Catwalk Criminal (7 page)

She tried to navigate away from her home page. Six months ago, Nathan had given her a temporary password for the MI6 computer system when she was working with him in Monaco, trying to bring down a double agent called Margaret Becker. They both suspected Margaret had tampered with the helicopter that killed her mum on the orders of a notorious terrorist called Vectra. Jessica had done a secret search on “Sargasso” but it had produced nothing back then. She didn't have the clearance to search for sensitive files in more secure areas of the MI6 site. Shortly after Jessica had helped Nathan apprehend Margaret, he'd restricted her access to the computer system again.

A box flashed up, requesting a PIN again. Jessica re-entered the sequence of numbers. She opened another screen and clicked on to YouTube to check out the latest video from The Vamps while she waited for it to load. Once the clip had finished, she switched back to MI6. Ohmigod. She was in. She clicked and clicked again, navigating fully around the site. She had full, unrestricted access. This must be a mistake. Nathan would never have given her the OK to look at confidential files without supervision, probably not even back then.

What was going on?

Had MI6 experienced a security lapse while it repaired its firewalls? Sam could have temporarily changed agents' clearance levels as he rebooted the system. Or had The Collective hacked in again and deliberately widened her access, along with other members of Westwood? It could be a ruse to introduce another virus into the system if she called up confidential files.

What should she do? Sam could notice the security glitch and terminate her access within minutes. Her head was telling her to exit the site right away and ring Nathan on a secure line. But her heart was telling her something different. She would never have another chance like this to find out what files MI6 had gathered on Sargasso. Kat wasn't likely to cough up anything useful soon – she was deliberately withholding info as a bargaining chip. She'd said she might want a favour one day and wouldn't reveal more details until then.

Jessica glanced at the door. Her dad was banging around in the kitchen. She had to do this. If she noticed anything seriously wrong, she'd shut down immediately. Heart beating rapidly, she typed “Sargasso” into the file headers and pressed return. One file flashed up marked “Confidential: Restricted Access”. Clicking it open revealed dozens of documents. She pulled up the first one. It was a scrambled mess of digits and letters; it had to be written in some kind of code. The second one was similarly encrypted.

She sank back in the chair as she opened the third file. A passport-style photo of her mum stared back, alongside a separate pic of a dark-haired man with glasses and a beard. He was an ex-KGB agent called Sergei Chekhova who had died in a car crash in the Ukraine. Her mum's entry was under her maiden name, Lily Matilda Farr. Both deaths were marked as suspicious.

“Here you go.” Her dad kicked open the door, balancing a plate while gripping his walking stick. “Didn't you hear me hollering?”

“I'm sorry.” She jumped guiltily and attempted to flick back to YouTube, but the computer was frozen. She wiggled the mouse about, unable to minimize the screen or pull it down.

Her dad put the plate down next to the keyboard and froze as he glanced at the screen.

“How did you get that man's photo?”

“You know him?”

“I used to. He was a Russian agent your mother had dealings with. She always said he was her best post–Cold War source, but he went missing.”

“According to this file, he died six months after Mum in a car accident. Their deaths must be connected somehow. They're both marked as suspicious and kept in the same MI6 file.”

“Sargasso,” her dad said, reading the name on the screen.

“Does that mean anything to you?”

He shook his head. “Should it? What's going on?”

She quickly recounted the barest of details – that the organization was somehow linked to her mum's death as well as Sergei's, leaving out the fact that the tip had come from Kat.

“You know this how exactly?” her dad persisted.

Jessica bit her nail. Kat had warned her that if she breathed a word about Sargasso to anyone else she'd destroy the file she'd found on the subject. She hadn't been in a position to argue back – Kat had blackmailed her into keeping quiet about a series of thefts she'd carried out using an invisibility cloak in return for the little info she'd provided on the subject.

“I can't say who told me, but I believe them.”

“So Nathan's allowed you to trawl through MI6 files based on a tip-off from a source?” he said sharply.

Jessica flushed. “Well, not exactly. I was checking my MI6 account and found that I could get in, well, you know, deeper than before.”

Her dad's jaw dropped. “You mean you have total access to the MI6 computer system?”

