by Linda Coles
“I can understand something like cycling, but how does doping work in golf, for example?”
“You’ve heard of beta blockers and what they do?”
“Yes, my dad is on them. Helps keep his blood pressure under control.”
“That’s right. And they’ll probably be in the bathroom cabinet and you could get to them. If you wanted, you could take a handful here, a handful there maybe. And sell them.”
“But I don’t understand what a golfer would need them for. What am I missing?”
“Drugs will steady them – steady their movements, lower their blood pressure a bit. And as I said, the prescription forms are all perfectly legal to take, but they can give athletes an edge over someone who isn’t taking them. How unfair is that? It’s a form of doping, and doping is cheating.”
“So where do they buy them from? Not exactly off eBay, I’m sure. The dark web?”
Griffin wasn’t surprised to hear her mention the dark web; she worked in cyber security all day long, not that they’d talked about it much. He made a mental note to bring it up in conversation another time.
“Yes, or a dirty doctor somewhere. That might be harder to find, though, unless you have the contacts. With some team sports at a higher amateur level, the coach may be the one organizing things. And no one wants to let the side down, do they?”
Vee was silent, pondering what he was saying. She’d probably never thought of it before, but then why would she have? “And what have you found out so far, for your article? Have you uncovered something big?”
“Oh, this is big, alright. And the more I dig the worse it appears to be. There’s so much available – prescription drugs galore as well as other things.”
“Other things?”
“Like how to cheat by using substances that occur naturally in the body anyhow, so things like EPO, which is where they take blood from their own body to make the body replenish itself, then reinject the blood back in on top at a later date, getting the benefit of all those extra red blood cells. This is usually done by endurance athletes, like long-distance runners, and it’s hard to detect, which is why they do it. But then you are starting to get into quite a dangerous area, messing with your blood cells. Get it wrong and you could be dicing with death, literally. I actually heard of a cyclist that used dog blood, which is a definite no-no. But to answer your question, it’s all there for sale. And on the dark web. I’ve spent a bit of time there recently, actually. I’m beginning to know my way around quite well.”
“Wow. Good on you for doing it, bringing it out into the open. What will you do with the article? Sell it?”
“That depends. Officially, I work for the paper, but I’m tempted to try this freelance, see what I can get for it. Trouble is, it could cost me my job in the process.”
They both fell quiet and sipped on their drinks, deep in thought. Finally, Vee spoke.
“We should get going. But for what it’s worth, I think if you can sell it for a decent fee, and if you’ve got the evidence in your research that this could be big, you should go for it. You’ll get another job easily enough. You have the talent. Or you might choose to go freelance. Could be your real destination.”
Griffin downed the last of his drink and followed her towards the door. He’d told her what he was working on: she was the only person who knew. Had that been the right thing to do? He hardly knew her, really, knew anything of her background. Hell, her dad could be a dirty doctor for all he knew. He caught her up as she held the door open for him. While he’d told her of his doping research, he hadn’t dared tell her of the other reason he spent so much time on the dark web.
Maybe he never would.
Chapter Forty-Five
By the end of Saturday, they’d both had enough, and Vee was feeling despondent with what they’d seen. Or not seen, to be more precise. She took her heavy Doc Martens off and flung them across the lawn with a groan. Griffin sat on a lawn chair and watched her toes wiggle free as her socks followed her boots up the grass.
“Oh. That’s. So. Much. Better,” she groaned, lying back under the late afternoon sunshine. With her eyes closed, she couldn’t see him watching her with amusement. Somehow, though, she sensed it.
“What?”
“Maybe some lighter footwear in the summer would be a good idea? Your feet must boil.”
“Technically, it’s autumn, but I know what you mean. All in aid of fashion, though.” She waved her arms above her head dramatically. “What can I say? I’m a slave to it,” she called out, then immediately rolled on to her stomach. She looked at Griffin, who had joined her and was also now lying in the grass. A lawnmower hummed in the distance and someone’s sausages were burning on a BBQ nearby. They still smelled delicious.
