Digital Circumstances

by BRM Stewart

  They both took a good mouthful from their respective drinks, eyes screwed up against the glare of the sun and its reflection from the sea.

  Grosvenor smiled. ‘Lord save me from criminals who don’t know anything. Ken Talbot. You can’t remember working for B&D Software Solutions in Glasgow? You were practically in charge.’ And he turned to look straight at Colin, who tried to hold his gaze. ‘You set up the cybercrime, Colin. You found the hackers. Then, four years ago, you skipped town and came out here, leaving Sandy Lomond and Martin McGregor to work that side of the business, following the instructions you’d left them. You can’t have forgotten all of that, Colin, surely.’

  Colin finished his drink in two long gulps. He’d had the occasional nightmare about something like this happening. It would have to be the FBI: they were the ones hunting cybercriminals across the world – not for any altruistic reasons, but because criminal forces could be aligned to attack US institutions, backed by foreign governments; China was the current bogey. He’d thought it would be an eager, clean-cut young agent in a suit, not a hairy old man in a lumberjack shirt and jeans, overheating in the sun. He’s had the nightmares, and some nights in the early hours, he’d rehearsed what he would say, how he would try to bargain his way out – because there would be no denial. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Are you bored here, Colin? It’s sunny and all, and the restaurants look real nice, but don’t you miss the thrills, the excitement?’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Or are you still operating? Do you still have the contacts – Gregorius? How about Charlene? You two still in touch? And how’s your money holding out?’

  Colin frowned, an icy chill inside him.

  ‘How did you get clean away from Talbot and Lomond? Why were they so happy to let you go?’

  All Colin could do was frown and swallow. He saw the waiter looking across, and nodded.

  ‘The way I read the timing, Charlene appeared about a year before you disappeared. You knew about her, and you knew what Sandy Lomond set up: her name all over the documentation, ‘Charlie Talbot’, replacing her poor dead father. You planned to get out all along, didn’t you, Colin – once you’d gathered enough money?’

  Fresh drinks clunked onto the table. Colin’s empty glass was taken away and he grabbed the new one, gulping at it.

  ‘But Charlene was just the little extra insurance you wanted to keep Sandy Lomond and Ken Talbot from trying to track you down – along with what you knew about their operations. So they let you go clear, but not Martin McGregor. They needed him to carry on your cybercrime work. So he had to stay. Is that all correct, Colin? Am I pretty much there?’ Grosvenor sat back, looking at the beach. ‘Hell, it don’t matter, Colin. A working theory is good enough for me. I don’t need to prove anything in a court of law.’

  Colin swallowed. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I tell you what I ain’t gonna do. I ain’t dragging you across the border into Gibraltar and then over to England, and then to the States. I could do that, make no mistake: I have enough circumstantial evidence to convince my boss that you could give us invaluable intelligence on international cybercrime, and that you have possible links to international cyber terrorism which forms a clear threat to the US, which enables me to lock you up till I get a chance to interrogate you properly – and that could take years, Colin.’ He took a breath. ‘No, I’m not going to do that.’

  There was a pause. They listened to the shouts of the volleyball players on the beach, and a radio somewhere close by, the gentle surf lapping the sand.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Colin didn’t attempt any bravado.

  ‘I’d like you to work for us, Colin. I’d like you to keep your contact with Gregorius – we’d like to find out more about him.’

  ‘I don’t know who he is,’ Colin said, the words tumbling out in a rush. ‘I can’t contact him directly. We haven’t been in touch since I left Glasgow. You’ve got to believe me. I started up with some guys, and they knew about Gregorius – they said that was how we could sell on the stuff we were getting from the computers. But I don’t know who he or they are. I can’t contact them.’

  ‘But he can contact you.’ Grosvenor raised his eyebrows to show this was a question, and Colin looked down, affirming. ‘Does Gregorius even know that Martin McGregor has taken over?’

  Colin nodded and closed his eyes. ‘He does now. He phoned the other day.’

  Grosvenor finished his first whisky and reached for the second. He was now sure why the DDoS attack had been called off: Gregorius had spoken to Colin, and Colin had told him that Martin was genuine.

