The Dead Speak Ill Of The Living (The Dead Speak Paranormal Mysteries Book 1)

by Robert Wilde

  “Oh God he’s becoming a hoarder.”

  “Right, I switch this on and…the red light indicates there’s a bug nearby.”

  Dee burst into hysterics at seeing a red light. “You’ve bought a faulty bug detector!”

  “No,” Nazir said looking hurt, “look, if I follow this,” and he stood and walked, “I get to this light fitting, and the dial is going crazy, so there’s a bug.”

  “Do they do refunds?”

  “Look, if I unscrew this, yes, there, look, there’s a bug in your lamp.”

  “Okay, you win, it works.”

  They stood there, looking at each other, their faces moving from amused, through to confused, and then to horror.

  “Oh fuck,” they both said looking at the small piece of electronics in Nazir’s hand, “there’s a bug.”

  In a small bedroom located two doors away, a man took a pair of headphones off and turned to his colleague, who was hunched over a laptop. The room was hot, both were sweating, and both would have loved a few days apart from the other eating food that didn’t come out of a cellophane wrapper and drink which poured.

  “They’ve got us,” he said, not sad or angry, but frustrated, because it happened “in the most stupid way possible.”

  “We’re good,” the lady said still tapping, “people only beat us through luck.”

  “Well, they’re lucky.”

  “Luck only goes so far.”

  The man turned back to his screen, and hoped the next time he was assigned to surveillance his partner would speak in more than attempts at profound sayings and riddles. Although after this he might never be assigned surveillance again, and let’s be honest, as it was the most boring job in the world he might not be too upset. He could do something you were allowed to tell people about.

  “You best ring this through” she said.

  “Sure you don’t want to make the call?”

  “I am happy being your junior.”

  “Probably soon to be senior.”

  She laughed. “Come on, Kosar is many things, but one of them is good to his staff.”

  “Kosar is many things, and one of them is ruthless.”

  As if on cue, a mobile phone rang, and the man answered it.

  “Hello Kosar, how are you?”

  “Just ringing for an update, how is the surveillance going?”

  “There’s been a small problem sir.”

  “Which means a large one, what happened?”

  “The Syrian man is tech literate, and very, very lucky. He found our bugs. He is, at this very moment, using a detection device to sweep Nettleships' home.”

  “How has a high street detection device found our tools?” The voice was firm, level, neither angry nor surprised.

  “It’s not high street. This chap knows people. He’s bought some good stuff.”

  “I see. Which is in itself interesting. I trust you will be able to find his source so we can look at it ourselves?”

  “You’ll have to speak to the team collecting their web usage, it happened online.”

  “Indeed. A slip if they’ve omitted to mention this to me. We don’t want that, perhaps a reminder of their responsibilities is in order.”

  The man winced. What did that reminder mean?

  “What shall we do now?”

  “Pack up, be ready for your next task.”

  Kosar put the phone down and smiled. Time for a conference call.

  Nazir, Dee and Pohl spent thirty minutes walking round the house using the detector, and while they’d taken apart a lot of things which could have safely remained intact, they finally ended up with three bugs, one from the kitchen, the lounge, and one in Dee’s room, which she thought outrageous. Then they all sat around looking at them.

  “Well, I don’t think they send visuals.”

  Dee looked at Nazir, “what makes you say that?”

  “I don’t think there’s a lens here, it looks all aural.”

  “So someone was listening in.”

  “Yes. Although the signal can’t have gone far, whoever was listening must be close…” and Nazir turned to stare through a wall.

  “What?” Dee asked.

  “I wonder if there’s something dodgy about your wireless hub or your router, it could be sending data back to anywhere.”

  “Wouldn’t the bug thingy detect it?”

  “I don’t think it would. Shit. I’m totally out of my depth here.”

  It was clear to Dee what was going on. “Well one thing’s for sure, we know what they’re after.”

  Pohl sat down with a fresh coffee and said “you think they want the machine?”

