Coding Isis (18 page)

‘From what I hear, you bashed some guy’s head to a pulp against a weights machine. You mind telling me why?’

Amosa smiled for the first time. ‘I liked the sound it made.’

Ben knew he’d get nothing from him. He pushed his chair back and grabbed his takeout bag. When he got to the door he stopped and turned back to Amosa. ‘Oh by the way,’ he said, ‘Chris asked me to tell you you fight like a girl.’

Ben was greeted on the other side of the door by McKay. He held out the bag of food. ‘Here you go,’ he said. ‘Knock yourself out.’

Ghostly characters flashed up on the computer monitor as Chris watched the replay of the last few days of Jasmine’s life. She’d stopped programming and, as far as he could tell, was now running some sort of program for disguising her internet address.
Why would she need to hide who or where she was?
Chris pulled another can of soda from the fridge and kept watching. Jasmine started up a telnet session, the most rudimentary form of computer to computer communication and entered an obscure internet address.
Was she hacking?

Chris took a long drink of cola and thought about what Jasmine was doing. Maybe she wasn’t so brilliant after all; maybe she’d stolen her algorithms. He watched her poke around in the virtual world for a while, streaming chunks of data from the remote site to her own program.
What was she looking for?

Chris was a brilliant programmer but he knew very little about hacking. Hackers were often portrayed in the movies as computer-genius social-misfits, but Jasmine certainly wasn’t that. He’d also always thought of hackers as being persistent trouble makers that took advantage of weak passwords and open firewalls. Chris had no idea which computer Jasmine had accessed or what she was doing with the data she was pulling from it. He checked his watch, it was gone eleven.
Time to head home
.

Ben drove his Buick down Jefferson Davis and used the longer route to think things over. He thought about John Amosa. In some ways it would have been easier had the man been a total neanderthal but in reality he’d seemed cold, calculating, and intelligent. It was getting late but rather than go home, Ben decided to call back at his office. He parked, leaving his car unlocked, and walked past the main desk. There were few people around at this time of night. He nodded to the desk sergeant as he walked past. There were no other detectives in and the other cops on duty would be out patrolling or on calls. He sat at his desk and woke his computer from its hibernated state and keyed his password. He brought up the records search program and searched for John Amosa, an unusual name but still there were seven hits. It didn’t take long to track down the right guy. There was no mistaking that face.

Ben read through the details but there was nothing extraordinary, or at least there was nothing he didn’t already know. He walked over to the coffee pot and felt the side. Still warm. He poured a cup and took it back to the desk and continued to scroll through the file, what little there was. Amosa had a military background, special forces. Ben almost choked on his coffee when he read that. There were no prior convictions and the details of his military career were scant. He’d won a silver star in Afghanistan. Then the details seemed curiously lacking. He went from war hero to convicted murderer in the space of a few years. Ben wondered whether there were more details somewhere but held out little hope of getting them at this time of night. He had an old friend in the Pentagon and decided to make some calls tomorrow. He locked his computer and grabbed his keys from his desk.

It seemed strange to be opening his own front door—Chris had been away from home for such a long time. There were lights on and the sound of the TV in the lounge. Chris walked in and saw Michelle laid on the sofa. Her eyes were closed. He walked up to her and knelt down so he could kiss her. She moaned. Maybe she was dreaming about him. He grabbed a throw from the back of a chair and covered her. He smoothed her hair back from her forehead. ‘I love you,’ he whispered. She didn’t wake. It was good to let her sleep, she certainly needed it after the last few days. Now he was hoping things could start to get back to normal. He went upstairs and stripped to his boxers. The bed was made with fresh sheets and felt clean and crisp as he lifted them back. He set his watch on the side and clicked off the light. He didn’t remember much after that. He was so exhausted, he fell asleep almost straight away.

Chris woke to the sound of running water. The early morning sun filled the room, he’d forgotten to close the blinds. He rubbed his hands over his face and felt the stubble on his chin. He threw back the covers and walked to the bathroom door. Michelle was in the shower.

‘I thought I’d let you get your beauty sleep,’ she called. ‘I think you need it.’

Chris took a look in the mirror and he had to agree with her. He had a couple of days of beard growth but his eyes looked tired. He turned the faucet to run hot water into the sink and Michelle squealed when the shower water turned cold.

‘I think I preferred it when you were inside,’ she said.

‘Aw, come on, you know you missed me really.’

He filled the bowl and lathered some shaving cream using a brush. He took a new blade from a pack and carefully removed his stubble.

‘What time did you get in last night?’ Michelle asked.

‘Not sure. You were asleep on the sofa.’

‘I tried to wait up,’ she said. ‘Do you want the shower?’

Chris splashed water over his face and let the water out. ‘Is that all that’s on offer he asked?’

‘Well what did you have in mind?’

Michelle opened the glass door to the shower stall and stepped out on to the mat, but Chris held out his hand and stopped her. His hand was placed on her breast and she looked down at his hand and then back into his eyes.

‘Not so fast’, he said, ‘you get back in there.’

Michelle leaned forward and hooked her thumbs inside Chris’s boxer shorts. She pulled them down with a quick sharp movement and then stepped back into the shower.

They kissed long and hard. It was good to be back home. Michelle took a tube of shower gel and squirted it on her hand then rubbed it over Chris. She washed his hair, his chest and rubbed the soapy suds over his body pulling his pelvis towards her as they kissed again.

‘I take it you didn’t get any action in the showers over the last few days?’ she said with a grin.

Chris laughed. ‘I made sure I didn’t bend down to pick up the soap.’

