‘That’s great!’ I muttered in annoyance. ‘Two sets of plans in safes fitted with alarms and a separate computer system with barred access and dual password in a security zone. How the hell am I going to get in there and copy the plans?’
She stared at me coolly. ‘There is a way. I know a computer expert who’s first-class at breaking passwords. He lives and breathes computers. He’s also brilliant on security devices which prevent people from entering secured premises. He could help you to do it.’
‘Is he a 21st Century Crusader as well?’
‘He’s an old friend of mine. He’s just been released from prison where he was jailed for three years for computer hacking.’
‘Oh brilliant!’ I guffawed. ‘A jailbird to break into a security zone with me!’
‘I couldn’t think of anyone better. You see the problem is how to break into the security area where the computer is located.’
‘I could get Packman to let me have a pass to gain access to the plant,’ I suggested naively.
‘If everything was that simple,’ she retorted. ‘The pass is a sensitised plastic card. Once placed into the machine, a security device makes certain it can’t be used again for twenty-four hours. You’ll need two passes. On for you and one for Chris Devon.’
‘Packman won’t give me two passes,’ I growled. ‘We’ll just have to copy the one given to me.’
‘That won’t work either,’ persisted Penny, ostensibly destroying every suggestion I made. ‘The card’s designed so as it can’t be copied. It’ll corrupt if you try to do so. But there is technology to overcome the problem.’
I sighed loudly to show my dissatisfaction. ‘What sort of technology?’ I asked tiredly.
‘Chris Devon will have it all in hand. I’m certain of it.’
‘But he’s been incarcerated for three years. He may not wish to become involved, let alone have the expertise to do what you want.’ By this time I was become rather exasperated.
‘You’ll just have to trust me,’ she went on.
‘Don’t keep saying that!’ I felt my blood surge through my veins as anger welled up inside me. ‘The risks are too great! I can’t do it!’ I walked to the door and opened it. ‘I’m going to the
East End… St. Katherine’s Dock. I have to check whether Jan is there.’
‘Very well,’ she nodded. ‘But it’s essential we see Chris Devon, my computer expert, as soon as possible. I’ll meet you at Leyton underground station in, say, two hours time.’
I glanced at my wristwatch to note the time. ‘If we have to,’ I groaned. Two hours. But then I must get some sleep. I feel I’ve been awake for a hundred years.’
She came to the door and kissed me sweetly. ‘We’ll see it through,’ she told me, brushing my hair back gently. ‘See you soon!’
The area leading down to St. Katherine’s Dock comprise a maze of ancient warehouses. The area was dingy and dirty and the air was polluted with wisps of wool imported from New Zealand which had been stacked in many of the warehouses. There was a strong smell of coffee as well as the delicate aroma of musk, peppers and a whole host of other spices. I read the address on the sheet of paper Davina had given me. It was a warehouse down one of the narrow lanes leading to the docks. The door of the place was slightly open when I arrived there and I peered inside. When my eyes became accustomed to the darkness, I entered.
‘Is anyone there?’ I called out foolishly, for if this was a trap I had walked straight into it with my eyes wide open. ‘Jan… can you hear me?’ My words echoed vacantly through the warehouse. ‘Jan… are you there?’ I sat down on a large sack which appeared to contain sugar and waited for a while but nothing happened. Eventually, I got to my feet and was about to leave when I noticed a long table near to a tiny barred window at the end of the room. I walked towards it hesitantly, interested to find out what was laying there. It appeared to be a body covered with a dirty sheet. I touched it with horror believing it to be Jan only to discover that it was her coat filled with bundles of straw to make me believe that it was her corpse. Someone was playing a very sick game! Unfortunately, such antics did little to help me find my wife. Where was she… in England… in Israel? I could only hope that she was not suffering!
I sat on the table with my back against the wall for a while in anticipation that someone might turn up to find out whether or not I had discovered the mock corpse but no one did. Then fatigue overcame me and I fell asleep. I was probably affected by jet-lag from the flight. When I awoke, I glanced at my watch to discover that over an hour-and-a-half had passed. I hurried out of the docks area to keep the appointment with Penny. When I got to Leyton underground station she was waiting patiently for me.
‘It’s not far from here,’ she informed me, walking on so that I was forced to follow her. ‘I met Chris Devon about six years ago at evening classes. I got as far as word-processing; Chris went on to better things.
‘Or worse things if you take into account that he spent three years in prison,’ I corrected.
‘Maybe,’ she responded, ‘but no one can take his talent away from him. He is an expert in the true sense of the word.’
I shrugged my shoulders as we arrived at a terraced house in a seedy part of London. For a moment it reminded me of the time when we stood outside Menel’s hovel in Jaffa. Penny lifted the large knocker on the front door and brought it down three times. We waited patiently and shortly there was the sound of footsteps clattering on the stairs inside before the door was opened. Chris Devon was a person to whom I took an instant dislike. He was as thin as a rake and looked like a scarecrow. He had a gummy smile because all his front teeth had eroded. His long black hair was tied behind in a pony tail and he sported an ugly beard which had grown completely out of shape. In the lobes of each ear were three silver ear-rings while a mock diamond pin had been pierced through his nostril. He wore a dirty shirt and very stained trousers and I was not enchanted by the foul odour that seemed to follow him around wherever he went.
‘Come upstairs!’ he invited casually. ‘Hope you don’t mind the mess. Wasn’t expecting you.’
We followed him up the narrow staircase and I struck my head on the well of the stairs which hung particularly low. ‘By the way,’ he called out belatedly. ‘Mind your head!’
We entered a small room which sported a profusion of television monitors, computers, computer screens, and shelves of computer books. As Penny had told me, Devon lived and breathed computers. The only evidence of normal life were a tiny table, a skinny wooden chair, a tin kettle on a single gas-ring, a bottle of milk and half a loaf of bread.
‘So you’re the computer expert,’ I offered in a contemptuous manner.
‘Sorry there’s no other chairs, ‘ he told us as though I hadn’t spoken to him at all. ‘Never need them. Don’t get any visitors normally.’ He turned to me sombrely. ‘Er… there’s a half bottle of beer here somewhere if you can find it.’ He pressed a button on one of the computers and a video game appeared.
‘It’s all right,’ said Penny warmly. ‘We’re not staying long. We have something that might interest you.’
‘Oh yeh!’ His mind was a million miles away as he started to play the video game. ‘What’s it all about?’
‘Hold it there for a minute!’ I shouted angrily. ‘Just hold it there!’