Hell's Glen: A Thrilling and Fast-Pace Gritty Romantic-Suspense Page 3
Darting a glance around the pub, she leaned forward and in a low voice said, “It came down to the psych report. Says you’re still exhibiting signs of PTSD, you’re drinking too much, and your personal life is in flux.”
“For fuck’s sake. I split with Emma almost a year ago and we were limping to the finish line way before then. And so what if I have the occasional drink or nightmare? Doesn’t everyone?” Jamie took a gulp of lager. “Christ, I fuckin’ hate shrinks almost as much as I hate hackers.”
“It’s not a ‘never’, just a ‘not yet’,” said Gill placatingly. “Do the counselling, curb the drinking, keep your nose clean and you’ll make Inspector next time.”
“Counselling?” gasped Jamie wide-eyed. “Are they fuckin’ joking?”
“Just tick the boxes Jamie, play the game. You’re a good officer on accelerated promotion. And you’re only thirty-two; you’ve a promising career ahead of you. This is just a bump in the road.”
He muttered, “The career’s all I’ve bloody got. I never wanted to be part of the cyber unit but I handed them Sinclair and if I cannae get a promotion on the back of that, what motivation is there? No offence Gill, but I’d be as well putting in for a transfer and starting somewhere new.”
Eying him over the rim of her glass, she said, “Funny you should say that because there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”
He gave her a questioning look. “I’m listening.”
“Moore’s been contacted by Counter Terrorism Command. Something about a joint operation with them and the Security Service. Your name came up.”
Jason Moore was Gillian’s boss and a member of the senior team responsible for deciding promotions.
Jamie couldn’t imagine what they’d want, but Gill’s words had aroused his curiosity. “My name? What do the spooks want with me, especially after that psych report?”
She shrugged. “I’m too far down the food chain to know, but there’s a meeting in London next week. I guess you’ll find out then.”
“London? That big?”
Gill nodded. “Maybe the clean slate you need Jamie.”
Raising his pint glass, he said, “Surely cannae be as dull as the cyber unit.”
A week later, Jamie found himself in an office in Thames House in London, the headquarters of the United Kingdom's internal Security Service, commonly known as MI5.
Gathered around the glass and chrome conference table were half a dozen suits, all representatives from MI5 and SO15 Counter Terrorism Command. The two factions lined opposite sides of the table, like warring parties, with a psychologist positioned between them. The psychologist, who’d introduced herself as Pia, was the only woman amongst them, and Jamie sat opposite her at the other end of the table. His heart sank.
Julien Tomkins, a Lead Operations Officer from MI5, had just finished outlining a high-level brief with the aid of a Security Service-branded PowerPoint presentation stuffed full of business jargon. Jamie stifled a sigh; it wasn’t the assignment he’d hoped for. Financial fraud made the work of Glasgow’s cyber-crime unit sound like the vice squad. Even the offices were a disappointment, despite their enviable view. It was more corporate than he’d expected, like the headquarters of a bank.
They all stared at him.
“You want me to investigate tax fraud?” he asked blankly.
“Well, it’s not as simple as that,” said Julien folding his arms, “or we wouldn’t be sat here.”
Jamie had come across desk wankers like Julien often enough in his army career; privately-educated, frightfully plummy, and recruited straight from Oxbridge. He bristled at Julien’s accent, associating it with upper-class twits fresh from Sandhurst who couldnae organise a piss-up in a polo club.
“Surely a job for Revenue and Customs?” said Jamie.
“Or the police,” said Julien, shooting a pointed glance at the faction opposite.
“Definitely your remit Julien, given American involvement,” snapped one of the SO15 suits.
Jamie felt like he was back in a war zone as he watched the parties shoot glares at one another. Julien looked furious, his professional veneer slipping for a moment.
Commander MacLeish from SO15 raised his hands to silence further sniping. In his late fifties, he’d a worn face that exuded authority and the others appeared to defer to him. He said, “There’s a much bigger picture here, one that wasn’t apparent until an informer made contact and Julien and his team began to dig.”
