2 The Dante Connection (21 page)

“No, it is not,” I said. “It is someone who is connected to the bomber, the hacker or me in some obscure way. I’m still of a mind that the bomber and the hacker are also emotionally connected in some way.”

“And the hacker has an accomplice who is much more skilled than him. An expert,” Francine added.

“That leaves us with a lot of players in this game,” Manny said. “Kubanov, the hacker, his expert help and the bomber. Are we leaving someone out?”

“The guy emailing and sending packages,” Vinnie said from the kitchen. Appetizing smells were coming from the kitchen and I realised how hungry I was.

“Are these all separate people?” Colin asked.

“An astute question,” I said. “It is almost impossible to determine. But if we can find a connection between these people, we can find out if they are one or four people. And who they are targeting.”

“I thought they were targeting you,” Francine said, looking at me.

I willed away the panic threatening to steal my attention. “No, this revenge is not against me.”

“How can you know this, Doc?”

“None of the Bible verses apply to me,” I said absently. My mind was trying its best to connect all the bits of information I had received, but to no avail.

“What Bible verses, Jenny?” Colin asked. There was complete silence in my apartment, everyone watching me.

“Oh, the post-it note,” I said. “Francine emailed me a screenshot of the post-it note that was on the bomb.”

“I was able to zoom in and depixelate the image enough to have a clear image,” she said.

“And you didn’t tell me, missy?” Manny’s voice boomed through the apartment. Colin tensed next to me and Vinnie turned away from the stovetop to glare at Manny.

“I was going to. We haven’t had time to get there yet.”

“When did you figure this out?”

“Francine emailed it last night. It didn’t take long to decode.”

“So what was it?” Manny leaned forward. I had been so focussed on the cipher that I had forgotten to even tell Colin about the post-it note.

“Two Bible verses.”

Both Colin and Vinnie groaned.

“Why is it that these guys always find a way to bring the Bible into their sick fantasies?” Vinnie asked. “I bet it is some Old Testament verse with loads of blood and guts. Or maybe from Revelations about the end of the days. Everything is always so much worse with all those thou’s and thy’s.”

“Actually you were right with your first guess. The Roman numerals pointed to two verses, both from Exodus. The first came from Exodus 20 verse 5.” I opened a file on my computer. “This is the verse where God says that He is a jealous God and, I’m quoting now, ‘visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me’.”

“Even without the thou’s and thy’s it sounds terrible,” Vinnie said. “Freaking psychos.”

“The second verse?” Colin asked quietly next to me.

“From Exodus 21 verses 24 and 25.” Again I read the verse from the computer screen. “Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe.”

“Oh, that is so definitely revenge.” Francine hugged herself. “This is not good.”

“Okay Doc, now tell me how you know this is not aimed at you.”

“I don’t have children.” The blank looks I received upon my factual announcement made me groan. I was going to have to explain. “This person or persons wants their revenge to be taken out on the child or children of whoever has done them wrong.”

“The god-king,” Colin said. “Can’t it be that you are the child unto the third and fourth generation? That you are the one who has to suffer for something your parents or grandparents have done?”

“I thought about that and no, I don’t believe so.”

“Sorry, Doc, just your say-so does not convince me. Tell me about your family history.”

“No.” I slowly looked at the four people in my apartment. “Why would I need to? I’m sure that all of you already investigated my background. I don’t think there is anything I could tell you that you don’t already know.”

The flashes of guilt on their faces were all the confirmation I needed. Rationally I understood why they had done this. It still irked me. I grunted in disgust.

“Doc, I had to make sure you were up for the job. I will not apologise for that.” The contrite look on his face belied his words. “Please tell us about your family. There might be something I missed that could be a clue.”

“There is nothing,” I said, louder than necessary. I breathed deeply, studying Manny’s face. This time he didn’t get annoyed, flinch or say something scathing. He allowed me to see his determination. “Okay, fine. But I’m not happy to do this.”

“Noted.”

There was an expectant silence in the apartment. Vinnie was the only one making a light noise bringing plates of food to the table. One more plate and everyone started eating. Manny was awkwardly clutching a fork in his bandaged fist. He growled when the scrambled eggs fell off the fork before reaching his mouth. When Francine offered to feed him, he gave her a vicious look and continued struggling. It failed to amuse me. I had lost my appetite and pushed the scrambled eggs around my plate.

“My maternal grandparents were farmers who had a small farm in North Carolina in the US. They were part of a farming community, never did anything extraordinary with their lives. My paternal grandparents were both British. They moved to France shortly after the Second World War, teaching English at a primary school in a small village in the south. Also never did anything worth mentioning.

