Wreckoning

by Lee Harding

  Alana knew what those steps were and how they had added to her family’s shame. She was not entirely convinced by Sheena’s explanation but supposed she was only relaying what her father had said.

  “Alana, the man I came to know better than anyone had his life taken from him but he blamed himself alone. He tried his best to rebuild it but met too many hurdles along the way. Social Services and the police tried to stop him from being a father to you and Paula and most times they succeeded. That’s why he was absent for many periods. That and your mother’s furtive demand not to let him into your lives. All he ever wanted was to be your Dad.”

  Alana bit her lip. She was still disgusted by his actions but couldn’t help but be empathetic to his plight which scanned decades.

  “Do you think that’s why he killed himself?”

  Sheena sighed. “We don’t know what happened on that boat, whether Cameron felt he couldn’t fight the system anymore and rowed out to die or whether it was an accident. But I do know your father was a fighter and a survivor. I can see the same in you too.”

  “I did love him. I just never really knew him.”

  Alana paused, trying to stem the tears. Sheena Edison’s resolve was not as strong and droplets ran down her cheeks so real Alana could almost reach out and touch them.

  “I loved your father too. He cared deeply for everyone except himself and that was what led him to fall. If you ever want to speak to me I am here for you.”

  The thoughts of the impending terrorist attack were far from Alana’s mind as she thanked Sheena again before disconnecting the video call. A feeling of warmth cascaded through her body as for the first time since she was a child she saw her father as the man she had always admired. He had committed terrible crimes but had paid with his life. He hadn’t abandoned his family for selfish reasons except to face the consequences of his actions. Those weren’t the deeds of a coward although he had been craven not to turn himself in to the police. He tried to reach out but wasn’t given a voice, something Alana had interpreted as desertion. Isolated, he focussed on survival and the hope that one day his daughters might search for the truth and understand.

  A low moan ascended to a high wail signalling baby Stephen had woken from his afternoon nap. Alana heard Paula console him then walk into her room.

  “Hello sleepy head,” Aunt Alana said and put out her arms to take him. Stephen turned his head and thrust it firmly back into his mother’s chest making Paula exhale.

  “He can be a bit grumpy when he wakes up. I’ll take him downstairs and get dinner ready.”

  “I’ll join you in a minute. I just need to check my email.”

  She left Alana alone with the computer.

  One new message from Professor Phillip.

  I have some good news. The last email from your anonymous pen-pal originated from a different location. This one came from San Francisco. I have included a link to show the exact co-ordinates.

  Really hope this helps. Phillip.

  Alana clicked on the link to open the map. A circle highlighted a section of office buildings in downtown San Francisco. On the left of the screen was a list of business names. Alana flipped back to her emails to the one with the New York offices. Half-way down she found a match: Hydra Security Corporation.

  That’s the company who runs my office’s IT support, she thought.

  She pressed the link to their website. It was a global company but its main base was by The Bay in San Francisco. She selected the United Kingdom sub site and clicked on Clients. Multiple government departments including the Ministry of Justice and thousands of other firms were protected by Hydra. The portfolio also included law firms, banks, and mobile telecoms.

  Alana took notes and fished Michael’s business card from her purse to create a new email. She returned to the main corporate page and selected Company Profile. Photos and a biography of the Board of Directors appeared. At the top of the roll the CEO of Hydra Security smiled smugly at her. She didn’t recognize the face, had never met him before, yet his name made her heart melt.

  ‘CEO and majority shareholder, John McBride.’

  My father’s old business partner and university friend, she thought, and it seems he has the resources and power to get his revenge on the man who wrecked his life.

  Chapter 20

  23rd November 08:40

  “You must be Inspector Grant. I’m Paula, Alana’s sister. Please come in.”

  Michael scraped the soles of his shoes on the welcome mat and stepped inside. The pleasant aroma of baking apples blended with the unholy odour of vomit smacked his nostrils.

  “Sorry about the smell. My son has an upset tummy and hasn’t stopped being sick all morning,” Paula said awkwardly as she ushered him into the living room.

  “I hope he gets better soon,” was all Michael could muster.

  Paula opened the door and Michael smiled as he set eyes on his host.

  “Hello, Michael.”

  They had attempted to tidy up as toys were piled behind the settee. He lifted a stray nappy and handed it to her. Alana blushed and flung it in the corner.

  “Would you like a drink?” Paula said.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Well, I’ll leave you in peace,” she said and shut the door.

  “Did you find anything?”

  Alana’s no-nonsense opening made Michael focus. “Your information may be the best lead we’ve had.”

  He unzipped his folder and extracted some stapled notes.

  “John McBride, fifty-six-years-old, married with one son. Currently resides in San Francisco but has only lived there for fifteen years. He was born in Manchester and studied computer science in Upton University. There, he befriended your father Cameron Faith and was tutored by Phillip Preston. They developed hi-end digital security tools together and a new type of virus that could co-ordinate a simultaneous attack. Thankfully it was never released into the wild but McBride and Faith wrote a paper outlining how it would work. They named is ‘Hydra’.

