She paused. “Hell.”
“What?”
“Holden.”
“Who?” Olly was staring at her now. Liz ignored him.
“Bagley, who’s the bloke Hannah is looking for? Holden something?”
George Holden. A managing technician at the drone facility in Limehouse. He’s gone walkabout apparently. Why – oh. Ah. I see.
“I bloody don’t,” Olly said.
“Holden was looking into the shooting as well. And being sneaky about it. That’s not a coincidence.”
“You think he has something to do with it?”
Liz leaned back. “Maybe. Maybe it’s just coincidence. But I don’t think so. Either way, I need to inform the others. If there is a killer drone flying around, all of DedSec London need to keep their eyes and apps peeled for it.”
“I’ll get back to it then,” Olly said, turning back to his work. Liz watched him for a moment, then made the call.
“Yes?” a voice answered. “Sabine,” Liz said, softly. She moved away from the table, activating a scrambler app as she did so. Not that Olly was paying attention, but better safe than sorry. Like a genie springing from a bottle, Sabine Brandt’s ovoid icon appeared on her display.
“Liz. Anything new?”
“Some. None of it good. We have the Optik. It belonged to a Marcus Tell. That name seem familiar to you?”
“No, sadly.”
“What about Colin Wilson?”
“Again, no. Though I might be able to find something out.”
“I’ll work on it from this end as well. There’s more. Bagley got us the scene-of-crime analysis reports for both shootings. The shots were made by a high powered semi-automatic rifle. And the trajectory – they could only have come from above.”
“The rooftops?”
“Higher.”
Sabine was silent. Then, “That is an interesting wrinkle.”
“I thought so. I think someone is using a drone. We know Albion have combat operational models, but someone would have seen something. Unless…”
“It was camouflaged somehow.”
“Exactly.” Liz frowned. She could hear the doubt in Sabine’s voice. “Whoever Marcus Tell is, someone wanted him dead. I intend to find out why.”
“You sound angry, Liz. Maybe you should leave it to someone else.” Sabine paused. “I know Alex’s death must have hit you hard, but…”
“But what?” Liz snapped. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but no. No, I’m not handing this off. We need to know what happened. If there’s some lunatic out there using a drone to snipe targets, we need to stop them.”
“We’re not the police, Liz,” Sabine said. “DedSec has a mission. We have a mission. Leave this one to them, or Albion, or whoever. There are more important matters to hand. This city is a powder keg, and someone somewhere has lit a fuse.”
Liz recognised that tone. “Dalton found something.”
“Of course he did. He always does.” There was a trace of bitterness there. Liz had often wondered if Dalton Wolfe and Sabine Brandt had had something together in the past. The former MI5 operative and the outlaw hacker – it was a Hollywood screenplay waiting to be written. The way they’d acted around one another the few times she’d seen them in the flesh… but she’d never dared broach the subject. It wasn’t her business.
“Well it’s no surprise he’s good at his bloody job, is it?” Liz murmured.
“He suspects someone is planning an attack. No idea who, but there’s been mutterings around the TOAN conference…”
Liz glanced back at Olly. “Do you think it’s connected?”
“Not this time,” Sabine said, firmly. “Not everything is part of some grand conspiracy, Liz, no matter what your parents taught you.”
“That was low,” Liz said. “But point taken. So what is it?”
“I don’t know yet. When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.” Sabine paused. “I think things are going to get worse before they get better. Be safe, Liz.”
“You too, mate.” Liz cut the connection.
Not for the first time, Olly found himself wondering what he was doing with his life. Why was he still in London? Anyone else with any sense and the ability to falsify travel documents would be on a plane to Ibiza. Instead, he was in a sub-basement, dissecting proprietary technology and breaking dozens of laws.
Yesterday had been close. Exciting, but it could have ended badly. Might still end badly, unless he was careful. He thought about what Liz had said, about London. Did he feel the same? He’d never really thought about it. Not like that. London was just… London. It was the place where he was. He’d never thought about being anywhere else.
East London was home.
He paused, looking at the Optik. It was home, and you defended your ends when some fucker came looking to mess things up, right? It sounded simple, but it wasn’t really. This wasn’t the sort of thing that could be solved with punches or hacking a program.
A string of scrambled texts appeared on his display, dredged from the memory of Tell’s Optik. The scrambling was due to an encryption app. You had to have the right cipher to decode it. Luckily, he had a universal decryption program – it was useful for password prediction. The texts were lists – materials, he thought, though for what he couldn’t say.
They’d been sent to a number that he knew right off was for a burner phone. Old fashioned, but not unexpected. He made a note of the materials. Whatever project Tell had needed them for, he’d probably already completed it.
“Bagley?” he asked.
Oliver.
“What do you make of this list?”
Ah. Oh. Oh my. That is naughty indeed.
“Meaning?”
These materials have a multiplicity of uses, but their accumulation on a single list implies they are being combined into an improvised explosive device. And not just one.
Olly felt a chill. “How many?”
Ten, at least. It depends on the payload.
“Jesus,” he blurted.
“What?” Liz asked, from behind him. She’d finished her call, and he flushed slightly as he realized she’d been listening. He turned.
“Tell was making bombs. Or helping someone make bombs.”
“Bombs?” Liz joined him. She looked at the list, and whistled softly. “Oh that is not good. Not good at all.” She frowned.
