Catwalk Criminal (8 page)

“Can't breathe.” Henry coughed violently as he slung an arm over her shoulder.

“Let's go,” she cried.

They stumbled out of the door. Jessica pulled it shut and helped him further along the corridor. Henry's legs collapsed beneath him and he sank to the floor. He touched his forehead, which was wet with a slick of blood. The gash was about five inches long and deep.

“My laptop's on fire,” he spluttered. “It's in the bin. It's my insurance policy. Without it, I'm dead.”

“I'll get it.” She grabbed a fire extinguisher and kicked open the bedroom door. She gasped as she stepped into the choking wall of flames and acrid smoke. Eyes stinging, she edged closer and blasted the bin again and again. She could barely breathe. Suddenly, she felt someone grab her arm and pull her back.

“We have to leave before we're caught,” Bree insisted. “The mission's aborted.”

“Get off me! I can get the laptop!” Jessica struggled against her grip.

“It's gone.”

Jessica pushed her away. “It's not! Who the hell are you working for tonight, anyway?”

Why hadn't Nathan listened to her? This was the second mission Bree had been tasked to that had gone horribly wrong. The Collective knew they were coming and had moved faster. Had Bree leaked their plans to a third party?

Bree frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“She's working for me,” Nathan said through the comms. “I sent Bree in to get you. She's following orders. Abort the mission and make yourselves scarce before you're apprehended. Move now!”

Jessica staggered backwards. The fire had spread to the bed and ceiling. She couldn't fight this with a single extinguisher. Within minutes, the room would be totally engulfed in flames. She slammed the door and looked up and down the corridor. “Where did Henry go? He was right here!”

“Sasha's helping him downstairs. Nathan's waiting for them at the bottom. He's taking him to hospital, along with Natalia.” Bree paused at the sound of sirens. “The fire brigade's almost here. We have to leave.”

“Wait one minute.”

Jessica ran up and down the corridor, checking all the boys had evacuated. “It's clear.”

“What are you doing here?” a voice shouted. “Did you start this fire?”

A middle-aged man wearing a red dressing gown stood at the end of the corridor. Jessica recognized him from his photo in the MI6 file. It was the housemaster, Sean Hughes.

“We have nothing to do with this,” she yelled back. “We saw the flames from the street and came to help. The downstairs door was open. All the boys are out. Check the other floors!”

Mr Hughes hesitated and then stumbled away, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his dressing gown. A couple of sirens blared loudly outside. The fire engines must have pulled up in the grounds.

“The crew will be up here any second. How are we going to get out?” Bree's face was panic-stricken.

She'd frozen yet again in the middle of a mission. What was going on with her?

“Follow me.” Jessica ran towards the window. The intruder had left this way; they could follow. She peered out. The fire engines and evacuation point must be at the front. They could escape, unobserved, and regroup at the bottom. She climbed out, careful not to cut herself: a shard of glass jutted out from the bottom of the window frame. A grapnel was still attached to the wood, with a rope hanging down. The person who'd attacked Henry and set fire to his laptop must have shot it at the window as they ran; it looked slimmer and lighter than the one MI6 used, yet it had totally disintegrated the glass. Did it have some kind of pulsating mechanism? If so, it was far more advanced than MI6's technology.

She shone her torch on to the frame as Bree followed her.

“Hold on!” Jessica pulled a fine silver thread from the wood and carefully placed it in the small plastic bag she'd retrieved from her pocket.

“What's that?”

“The intruder left it behind. It must be from their clothing.”

“Interesting, but let's go.”

Jessica gripped the rope and abseiled down the building. She jumped the last few feet on to the gravel.

“Nathan? Are you there? Do you have Henry?” She touched her ear.

“He's already in the ambulance with Natalia,” Nathan replied. “Get off the property. We're all exposed. At least two police cars are on their way.”

Jessica looked up. Bree was still dangling from the window sill.

“Get a move on!” she hissed.

Bree carefully lowered herself down.

“Jump!” Jessica urged. “Now!”

Bree looked down. Her face was etched with terror. Finally, she let go.

“We'll leave the way Natalia and I came in.”

Jessica darted to the wall and grabbed her rope. She pulled herself up, hand over hand, with Bree a few seconds behind. They dropped on to the street. Bree sank down, putting her head between her knees.

“Come on. We don't have time to stop.” Jessica grabbed Bree's arm and pulled her to her feet.

Bree shook off her hand. “I don't need your help. What did you mean back there when you asked who I worked for? Does this have something to do with Nathan switching Natalia with me at the last minute? I bet you asked your godfather to do that, didn't you? Why?”