She bit her lip, nodding.

“Are you mad? Turn off the computer. Log out.”

“It's frozen.”

“I can't believe you'd do something as stupid as this. It could be a trap, set by The Collective. If they hacked you yesterday, they could already know that you're working for MI6. They might want you inside the system. Can't you see that? They could be launching another hack on the back of this.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

He banged the mouse up and down and tried to log out. “Aaagh!”

He reached down and pulled out the power socket. The computer screen flickered off.

“Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you'll be in if this little stunt is traced back to you?”

Tears pricked Jessica's eyes. “I have to find out what happened to Mum. I can't live with the uncertainty any longer. I want to find out if Vectra definitely ordered the hit and if Margaret sabotaged the helicopter. Don't you?”

“Not at the expense of you getting hurt,” he said quietly. “If MI6 finds out you've somehow assisted the hacker, Nathan and I won't be able to protect you. You'll be thrown out of Westwood and possibly face criminal charges.”

“Seriously?” Nathan snarled. “You want to do this now?”

Jessica fiddled with her earpiece as she hid in shadows at the rear of the International High School in West Kensington. Nathan had temporarily blocked Sasha, Natalia and Bree from the comms to enable the two of them to speak in private. Her dad had warned her not to make accusations about a colleague, but she had to finally speak up. A Moscow-based academic, Andrew Docherty, had been outed on a news website as an MI6 operative hours earlier on Sunday afternoon and was now in hiding, along with his family. She couldn't let Westwood jeopardize this dawn raid on a high-ranking member of The Collective due to Bree's involvement in the mission. This was the only solid lead they had.

“I'm telling you, it's a mistake to allow Bree to take charge on the ground,” she said, staring at her icy puffs of breath. “I don't trust her.”

Nathan sighed with exasperation. “Is this because of the Shard job?”

“I don't have any proof, but I think she could have been involved.”

“We rigorously checked all the girls, particularly Bree, after she froze that night. They're clean, understand? You can trust them. They had nothing to do with the seizure of the USB device or the attack on you. We're sure of it, so let's move on.”

Jessica kicked a stone. How did Nathan know for sure that Bree wasn't a double agent? He didn't sound like he was going to budge; she had to try another tack. “What happens if Bree freezes tonight when we get inside?”

Or if she betrays me and raises the alarm, she wanted to add.

Nathan fell silent. “Fine. Change of plan. You and Natalia will go in, Bree and Sasha will keep guard at the front. Happy now?”

No. Natalia was inexperienced and hadn't exactly shone at the Shard either. She certainly hadn't backed up Jessica and had sided with Bree during that debacle. But this line-up was better than the alternative – having to rely directly on Bree for such a high-risk mission. She listened as Nathan moved the other Westwood girls into position around the perimeter. Pulling her black woollen hat further down over her ears, she leant against the wall and stamped her feet to keep warm.

MI6 had worked fast. The hacks on all the prisons across the UK, the traffic-light systems and the emergency service comms had been traced back here, to the most exclusive boarding school in London, where seriously rich expats, diplomats and some of the most powerful people in the world sent their children. They even had the laptop's exact location thanks to a trace on the IP address – room 59 in Highfield Boarding House, which was occupied by a seventeen-year-old sixth former, Henry Murray.

Henry was the only son of a Canadian diplomat. He was also spoilt, uber-bright and believed to be one of the most prolific and audacious hackers the country had seen since Lee Caplin, according to the hastily prepared MI6 file. A number of other male teenage hackers across the country had also been identified in the last few hours, but Henry was being red-flagged. Over the last nine months he'd been in regular correspondence with LibertyCrossing, the mysterious person who'd set up the hacking websites and issued the code word, “Bluebird”, initiating all the cyberattacks on Saturday. With any luck, Henry could lead them directly to this shadowy leader of The Collective, who was coordinating havoc across the country.

The objective of the raid was simple: to seize Henry's laptop and persuade him to cooperate with MI6 in return for his crimes being kept secret from his dad, the police and the press. Nathan had warned Jessica that they couldn't go through official channels. As soon as the Metropolitan Police gained an official search warrant, Henry's father would claim diplomatic immunity for himself and his son. Henry would be untouchable and they wouldn't be able to discover what he knew.

