“My pleasure, mum.” Billy caught Ro by the arm and jerked her towards the door. “Out we go, love. You’ve wasted enough of everybody’s time.”
“What am I supposed to do?” she asked, in a low hiss.
“I’d start with Colin’s gaff, if I were you,” Billy said. “See if he wrote anything down. Check his van too. And I’d be sharpish about it. The Filth will identify our boy soon enough, and then they’ll confiscate everything and you’ll be shit out of luck.”
He left Ro on the street, closing the door behind him. She stared at it for a moment and then turned away with a deep exhale of breath. “Fucking hell.”
9: Gearing Up
“Your boss in, my dear?”
Hannah looked up. A man stood in the doorway of her office. Older, heavyset, but dressed well. He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. “Only I need to see her. It’s about yesterday.”
“Are you with the police?” Hannah asked. Her Optik gave a trill, and a slow trickle of data spilled across her display – more slowly than normal, as if the program had a glitch. The facial recognition software coughed up a name: George Holden.
“No need to look nervous, sweetheart. I’m with Albion, not the plods.”
Hannah didn’t smile. “If anything, that makes me more nervous – not less. But what can I do for you, Mr Holden?” She let a bit of annoyance creep into her voice. She was busy. The life of a political PA was on of paperwork, emails and scheduling apps. She had half a dozen tasks to complete before Sarah got back from her lunch with Winston Natha.
“Like I said, I need to see your boss.” He sat down in one the chairs in front of her desk. “She’s not in her office. Thought I’d check with you.”
“Do I look like a secretary?” Hannah asked.
“A bit.” Holden was trying for charming – and failing.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Not as such.”
“Would you like to make one?”
“I’d like to see her, is what I’d like.” He wasn’t smiling now. “Where is she?”
Hannah pulled out her Optik. “I can book you in for fifteen minutes tomorrow – say eleven? If you need longer than that, it’ll have to be later in the week.”
Holden’s eyes narrowed. “I want to speak to her about the incident yesterday. Later this week might be too late.”
“She’s already spoken to the police.”
“And I’m not the police.” Holden stood and leaned over her desk, close enough that she could smell his cheap aftershave. “Your boss is on thin ice already, dear. Nigel Cass isn’t one to let a politician stand in his way. So it might be better for her – and you – if you’d show some willingness to cooperate.”
Hannah took a shallow breath. “As far as I am aware, Albion has no investigative remit in Tower Hamlets, or anywhere, in fact. If you would like to make an appointment, or leave a message with me, I will see that she gets it.”
Holden stared at her for several moments. He no longer seemed angry. Rather he seemed worried. As if things weren’t going according to plan. “Maybe I can help you,” she began. He shoved himself away from the desk.
“No. I’ll be back.” Holden turned away and stormed out, not quite slamming the door behind him. Hannah felt a sudden spike of anxiety. The way Holden had looked at her – it was as if he’d known something. Maybe about her. Maybe about the information she’d passed on to DedSec. Either way, she didn’t like it.
She closed her eyes, and fought to control her breathing. Whatever he’d wanted, he’d gone away empty handed. That was the important thing. That was – wait. Her eyes fluttered open, as a sudden suspicion bloomed. She pulled out her Optik and scrolled through her apps. There were a handful of illicit programs installed on the device – mostly of the data gathering variety. But one or two had more practical applications, including the detection of RF signals. Activating the app, she stood and circled her desk.
Her display was filled with duelling signals. Benign frequencies were white, invasive were yellow and dangerous, red. Invasive frequencies were fairly common these days – every Optik was a passive data-harvester, transmitting information to a central network. But red frequencies were something else again – active, rather than passive.
She found the bug under the lip of the desk. It was impossibly small, barely the thickness of a thumbnail. A sliver of hardware, inserted into the grain of the wood. If she hadn’t suspected, she wouldn’t have even known it was there. She activated a frequency scrambler app, and stepped back. “Bagley,” she murmured.
Hello Hannah Shah. Long time no speak.
“I have a bug.”
Perhaps you should call your GP. Or an exterminator.
“Not that sort of bug,” Hannah said. She took a picture of the bug with her Optik. “What can you tell me about it?”
Oh my. That is a clever little thing. Very intricate.
“An Albion representative – or someone claiming to be one – planted it.”
Interesting. The signal is encrypted. Downloading to a private server.
“Meaning?”
Whoever is listening, it isn’t Albion. At least not officially.
“He was asking about the shooting yesterday.” Hannah’s mind raced. “He seemed… worried. Upset. He wanted to see Sarah.”
Curious. There’s a good deal of chatter on the subject of yesterday’s shootings.
“Shootings? As in plural?” Hannah interjected. “Who else got shot?”
An unlucky fellow in an alley behind a pub. Similar modus operandi.
Hannah shook her head. “What’s going on here?”
That is what we are trying to determine.
Hannah paused. “What do you need me to do?”
You know what they say about volunteering, Hannah.
“I was a community organizer before I was a PA, Bagley. I’ve always been a volunteer. Now what do you need?”
Access to Bethnal Green police station. Albion is planning a surprise visit this afternoon, during the shift change. We need to get in there first.
Hannah hesitated. “I think we