“You tell me. How did The Collective know we were coming tonight?”

Bree's eyes narrowed. “They must have hacked into our comms or the computer system. It's the only explanation.”

“If you say so.” It wasn't the only theory she could think of.

“What are you insinuating? What have you been saying to Nathan behind my back yet again?”

Jessica shook her head. Bree was trembling with rage. There was no point getting into this now. She'd only deny being a double agent.

“We could be caught. Natalia's bike is over there. Grab it and go!” Jessica pointed to the bushes. She raced to get her own; it was still where she'd left it nearby. As she climbed on, the bike wobbled beneath her.

The tyre was flat.

Bree doubled back on her bike. “Use this one. I can make it on foot.”

Jessica glanced up, surprised. “No, you go. I'll be OK.”

Bree hesitated. “I don't know what you've been secretly reporting to Nathan about me, but you're way off the mark. Some of us actually had to earn a place on this team.” She pedalled away without looking back.

Jessica threw the bike down. Was she mistaken about Bree? Maybe. Maybe not. Bree could have offered to help to try and throw her off the scent. She ran around the side of the wall and peered out. Dozens of boys clad in pyjamas and dressing gowns stood huddled in groups. Their housemaster was a little distance away, holding a clipboard and shouting out names. He broke off from the roll-call as two ambulances pulled away, sirens blaring.

“Natalia and Henry are en route to hospital,” Nathan said in her ear. “I'm following in the van. Go home, Jessica. That's enough for now. You'll need to come to a debriefing later this morning. I'll message you the details. Ask your dad to write a note for school.”

“Will do.”

Great. Jamie would notice her absence and want to know what was wrong. She'd have to come up with yet another lie. As she turned away, she noticed a tall boy slip away from the others. He wore a blue dressing gown with a hood that covered his face. That was odd. He wasn't barefoot or in slippers like the others. Trainers and jeans poked out beneath his dressing gown.

“Henry!” Jessica broke cover and charged towards him.

The boy jumped and turned around. Fear flickered over his blood-splattered face.

“Keep away from me!” he screeched.

He sprinted away, ditching his dressing gown. Boys stared and pointed.

“Nathan! Come in!” Jessica shouted as she ran.

Silence.

Nathan had turned off his comms. “Sasha? Bree? Are you there? Talk to me!”

Henry had tricked them. He must have persuaded a friend to take his place in the ambulance. Jessica rounded the corner in time to see him scaling a high wall into a park. “Stop!”

The boy paused and looked over his shoulder, his legs astride the wall. “Who are you? What do you want with me?”

No way could she risk giving him her real name. “I'm Jenny. I've been sent by MI6.”

“This is about LibertyCrossing, isn't it?”

Jessica nodded. “We've come to help you. We can protect you. I need to bring you in.”

“You don't get it, do you? You can't protect me from LibertyCrossing or the rest of The Collective. No one can.”

“We can. I promise. Who's the leader of The Collective? Who tried to kill you tonight?”

Henry hesitated. “Someone far more powerful than the whole of MI6.” He swung his other leg over the wall and jumped.

“I'm afraid your daughter's in big trouble, Mr Cole.”

Jessica and her dad sat on uncomfortable plastic chairs in the head teacher's office. Richard Reynolds must have adjusted his chair to be deliberately high, as he towered above them even though her dad was six foot two. She glanced at the clock. It was nine a.m. and so far, the worst Monday morning
ever
. She'd only managed to grab a few hours' sleep after returning home from the mission before her dad had woken her with the bad news – they'd been summoned to school for an urgent disciplinary meeting.

“Perhaps you could enlighten us about what's going on,” her dad asked pleasantly.

“Shall I tell him or will you?” The grey-haired man glared fiercely at Jessica.

“I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about.”

Mr Reynolds slammed his hand on the desk. “Do not take me for a fool. There will be extremely serious consequences for your actions this weekend. It'd be far better if you confessed to hacking the school computer system now.”

Oh no. She exchanged worried glances with her dad. Her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the chair. “I don't know what you're referring to, Mr Reynolds. Tell us.”

“Fine. Have it your way. At precisely 1.26 p.m. yesterday you hacked into the school computer and—”

“No, I didn't!”

“Let me finish uninterrupted, please.” The head teacher glared furiously at her. “As I was saying, you hacked in and retrieved confidential information on every single member of staff – dates of birth, home addresses, telephone numbers, etc – and uploaded them to a dating website, www.oapsneedlove2.”

Jessica's jaw dropped. “I can assure you…”

“Immediately afterwards, the IT department tells me you placed the entire school and its contents – including personal information about every pupil in year eleven – on eBay with an opening bid of one pence.”