It was highly dangerous. If it ever came to light that MI6 had sanctioned a black ops mission, targeting the son of a high-ranking foreign official, it'd spark a diplomatic incident of epic proportions. That was why Westwood had been tasked to go in despite the fallout from the Shard. An adult caught on the premises would spark a 999 call and a police investigation, but a teenage girl found sneaking into a boarding house could pretend she was having a clandestine meet-up with a boyfriend.

Jessica watched as Natalia pedalled up to the far end of the wall. She too was dressed from head to toe in black, with a thick scarf knotted at her neck. They'd been given an hour's notice to cycle to the school, where they'd been briefed by another Westwood agent, Celia Tyler, in a van further down the street and fitted up with gadgets to help them get past security. Computer analyst Sam Hewitt was also here; he'd assured them that their comms were safe and the hacker couldn't access their plans for tonight's raid. He hadn't mentioned anything about Jessica's security breach earlier; hopefully he'd been so tied up with preventing further hacks he hadn't noticed that the Sargasso file had been opened and read.

“Are you OK?” Jessica said into her hidden microphone.

“I'm good, except I could have done with a full night's sleep,” Natalia said. “I've got a chemistry test first thing tomorrow. If I flunk it, I'm going to be in big trouble. Bigger still if Mum and Dad discover I've gone AWOL tonight.”

“I know what you mean,” Jessica replied.

She'd been woken up at one a.m. by a terse call from Nathan and had left the house without waking her dad. He'd kill her if he found out she was on a dangerous night op. She was supposed to clear all Westwood jobs with him first, but he'd been feeling unwell and she hadn't wanted to disturb him. Plus, there was no way he'd sign off on something as risky as this. She had a test tomorrow too – irregular French verbs – which would be hard enough without the added sleep deprivation.

“Let's cut the social chit-chat, girls,” Nathan said sharply. “Are you all in position?” He was running point from the van, alongside Sam and Celia.

The girls answered in the affirmative, one by one.

“Good. Bree and Sasha, stay where you are unless we need backup. Jessica and Natalia will enter over the rear wall. Jessica is team leader. Go straight to the boarding house and enter Henry's room. Transfer the contents of his laptop to us immediately via the device Sam's given you in case the alarm's raised. Jessica, you stay to talk some sense into Henry while Natalia leaves with the laptop. Do not deviate from the plan. Understood?”

“Yes,” Jessica replied.

“Natalia?”

“I guess. If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Nathan snapped. “Jessica has more experience than you in the field. You're to follow her lead. Understood?”

“Of course. I'll follow your god-daughter's lead.”

Jessica flinched. That was low. They got on most of the time, but Natalia obviously felt snubbed. She was following Bree's lead by insinuating that Jessica was getting preferential treatment due to her family connections. Was she going to be a problem tonight? They couldn't afford for egos or petty gripes to jeopardize the operation. Natalia had no idea about the dangerous MI6 missions she'd embarked on before officially joining Westwood.

“OK, girls, now that's sorted, let's move in,” Nathan said. “Good luck.”

Jessica and Natalia pulled out specially adapted bicycle pumps from their rucksacks and aimed at the top of the wall. Grapnels shot out, sinking into the brick. A few seconds later, fine ropes swung down. Together they scaled the wall, pulling themselves up hand over hand. Natalia got to the top first; Jessica was a few seconds behind. She swung her legs over the wall, retrieved the rope and pointed her watch at the security light. A high-powered dart pierced the glass.

“Good shot,” Natalia muttered.

“Thanks. Three, two, one. Go.”

They dropped on to the gravel below and sprinted towards a tall red-brick house on the right of the main building. Highfield Boarding House was home to sixty boys aged thirteen to eighteen, along with their housemaster and matron. If any of them woke up and stumbled across them, their mission would be a write-off. The entrances were at the front and rear, but both were locked at night and only accessed with a security code via the keypad.

Jessica already had her diamanté key ring ready; it contained a scanner that would identify the numbers she needed to punch in. As she reached the door, Natalia overtook her.

