by S J Grey
“Mal,” called the barista, and Caleb accepted his drink.
Andi gave him the side eye. “You don’t use your real name here?”
It was an instinctive need to stay as far under the radar as possible. “Let’s go.”
Jonathan was there when they arrived, and he followed Caleb into his office. “Got time to bring me up to speed on what happened last night? You look like shit, by the way.”
“Thanks. You’re the second person to tell me.” Caleb ditched his jacket, sat at his desk, and took a welcome slug of coffee. It was still too hot to drink, but he didn’t care. “Didn’t Grafton update you?”
“Client-lawyer privilege. I wouldn’t ask him.”
Caleb told him everything that happened. “I have to go back later, to make a statement, but your guy is coming with me. Thanks for that, by the way. Emma suggested it, in case anything went down, and it was a good call.”
Hunched forward in his seat, with his brows tugged together, Jonathan looked deep in thought. “The body they pulled out… You think he was what set the alarm off?”
“What other options are there? My security feed was unbroken until that point. And then, of course, I didn’t monitor it on the ride to Peka Peka. Fuck knows what happened during that hour.”
Jonathan’s eyes lit up. “You haven’t looked?”
Caleb felt like smacking himself on the head. “I didn’t get the chance. You’re right. Let’s check it out now.”
He logged into his phone app and sent the feed to his desktop PC. The cameras were all dead, which was to be expected. They were probably destroyed in the blaze. “I left three cameras in place,” he said. “One outside, to show activity at the front door. One for the hall at the back, which also takes in the kitchen door. And one at the top of the stairs. That covers the entry into the bedrooms.” He huffed a sigh. “Covered the bedrooms. Fuck all left now.”
“Infra-red?”
“Didn’t think I needed it.” He rewound the feed to the point where the alarm activated. “This is when it kicked off. I checked it out, but it looked like someone was outside. I left to check it out maybe ten minutes later.” The timestamp was 01:10.
Caleb arranged all the cameras on-screen at once, and they studied the outputs together. A brief flash of light at the back door. A torch? Shadowy images dodged in and out, and it was impossible to tell if it was one person or more. They were inside the house, though.
The cameras were motion-activated. The next time they relayed any data was 01:25, with movement upstairs. Two figures, dragging something heavy. A body? They disappeared out of view into one of the bedrooms.
A bright burst of light filled the downstairs camera. Fire. The time stamp was now 02:05.
“That’s where it started,” murmured Jonathan. “Out of sight of the camera.”
Moments later, flames sparked and danced upstairs too.
“Hang on,” said Jonathan. “Check that time stamp.” It read 02:07. “Colour me sceptical, but how did it spread so quickly?”
“It wasn’t an accident,” said Caleb. His mind spun. “If I’d arrived five minutes earlier, I might have been there when it happened. At least I’ve got proof it wasn’t me.”
“Yeah, no. Playing devil’s advocate—it doesn’t show who did it.”
“Whose side are you on?”
Jonathan pulled a face. “Sorry. Just saying. I work in intelligence. I pull stuff like this apart all the time.”
Forewarned was forearmed. He slugged some more coffee and bit back a yawn. The caffeine was yet to kick in. “Sounds like the others are here. Let’s get the morning briefing underway. We still have a job to do.”
The team assembled in front of the smartboard, and Caleb took them through the ongoing activities. Andi outlined her idea to initiate a fire evacuation, and they discussed the details. Will and Nat would go in wearing hi-vis vests with the name of the service company mocked up on the back, and would scope out the best location to set off the fire alarm. When that happened, they’d make themselves look busy, checking panels and switches, while Andi and Jonathan merged with the exiting staff.
Toby was working with Devin on a mocked-up email. “This is going to be a doozy,” said Toby. “We’re keeping it simple. Devin’s done a grand job of recreating the standard email signature they use, right down to a plausible phone number and email address.”
