The Unseen (17 page)

The girls chatted as they ate, Sean gave half attention to the conversation, half to the room. On the far side a lacquered representative of PKL circulated amongst the guests. She stopped at any table where someone wore yellow, always handing over a PKL Investment portfolio from the bundle in her arm. It left Sean thinking.

“Dad, this food is disgusting,” Becky said, pushing a half eaten hamburger and chips aside. “You cook better than this. Mind if we go back to the games room and use our vouchers?”

“We’ll take you to the disco, after,” Sophie said and ate a last piece of sausage.

“You mean that, you really want to see me rock?”

“No Dad, we’re being polite. You’re too old.”

“That’s a relief. If I’m not around, bed by eleven.”

Both made to leave, came back and kissed him.

Sean’s mind went immediately to work. The lacquered PKL rep intrigued him. When he caught her eye he waved her over and asked for a portfolio.

“Did you play PKL today, sir?”

“Is it a requirement?”

“I recommend it.” She handed him a folder and moved on.

He bought a large whisky from the bar, found a comfortable seat and started flicking through the sales literature. It offered two opportunities. To become an agent for PKL in the manner Danielle had, or an investor in PKL games. Investments required five thousand but allowed the privilege of touring PKL at Milton Keynes and testing the latest games equipment. He figured the promise of a hundred thousand should get someone’s attention.

“We’ve won more prizes.” Sophie came up behind and threw arms around his neck. “A trial set of the new PKL game.”

“And we’ve had our photos taken for the prize-winners’ annual,” Becky said, flopping in the chair beside him. “Everything will be sent to our email address.”

“Girls, I’ve told you.” Sean pointed to emphasize. “Don’t give personal addresses to anyone without sound reason. That’s home address or e-mail address.”

“Dad, you big silly. It was the PKL receptionist, the lady on the desk. You can trust PKL. We’re going to the disco.” He was left with two more kisses.

“Trust PKL, trust Zoby.” The words stuck in his mind. Time to find out about Zoby. Sean drained his whisky and went to the games room. He stayed long after midnight. The game constantly became harder, constantly demanded all his concentration. In time he reached level six, but learnt nothing about Zoby except he was reliable and trustworthy.

In sleep he dreamt of Princess Kay-ling dashing over the desert with her young charioteer. He woke up thinking about it and went down to breakfast convinced PKL a good investment.

The girls were chatting about their disco night and the prizes they had won. Sean considered re-mortgaging the house to raise money. Two tables away, Mr and Mrs Poser were signing papers presented by the lacquered PKL rep. If they bought in, why can’t I? Sean pondered this, then found his mind locked in sudden realisation. He took careful stock of people around. Sophie was chattering in the background. Everyone was smiling, everyone had that big, life-is-so-nice smile. Unnatural.

“Dad.” Sophie shook his hand. “They got some great Princess K sweatshirts in the shop, would you buy one for Becks and me?” Sophie had her best, try your luck smile.

“What colour?”

“Yellow.”

“Any reason?”

She shrugged. “It’s our house colour.”

“No.” He felt mean but adamant. “Listen girls, I thought we’d go swimming, then maybe a walk on the beach. Meet me by the pool in thirty minutes.” He stood and surveyed the room amidst a babble of noise, the clatter of cutlery, plates, the drone of voices, everything as it should be in a big family hotel. Obey Crystal, trust Zoby. “I have calls to make,” he said, and left the table.

He phoned Steve first. “Sorry to wake you on a Sunday but I need urgent info.”

“Kids woke me two hours ago. It’s football in fifteen minutes – shoot.”

“Can SPI be downloaded without the recipient realising?”

“If it came as a virus and the recipient had good anti-virus software, then it might be difficult. But if it was a trusted source, the AVSW would accept the input as supplier material.”

“How about a hotel chain? How about one specialising in cyberspace entertainment?”

“No chance. They’ll have individual play-stations all networked to a secure server. Any virus would be stonewalled. Alternatively, if someone had connections to the system provider and made a rogue insertion by giving a trusted source code, then the virus would enter and lie undetected like a Trojan horse.”

“Steve, I think I’ve just pulled something grimy out of the water.”

He phoned Cobbart next. “I need to know if our undercover fund is in place.”

The man was dry-toned. “One hundred thousand will be deposited by Monday morning. Just don’t even think of writing a cheque.” He gave bank details. “Finding a suitable undercover house in case the opposition check up is taking longer. Perhaps by tomorrow. There is a recent development in Watford which looks promising.”

Sean went to PKL reception and told the woman he might consider investing a hundred thousand pounds in PKL. “We won the lottery a month ago,” he qualified. “But I want to do this quick, and I want to talk to a director.” He watched as her fixed smile slide to oily smooth.

“You won a lot, sir?”

“Five million plus, but we’re investing in small packages.”

“Very wise, sir. But for that amount PKL would ask for bank references. We only act as commission agents here. All your transactions would be done direct with PKL head office in Shoreditch.”

“No problem.”

He phoned Victoria on his way to the pool. “What did you find out? Is it possible for SPI to influence someone against their nature?”

“Afraid not. It’s possible to confuse them but you won’t get the blonde to kiss you if she doesn’t really want to. On the other hand, if the blonde is undecided, she can be influenced to your way of thinking, but nothing outside her natural inclination. More alarming is that SPI can awaken basic instincts and emotions. Underneath our civilised veneer there’s a savage in all of us. For some, that’s only skin deep and easily ruptured.”

