“What about the number?”
“No.”
“Do you think you could look into it for me?”
Winston was silent for a moment. Then, “Why would I do that?”
“It would mean I owe you a favour.”
“Can’t your assistant do it?”
“If I thought Faulkner wasn’t going to be knocking on my door later this afternoon, I would. But like you yourself just said, I need to be careful.”
Winston looked at the picture again, and sat back. “You think all this has to do with the shooting?” he said, in a worried tone. “An actual conspiracy?”
“There are too many coincidences piling up for it to be unrelated.” Sarah tapped her fingers on the desk, thinking. “You said it yourself – something’s happening. We can’t see it, but it’s there. Prowling in the dark. I think all of this smells like someone scrambling to hide something, and I want to know it is before it leaps out to bite us on the rear.”
“If Faulkner is involved, he’ll know Holden sent this to you.”
“Yes.”
“He might come after you as well.”
Sarah nodded slowly. “I expect he’ll be here before the day is out.”
“What will you do?”
“Assure him I have no idea what he’s talking about.” She tapped at her Optik, deleting Holden’s information from her device.
Winston smiled. “You know they say nothing is ever truly deleted when it comes to computers.”
“Yes, but it buys us some time, I think.” She looked away. “Faulkner doesn’t care about me. I’m a gadfly, nothing more. Albion has bigger prey in mind.”
“DedSec, you mean?”
“Alas, I was actually thinking of London,” she said, softly. She looked at him. “Get me that information, Winston. It might hold the solution to our Albion problem.”
Winston pushed himself to his feet. “You’re going to owe me for this, you know. More than just a favour this time, I think.”
“A small price to pay.”
Sarah saw him out, then stopped by Hannah’s door. “You heard?”
Hannah jolted guiltily, and Sarah knew she’d been eavesdropping. She turned in her seat. “I… might have, yes.”
“You have access to my work files and email,” Sarah said. It wasn’t a question. “I need you to make copies of everything Holden sent us and get them somewhere safe, well away from here – set up a private server or something. Whatever it is tech-savvy people do. Then scrub everything. I want nothing directly connecting us to Holden. Do you understand?”
“You think Faulkner will come for us?”
“I think Faulkner has been looking for an excuse, and we might have just given him one. If he calls, put him off. But he won’t call. He’ll bust in, looking to make an entrance and catch us on the back foot. Let him.”
Hannah frowned quizzically. “What?”
“Let him scare you. Be scared.”
“He does scare me,” Hannah said.
“Good. Let him see it. You can cry if you like.”
“Why?”
“Because the sooner he gets what he wants, the sooner he’ll piss off. And the sooner that happens, the sooner we can find out what’s actually going on.”
Sarah paused. “One more thing: is there anything I should know, before the inevitable?”
Hannah looked at her. “What do you mean?”
Sarah stared back, wondering how far to push it. Wondering whether she actually wanted to know. Hannah was an excellent assistant, a positive genius at ferreting out information. She’d never asked how Hannah found out the things she did. Hannah often told her – lunches with disgruntled employees, friends of friends, she said – but such explanations never quite had the ring of truth. Normally, she let them slide. But here and now, it could sink them. “Those two reporters… the ones you vouched for, they were the ones behind that business at the police station, weren’t they?”
“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hannah said. “I’m sorry.”
For a moment, Sarah almost believed her. She wanted to believe her. “I’m sorry as well,” she said.
As she turned to leave, Hannah said, “You’re right.”
Sarah paused. “Obviously.” Then, “About what?”
“DedSec. They’re not terrorists.”
“You sound certain of that.”
“I am.” Hannah looked at her. “Whatever’s going on, they’re the only ones trying to stop it. I can’t tell you how I know that, but… I do. They’re the only ones looking out for this city right now.”
Sarah knocked on the doorframe, pondering this. Then she turned away.
“No. They’re not the only ones.”
25: Marcus Tell
Olly climbed the steps slowly. He was still tired, though he’d gotten some sleep in the station. It wasn’t the first time he’d slept rough, but he was regretting it now. The morning was cold, and the coffee in his hands was hot. He stopped, leaning against the rail, and looked up. The source of the camera’s signal was upstairs – a flat on the sixth storey of apartment residential building near the Royal Victoria Docks.
He’d changed clothes the night before, scavenging new threads from a donation bin. Nothing fit right, but that was a small price to pay. He’d washed up with supplies purchased from a Boots in the station. Mouthwash and coffee didn’t mix well. Liz’s Optik – his Optik now – pinged and he pulled it out, checking messages. It still hadn’t synched properly with his display, but that would come in time.
The message was from Krish, consisting of emoji’s and a number to call. Olly made the call. Krish picked up the first buzz. “Where the hell are you, fam?”
“Hello to you too.” Olly took a sip of coffee. “I’m downstairs from Tell’s flat. His other flat, I guess. What’s up?”
“What’s up? Are you mental? Why didn’t you come back here?”
“We need to find this guy. Bagley filled you in?”
“Yeah, but–”
“Then you know everything.” He paused. Then, more softly: “You know about L… Redqueen, yeah? What happened?”
“Yeah, man. It’s on the telly, all over. They ain’t said shit about her, but Bagley confirmed it.” Krish was silent for a moment. “The cops got her body. We’re putting together something to get it back… somebody to pretend to be family, maybe?”
“Sounds like a plan.” Olly laughed. The