  “As much as I’d like to flatter myself and think someone went this trouble to hear me wanking,” and for a second Dee wondered if Joe could have done this, then buried the thought ashamed, “they have to be after the machine. Have to be. It’s the only thing of value we have.”

  “Unless we’re the crux of about eight murder investigations.”

  “Shit, Pohl, you’re right, law might be on to us.”

  “How do we proceed?” Pohl asked.

  “Well professor,” and Nazir had a plan, “first thing to do is to check everyone else’s houses. We’ll try mine first.”

  “Why yours?”

  “Because I live there.”

  “You go, I need to make a phone call.” All eyes were now on Dee. “It’ll help, I’ll ring Maquire and flat out ask him. He’d tell me.”

  “He would?” Nazir said raising an eyebrow. She was fairly certain he would.

  “Yes. Text me when you have results.”

  “I suppose we should have deactivated the bugs somehow,” Nazir said ruefully. “Still too new at this.”

  “They went straight to Nazir’s house, past every drive-through and coffee vendor, and scanned his flat in twenty careful minutes.

  “Nothing,” Nazir smiled, “they’re not interested in me!”

  Next was Joe’s, and they knocked on his door and answered it looking shifty.

  “What is it?” Joe asked.

  “You are not going to believe this,” and Nazir said it all as they went inside.

  “Shouldn’t we be careful what we say while you scan?” the host asked.

  “Bit late for that, shit, you’ve got one.” They found two bugs, one in the lounge and one in the bedroom.

  “And we’re sure they’re really bugs?”

  “Joe, things like this don’t form out of thin air. This isn’t dust. This is the time to be paranoid.”

  “In that case, fuck.”

  “Right, let’s take this haul back to Dee and host a council of war.”

  “Good idea,” Joe said, “I’ve got a plan.”

  Dee sat in her comfiest chair, laptop on her, well, lap, and a stiff drink to the side of her. She liked Maquire, she did, and she wasn’t sure asking him if his employers were spying on her might be difficult. So she had a swig of vodka and orange, thought briefly that the people who’d hidden these bugs might arrive angry, ignored that and pressed the number. The phone rang for ten seconds, Dee considered putting it down, and then a harassed voice said “Hello, this is Maquire.”

  “Hi, it’s Dee.”

  “Ah, hello,” and he sounded so happy, “how was Italy?”

  “You’ll have to come round and we’ll show you our photos.”

  “Haha, oh, you’re being serious.”

  “Some of this group are deadly serious about their holiday snaps.”

  “Well I’d love to come round, what sort of date did you have in mind? Actually, I’m busy at the moment, I’ll get back to you on that.”

  “I sort of need a five minute chat.”

  “Sort of?”

  “Urgent.”

  “I thought so,” and there was the sound of a man sitting on an office chair that should have been replaced long ago. “What is it?”

  She swallowed, breathed in, and asked “Are you bugging us?”

  “Sorry?”
r />   “Bugging us. Listening in.”

  “No!” he said terribly hurt, but this was soon replaced with curiosity. “What makes you think I’m bugging you?”

  “Nazir found bugs in my house. Three of them, I’ve just sent you pictures to your personal email.”

  There was tapping on a keyboard, and then Maquire said “I’ve got them, opening, and I see them. I see…shit they do look bug like.”

  “Police?”

  “Nope, unless it’s something I’ve never seen, and I try to be up on everything we do, that is nothing we use.”

  “Thanks, I thought so…”

  “Really?”

  She didn’t like the hurt in his voice. “Really. But I have to ask, because we do break the law, and the police seemed most likely.”

  “So if it’s not us…”

  “Exactly.”

  “Industrial espionage or government?”

  “That I don’t know. At least the government has rules.”

  “Dee,” and Maquire became very serious, “the government do not have rules. Remember that. Do not expect a fair fight.”