“But it could influence people to wear yellow or be happy?”

“For what purpose?”

“To give an indication of whose mind is open to influence.”

“Very possible.”

“Victoria, I think I know why Sarah Finch walked into a forest, why Helen Carter opened her door to a murderer and why Lizzie Sinclair visited a graveyard. What I said while we were outside Thames House about you playing Mrs Fagan, you want to go active?”

“With such an ingenious chat-up line, how could I refuse?”

An hour later the PKL rep sought him out by the pool. Mr and Mrs Fagan were invited to visit Milton Keynes. Arrangements could be made for them to stay at a local hotel if need be. Their bill at Morrison’s had been waived.

Victoria sat for ten minutes before she phoned and had no love of herself when she did so. Alice sounded ruffled, clearly her Sundays were precious.

“Fagan’s moving closer,” Victoria told her. “He’s on to SPI, its use in the hotels and its source. If you wish to take precautions, now is the time.”

“Can he prove anything?” Sibree asked.

“No. But that won’t stop him. He works from logic. The proof is fitted in later. He wants me to go undercover as his wife.”

“Then do that, Mrs Fagan. Draw close, encourage him to confide as only a good wife can.”

On their arrival from Brighton the previous night, Danielle had greeted them with a warm, blustering welcome; Frankie had been dressed in a black leather mini skirt and transparent Cossack blouse. Becky had gazed in open admiration, Sophie in awe. Sean still had a fantasy vision. Monday morning Frankie stood strident in full biker’s leather while Danielle fussed barefoot and brave faced.

To stay would intrude on their farewell. He grabbed toast, kissed both on the cheek and left. He had already kissed his girls goodbye, Sophie’s embrace hard to let go of. Sometimes he hated Camilla. Before he made the car, Steve Rawlings’ call jerked his brain back from anger.

“An SPI directive in the last five games Sarah downloaded from PKL told her to explore Rattlers Wood. Part was overwritten by new material but part remained on the hard drive,” Steve said. “An SPI message given in the final game, the Garden of Serenity, told Helen Carter that Zoby would be calling. The game had been downloaded by file transfer protocol from the PKL website a week before she died. They have a work unit in Milton Keynes and a head office in Shoreditch. I’d say both are now priority search areas with Zoby and Crystal the main contenders for questioning.”

“I already have a visit arranged to Milton Keynes,” Sean answered. “But Zoby and Crystal are cyber characters. How do you question them?”

“Question the person who put them there. The difficult bit is not to alert them.”

Cobbart’s call came next. He had found a house, now he wanted to set the scene. Victoria was on her way. Sean felt the adrenalin surge. At last he could go hunting.

By 9 a.m. Victoria sat beside him, Cobbart opposite.

“Short notice,” Cobbart said. “But as you are going to probe and stir PKL, we must expect them to probe back. I’ve managed to set up a rented place in Watford. That way at least it’s halfway between Milton Keynes and Shoreditch. Four weeks ago you had a five million joint win on the lottery. The bank has been briefed and will back the account. Just don’t use it because there’s only a hundred k which is not to be touched. PKL have already emailed them for references so you’re covered on the financial front. You’re new partners, not married. If they look further than Mr and Mrs Fagan, this way we cover Sean’s visit to the hotel, his daughters being from a previous marriage. Plus it gives a reason for your individual names and circumstances.”

“Sounds cosy.” Sean smiled at Victoria without response.

“Milton Keynes is the main animation studio, exhibition and display venue,” Cobbart said. “The head office is on two floors of a sixties block in Shoreditch. Richard Caswell is Managing Director and also has a flat there. Outwardly, Caswell’s main occupation centres on selling shares. Their value has increased four-fold in six months. It’s a bubble ready to burst. The availability of your fortune will be very attractive to him. We don’t have much information to show exactly who runs what, but other directors are listed as Sidney Snibbard and Derek Faulkner. Both highly qualified in their fields.”

“They’re on a scam,” Sean said. “They’re using SPI to influence investors. We should widen our investigation to both murder and fraud.”

“No.” Victoria shot the word out and plucked the neck of her blouse. “This is strictly an investigation into murder. Divert activities by opening another front and we’ll end in a quagmire.”

Sean watched her expression and judged it didn’t gel with her words. He felt perplexed as to why she wanted limitation. A second front would allow Cobbart to increase manpower and speed up the investigation. They had links, a positive lead. No one could deny progress. Victoria shifted as if for better defence.

“Murder and fraud could be linked,” Sean said. “I suspect Morrison Hotels have SPI in their games. Our victims were also influenced by SPI. The two operations could be combined.”

“SPI is still an unproven supposition,” Victoria said. “Conflicting activity may cross and then alert our killer. Let’s keep this low profile, at least ’til we have a positive target. Say, two weeks. I suggest we work undercover alone and use your team only if we require outside activity.”

As Sean expected, Cobbart chose neutral ground and ignored both.

“For the image of new moneyed people, I’ve arranged a metallic gold Jag. Log book in Sean’s name. Also joint chequebook. But for Christ’s sake, don’t write any cheques. Covering for one hundred thousand put the accountants into meltdown.”

Sean turned slightly and smiled for the full attention of Victoria’s eyes. He saw no give, just adamant self will, the Victoria of old. She was making excuses to keep the operation covert and contained. She knew something he didn’t. He figured confrontation would dig her in, so decided on subtlety.