She stared at her dad in stunned silence. The hack on the school was about the time she'd used his computer to log on to the MI6 account. This had to be the work of The Collective. The hackers had seized the opportunity to attack their home software and get her into trouble.

“Did you find your exploits amusing?” Mr Reynolds continued. “Because I can assure you I didn't. Neither did any members of my staff. Teachers have already received telephone calls and email correspondence from the dating website.”

“I can personally assure you that Jessica had nothing to do with this,” her dad began.

“Our IT department traced the thread to her Facebook account, where she also posted about her exploits. For example, I'm told this went up at four a.m. today.” Mr Reynolds picked up a piece of paper from his desk. “‘Check out the website www.oapsneedlove2 – Hatchet Hatcham might find his soul mate. Not. Jessica ;)'.”

She barely used Facebook now she had WhatsApp and Snapchat and she definitely hadn't targeted her least favourite teacher at school. The message had been posted shortly after she'd returned from the botched raid at the International High School. Was LibertyCrossing exacting revenge after she'd rescued Henry Murray from the blaze? His attacker must have hoped he'd succumb to smoke inhalation after clobbering him with the baseball bat.

“I didn't write that.”

“Really?” Mr Reynolds continued. “How about this letter, which was sent to the parents of every pupil at this school from your email account at four thirty a.m.?”

Jessica groaned inwardly. “What did it say?”

“You're insisting on keeping up with this pretence?” He gave her a withering look and read from the piece of paper.

“‘Dear Parent,

I wish to inform you that school is shut today. Don't bother sending your little brats because I won't let them in.

Yours insincerely,

your miserable head teacher,

Richard Reynolds'.”

“Again, it wasn't me.” Jessica felt her face redden further. She must be puce by now.

“Then how do you explain what's happened?”

“I think someone hacked into my dad's home computer yesterday. They must have gained control of my email and Facebook accounts and set me up.”

“Do you really expect me to believe that someone would go to such great lengths to get you into trouble?”

“Yes, I do,” she said simply. “And it's—”

“Jessica!” her dad barked.

She glared at him. Did he think she was that stupid? She wasn't going to blurt out about the latest Westwood case.

“Jessica's telling the truth about problems we've been having with our home computer,” her dad said. “I've checked with my bank. My account was definitely hacked into and funds frozen. I can get you a statement from their internet fraud department, which will verify that. I'd also like to employ the services of an independent IT professional who can examine the school's equipment and our home computer. That way, we can get to the bottom of this unfortunate matter.”

“Thank you,” Mr Reynolds said stiffly. “That sounds like the most reasonable course of action to take. In the meantime, though, I'm afraid I have no option but to suspend Jessica until this incident has been thoroughly investigated.”

“Is that necessary? I'm confident my daughter will be cleared within days.”

“If so, she will be welcomed back. Until then, I cannot have her on the premises. No member of staff will agree to teach her after what's happened and I can't say I blame them.”

“It's OK,” Jessica said, standing up. “I understand. Don't worry, Dad. I'll be back in school before the end of the week.”

Her dad rose to his feet unsteadily. “You're making a big mistake, Mr Reynolds. I'll expect a personal apology to Jessica and me when this is all over.”

“Which you shall have, if and when your daughter's name is cleared. However, I'm about to deal with some very unhappy teachers and parents. I have the feeling it's going to be a very long day.”

He had no idea. If members of The Collective had managed to wreak this kind of havoc at school by hijacking her identity, what damage had they unleashed on MI6?

 

“There's good news and bad news,” Nathan said, kicking off the emergency Westwood meeting.

Jessica held her breath. Had MI6 systems analyst Sam Hewitt finally discovered her Sargasso security breach? She'd been summoned by text to an urgent debriefing at MI6 HQ shortly after the showdown with Mr Reynolds and had been on tenterhooks ever since. Bree had refused to make eye contact when she walked in, which could also be a bad sign, but Celia had glanced up and smiled briefly.

The door banged open and Sasha flew in, red-faced and panting. She threw herself into a seat. “Sorry I'm late. I had to pretend I'd got a migraine in A-level maths. It took a while to persuade the school nurse that I needed to go home.”

Poor Sasha. Having a suspension on Jessica's school record was bad news, but it had made getting here at short notice much easier than usual.

“You're here now, Sasha, which is what's important,” Nathan said briskly. “The good news is that Natalia is expected to make a full recovery. She's in hospital recovering from a severe electric shock but won't have any lasting injuries. We're still trying to determine the weapon used to attack her last night.”

