‘Neither can I. But that doesn’t mean I’m right.’ He turned sharply and stopped by her desk. ‘If this information’s so hard to get hold of, how did he find it out? And what happened to set him off on this crusade? He’s spent ages grooming his victims. How has he kept it all together?’
‘Maybe he hasn’t. Maybe his girlfriend’s been covering his back at work.’ She knocked back the rest of her drink and sighed in satisfaction. ‘God, that’s better.’
‘I wish I could talk to her,’ he muttered.
‘I know. But we have to hang fire till we see what Stacey can do.’
‘I appreciate that. But I’ve almost never come across a serial offender who’s had a sustained emotional relationship. If we’re right about Warren Davy, there are so many questions she could answer. So many insights she could give us.’ He sighed.
‘You’ll get your chance.’
Tony grinned. ‘I’ll be like a kid in a sweet shop.’
Carol shook her head, amused. ‘You’re weird.’
‘I don’t know how you can say that when there are people like Warren Davy out there. Compared to him, I’m normality itself.’
She laughed out loud. ‘I wouldn’t bank on it, Tony.’
CHAPTER 38
Alvin Ambrose felt at home in the MIT squad room right from the start. These were the kind of cops he understood. Paula McIntyre had sorted him out with a desk, a phone, a computer and a coffee. Everyone who had passed through had stopped to introduce themselves, even the little Chinese woman in the corner who seemed to be hard-wired to her computer system.
He also relished the sense of being at the heart of the operation. The only problem was that there wasn’t really much for him to do there. Everyone was working their way through piles of paper or screens of data, but he knew they were only keeping busy. Everyone was on pins, waiting for Stacey to emerge from behind her barricade of screens with the motherlode.
With nothing else to occupy him, he thought he might as well check his email. Humming under his breath, he waited for the screen to load. The music stopped halfway through a bar as he realised what he was looking at. The second item in his inbox was: davywar1@gmail.com: how can i help?
Ambrose swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted to open the email, but Stacey and her ilk had warned him so thoroughly about the destructive potential of email that he didn’t want to take any chances. Still, he had an expert on the spot. He walked over to Stacey’s corner and waited while her fingers flew and clicked. After a minute or so, she looked up. ‘Did you want something?’
‘I think I’ve got an email from Warren Davy,’ he said. ‘It’s on my computer.’
Stacey looked at him as if he was a little slow. ‘Which account?’
‘My police one. Aambrose@westmerciapolice.org.’
‘Go and shut it down on your screen, please,’ she said. ‘Then come back and sign in here.’
By the time he came back, she had the sign-in screen in front of her. She stood up and looked away while he entered his password. He suspected it was just for show. She probably had a record of every keystroke on her system. Once he was in, he stepped back and let her at the screen. She cocked her head and looked at the subject line. ‘Let’s go for it,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got every virus protection known to humankind and one or two alien ones running on this system.’ He wasn’t entirely convinced she was joking.
The email unfurled on the central screen on the lower level. On the screen above it, a stream of numbers and letters suddenly sprang into life. But Ambrose was only interested in the message.
Hi, Detective Sergeant Ambrose
My partner, Diane Patrick, said you wanted me to contact you. Something about my car? Sorry not to phone, I’m in Malta on business and it costs an arm and a leg, plus I’m working pretty much full on so email is easier for me. If you let me know what it’s all about, I will get back to you asap.
Best
Warren Davy
DPS Systems: www.dps.com
‘Interesting,’ Stacey said.
‘Looks pretty straightforward to me,’ Ambrose said.
‘Except that it’s not been sent from Malta.’ Stacey pointed at the upper screen, which had come to rest with a very straightforward message. ‘It’s come from a computer owned by Bradfield City Council libraries department. He’s in town, Sarge. And either he doesn’t care that we know it or he’s an arrogant twat who thinks we’re a lot less sophisticated than he is.’
‘Either way, he’s probably getting ready to roll. How are you getting on with your trap?’
Stacey shrugged. ‘It’ll be done when it’s done. These things are hard to predict.’ She began to tap the keys again, her eyes flitting between screens. As Ambrose watched, she suddenly froze. Seconds ticked by and still she didn’t move. He thought she’d even stopped breathing.
Then her fingers were flying over the keys, almost too fast to register. ‘Gotcha, gotcha, gotcha,’ she said, her voice a crescendo from whisper to shout. ‘We’ve got him,’ she yelled.
Almost before her words had died away, they were all clustered round. Carol Jordan elbowed her way through. Ambrose made room for her at the front. ‘What is it, Stacey? What have you got?’
‘I’ve got two. BB and GG. BB is on top right, GG top left. Both scrolling down to the bottom screen.’
They stood there transfixed as text unrolled before their eyes. BB was chatting to someone calling himself DirtAngel. From the sound of it, BB was setting up a meeting so they could go dirt biking the following day. He was promising to teach him the secrets of the sport. ‘He’s on the move tomorrow, ‘ Carol said.
GG and his chat-mate weren’t online live, but Stacey had pulled up their last chat. ‘He’s pretending to be a girl. He’s setting up 1dagal for a makeover. After school on Thursday. Look: “Tel no1. I’l show u t bigst secrt. U’l look gr8 when we’re dun.” Secrets again.’
‘He’s playing with them,’ Tony said. ‘He knows their biggest secret, the one they don’t know about themselves. So he teases them with the idea of secrets.’
‘Who are these kids, Stacey?’
‘I’m working on it,’ she said absently. ‘Why don’t you all bugger off and leave me in peace? I’ll email you all I’ve got from the C&A. Now I need to backdoor these accounts and the less you know, the better.’
They melted away. ‘She’s something else,’ Ambrose said to Paula.
‘She’s the best. She only works here for fun, you know?’
‘This is her idea of fun?’
Paula chuckled. ‘Oh yeah. She gets to poke her fingers into all sorts of stuff and nobody’s going to be coming after her for it. But when she’s not here? She’s busy making millions with her own software company. Talk about secrets. She thinks nobody knows about her other life, but one time she let the name of her company slip to Sam and that was a red rag to a bull. No way he was going to stop till he’d found out every last cough and spit.’ She cast a speculative look at Sam. ‘God help her if he ever realises she’s in love with him.’ Suddenly she stopped short, her face shocked and puzzled in equal measure. ‘Why am I talking to you like this?’
Tony, who had been standing behind them unnoticed, suddenly spoke. ‘Because he’s like you, Paula. People talk to him. The same way they do to you.’
Ambrose’s laugh was a low rumble in his chest. ‘It’s a scary gift.’
‘Don’t tell Carol,’ Tony said. ‘She’ll be recruiting you before you know it.’
Ambrose looked around the room where he already felt so at home. ‘A man could do a lot worse.’
Tony studied Carol, who was talking to Kevin, her head bent over her desk. ‘He could. On the other hand, you could say she deserves better than any of us.’ And he walked away, completely heedless of the small sensation his words left behind.