“My parents met at university in New York. Both studied law. By the time they had me they were both in the diplomatic service. Their whole lives had been very carefully constructed to never offend anyone and to impress everyone.” I stopped to take a few calming breaths. I didn’t want to be overwhelmed by the memories of my parents’ willingness to sacrifice anything and everything to keep up appearances. It was a long time ago and I had dealt with it. I had accepted that I had never fitted into their picture perfect lives. I had been the one flaw that they had to contend with. The one imperfection in their otherwise perfect lives. They had been more than happy to get rid of that blot on their combined successes when I had decided to leave.

“Jenny?” Colin moved a bit closer, his posture protective. “Are you sure your parents never, ever made any enemies? Maybe something they did or said to someone that you don’t know about? They did live international lives. They could have made enemies.”

“Everyone loves them.” I shook my head. I could only manage a whisper. “They are highly respected everywhere they go. I was their only enemy.”

“Oh, honey.” Francine put her knife and fork down and looked at me with tears in her eyes. “Some people never know when they have the biggest gift right in front of them. I’m not one of those people. None of us are.”

“Right on, Francine.” Vinnie’s fierce look blasted right past the shields I had constructed to keep people out of my emotions, to protect myself. He leaned forward. “You’re our girl. My Jen-girl.”

Colin took my hand and pressed it against his chest. “They didn’t deserve you, Jenny. I don’t even think we deserve you.”

“For once I agree with these criminals, Doc.” Manny’s voice was gruff. Unfamiliar tears blurred my vision. When did this quest to find a bomber become about my personal history and my relationships with the people I was sharing a meal with? I felt overwhelmed by the kindness shown to me. Panic started creeping up on me.

“Okay, let’s assume that the revenge is not aimed at Jenny,” Colin said. The businesslike tone in his voice removed the emotional atmosphere around the table. It became easier for me to breathe again. “So now we have to find that connection that binds all of these–”

A loud beep came from the tablet lying next to Francine’s plate. She jumped in her chair and stared wide-eyed at the device for a second before she grabbed it and started tapping and swiping the screen. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. I think… no, no, no… not think. He logged on. I have found the hacker! We have that fucking bastard.”

Chapter NINETEEN

“You’re just going to have to suck it up, Doc. They’re only going to interview him tomorrow.” Manny sat down heavily on the sofa, carefully resting his hands on his thighs. “I can’t help that he’s still in surgery.”

This was most annoying. We needed all the information we could get from the hacker. The moment Francine had given Manny the hacker’s IP address and even GPS coordinates, everything had happened so fast, my mind was still reeling. Within an hour a response team had captured the hacker. He had tried to escape and got injured in the process.

“They’re still putting pins in his arm and he’ll be out for the rest of the night.” Manny shook his head. “Idiot. Why do they always think they can outrun the cops?”

I didn’t miss the shared look of impertinent humour between Colin and Vinnie. How many times had they run away from the police and gotten away? When I had met Colin, he told me that the thrill of the crime was outwitting the system. Was outwitting and outrunning the police just as thrilling? I didn’t think it prudent to ask that question. Not when the three men had reached a highly fragile truce due to this new development.

“It’s a miracle he’s alive after falling out of that window,” Francine said, swiping and tapping on her tablet. She was sitting next to Manny on the sofa. Colin and I occupied the other sofa and Vinnie had moved a wingback chair closer to join us. Francine turned the tablet to show us the photo of an overweight young man. His hair was long and looked greasy, his T-shirt dull and wrinkled. “He’s not the most athletic of young students.”

“Have you been able to get more information on him?” I asked. Earlier, while Manny had been pacing up and down my apartment, speaking into the headset, Francine had been working her way into the university’s database and a few other places to find out more about the hacker.

“You know the little twerp’s name is Luc Alain, he’s twenty-four years old and a full-time student.” Francine turned her attention back to her tablet, swiping and tapping. “I found out that his major is in electronic engineering and his grades are very mediocre. I was surprised that he’s not living in his parents’ basement. He seems that kind of guy. His flat is registered in his name, but the records show that it was bought a few weeks before his eighteenth birthday by his father.”

“Rich kid’s equivalent of daddy’s basement,” Vinnie said.

“Word.” Francine’s body language and her tone told me her incorrect use of that word was an expression of agreement. It was not the first time she had used it. She smiled at me. “Now that I have his name, I will have everything on him. Like the fact that he attended a few of your classes.”

“He did?” The few times I was a guest lecturer at universities, the venues were always packed. There was no conceivable way that I could’ve noticed him.

“Yup. He registered for two of your lectures.”

“But I never had any contact with him. I would’ve remembered that. So why is he targeting me? What have I done to him?”

“Don’t know that yet.” Francine looked at her tablet again. “I’ve got a program running trying to find any and all connections or even possible connections between you and this little–”

“Dickwad,” Vinnie finished her sentence. He looked defensive when all eyes turned to him. “What? He’s that and much more. I have a few more very descriptive phrases, but out of respect for the ladies here will hold back.”