“Did you think any of them had potential? Could you see the future in them?”
“Personally, if it was me, I’d look at the two bigger ones again. But next time, go with the idea of what they could be, not what they are now. Your first home will never tick all the boxes unless you have a rich daddy to buy it for you, and I don’t believe that to be the case here. You’ll be surprised what a wall shifted or a clever colour scheme can do to a place.”
She nodded in silent agreement.
“How many have you looked at so far?” he asked her.
“Too many. Probably at least twenty.” As she said it, she realized how silly the number sounded. “Perhaps I am being too picky, want too much. What was your first place like?”
“Quite nasty to start with, but I had space. And it was my space to make my own. Then when I could afford it, I moved up the ladder another rung and my current place is much nicer. You should come over soon, see what you think.”
“I’d like that, thanks.” She thought for a moment then added, “Maybe I am wanting too much. Mum and Dad have both said the same, but I’ve written their advice off because, well, they are parents, aren’t they? They say sensible stuff like that. Perhaps they are right.”
“Look, here’s what I think.” Griffin looked at his watch and pointed to the clock. “It’s gone five pm now. Why don’t you come round to mine later? I’ll order pizza and get some cider and lager for you to mix, and you can see what can be done with a larger small space.” As an afterthought, he added, “You’ll be quite safe – just food and Snakebite and flat talk.”
She grinned at him and accepted his invitation with her smile. “On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“I pay for the pizza.”
Griffin nodded. “Deal. Seven pm work for you?”
“I’d better grab a shower, then, and yes.”
Griffin gave her his address and they said their see-you-laters. On the way home, Griffin stopped and picked up Snakebite ingredients and a tub of chocolate ice cream for dessert. He figured he’d be safe with chocolate; everyone ate chocolate ice cream, didn’t they? Then it was his turn to hit the shower and wait for his guest.
Chapter Forty-Six
She was punctual, 7 pm on the dot. He liked that. The pizza guy didn’t make the same grade but conversation filled the gap until he did arrive. When they’d finally got a slice and a drink each, they settled back into an easy silence, one that didn’t need filling continually. Finally, Vee wiped her chin with a napkin and broached the subject of her hobby, or one of them.
“Earlier, we were talking about the dark web, and your research.” She took another bite and chewed before carrying on, tomato sauce gathering at the corner of her mouth. Griffin let her continue, intrigued as to what she was going to ask him. “Well, I know quite a bit about it, with my work as you can imagine. But I also use it myself. For personal interest.”
So she wasn’t going to ask him a question.
“Yeah? What sort of personal interest, as you put it?”
“I’m an admin of one of the chat rooms. One rather close to my heart, actually. Online revenge, to be precise. My main clientele are those who have been targeted with revenge porn – you know, nude
photos of themselves being posted all over without their permission or knowledge.”
He let her pause and go on again before he said anything, noticing the change in her demeanour as she’d raised the subject. The words ‘close to my heart’ hadn’t gone un-noticed. He nodded in encouragement.
“Well, I may as well tell you the whole story then, now that you’ve probably guessed it happened to me.” She took a deep breath, put her pizza back in the cardboard box and wiped her fingers. “My last partner and I enjoyed our private life together, you know, in the bedroom. We did some stuff that, well, others might think a bit kinky, but we were both consenting adults. You don’t need to know the details. And he filmed it sometimes. On his phone usually. Then we broke up, and I started seeing his friend, long after we’d finished, so there was no affair, no overlap. But my ex was pissed at me and decided to post one of our videos to get back at me.”
Griffin could see she was struggling a little and didn’t want to pressure her either to go on or to stop. He let her have some space and sat silently.