“Something's wrong,” she breathed.

Jessica stared over Natalia's shoulder. The door was slightly ajar. This didn't look right. There was no way the school would allow a security lapse like this; anyone could walk in or out, which would put the safety of all the pupils at risk.

“What do you want us to do, Nathan?” Jessica said, examining the keypad. “The door's open. Someone's tampered with it.”

“Proceed with extreme caution.”

They'd been warned that all the corridors would be fitted with night lights, but the boarding house was shrouded in darkness, another bad sign.

“We need night vision.” Jessica rummaged in her rucksack.

They fixed glasses on their faces and stepped into the pitch-black entrance hall. Henry's room was three flights up. According to the plans Sam had accessed, the housemaster and his family occupied the entire ground floor. They had two Labradors, Silky and Sabba, that needed to be subdued. Natalia held out a small aerosol can of MI6 adapted hairspray; a few squirts and the dogs would fall asleep instantly. They'd wake up in a few hours, unhurt.

“Stop,” Jessica whispered, catching Natalia's hand. “Look over there!” Both dogs lay a short distance away from each other.

Natalia tiptoed over and stroked their fur. “They're drugged. Someone got here first.”

“The Collective's here, Nathan!” Jessica hissed.

“Affirmative. Bree and Sasha, go in. I'm calling for further backup.”

Jessica took the stairs two at a time, followed by Natalia. They cleared a floor without disturbing anyone. As they reached the second floor, a door banged. The girls pressed their backs against the wall on the landing. They waited a few seconds before climbing up to the third floor.

“Let me go ahead and assess the situation,” Jessica whispered. “You wait here until my signal.”

“No. I can do this. I don't have a relative in MI6 but I'm as good as you!” Natalia darted away before she could stop her. An explosion of bright white light in the corridor lit up the landing. There was a loud scream, followed by a bang.

“We're under attack!” Jessica ran into the corridor after Natalia, who lay on the floor, motionless. Another flash of light erupted, blinding her. As she ripped off her glasses, something solid smashed into her. Spinning around, she could make out a dark figure sprinting away. She ran after the intruder, gripping her side. Glass exploded from the window at the bottom of the corridor. The figure leapt through the gap without slowing down. A torch, emitting a pulsating white light, clattered to the floor.

“The intruder's jumped out of a window on the west side of the building,” Jessica wheezed.

“We're on it,” Nathan replied.

She squinted as she picked up the torch. She'd only ever seen one of these devices in training; it was designed to obliterate night vision. The attacker had come prepared with a military-style gadget.

She ran over to Natalia and felt for a pulse. She was out cold, but still breathing. As Jessica shone the torch on her neck, she noticed a two-pronged burn mark. The attacker had used some kind of electrical stun gun to knock her out. She shone her torch up and down the corridor. She could smell smoke. Where was it coming from?

A door swung open and a boy peered out, squinting at the torch.

“What's going on?” he mumbled. “Who are you?”

She ignored him as Nathan's voice rang in her ear again. “Secure the laptop and find Henry Murray. Move before you're discovered!”

Too late. She jumped to her feet as a fire alarm screeched. More boys spilled out of their rooms, rubbing their eyes.

“OK, listen up, everyone,” she yelled above the alarm. “This isn't a drill. You need to evacuate. Don't go back to your rooms.” She handed the torch to one of the older-looking boys. “Take this and lead the others.” She nodded at his friends. “Help carry this girl – she's passed out.”

The pupils hoisted Natalia up and joined the evacuation.

Jessica ran back towards Henry's room. As she flung the door open, she was hit by a smothering blanket of smoke and heat. She fell back a step. Flames flickered up the wall from a wastepaper basket, setting the curtains ablaze. Nearby was a bloodstained baseball bat. A blond boy clad in jeans, a sweater and trainers lay on the carpet, blood trickling from his forehead. He was attempting to pull himself towards the door, commando-style, on his elbows.

“Henry!” Jessica lunged forward, protecting her mouth and nostrils with the sleeve of her jumper. She grabbed the boy under the armpits and pulled him to his feet. “Here. Let me take your weight.”