Devin grinned at the praise. “It’s an invitation to sign up for the recently established LetsConnect site that’s been set up for the Department of Technology and Innovation employees. They’re advised that they need to click the link and enter their DTI login and password, and they’re urged to do it soon. The first fifty signups go into a draw for prizes.”
Caleb laughed. “Subtle. I like it.”
“We need to make sure we send it at a time when the internal security department people are otherwise occupied,” said Jonathan. “Devin, you’ll be responsible for monitoring how far it goes when we send it, how quickly they alert their security team, and how soon they take it down. This is valuable data for our report.”
“Good thinking,” said Caleb. “Any suggestions for how we can distract the security team? They should be gearing up for the exercise. Can we use that to our advantage?”
“Umm… guys.” Devin’s gaze darted between his monitor and the door. “We may be about to get a visit from the police. Three uniformed officers on their way up.”
Caleb froze. They must be here for some other reason. Not for him. He left the smartboard and moved to Devin’s desk. The security cameras picked up the officers as they stomped up the stairs and along the landing.
With a sense of impending doom, Caleb looked at the door as a fist hammered on it.
“Police. Open up.”
Devin opened the door, and the cops swarmed in.
The guy at the front locked gazes with Caleb. “Caleb Rush? I need you to come with us.”
Not again. Caleb felt sick. He gripped Devin’s desk with both hands. It was the only thing holding him up.
Jonathan stepped in front of him. “Which station are you taking him to? And on what charge?”
“You’re a suspect in the murder of Frederick Sparks. I want you to accompany us to the Central Police Station for questioning.”
—the fuck? Caleb swallowed. He’d never even met the guy. Jonathan’s words from yesterday danced in his brain. Just in case Freddie ends up floating in Wellington Harbour.
“I’ll call Grafton,” said Jonathan. His calmness was reassuring. “Anything else you need me to do?”
Shit. What time was it? Mark was due to check in with Caleb as soon as he landed at Heathrow. Caleb fumbled in his pocket for his phone and slapped it into Jonathan’s hand. “Mark has a schedule for contacting me. He should be calling or texting this morning. If he doesn’t, there’s a problem. Also, if I’m not back this evening, tell Emma, so that she can feed my cat.”
Jonathan nodded. “On it.”
Nothing Caleb could do now, apart from let himself be led out of the office, one cop on each side. They held his arms tight, as though they expected him to run.
How fucked was he this time?
The cops led Caleb out of the building, to the police car that idled at the kerb. One officer placed a hand on his head when Caleb climbed into the back seat, in a move so practiced, it robbed him of his breath.
He had to hold his shit together. He’d been here before. He knew the drill—only this time it’d be different. This time, he had a kickass lawyer on his side.
He sat quietly and focused on his breathing, trying to block out the noises around him—the radios squawking and raised voices speaking into them, the wailing siren. For fuck’s sake, did they need to do that?
It was for show. An attempt to intimidate him.
What had the Red Team made of this? They’d all watched in silence, apart from Jonathan, as Caleb was led away. Four pairs of eyes gazing at him. What did they see? A reformed criminal? Or an innocent m
an?
That offhand comment of Jonathan’s niggled at him. What if Freddie had been found in the harbour? What were the chances of that? Slim, to fucking none.
What if Jonathan made that happen?
Caleb had given Jonathan his phone, to take the call from Mark—a guy who wasn’t sure Jonathan could be trusted.
Fuck.
Damned spies. They double- and triple-crossed as a matter of course. It reminded him of a joke.
How can you tell if a spy is lying?
Is his mouth open?
His brain was dodging the issue. He had to trust Jonathan and hope he wasn’t making a giant fucking mistake.
Chapter Thirteen
Another police station. Another interview room. This was like a bad case of déjà vu. Caleb sat in the plastic chair and waited. Would it be DS Miller again, or did another detective have the pleasure this time?
The waiting did his head in. Every. Fucking. Time.
Stewing in his fear, tension ratcheting up to the point where he felt like a coiled spring, Caleb wanted to scream. This was a standard police tactic—make the suspect sweat.