Finally, Vee resumed her story. “He posted it in a chat room, and thirty thousand views later I got wind of it by a tip-off. I’m guessing it was someone at work but I can’t be sure.” She raised her voice and added, “As if the video being out there isn’t enough, a work colleague had to see it too.” She took another breath and returned to normal volume. “Anyway, by the time I was aware of it, it was on several more revenge sites with god only knows how many views. Long story short, it hurt, and I mean it really hurt, and there’s not much I can do about it. That’s why it’s on the dark web, not the surface web. At least I could ask Google to take it down if it was on the regular web. These guys don’t play by the same rules, though, so I assume it’s still out there. And you just have to read the news to know that there are many more victims like me.” Turning to Griffin and reaching for her pizza again, she went on with an invigorated spark of energy. “So now I play a role in helping others who have had the misfortune to have dated a fuckwit.”
So matter-of-fact.
Griffin wasn’t really sure what to say or do. Should he refresh her drink? Give her a hug, perhaps? Commiserate, even? Or change the subject? He leaned into her a little and took her hand in his, squeezing it affectionately. At this point in their relationship, and given his uncertainty about what to do, he called it a hug.
It would do for Vee too.
Chapter Forty-Seven
He never lay in bed, but since he’d met Vee, things had started to change. Spending a few extra moments in bed in the privacy of his mind as well as the empty room, he let images of her drift in and out. Everyone had a past, but thinking about her with someone else – the issue of the revenge porn aside – he knew it was jealousy he was feeling. She was cute, no doubt about it, and they got on. And she was smart, and different and knowledgeable and …. And what?
And he was jealous.
He threw the bed covers back and headed to his morning routine to shake the notion from his head. It was all in the past, nothing to think about now. So why was he? And who was the prick who had posted the videos of her for all to see? Upsetting Vee had been the goal, but why? So many questions and no answers. He lathered his face in white cream and wondered if he could track down the guy without her knowing about it. At the very least the prick would inform Vee of his involvement, relishing in the glory of her latest boyfriend getting jealous. If the prick had been capable of revenge porn posting, he’d lap up interference from her latest boyfriend. And she’d be pissed, that much he did know about her. For a small packet, he reckoned she’d throw a hard punch, physically and metaphorically. No, while he admired her, he wouldn’t want to cross her. She’d already mentioned her mother’s temper; Vee would likely be just the same. The thought actually made him smile and his razor nicked his chin. He winced as crimson mixed with the white foam. Again.
They’d had a good time, though, the previous night. They’d chatted a little more about her role in the support group, and he hadn’t pried into her experience for any more details than she’d already given. There was nothing to gain from it. He knew her story now, and that was all he needed to know about it. He knew the real value of privacy and appreciated it himself. They’d ended up watching TV, relaxed in each other’s company, while she’d finished off the Snakebite and most of the tub of ice cream before calling it a night, and Griffin had walked her back home. They’d chatted about nothing and she’d kissed his cheek before eventually heading inside and leaving him to wander back to his flat alone. She’d waited after she’d kissed him, but he had felt too awkward to turn a peck on the cheek into something else, something a bit longer. A bit more precise. Like a kiss on her lips. So he’d kicked himself on the walk back, annoyed that the moment had fizzled like a wet firework and swearing he wouldn’t let it happen again. No, next time he’d be ready, take the lead even, and kiss her properly.
That alone scared him.
While it was only a kiss, it was a kiss he wanted, though he was acutely aware of what it could lead to; that frightened him. Had that been his reservation, his avoidance – that a kiss would lead to something more?
Get real, Griffin.
What were they going to do, get hot and amorous on her parents’ doorstep? Would he accost her and ravish her in her room while her parents listened on below? No, of course not. He shook his head to dislodge his wild, accusing thoughts and strode home quickly.
He made himself a mug of tea, then opened his laptop and resumed his research, research for his other interest. The one that had nothing to do with amateur sports doping.