  ‘What’s happening in Glasgow?’ Colin asked. ‘How is Martin?’

  ‘Martin’s just fine. He’s carrying on with business as before.’ Colin gave him a look and Grosvenor smiled: ‘And probably best if you don’t ask any more questions about B&D. That’s all you need to know: Martin is back at his desk doing what you left him doing four years ago.’

  Colin nodded. ‘So what about me?’ He checked his watch – but Elaine wasn’t due back from her shopping trip for ages yet, and she would be going back to the flat before coming here for lunch.

  ‘There is a company called Online Business-Lösungen, which is currently seeking investors. I’d like you to buy in and start working with them. It’s a very similar operation to B&D. You’ll know how it works. We’ll get you a couple of hackers to do the business, and then Gregorius will come calling, because he’ll know what you’re doing. He’s bound to be keeping tabs on you.’

  Colin frowned. There was almost too much to take in. ‘That sounds German.’

  ‘Yeah, well, being in Berlin it would.’

  ‘Berlin? I can’t go to Berlin. Why Berlin?’

  ‘Berlin’s ideally placed: it’s economically vibrant but has enough links to Eastern Europe to make it interesting. And you wouldn’t want to be crapping on your own doorstep here in Spain.’

  ‘Berlin?’

  ‘There are three flights a day from Berlin to Malaga. Only takes an hour and a half. You can still have your good life here with your girlfriend, Colin, but you’ll be working your Berlin clients through Gregorius. Like you did before in Glasgow.’

  ‘How does that help you, though?’

  ‘We’ll monitor the activity. We’ll track data through – card numbers, bank accounts. We’ll pick some up down the line and track them back. We’ll build up a picture of the networks.’

  ‘And what will you do when you’ve built up ‘a picture’?’

  Grosvenor sipped his whisky, and then held it up to admire the sunshine glinting through the liquid. ‘We have options. And you have options too, Colin. The high life in Berlin and long weekends here, or a lonely cell in a Federal Correctional Institution, probably in New York but it really doesn’t matter where it is for all you’ll see of the world outside the gates.’

  ‘Did Martin McGregor tell you where I was?’

  Grosvenor gave a short laugh. ‘Not directly. We found a number on Martin’s cell against the name Fred Bloggs. Spanish country code, registered to Telefonica – wasn’t hard to work out it was probably you and track you down. So, Colin, do we have a deal?’

  Colin Strachan swallowed again, feeling the weight of his mobile phone in his pocket, the impact of the gesture he’d made, leaving a contact route open in case he could make things right with Martin in return for conning the guy and dragging him into his world. He thought about what Grosvenor had said. He sipped his drink, and after a time he asked: ‘Do I have a choice about this?’

  Grosvenor grimaced. ‘Everyone’s got a choice, Colin. You had choices all through your life, and the choices you made have brought you to this moment. This is the big one.’

  Chapter 34

  New York, a month later

  Mark Grosvenor had taken the packed A train from his home in Brooklyn, got off at Fulton Street and walked up through the cool, damp day along the narrow Nassau Street into the wider, tree
-lined streets of the financial district, towards Federal Plaza. He carried his briefcase and wore his black greatcoat, open and flapping in the breeze. Here and there were traces of the fierce storms that had whipped through the city in preceding weeks. He could feel his limp was bad, not a good sign for the coming winter. His unemployed son, his grandson, and now pregnant daughter-in-law were still living with him, and this was not good either.

  He made his way up to the 23rd floor, and along to the small conference room. Kurt Jackson was already there at the top of the table, with Maxwell Stuart beside him, fiddling with his laptop.

  Grosvenor shuffled off his coat and got himself some coffee, and sat on Jackson’s other side. Stuart closed the lid on his laptop.

  ‘So,’ Jackson said. ‘Over to you Mark. Sum it all up for us. Where are we?’

  Grosvenor blew across his cup and cautiously sipped the coffee. ‘We have Martin McGregor at work in Glasgow, continuing what he did before. Steve Roberts has a link through to him and his computer; he’s monitoring the data going in and out from B&D. Early days, but we’ve already identified a couple of credit cards coming up for sale at the Odessa conference that originated from a customer in a wine store in Glasgow where B&D installed the computer system. It’s promising. Slow, painstaking stuff, but promising.’