Jessica shuddered at the thought of Natalia's burn mark. If only she had remembered her training – always be prepared for the risk of attack when moving into a hostile environment. Instead, she was just trying to make a juvenile point that having a family member in MI6 didn't give Jessica the right to issue orders.

“Further good news is that we don't think The Collective has found Henry Murray yet.” Nathan cracked his knuckles. “Members are currently posting about looking for him.”

“And the bad news?” Jessica asked tentatively.

“We've had forty-eight hours of hacking and are still no closer to finding the leader of The Collective. In addition, we have no idea where Henry is either. He didn't return to school this morning and has officially been reported as missing by his head teacher and father. He hasn't made any attempt to contact his family in Canada or friends in this country. He's gone completely off-grid – no phone calls or texts, money withdrawals from his credit card, email use, sightings on CCTV cameras across London. Nothing.”

Phew. Nathan didn't know about her computer activity after all. She cleared her throat. “Henry didn't think MI6 could protect him from The Collective. He was absolutely terrified last night. He's lying low somewhere until he figures out his next move. Henry must know the only chance he has to remain undetected is to avoid using his mobile or any electrical device.”

Nathan nodded. “He's right to be afraid. A few hours ago, LibertyCrossing posted an alert, telling hackers to track Henry Murray through his credit card, Oyster card, phone and any electronic equipment. As soon as he uses anything, members of The Collective will find him.”

“We have to get to Henry first,” Celia said. “But how?”

Jessica glanced across the table. The stunning twenty-three-year-old redhead had led one of the seminars during her training about how to keep up a double life. Celia should know; she'd recently been announced as the new face of Burberry and Thierry Mugler perfume while rising up the ranks of Westwood.

“We're examining Henry's text messages and emails over the last week.” Nathan pushed his glasses up his nose and cracked his knuckles again. He had dark circles under his eyes. When was the last time he'd slept? Probably Friday night, before the hacks started.

“Westwood agents are being drafted in to speak to Henry's friends under the guise of being volunteers from an anti-bullying charity,” he continued. “His year group's already been told it's suspected he was being bullied. You'll quiz his friends about possible harassment while tapping them for info at the same time.”

Jessica nodded. It sounded like believable cover, plus her whole day was free now she was banned from lessons. She'd need to fill Nathan in on what had happened at school as soon as the briefing wrapped up.

“We need to concentrate our efforts on identifying LibertyCrossing and the person who attacked Henry last night,” Nathan said.

“They could be the same person,” Celia pointed out.

“It's possible,” Nathan said. “But why did LibertyCrossing turn on Henry? He's one of The Collective's best hackers and most loyal followers. He's been in direct contact with LibertyCrossing for a considerable period of time.”

“Henry talked about the laptop being his insurance policy,” Jessica said. “He seemed to think it was the only thing that could keep him alive. Perhaps he fell out with the leader of The Collective, or he could have been blackmailing him.”

“It's possible LibertyCrossing realized Henry knew too much and would inevitably blab if caught by MI6,” Celia reasoned. “He had to silence him for good and destroy the evidence.”

“We need to work out what Henry knows ASAP. It's going to be all hands on deck across MI6. We only have two more days until The Collective's deadline.”

Nathan picked up his mobile as it vibrated. “Show him up,” he told the caller. “We're in briefing room 304D.”

Jessica raised an eyebrow. “We have company?”

“The CIA has agreed to help since the US has also been targeted. It's come across The Collective before. We've been loaned an operative who can provide us with further insight into the hacking organization.”

Nathan was in no mood to wait for the visitor. He scribbled notes as Bree and Sasha ran through their accounts of last night's mission. Bree conveniently left out the part about how she froze when they were outside Henry's room and couldn't come up with an escape plan. Typical. Jessica nibbled her nails; if only she'd managed to stop the attacker or get a proper glimpse of their face. She had only a vague description: five feet and seven or eight inches tall with a slim build, wearing dark clothing and a balaclava. The thread she'd found trapped in the window frame might give a clue, but she hadn't had chance to hand it in to forensics. She'd meant to ring Lucas, a mate in that department, first thing but had been thrown by the early school meeting. Lucas was cool; he'd arrange for the thread to be picked up from her home and have it analysed by close of play today. With any luck, it came from an unusual material that wasn't mass-produced. That could help track down its owner.

Jessica glanced up at the sharp rap on the door. A blonde woman poked her head round.

Nathan put down his gold fountain pen. “Show him in, Lucy.”

A dark-haired figure brushed past her, a black rucksack slung over his shoulder. Jessica's jaw dropped. What on earth…?

“Thank you for coming at such short notice,” Nathan said. “Let me introduce you to the team.”