But that had been after he’d fired a quick message off to a friend, a friend with particular tech skills who was no stranger to the online space and might be able to help track down the videos and the culprit himself, legally or otherwise, through backdoors he knew she had keys to. She was clever and covered her tracks well, though that wasn’t her day job. More of a side angle, a Robin Hood of the web or a grey hat, if you wanted to use the techy term – someone who obeys morals but not necessarily the law. As a legitimate developer of things techy, she ran an above-board business building apps and websites and did very well for herself. So her ‘side hustle’ was something that stayed there – at the side. It had to. She was about to get married to her sweetheart.
And her sweetheart was DS Amanda Lacey.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Downstairs in the kitchen, Ruth opened her laptop. Above her head she could hear taps running and muted singing as Amanda filled in the bits of the song in her ear buds she did know and missed out the bits she didn’t. Blank chunks filled the air interspersed with semi-shouting. In reality, there wasn’t much of the Shania Twain song that was recognizable. She smiled as Amanda pumped out another ‘That don’t impress-er me much, oh, oh, oh, oh.’ Sadly, there’s where the song ended each time, for another few seconds at least until the chorus came back round and she ruined it again. Thank goodness they weren’t having karaoke at their wedding, Ruth mused.
When Amanda had had her soak and finished playing Moby Dick in the bubbles, she’d grab a shower of her own, but now they were spending more time in the same house together, she let Amanda have her bathroom time. Alone. Not that her eardrums could stand the noise.
Messenger pinged.
“Hello, stranger. It’s been a while,” Ruth said to the screen. “How you been?”
“Hey Ruth. Can I ask a question and more likely a favour?”
She tapped back a reply. “Sure. What’s up, stranger?”
“A friend of mine has been the victim of revenge porn. Any way to find the files on the dark web? And where he posted them from? I’d like to cut him off.”
“So would I if that’s what he’s been up to, but I’m really not sure if I’m clever enough to do that. Anonymous IP addresses and all. How serious?”
“Serious enough to piss me off, though it happened a while back. She never got to the bottom of it so assumes they are still
out there being viewed. Video.”
“Shit. Privacy isn’t your own anymore. Do you know the sites, perhaps? What am I looking for?”
“Good question. I’ll find out more and get back to you. Wanted to see if you could perhaps help. Hate to ask her for more details. Anything you can do without me having to ask?”
“Maybe. I could probably do with a picture of her face. Might be able to find it with facial confirmation software perhaps, though it’s a long shot. It’s different from facial recognition software but could do the job. If the video is really low quality and grainy, it won’t work. Can you get me a picture, preferably from around the time it happened?”
“Will see what I can do. Thanks, Ruth. I appreciate it. See you soon.”
Ruth sat back in thought. The singing from upstairs had finally stopped, though she could hear Amanda moving about in the tub. It sounded like she was farting but she knew the deep sounds were her backside or heels rubbing on the bottom of the cast iron as she washed. Still, it sounded funny in the quiet. Knowing Amanda’s routine, it wouldn’t be long before gurgling water would be heard as it emptied through the pipes and then ran down the outside of the building and into the drains of Croydon. Approximately five minutes after that, a rather pink and shiny-looking Amanda would emerge wrapped in her bathrobe, hair tied in a towel. How she stood such hot water Ruth could never understand.
Who was Griffin seeing, she wondered? Not that it mattered. It was good that he was seeing someone; he wasn’t the easiest person to be around sometimes. Shy and eccentric were words that came to mind. She’d wondered in the past if he was somewhere on the spectrum; it wouldn’t have surprised her. He was hideously smart; everything had to be just so and on time, and since he’d lost a great deal of weight, he was looking great. Closing her laptop for the evening, not even sure what she had opened it for in the first place, she made a note in her grey matter to arrange to meet Griffin for coffee soon. His office wasn’t far from hers and it would be great to see how he was doing before the wedding. And now he had a friend in tow, she wanted to find out more, purely from a nosey point of view. She liked Griffin and his particular ways.