  “After graduating, McBride took a job in a software firm specialising in anti-virus software. During that time he married and moved to Tottenham. Then your father and McBride must have crossed paths because he left his job to form a partnership called Crackerjack Games. The business developed mobile phone games. A few of their titles became huge hits and it seemed certain they would be set for life.”

  Michael paused. He had read the full file on Alana’s father but was uncertain how much she knew. The bitter pill needed to be swallowed.

  “I’m not sure how I should say this but...” he began.

  “My father was arrested for crimes against my aunts,” Alana said with no trace of emotion.

  “You’re aware then?”

  “To be honest, I only found out recently. Phillip Preston was my professor as well. He told me some of what happened and I pieced the rest together.”

  Michael felt unsure whether to console her or talk about her father’s case. The resolution in her eyes made him choose neither and continue with his brief.

  “When Cameron was arrested McBride was interviewed by the police. He denied having any involvement and was let go. However, within three months he was re-interviewed when they found illegal files on the Crackerjack Games server. He said he had no idea they were there and must have been stored by Cameron. Subsequently he was arrested and remanded to prison where he was refused bail for five months. The case took a year-and-a-half to get to court and he spent all his savings on legal bills. During the trial the jury found him not guilty but,” Michael cleared his throat, “the judge allowed the press to splash his name all over the papers.

  “Afterwards he received anonymous death threats and slipped into a depression. His wife left him and issued divorce proceedings. I believe it was around this time he plotted his revenge on those who destroyed his life. The media who shamed him even though he was innocent; the police who falsely accused him; the judge who incarcerated him; the prison who kept him
caged; and the British public who hounded him.

  “He started working for Virtua Security as a systems network engineer. The offer of a transfer to their San Francisco office made him emigrate ten years later. It was there he decided to use his talents to form his own digital security firm. Taking with him most of Virtua’s clients, Hydra Security became a big name player overnight. From what I gather the programmes he and your father developed provided the foundation of the new company’s software.

  “Hydra became a corporation whose stocks raised $20 billion during its IPO. Since then their shares have doubled in value and he married again to father a son.”

  “Why did he target me? Why send those anonymous emails?” Alana whispered. Talk of her father was upsetting enough but the details of her tormentor were too much.

  “My guess is to get revenge on your father’s memory. If Cameron had been alive no doubt McBride would have targeted him. You were his first-born and also a journalist which was reason enough to taunt you and try and make you suffer.”

  Alana started to cry. Michael had little experience in dealing with this type of situation. If there was bad news to break he would bring a female colleague along. She would comfort while he relayed the tragic story. Now he had no back-up and so he shifted closer across the settee.

  Alana threw out her arms and wrapped them around his chest. His hands were held high in surprise. He wanted to hold her against him but was at war with his sense of honour, battling whether it was appropriate.

  Throwing chivalry to the wind, he enveloped her, pulling her head close to his heart. She clung more tightly as he rested his cheek on her soft curls. They sat for a blissful eternity. Eventually Alana let go to rip a tissue from the box.

  “I’m sorry I ruined your shirt,” she said.

  Michael wondered what she meant then looked down. Her mascara had bled to form wavy black lines on his starched, cotton top. He smiled and said, “It was worth it.”

  Alana returned the smile before blowing her nose. “I wish I could meet that pig face-to-face,” she said.

  Michael zipped up his folder. “Have you any plans for the next few days?”

  “Why?”

  “Last night I notified the FBI in San Francisco to detain John McBride for questioning. Except the evidence we have on him is extremely thin and being such a wealthy man I’m sure his lawyers will be able to get him released soon.”

  “What’s that got to do with me?”

  “At the end of the interview, when he’s tired and frustrated, I want you to walk into the room and confront him. I’m hoping it will send him over the edge and he’ll crack.”

  Alana considered this. There was nothing more she wanted than to see the man who had ruined her job and her city be brought to justice.

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “Then God help us.”

  “When would we be leaving?”

  Michael checked his watch. “In three minutes.”

  “What?”

  “I have a car waiting outside.” He could see her fumbling for words. “Don’t worry, we stopped by your flat and filled a suitcase with your things including your passport.”

  “You were in my flat?”

  “I’m sorry. Time is running out. I really need your help, Alana. Will you come with me?”

  He’s been in my flat. He’s seen my personal things. This was not how she had imagined their second date would go. A romantic day out, yes, but a sudden trip to California was an engagement, a marriage, and a honeymoon combined. Yet she saw pleading in his eyes.

  “Okay,” she said, “let’s go.”

  Chapter 21

  23rd November 10:19

  The furthest Alana had travelled by plane was from Gatwick to Dublin for a hen weekend. She had been drunk from the moment she struggled aboard to the minute her buckling knees fell back on English tarmac. This was her first sober flight and she wanted a shot of something strong to knock her out.

  “Are you okay? You look quite pale.”

  Michael’s face swam as they shuddered onto the runway.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said hoping the embarrassment would flush some colour into her cheeks.

  “I take it you’ve never been in a private plane before?”

  “I ride in them all the time. Didn’t I tell you I own a G3?”