  “Let’s hope it’s another pissed off batch of scientists then.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “In a bucket of water.”

  “Yeah, that should do it. Shit, any idea how long they’ve been there?”

  “None. None at all. Nazir is checking his and Joe’s, but they must be after the machine. So a few months.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out,” Maquire said, desperately thinking of anyone he could call, “but I have no links.” He didn’t want to say it, but he suddenly felt helpless, at the same time as feeling he should be a white knight to go and save Dee. “Do you want me to come over?”

  “No, not yet, well, for the meal and a chat, but I have a plan.”

  “Try not to kill anyone.”

  “I have servants to do that sort of thing for me.”

  It didn’t take Kosar long to organise a conference call, because people tended to pay attention to his demands, and soon everyone interested in the project was listening. Some of them were senior, some of them were junior, many of them weren’t in the hierarchy, all of them listened to this man.

  Leaning back in a budget chair, looking round his small office, Kosar knew he could have moved into something larger elsewhere in the building, with fancy equipment and a secretary if he wanted. The backers would have paid up, the expenses would be paid off by the government. It wasn’t as if the project was short of funds, certainly not once the new avenue had opened up. Speaking of which, back to work. He summoned the facts in his head and began.

  “Thank you for being here today ladies and gentlemen, and at such short notice.” He expected nothing less. “I bring you news today. There have been developments.”

  “Positive I hope?” came a voice, which the others thought was being rather daring.

  “Anything can be turned positive,” Kosar grinned. He’d inherited this project because of just such an attitude. “As you know, we have been bugging the Nettleship and le Tissier households, as well as the office of Detective Constable Maquire for more information on the claims. I’m afraid most of these bugs have been discovered due to the winds of fortune.”

  “Shit,” said a voice from the box on the desk.

  “Do not worry, we have reached the point where the bugging is no longer necessary.”

  “But a discovery could be embarrassing.” The voice was on the verge of naked panic.

  “These are not the sort of people to go to the press, and we control the police. There will be no embarrassment.” He said it in such a tone that the asker recoiled.

  “We’ve reached a point?” said a hopeful voice.

  “Yes, most definitely. I am happy to conclude, from all the data we have, from pulling all the surveillance together, that this group of people really do have a device that allows them to speak to the dead.”

  Sharp intakes of breath all round. “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “It can’t be.”

  “Positive.” He could do this all day if he had to.

  “And you can prove this?” Not a challenge, more disbelief.

  “To my satisfaction, yes. To yours, well, that will require the next step. We will acquire the machine, and we will find out how it works. And then we will provide you with all the data and plans you could want.” The project would finally produce. He would be king.

  “A shame they don’t have the plans for their machine which we could take instead.”

  Kosar raised an eyebrow. “I hope no one is getting worried about the sharp end of national security.”

  “Not at all,” came the defensive reply.

  “Good. The machine itself and the scientist behind it will provide us with everything we need, providing we are firm and stay the course.” Everyone knew what that really meant.

  Dee opened the door to find Nazir there, waving two bugs in the air at her.

  “Yours or his?” she asked.

  “His, I was clear.”

  “Stop making it sounds like an STD test.”

  “Never had one of those…”

  “Come in and stick them in the bucket of water.” A pair of plops later, and the bugs were submerged.

  “Do you think that’ll work?” Joe said peering in.

  “You build machines, do you think it’ll work?” Dee replied.

  “Oh yes.”

  “Good. All this talk of bugs is making me itchy.”

  “Now who sounds like an STD test?”

  “Shut it.”

  Nazir didn’t. “Did you speak to Maquire?”

  “Yes, I did, and it isn’t the police.”

  “That’s almost a shame,” Pohl commented, “because the alternatives aren’t very good.”

  “I have a plan,” Joe explained.

  “As do I, but let’s hear yours first,” and Dee graciously cleared the floor.

  “We should ring Peters. He gave us an emergency number should the Belgians come looking again, so we report this to him. Or find out if it is him.”

