That chap knows his onions, Steven thought. Aloud he said, “Good. That’s good. But the question now becomes,whois trying to infiltrate Morrison’s systems? And why? My first guess would be that someone is trying to bring him down for his…you know what.” He glanced over at the old man. After Morrison had come to, he had cursed roundly and then demanded to know what Steven had accomplished while he was out.
Luckily, Steven’s plan of attack had pleased Morrison. Now the skinny old wank was reclined on the red sofa, talking in hushed tones on one of the mobiles he had fished from a drawer in his desk where Steven was currently balancing a hip.
“But my worry is that those blasted Panama Papers tipped someone off that not everything in Morrison’s organization is precisely as one would expect,” he added. He and his security team had been in the process of going through all twelve million leaked documents, hunting for clues that might link Morrison to the mysterious underworld crime boss known only as Spider, but so far, they’d come up clean. Still, that didn’t mean someoneelsehadn’t found some sort of connection.
“I suppose it’s possible. I wouldn’t put it past—Stupid knob! Sodding gobshite!” Steven knew Benton wasn’t speaking to him, especially since the sound of Benton’s fingers clickety-clacking over the keyboard increased their speed. After about ten seconds, Benton added, “That’s right, you bloody wankstain. Eat my digital dust.” Then, more calmly, he said, “Now what were we talking about?”
“Chelsea Duvall…who sent her and why.”
“Oh right.” Benton’s voice seemed to shrug. “You know, it doesn’t really matter why. The fact remains that she was bloody wellsent. What does Spider want you to do?”
Again, Steven snuck a peek at Morrison. “Find her. Find the thumb drive. Whatever it takes.”
Benton snorted. “Sounds about right.” Then he added, “But have you considered what will happen if the authorities catch up to her before you do? If she is working for the Americans in some way, she could come clean. Where would that leave us?”
“Spider assures me he has contacts inside who will all-too-happily hand her over to us, should she be apprehended. But of course he prefers that we use the information the authorities share with us and then take care of the nasty business ourselves.”
“And can you take of it yourself? Do you have any idea where to begin looking for her?” The sound of Benton’s rattling keyboard was almost hypnotic.
“It took some work and more time than I would have liked, but Scotland Yard forwarded CCTV footage that shows five figures on Ducatis racing out of the city a little over an hour ago.”
“Five? I thought you said there were four of them in total. Chelsea and the three masked men.”
“There were five on the motorbikes. Three men, Chelsea, and what looked to be another woman. They were all helmeted, so I couldn’t see their faces on the film. But Chelsea was easily recognizable. That derriere alone…”
“Right-oh!” Benton chuckled. “I’ve seen photos of her. She is one well-padded woman.”
Ignoring that, Steven continued, “They were heading south on the A2. I’m thinking Folkestone or Dover. They’ll likely try for a Channel crossing by ferry or via the Chunnel.”
At least he hoped that’s what they were doing. He wasbettingthat’s what they were doing. Betting everything, in fact. Not just his own life, but his mother’s as well.
In Spider’s organization, there was no such thing as getting sacked. Failure equaled death. Pure and simple. And if Steven died, his mother would be transferred out of that posh facility Spider’s paychecks allowed him to keep her in and sent to one of those dodgy government-run places where the patients were allowed to sit around in shat-filled trousers half the day. He suffered no illusions that she would last long in a place like that.
The surgery to remove her brain tumor had been a success. She was now cancer-free. But while recovering, she had suffered a debilitating stroke that had left her mostly paralyzed and completely unable to speak.
She was still alive and kicking inside the shell of her wrecked body, however. Her eyes lit up—the same dark eyes she had passed to him—whenever he went for a visit. And the little computer he had purchased for her, the one she could type on with the pointer finger of her left hand—which, miraculously, she had retained the use of—allowed her some rudimentary communication. She always asked how he was and then listened avidly before typing out the words:I love you. I’m proud of you.
If she only knew, Steven thought now.
Hewoulddo this thing for Spider, just as he had done a hundred other distasteful things for the man. Things that went against his morals and his training. Things that would make his loving mum weep if she ever found out.
“Our friend in Scotland Yard has teams waiting at the Chunnel and ferry terminals,” he told Benton. “I’m headed there as soon as I get off with you.”
“Well, good luck to you, mate.” Benton signed off.
At the same time Morrison ended his call and turned to Steven. “It’s confirmed. Cameras in Dover picked them up traveling through the center of town.”
“Mother England’s overabundance of surveillance equipment comes to the rescue once again,” Steven mumbled.
It was said there was one CCTV camera for every eleven English citizens. That usually made the work he did a bit tricky. But in this case, those nasty little fish-eyed fucks—as well as the vast network of sources his boss had inside the British government—were coming in rather handy.
“Seems you were right about them trying for a Channel crossing,” Morrison mused, fiddling with the ridiculous bun at the back of his head. “The noose is closing. Shall you and I head south?”
“You want to come with me?” Steven couldn’t hide his surprise.
Red mottled Morrison’s cheeks, and his bloodshot eyes glowed fiercely in the light from the office chandelier. “She came intomyhouse with that sad sap story about her mum and the childhood home she was desperately trying to save, pulling at my heartstrings.” Steven knew it hadn’t been a story. The background check he had run on Chelsea was in depth. Shehadbeen trying for years to pay down the mortgages on her family’s home, the house her parents had built themselves. Still, that didn’t mean she wasn’talsoworking for the American government.
“Then the duplicitous bitch turned around and poisonedmyproperty and is poised to bring downmyempire along with…” The old man didn’t finished the sentence. Instead he swallowed and breathed heavily. “I want to be there when she’s captured. I want to be there when she’s turned over to you. I want to be there when you question her, and…whatever else might need to happen. In fact, I might fancyhelpingyou with whatever else might need to happen. As my doddering old parish priest used to say, ‘Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord!’”