Jamie exhaled a long breath. “Okay but why me?”
MacLeish smiled. “You’re tailor-made son. Your background, training and experience make you the perfect fit to be convincing in the role. In any case, we don’t have the time to teach the knowledge and skills to another officer with more undercover experience. You’ve already got them in spades, plus you’re familiar with the details from a previous case. It’s just whether you’re up for it or not?”
Trying to inject some enthusiasm into his voice, Jamie replied, “I can do it but I’m a cop, not a forensic accountant.”
“This isn’t a regular fraud case and it’s not without danger. We’ve already lost one informant under suspicious circumstances.”
They all stared at him again.
Knowing it was either this or an ignominious return to the cyber unit, Jamie said, “Okay, so let me get this straight, you want me to pose as a manager at a Scottish country estate to infiltrate a bunch of Jesus freaks you suspect of tax fraud?”
Julien nodded. “Pretty much. There’s just one small detail we haven’t mentioned.”
Jamie couldn’t believe his fucking ears.
Kathryn
Kathryn and her solicitor Sarah sat in the holding cell adjacent to the main court room in Westminster Magistrates’ Court in Central London. Window-less and sparsely furnished, the cell seemed to reflect the depressing nature of its purpose, and Kathryn knew she’d likely have to get used to similar conditions if not worse for many years to come.
After she’d been charged, Kathryn had been denied bail and put in prison. Locked up with drug addicts and women in need of psychiatric treatment, it’d been a living hell in which she’d constantly felt under threat of physical attack. During her incarceration she’d suffered acute episodes of depression and suicidal thoughts. Sarah had finally kicked up such a stink that Kathryn was released on bail, on condition she wore an electronic tag and did not access the internet. She’d returned home to Glasgow knowing it was only a temporary reprieve.
The charges against her for computer hacking and conspiring to attack various government institutions were multiple, here and in the United States. Along with the Met’s e-crime division and the FBI, Jamie Denton and his team hadn’t just thrown the book at her, they’d hurled the entire library. Months of legal wrangling and hearings followed. Her expenses ran into the tens of thousands and she knew she’d have to sell her grandmother’s house to pay for them, and still there wouldn’t be enough to cover the costs even with state aid.
Finally, the case bubbled up through the system to the highest court for a decision on whether Kathryn could be extradited to the United States to face charges for breaching the security of the IRS, and hacking into the US Federal Reserve to steal the personal information of users. Sarah had prewarned her that she was expected to lose today because, in light of the serious charges and evidence against her, the British government were powerless to prevent the extradition.
While Sarah read case notes, Kathryn sat opposite her, rocking back and forth in her chair as they awaited the decision. She glanced at the clock on the wall wondering why it was taking so long.
Sarah looked up and gave her an apologetic smile. “Don’t lose heart Kathryn, even if we lose today, there’s still a chance it’ll be overturned on appeal.”
Wringing her hands, Kathryn said, “It’s unlikely, there are no grounds, you said so yourself.”
“But the process will delay things for months, maybe even years.”
Tears welled behind Kathryn’s eyes. “Only to see me extradited to the US where I’ll spend at least twenty years behind bars.”
Sarah reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “I won’t stop fighting for you, you know that.”
Swallowing, Kathryn mouthed “thank you” as she fought back tears of despair.
There was a tap at the door and Kathryn jumped. A court official appeared and summoned Sarah, and Kathryn paced manically as she awaited her return. When her solicitor reappeared, Kathryn began to sob loudly.
Sarah put an arm around her. “Sorry, nothing yet, they’re running late so it might be another hour. I need to go and talk to the other legal team but I won’t be long.” She squeezed Kathryn’s shoulder again. “Stay strong.” Sarah bundled up her papers and left quietly.