  ‘It’s a real breakthrough,’ Stuart murmured.

  ‘Max will be case officer for the B&D operation. I assume it’s totally sandboxed?’ asked Jackson.

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘And McGregor’s not going to be a problem?’

  Grosvenor raised an eyebrow. ‘I think he’s still a mite scared because of what happened with the Romanian gangsters. He sees us as his protector – the Glasgow gangsters aren’t a threat, and the Scottish police are onside, but the Romanians are his worry. McGregor’s also afraid that we could drag him over here to face terrorism charges any time we wanted.’ He sniffed. ‘Which is true. He’ll keep straight with us – he’s doing well out of this, his private life is going well. He’ll be fine for the foreseeable future.’

  Jackson waved a hand. ‘Right. That in itself justifies your approach – well done.’ He gave no sign of that that he remembered the long argument with Grosvenor, when Jackson had wanted to follow the official line and arrest everyone in sight, sceptical that Grosvenor’s plan could possibly work. ‘What about the rest? The woman Charlene. What’s the story there?’

  ‘Charlene’s continued working with the Romanian Gheorghe, but she’s on our side.’ Though he shrugged, as if unsure of what he’d said. ‘She’s using me as case officer for the moment, keeping me informed, but we need to hand that over to someone full time. She’s persuaded them to leave McGregor alone – she got them to call off the beating. But they may change their minds later, of course.’

  ‘Max? Could you run Charlene?’

  Stuart cleared his throat and sat more upright. ‘Surely. Might be useful to keep it all together, but equally it could be dangerous – too much with one person. Maybe better to split them.’

  Jackson nodded. ‘We’ll think about it.’

  ‘She’s currently recruiting for him round Europe,’ Grosvenor went on. ‘There are lots of graduates with good computer skills and nothing to do in the recession, particularly in Spain and Portugal.’

  ‘Pretty dangerous work,’ Stuart murmured.

  ‘Yeah, but she kinda likes it. She’s a loner: no relationships, no friends, no family.’

  ‘Profile of a killer,’ Jackson commented.

  Grosvenor bobbed his head. ‘If cornered, certainly. She’s cold; she attracts men and women equally, but she’s always emotionally detached in any relationship. She’s ideal for our purposes, and she wouldn’t blame us if we sacrificed her somewhere downstream.’ He sipped his coffee.

  ‘Did she explain about the dead people?’ Jackson asked.

  ‘The Portuguese killing really fucked up her plans; she got some capital out of it, sure – but she was relying on a regular source of income. I don’t think the murders in Romania bothered her, though – I’m sure Gheorghe did all of that, but Charlene understood that the dead people were expendable. Like I say, emotionally detached.’

  They were silent for a minute.

  ‘How about this guy Colin Strachan?’ Stuart asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Jackson added. ‘He came in from left field.’

  ‘He was out of the picture with B&D four years ago, that’s why we missed him. He has now begun working for the company Online Business-Lösungen in Berlin, which he invested in heavily, so he’s already senior partner. His cover is that he lost a lot of his money in the property crash in Spain, and that’s partly true, so he needed employment and investment. He’s building up what he had with B&D, and we’ll sit tight and wait for Gregorius – or someone like him – to come sniffing round.’ He shrugged. ‘Early days of course, and no guarantees but I think it’ll fly.’

  There was more silence while Stuart and Jackson took that in.

  ‘Any questions, Max?’ Jackson asked finally.

  Stuart shook his head as he sat forward. ‘A few gaps, but it doesn’t really matter. This is a major breakthrough for us – a much better strategy than simply locking these guys up. We could get really good material from the three sources.’

  Grosvenor nodded. ‘All the flags in place so none of our teams fuck this up during separate investigations?’

  Jackson nodded.

  The three men fell silent again.

  ‘I would like to ask about the Scottish detective, Amanda Pitt,’ Stuart ventured.

  ‘What about her?’ Jackson asked. ‘She’s really nothing to do with us.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Stuart said. ‘But she seemed to very…’ he fought for the word: ‘compliant.’