  He laughed as the jet lurched forwards. Alana grabbed the nearest object which turned out to be Michael’s hand. Abashed or not she didn’t care and clung like a limpet to a rock. Michael twisted his fingers around to try and ease the pain. The insertion of fingernails into skin wasn’t exactly holding hands but he was quite content.

  They were the sole passengers on the specially sanctioned flight. Jonathon Brown had twisted a few arms to arrange the charter and allocate a spare slot in Heathrow’s manic air schedule. Thousands continued to flee the country. The US and Canada had stopped issuing visas to prevent a mass influx of refugees. Europe too had bolted its doors to its erstwhile neighbour and flights to South America, Asia, and Africa were fully booked. People still came in their droves hoping to catch a cancelled seat or even sit on the cockpit floor. With many staff abandoning their posts to be with their loved ones it was bedlam throughout the departure lounges.

  Alana and Michael had been driven past the mayhem to a separate airfield where their jet was being fuelled. They had to carry their luggage aboard and Michael assisted by dragging a set of suitcases up the steps. Alana refused the help but the pilot shouted to hurry or they would miss their departure window so she relented.

  Now they were facing the runway head on. The menacing thunder clouds had returned to shroud the capital in a bleak, black mood. The engine roared and Alana shut her eyes. Flickers of passing light coming through the cramped windows penetrated her eyelids as they picked up speed. The plane shook as it neared take-off and she let out a small shriek as she felt the wheels lift into the air.

  Michael wanted to yell too as she drew blood with her sharp nails. But he kept his hand still and dreamt about the time they would be spending in San Francisco. The FBI was to take John McBride into custody in the next few hours. He had spoken directly with a Federal Judge giving evidence to issue a warrant to search Hydra’s offices. The judge wasn’t impressed and decreed McBride be questioned first and if sufficient grounds became apparent then the warrant would follow.

  It troubled him that McBride had ample time to destroy evidence. It was essential that all computer equipment be seized the moment the Feds arrived at the building. He didn’t want another episode like the arrest of Mr Knox. Unfortunately it was out of his hands and even an irate phone call from Downing Street to the White House did little to resolve the situation. He supposed it was the Americans’ way of saying up yours after the times Britain had refused to extradite their wanted cyber criminals. Still, the nation’s security depended on the apprehension of the leader of Wreckoning and he expected every courtesy to be given.

  McBride would be a tough nut to crack. He was a genius and a self-made billionaire with a legal team that charged $1,000 per hour. Plus time was on his side. If he wanted to sit tight-lipped he would still win. Michael prayed Alana’s presence would upset him sufficiently to let something slip and let them figure out how Wreckoning would attack next.

  Television and the remaining media where obvious marks. Wreckoning needed them once to reach the masses but now they could be silenced. The hackers already proved they could control the phone networks. Sending the nation a text message was a not-so subtle way of demonstrating that. But what of the Internet? It was their lifeblood, the heart that squeezed their propaganda across the world. Destroying service providers would be akin to knifing themselves in the chest. His gut told him it all had to go. They had preached their final sermon and so far kept to their word. McBride lived thousands of miles away so why should he care?

  One major concern was the country’s essential utilities like water, power and fuel. God forbid they had the capability to attack them.
He had been assured by the Prime Minister that the major utility companies were prepared for all threats.

  “Even if Britain itself was to rise up those networks are completely secure,” Martin said.

  Michael knew there was no such thing as a completely secure network especially if it was connected to the Internet. Human beings were fallible as were the systems they designed. He tried to remind the PM that thousands of solicitors had their bank accounts frozen but Martin wasn’t listening.

  It also occurred to him that the third strike was actually a hoax designed to fulfil that which it promised. What better way to return the United Kingdom to the Dark Ages than by getting it to flip off its own switches? But it didn’t fit Wreckoning’s, and in particular, McBride’s profile. This was a personal vendetta he would finish himself. As Britain had destroyed his life he wanted to stand in its ashes. Part of him empathised with the man. The law was riddled with inconsistencies and at times resulted in injustices yet without it anarchy would reign. He could never allow that to happen.

  “What’s that you’re reading?”

  They were flying through some wispy clouds over the Atlantic Ocean on their way to New York.

  “It’s the file my father’s solicitor gave me.”

  She had skipped all the distressing documents and turned to Cameron’s writings from jail. They were divided into his journal, unsent letters to Deborah, Alana’s mother, and several short stories. The stories written for his daughters ranged from simple toddler tales to those for when they were older. It was unnerving to have a dead man’s soul in her hands. Gavin Hull said Cameron’s most earnest desire was to be a Daddy, if even in a small way. For five years he had been denied that. She never had the chance to say a courteous thank you for these gifts.

  Speaking with Sheena Edison gave further insight into the complex man her father had been. She was still sickened by what he did but could see he was too. He tried his best to redeem himself knowing it would never be enough yet kept going regardless. His sole reason for surviving was his family. He truly loved his daughters and Alana believed their mother couldn’t lower her guard to accept that fact. Cameron tried not to condemn her.