  “Excellent idea,” Pohl added. “What was your plan Dee?”

  “That was my plan.”

  “Great minds think alike!” Joe exclaimed.

  “Fools seldom differ,” Dee said, pulling her phone out. “I think this calls for speaker phone.”

  Soon all four were sat around the kitchen table, fresh coffee served, and Dee’s phone was in the middle; her laptop was sat near her.

  “Hello, this is Peter's,” came a calm voice.

  “Peters, this is Dulcimer Nettleship.”

  “Ah, Miss Nettleship, how are you?”

  “Concerned.”

  “I see,” and he remained calm, “are there Belgians in the area?”

  “We don’t know, but we’re being bugged.”

  “Bugged, I see,” and he didn’t change his tone at all, “what makes you think this?”

  “The five bugs we found at two of our houses. Can I send you a picture of them?”

  “Certainly,” and an email address was given. “You’ve not spotted anyone watching you?”

  “No, but we weren’t looking.”

  “I see, well your email is here, so let me look… ah.” Now, finally, there was an air of worry in his voice.

  “What does ah mean?” Nazir asked.

  “I recognised these bugs. They’re not Belgian. They’re MI5, you’re being bugged by us.”

  “That’s not good,” Joe said shrinking back.

  “Why are you bugging us?” Dee asked accusingly.

  “Please, don’t get me wrong, I or my team are not personally bugging you, but someone else in MI5 is.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. This is the situation: MI5 is cellular, with lots of different teams pursuing goals tied together by superiors. And my team, working on the computer you found, is hidden and secret from others, and amongst those others is someo
ne investigating you.”

  “Shit,” Dee exclaimed. “So what do we do?”

  “I’m unsure. I can try my best to penetrate into this, but I am by no means guaranteed to find a result. I could claim my assets are being harassed by another unit and try that, but I am in a very secretive unit myself.

  “I understand,” and Dee looked at the group. They all looked scared. There was some gentle chat, and Peters went.

  “Well that’s a worst case scenario,” Nazir said as he leaned back.

  “It might not be,” Joe tried.

  “No? There’s a branch of MI5 spying on us. MI5 aren’t very keen on brown people breaking the law.”

  “Ah, but really we’re involved with two branches of MI5. We’re involved in a friendly unit who we helped, and now this other unit, who we can assume are hostile.”

  Dee pulled a face. “I’m not sure being in the middle of a tug of war between MI5 units is really anything other than a worst case scenario.”

  “It is an other,” and Pohl looked grim, “because the worst case is a civil war.”

  Joe left Dee’s house planning to cram his planned day’s activities into just a few afternoon hours, because everyone was meeting back up for pasta that evening. Homemade, because the group enjoyed cooking for each other and weren’t sure they should start spending their windfall on trips to restaurants just yet. This meant he had to get home, take a shower, get…

  He didn’t see the van driving down the street before him, and didn’t hear it break next to him perfectly, with no squeal. He was in his own head, so when two pairs of strong hands took each of his arms, almost physically picked up him, and carried him quickly into the now open doors of the van he couldn’t react. By the time his mind had realised and sent a command to his nerves he was blind because a bag had been pulled over his head, he felt a hard metal floor beneath his prostrate body, and his hands were wrenched behind his bag and secured with plastic ties. This took just seconds, and the van was driving off at a speed that wouldn’t raise attention.

  No one saw, no one knew.

  Joe felt a wave of panic coming towards him at speed, but knew if he lost his mind and control of his bowels he’d lose his edge, such as it was, so he fought back, fought hard, and managed to get in control of a breathing made harder by the bag. After a few minutes Joe was pulled up and deliberately sat in a corner, and he began to experience a new feeling, a coldness, a calmness. It was obvious why he’d been taken: the machine. They had it, taken along with him, but they needed him to work it, or explain it. So they weren’t going to kill him and dump him in a ditch, there would be a future to work on.