‘You mean like this?’ she said. She turned her back on Chris and then bent forward with her forearms resting on the shower wall, her ass was now pushing hard against his crotch. Chris slid his hands up to cup her breasts. The water sprayed over them both washing the soap from Chris’s body. He kissed her neck and back and felt her reach down between her legs and guide him up between them. She moaned as he pushed forward.

‘Welcome back Chris,’ she said.

Ben arranged his meeting with his old friend from college that now worked at the Pentagon. Margot Need was more of an old flame than an old friend. She’d been in the cheerleading team when Ben was playing college basketball. She was a petite five-two, slim, blonde and a real bombshell. He’d had a crush on her and he was pretty sure she’d felt the same and although they’d flirted, they’d never really hit it off. Ben often wondered what would have happened if they’d hooked up. He knew she’d joined the army after leaving college and worked in intelligence. That was one of the advantages of working as cop: you could always keep tabs on friends if you wanted to. She’d had a good career, made major quickly and landed herself a nice desk job in the Pentagon. He’d arranged to meet for a coffee at 10:30, and to his surprise not only did she remember him, she sounded keen to meet up.

Ben made a bit of an effort with a clean shirt and pressed slacks. He’d kept himself in reasonable shape over the years and still played basketball with some of the guys from work. He tried to imagine what Margot looked like now as he left his car and walked towards the coffeehouse. Even though there are more than half a dozen places to get a coffee in the Pentagon office complex, Ben figured it would be better to meet somewhere more private. He’d suggested the Starbucks on the corner of Army Navy Drive and Fern, not a very intimate location but close enough to make it easy for Margot to agree. He walked across the busy intersection with the noise of the freeway nearby, the sun was shining and it was another hot day. He caught his reflection in the large glass doors as he entered the air-conditioned coffeehouse. Not bad, he thought to himself. He stood just inside the door and took a look around. He spotted Margot straight away, she was still a real stunner and he had to admit that he found her even more attractive in her uniform. He walked over and she stood to greet him.

‘Well look at you,’ she said. ‘Detective Naylor.’ She smiled and reached over to kiss him on the cheek.

‘You haven’t changed a bit,’ he said. ‘But I like the uniform. Very hot.’ He smiled his best grin. She laughed. She had no drink so they both walked to the counter together. They bought coffees, a Pike Place Roast for Ben and a Skinny Cappuccino for Margot, then grabbed a couple of comfy seats by the window.

Margot stirred some sweetener into her coffee and looked Ben over. ‘It’s good to get out of the office,’ she said. ‘I sometimes feel like I live in that damned place.’

‘So, you never married?’ asked Ben.

Margot smiled. ‘No I never did. But why do I think you already know that?’

It was true. Ben had checked out her marital status, but he didn’t let on. ‘And what about you?’ she asked.

‘I was married. It didn’t take.’

‘That figures. She sounds like a smart woman.’

‘Yes,’ said Ben. He looked somber. ‘She was.’

Margot looked embarrassed. She stirred her coffee some more and took a sip, trying to fill the awkward silence.

‘She probably still is,’ said Ben grinning.

‘You shit,’ she said. ‘I thought she’d died.’

Ben laughed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘The truth is, I think she got sick of me being a cop, or maybe she just got sick of me. The late nights, the worry, the fear of a late night phone call when I haven’t come home. I was a good husband, but it takes a special kind of woman to marry a cop.’

‘I know what you mean,’ she said. She took another sip of her coffee then looked up. She looked serious now. ‘You’re not tracking me down after all these years to check if I’m lonely are you?’

‘Can’t a guy buy a coffee for an old friend if he wants to?’

‘It’s been twenty years Ben. Either you’re getting awfully lonely or there’s something else.’

‘You always could see right through me,’ he said.

‘I may be blonde, Ben, but I’m not stupid.’ She still wore the serious expression. ‘What are you after?’

Ben decided that he should play it straight with Margot. She deserved the truth.

‘Do you remember a murder in Rock Creek Park a couple of weeks ago? Young girl, shot while taking a run. She didn’t realize someone had drilled a hole in her head and kept running till she collapsed.’

‘I read about it in the news, I heard you caught the guy?’

‘I did, but it turns out he didn’t do it.’

‘You sure about that?’

‘Damned sure. I’ve checked and triple checked. There are eye witnesses that swear he was in his office at the time of the murder. But here’s the thing. Someone went to a lot of effort to make it look like he did it.’

‘So what do you want from me? Was this guy military?’

‘He was, but not for Uncle Sam. He’s British Army. Special forces. MI6.’

Margot shook her head and sat back in her chair. ‘I’m sorry Ben. I don’t have any contact with the Brits. I can’t help with this.’

Ben held up his hand to stop her. ‘That’s not it. Not only did someone try to get this guy sent down for the killing, they also tried to shut him up. Permanently. When he got locked up he shared a cell with a guy called John Amosa. Biggest son-of-a-bitch you ever saw. It turns out Amosa doesn’t like guys that snore, so he tried to stick a pillow over our friend’s face.’

Ben took a drink of his coffee. He could see Margot was intrigued. She was sitting on the front of her seat again. ‘So maybe your friend is just real unlucky,’ she said. ‘Why do I think you don’t buy that?’

‘I started to do some digging. I went to see Amosa. Cool as a cucumber. He was no crazy, but at the same time he didn’t seem all there. He’s ex-army. I pulled his record, he got a silver star in Afghanistan. But there are some gaps in there. Nothing between him leaving Afghanistan and getting arrested for killing a random stranger at his gym.’