analyse and assess their potential. They’re regular businesses, like online stores for retail distribution, specialised products, travel services, real estate or insurance brokerage, the kinds of goods and services that can be sold over the Internet without reinventing the wheel.

  ‘I turn away most of the requests I get because I don’t have the time to look at them, and some I just don’t want to get involved. That’s why we’ve done only eight deals in almost two years. But in France and the UK the demand is so great our banks have set up separa
te private equity divisions. Same thing in Hong Kong. I went over there to help them set up an Asian operation and it’s growing exponentially. My point is, there’s a lot of opportunity for clever people who have funds available to invest.

  ‘If you want to find a new activity and make money in the process, then think about this avenue. It’s something you can do yourself, trusting your own instincts and knowledge. You’re a smart person, Jenny, and you could do well in any kind of business, but in this way you can be involved in several businesses as an investor, with oversight, but without committing yourself full-time to any of them. I’d be happy to help you to identify opportunities and vet them before introducing you, to reduce your exposure.’ He paused, wondering what her reaction would be.

  Before she could respond, Leticia interrupted, ‘Jenny, that’s exactly what you should do, and you know it is.’

  That conversation sparked the creation, in 2014, of Bishop Private Equity Plc; BPE, a UK company that she formed when Patrice sent her a financial dossier from Accessibiliti, a struggling online business selling holiday packages: flights, hotels and rental cars. She immediately saw their problem came from poor cash management, and made them a funding proposal which they desperately needed. Patrice then introduced her to Fletcher, Rice & Co, where she met Bill Redman, who assisted her in setting up BPE and organising relations with her other banks in Marbella and Geneva. With a modest investment and some hands-on involvement, she acquired twenty-five per cent of the business and helped them to turn the corner to profitability. Since then, BPE had funded six businesses, each in a different area of activity. One of them had gone bust, due to a crooked manager who embezzled every penny he could lay his hands on, but the other five were doing well. Her most audacious choice was Lady Knick Knack, an online store selling erotic clothing and sex toys. Its headquarters were in Sunderland, which brought back fond memories, since Jenny had worked there as a teacher. Since her involvement, the company had outperformed all forecasts, and on the way won a government award for overseas sales.