He had to focus on the imminent arrival of his lawyer. That was, assuming Jonathan called him.
Okay. If Grafton didn’t arrive in the next half-hour, Caleb would ask for a phone and make the call himself.
He thought he’d go crazy from staring at the grey walls, but finally the door opened, and there was Arthur Grafton. Thank fuck.
“Mr. Rush,” he said, poker-faced, “we have time to talk before your interview.” He turned around and made a shooing motion to the uniformed officer at the door. “Go away.”
The officer left, and Grafton claimed the chair opposite Caleb and set his voice recorder running. “What have they told you, Mr. Rush?”
“I’m a suspect in the murder of Freddie Sparks. I don’t even know him. I’ve never met him.”
“Why would they assume that?”
Caleb let out his breath with a whoosh. Okay. He could do this. “Yesterday, a woman called Nicole Golden wanted to hire me to kill Freddie. I said no. She claims he drugged her and raped her, and filmed it. I recorded my conversation with her on my phone, in case something like this happened.” He paused and recapped in his head. “Jonathan listened to the call as well. He’s my witness.”
Grafton was making notes on a yellow lined pad. He looked up at Caleb. “Take me through this from the start. Every little detail. Leave nothing out.”
Caleb opened his mouth, but Grafton hadn’t finished. “And remember—don’t think. Just talk.”
They went over everything. Even Jonathan’s prediction of Freddie, floating in the harbour. Caleb was exhausted by the time they finished, but eventually Grafton sat back and capped his expensive-looking pen.
“If they’re basing their evidence on the contents of a single phone call, we’ll be out of here in half an hour. Maybe less. You ready to speak to them?”
Caleb nodded. He wanted this to be over.
Hope was an unusual concept when sitting in an interview room. Caleb couldn’t trust it. Hope could also be a bitch that slapped you when you were looking the other way.
DS Miller came in, flanked by a younger man. While Miller was all smiles and confidence, the other guy was stern and watchful.
Caleb sat silently, while Miller started the recording equipment. “Detective Sergeant Miller and Detective Constable Hardy,” Miller announced to the camera, before identifying Caleb and Grafton.
“Mr. Rush,” said Miller. “Caleb. We’ve asked you here today in connection with the murder of Frederick—Freddie—Sparks.”
Caleb glanced at Grafton but said nothing. The lawyer made it very clear that Caleb only speak when asked a direct question.
“So, Caleb, how well did you know Freddie?”
That was easy. “I don’t know him.”
“Really?” This warranted a raised eyebrow on Miller’s face. “You didn’t know him, or you don’t remember him? Let me refresh your memory.”
The DC held a cardboard folder which he opened, and then selected several photographs. He fanned these on the table and turned them to face Caleb.
Caleb looked at them. Three pictures of a guy he’d never seen before.
“I don’t know him.” He spoke clearly, for the benefit of the camera.
“Take a closer look,” said Miller. “Are you quite sure?”
This was the same shit the police used every time. Challenge every answer.
“I don’t know him,” Caleb repeated.
“Well, that’s odd”—Miller looked at his colleague, and then back at Caleb—“because we’ve been told he knew you. Would you like to look at the pictures again?”
“My client has stated he doesn’t know the man in the photographs,” said Grafton. “Perhaps you’d like to explain who alleged otherwise?”
“From Freddie Sparks himself,” replied Miller. “We have an email, where he mentions scheduling a meeting with Caleb Rush.”
“Emails can be faked.” Grafton’s voice was smooth. “My client received no such email.”
“We also have a handwritten letter from one Nicole Golden, where she claims you were threatening to blackmail her.” Miller continued, as though Grafton hadn’t spoken. “So I ask you again, Caleb. How well did you know Freddie Sparks?”
Caleb knew she was trouble when they first talked about the video. “She’s lying,” he said through gritted teeth. “I never met Freddie Sparks. I didn’t know him.”