  Grosvenor drained his coffee and stood up. ‘I have to get back – guys coming to fix my windows later.’

  ‘OK, Mark. I’ll call.’ He stood up too and came round the table to face Grosvenor. ‘Great job, Mark. Well done. Send me in your job sheet and expenses claim, along with the written report.’

  Grosvenor let Jackson shake his hand and then put on his coat. ‘You’re right, Max. Amanda Pitt was very helpful at all the right times for us, but also before we rode into the scene.’

  ‘So what do you think was going on?’

  ‘I think she was playing both sides of the street, and being played in turn by Charlene. I never had a chance to talk to her, get to her, but my guess is she was feeding Talbot’s team information about the police investigation into his empire for years. And I’m also pretty sure that Charlene had a sexual relationship with her and also got information about both Talbot’s activities and the police investigation. It was all about knowing what was going on: Sandy Lomond was the main contact for Charlene, but she needed a wider view.’

  ‘Wow,’ Maxwell said.

  ‘Anyway,’ Jackson said, ‘it doesn’t affect us. Good job, Mark.’

  Grosvenor shrugged, pulled the door open, and stepped out into the corridor.

  *

  ‘Do you trust her?’ Bianca asked.

  Gheorghe shrugged and breathed cigarette smoke across to her. ‘For the moment. In due course I want to enjoy her, but for now she is useful.’

  ‘How about Martin McGregor?’

  Another shrug. ‘We have other things to worry about for now, but if he crosses our path again we may have to do something.’ He settled in the big armchair and closed his eyes, thinking of a beautiful, petite blonde.

  Chapter 35

  Madrid, the following Easter

  I took off my straw hat and placed it on the metal table, and ran my fingers through my damp hair. I raised the bottle of Estrella to my lips and took a good swig as I enjoyed the feel of the condensation running down my fingers, and I sat back in my chair, surveying the Plaza Mayor. I had been amazed at how compact the centre of Madrid was – the open-top bus tour had to keep doubling back to give its customers value for money. I loved all the plazas, but this was my fav
ourite, with its bizarre museum of ham in one corner.

  Nicola had gone to visit the little Soroya museum. I’d checked online and decided I didn’t want to look at pictures of naked boys on beaches with horses. If the guy had been operating nowadays he’d have had his computer seized. So I was shooting the breeze, wandering from café to bar in the sunshine, letting myself enjoy the freedom.

  I felt relaxed, happy.

  The biggest problem had been to sort out the finances: both Bytes and Digits and B&D had had their accounts frozen by the banks. We kept going on a wing and a prayer, and then the authorities told them that we were OK and they reluctantly let us off the hook. Talbot’s accountants had managed to straighten everything out so that it looked legitimate, and mostly it now was.

  The Argyle Street shop had really been running at a loss. We trawled for investment, and a young computer graduate called Susanna had come along, bought a half share using her mother’s money, and re-booted the whole enterprise. She’d had to let the original Frank go, but he didn’t seem to mind. It was now doing fine. I went up there from time to time, but each visit made me sad: I remembered the old days, with Davey slumped and uncommunicative, Fiona waiting at home. I was planning to sell my share to Susanna in due course.

  B&D was healthy, but we could now clearly identify the money that was coming in as a result of our cybercrimes. Payments came in from various banks across the country – nothing huge in any single payment, but a sizeable amount in total. I passed on the details to the FBI – my contact was now someone called Maxwell Stuart; I pictured him as young and earnest. I’d re-hired Graham Turner, when the police had let him go; he seemed to have no idea what had been going on or what was happening now, and I didn’t tell him. Claire was happy, in a new relationship that she never spoke about; she just smiled enigmatically and said that one day we’d maybe meet ‘her partner’.

  My personal finances were simplified. The flat we lived in was officially mine, apparently, which was a pleasant surprise. My income was now solely a salary from B&D: no extra cheques coming in, no ghost dividends from companies I didn’t know anything about. I felt legitimate. And I still had those bank accounts in Gibraltar. Andrew was still my personal financial adviser, and he’d managed to strike a deal with HMRC about all that tax I’d avoided over the years.