After she’d gone, Kathryn slumped in her chair and wept. Alone in the holding cell, the enormity of what was happening overwhelmed her, and she clutched her sides to prevent herself from coming apart. After a few minutes, there was a knock on the door and the court officer appeared again. He gave Kathryn a half smile. “You’ve a couple of visitors Miss Sinclair.”
Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she glanced up to see DS James Denton looking every bit as pissed off as the day he’d arrested her. He was accompanied by another man in a well-tailored dark suit who thrust out his hand and introduced himself as Julien Tomkins.
Ignoring his hand, she sniffed, “What do you want?”
“I believe you know my colleague, DS Denton?”
She met Denton’s steely gaze, remembering how it’d bored into her during many long, tortuous hours of questioning. She’d hoped
never to see it again. “Come to gloat?” she asked.
Denton sneered, the scar puckering his lip into a snarl. Julien pulled up a seat across from her and she caught a strong whiff of aftershave. Arms folded, Denton remained standing, glowering at her.
Julien produced a pressed linen handkerchief from his top pocket and handed it to her. “Quite the opposite Miss Sinclair. We’re here to offer you a deal.”
Kathryn dabbed her eyes and gawped at him. “A deal?”
From a leather folio, Julien produced a copy of the Official Secrets Act and asked her to sign it. He then spent the next ten minutes outlining what was required in return for dropping all charges against her. Dazed, she listened as he explained that they wanted her help to investigate a group suspected of large-scale international tax fraud. Kathryn struggled to take it all in as he described how, after training, she’d go undercover and use her cyber skills to gather the intelligence they needed.
After he finished, he leaned back in his chair and asked, “So, do we have a deal?”
She stared at him for a few moments. “So, let me get this straight, the British government will stop my extradition, waive my legal fees and arrange for all charges for computer misuse to be dropped … in return for more computer misuse?”
Julien gave her a wry smile. “That’s one way of summing it up.”
Raising an incredulous eyebrow, she said. “And I just have to sing Kumbaya, and dig around in a few servers owned by a bunch of happy clappies?”
Denton snorted with derision.
Ignoring him, Julien said, “There’s a little more to it than that, and I have to warn you that it’s not without risk.”
“What’s the catch?” she asked, glancing nervously at Denton who glowered balefully at her.
Julien’s lips curled in amusement. “Hmm, I wouldn’t say there’s a catch but we’ll get into the details later.”
Denton scowled at him.
After the two men left, Sarah popped back in to speak to Kathryn after having been informed about the latest development by the Crown’s legal team. She held a copy of the agreement and scanned through it.
Sarah shook her head in disbelief. “I’ve never seen anything like it in all my years. I was prepared for months of wrangling in the appeal courts.” Glancing at Kathryn, she asked, “You sure you want to do this?”
Kathryn grinned. “I don’t want to go to jail so yes, I’ll do it.”
“Just so long as you know what you’re getting into.” She stabbed a finger at the agreement. “I don’t like this one bit, Kathryn. You’ll be at the mercy of whoever they appoint as the senior officer, and it pretty much says that if you don’t complete the training and see the job through to their satisfaction, you’ll be straight back here.” Sarah’s brow furrowed with concern as she continued reading. “There are no guarantees with this.”
“So, it’s take it or leave it?”
Sarah nodded. “They won’t budge an inch either.”
Kathryn blew out a long breath and reached for the paperwork. “You got a pen?”
Sarah left Kathryn alone again while she went to meet with the prosecution’s legal team to draft a public statement about the delay in the decision to extradite. Kathryn ran a hand through her hair as she scanned a copy of the agreement she’d just signed, caught between elation at avoiding prison and terror at the thought of becoming a puppet of the security services. And why was bloody Denton involved? He was a cop and surely wasn’t going to be a part of this operation. Was he? She simply didn’t know as the details were deliberately being kept sketchy. Still, if it was just a case of hacking into a few servers, then surely it’d be a walk in the cyber park. Could she really be that lucky?
After a few minutes, Sarah reappeared accompanied by Julien and Denton.
Julien smiled. “I’d like you to come with us now Miss Sinclair.”