“Blackmail is a serious allegation, Mr. Rush. Especially in light of recent events.”
Something else Caleb hated about the setup of these sessions—the way the cops would switch between calling him by his given name, as though they wanted to appear friendly, and then distance themselves by using his surname. It was all part of their tactics. Police Interviewing Technique 101.
He longed to ask what recent events, but Grafton’s steady presence at his side helped Caleb to focus. He refrained.
“Would you like to see what Ms. Golden said?” Miller asked.
The younger cop slid a sheet of paper across the table. Caleb had to look. It was a photocopied excerpt from a letter. A single line.
I’m afraid Caleb Rush is going to blackmail me.
“I’ll read it aloud.” Miller proceeded to do so.
Grafton glanced at Caleb before he spoke. “My client denies the allegation. Not only that, but I also have evidence that Nicole Golden threatened to blackmail Mr. Rush. Not the other way around.”
Go Grafton. That scored a hit.
Miller traded a look with the other cop. “You will share that evidence with us, of course?” Miller asked.
“Of course,” replied Grafton. The shark smile made a brief appearance.
“However, here’s the thing.” Miller sat back and sifted through the documents in the folder. “Whatever Mr. Rush’s relationship with Ms Golden, there’s still evidence of Freddie Sparks, setting out to meet with Mr. Rush. Three hours later, he was dead.”
“What’s that got to do with me?” Caleb couldn’t help feeling cocky.
Grafton glared at him.
“Good question,” said Miller. “Do you know where his body was found?”
This time, Caleb waited for the lawyer to nod before he answered the question. “I didn’t know he was dead until you told me, so no. I don’t know where his body was found.”
“In your house, Mr. Rush. 103 Raukawa Road, Peka Peka. It was Freddie Sparks’ body the fire service pulled out of your burning house.”
Well, fuck. Caleb didn’t see that coming. He stared at Grafton.
The lawyer must have seen his desperation. “I need a few minutes with my client,” he said.
There was a flurry of activity, while recording devices were paused and the cops left the room.
“This is a setup,” said Caleb. It was an effort to speak. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I swear to you, this is not on me. None of it.”
>
“Let’s break this into bite-sized pieces,” said Grafton. “You never met Sparks or heard from him.”
Caleb nodded.
“The handwritten letter is her word against yours, and you have a recording of the phone call and a transcript of her previous meeting where she threatened you.”
Caleb nodded again.
“If we get a sighting of you on traffic cams, we can establish you weren’t at the Peka Peka property until after it was on fire. While there’s no doubt that Sparks is dead, they haven’t mentioned the time of death or the means. As long as we have a solid alibi for you, they have to let you go.”
Caleb scrubbed his hands over his face. “You make it sound easy.”
“Let’s go through your whereabouts last night. Take me over it again.”
They worked out the time Caleb arrived and left Geoff and Sandra’s house, and when he said goodbye to Emma before riding home.
“This is our weak spot,” said Grafton. “You are in Paraparaumu just after 8 pm, and that’s a twenty-minute drive from Peka Peka. I’ll check traffic cams, to see if I can verify you went straight home. Anybody see you there?”
“No. I was on my computer for a few hours before bed, so there’d be access logs and such, but the last thing I want is the cops crawling all over my hard drives.”
“I understand. We’ll only use that as a last resort.” Grafton sat back in his seat and looked at Caleb. “You ready to start again?”
Part II - Andi
Chapter Fourteen
Andi watched silently as Caleb was led away by the police. To say this looked bad would be the understatement of the decade. Would the red team exercise continue? It had to. To be so close to the systems she needed and be denied would drive her insane.
Jonathan addressed the team. “I have to make a quick call, but then we’ll continue with the briefing.” He looked directly at Devin. “This would be a great time to get the coffees in. Keep the receipt, and I’ll refund you. Gimme ten minutes.” He disappeared into Caleb’s office, and the door clicked shut behind him.