Wide-eyed, she spluttered, “What? Now?”
“Yes now.”
Kathryn’s stomach dropped to the floor as the full enormity of what she’d just signed sank in. Sarah shook her hand and wished her luck before she departed. Kathryn could feel Denton’s animosity towards her; he seemed to exude it from every pore.
Kathryn followed them through the court buildings along dark corridors and out into a cobbled alleyway. Julien led them to a café on a nearby side-street. Warm and welcoming, if somewhat shabby, a server appeared and they were ushered to a quiet booth at the rear. Kathryn slid into the banquette seating opposite the two men.
After they’d ordered coffees, she looked at Julien and said, “I still don’t understand why you need me for this. Don’t you have people who do this sort of thing?”
“Exactly,” muttered Denton, shooting her an excoriating look.
Julien nodded and in a low voice said, “We do and they’ve been digging for months without success. On the surface the group are squeaky clean. Too clean, even for a religious organisation which is suspicious enough in itself, but we’ve intelligence that there’s something else at play. We have to do this the old-fashioned way, from inside.”
“I still don’t see why you think I’m the person for the job. Not that I’m unhappy about my get-out-of-jail-free card.”
“Fitz tells me he’s never come across a more skilled cyber-criminal. And you’ve shown you’ve got the guts to pull this off.”
Bristling at the term cyber-criminal, she asked, “Fitz?”
“One of our people ‘who do this sort of thing’,” said Julien forming air quotes with his fingers.
“So, how do you plan on getting me inside?”
Denton puffed out his annoyance and rolled his eyes.
Ignoring him, Julien said, “The group are based in a remote part of Scotland.” He paused while their server brought the coffees. When he’d gone, Julien took a sip of his espresso and added, “As well as their religious activities, they run a sporting estate that produces extra income. They’ve advertised for an estate manager.”
She gasped out, “I don’t know the first thing about running a country estate.”
Julien put down his coffee cup, “But Denton does and you’ll pose as his wife.”
Open-mouthed, she looked from one to the other, then turned her full glare on Julien. “Is this some kind of sick joke? Seriously, I’ve to pretend to be married to him?” She narrowed her eyes at Denton, who returned a stony glare.
Denton snapped, “Trust me sweetheart, I’m no any happier about this than you.”
She swallowed hard and turned to Julien, “When you say married…”
Denton snarled, “Oh, don’t flatter yourself Sinclair, I’d rather stick my dick in that chastity cage you used on your boss.”
Sighing, Julien folded his arms and looked at them like they were recalcitrant children. In a voice laced with exasperation, he said, “Listen Sinclair, I stuck my neck out to get you that deal. Screw it up and you’ll find yourself on the next plane across the pond. Get us the evidence we need and you’ll go scot-free.” He took another gulp of coffee, slammed the cup into its saucer and got up. Leaning over, he whispered, “You two better stop squabbling and sort this out before you set foot on that estate because, if you don’t, you’ll be putting more than just yourselves in danger.”
As Julien stalked off towards the toilets, Kathryn and Denton swapped a glower.
She hissed, “Right now, a plane to America sounds very appealing.”
He bit out, “I’ll drop you at the airport.”
Julien and Kathryn left Denton stewing in the café, while Julien accompanied her to King’s Cross railway station. She could hardly believe she was going home and not back to prison. As they wove their way through crowds of passengers, he explained that a car would collect her the following morning from her home and take her to the airport. She’d travel with Denton to London where Julien would accompany them to a training facility in England.
“So soon?” she said.
“We’ve only a small window of opportunity before they start interviewing to fill the vacancy, there’s no time to lose.”
After walking her to her platform, Julien left her with instructions to stay clear of the internet and to pack plenty of clothes for the next few weeks. “Mainly casual and exercise, with maybe a dressy item.” She felt a moment’s relief that her wardrobe ought to be able to cope with that. As she boarded the train, he said, “Don’t let me down Sinclair.”