“Thanks, Vin,” Francine said. “So this… dickwad has a car far too expensive for a student. He has a few parking fines. All the fines were issued on the same street. Looks like he never drives his expensive car. Twerp.”

“Typical geek,” Vinnie said. “He most likely only drives cars on computer games
, and lives an extraordinarily exciting online life. Put those guys in real life and most of them can’t cope.”

“I’m coping just fine, thank you very much.” Francine pointed at herself. “Not all geeks are fashionless losers living off their parents.”

“Sorry, darlin’.” Vinnie shook his head. “You’re one in a million. All the other geeks are spineless losers.”

I had to agree with him. Francine was nothing like the computer specialists I had previously had the displeasure of meeting. This morning Francine was back to her old wardrobe. She was wearing jeans that I knew had a price tag that could feed a family of four for a week. At one of our lunches she had explained to me at length the better fit and value of said jeans. I still thought that my retail jeans fitted me well.

Francine’s outfit was completed with a simple long-sleeved black T-shirt, a light brown thermal winter vest, a designer scarf and antique jewellery. Her brown, knee-high boots added a few centimetres to her height.

She looked like she had stepped off a fashion advertisement billboard. Her exotic looks no longer required such careful make-up as earlier this week. There was no more swelling or dark bruises. To my untrained eye in such matters, she was strikingly beautiful. And smiling sweetly at Vinnie.

“Thanks, Vin. You’re not too shabby yourself.” She looked down at her tablet. “Okay, back to Luc, our little twerp-hacker. He’s been at university now for six years and still hasn’t graduated. He changed courses twice and… oh, lookie here. He even studied literature for a semester.”

I shifted in my seat, resisting the urge to tap my foot or sigh repeatedly. Interesting as Francine’s discoveries might be, they were not helpful. Not without context. “We need to speak to him. To find out what he knows.”

“And who helped him with his hacking,” Francine said. “The dude is really not all that hot. I would like to know who helped him.”

It had been an excessively frustrating morning, and the afternoon did not have a much better prognosis. I had a strong compulsion to do something, but what? My limited computer skills could not reveal a tenth of what Francine was finding with her tapping and swiping. We had gathered a legion of unconnected bits of information, none of it helpful. Not until I could find the link or links that would slide them all into place to form a holistic overview.

In the deep recesses of my mind I knew all the pieces fitted to create one picture. More often than not, my brain worked at its own pace, sifting through data. There was not much sense in forcing my brain to reach conclusions. The more I relaxed, the quicker the hidden clues would filter through to my cerebrum.

Under the present circumstances, relaxation was not easily attained. Not when this Luc Alain could bring us closer to connecting these people and events. I thought some more about the young hacker.

“Are we working on the assumption that he is the person who had contacted all the would-be thieves?” I asked.

“Oh, that,” Manny said. “Yes, that young thief we caught did say that he was contacted by someone local. Francine, can you find any connection between Luc and that young thief?”

“So far nothing.” Francine was the only one who treated Manny with a semblance of respect. I would even go as far as saying that she was friendly with Manny. It was evident in her nonverbal cues when she looked at him. “I’ve got my other computers searching and I’m looking through his history to see if by chance there are anything that might be of use.”

“Exactly how many computers do you have?” I asked, distracted.

“Many,” she said. “I only managed to bring four computers next door. Three are connected to form a stronger system which can search better and faster. The other one is for other work, for example where I cleaned up the image from the post-it note. My tablet is connected to the stronger system.”

Something pinged in my mind. “Can I see the footage? Yesterday’s footage from the camera that Manny had?”

“Sure.” She got up with a wince and pressed her palm against her ribs. “It will be easier for me to bring my laptop. The screen is much larger and we can watch it here. Hang tight.”

“What are you thinking, Doc?” Manny grunted at my expression. “You’re going to tell me something about not wanting to speculate, aren’t you? Well, don’t. Please speculate. Please.”

Despite the circumstances I couldn’t help smiling. And giving in. “There was someone I think I recognised.”

“Where? At the Modern Art Museum?”

“And at the gallery,” I said. “I already looked at that footage, but couldn’t see his face. I only had glimpses, but something registered in my memory. I’m sure I know that man from somewhere. Yesterday I also thought I saw him, but he looked different.”

Francine’s return interrupted me. Only when we were all settled at the dining room table with her laptop placed so everyone had a clear view of the screen did I continue. “There was something about his posture that looked familiar. Only in the sense that I had seen this person before, maybe met him. It’s not someone I know well.”

I was pleased to see that Francine had software that I was acquainted with. She pushed the computer at me after opening the video. It was her way of giving me permission to work on her computer. I recognised it for what it was. Trust. I smiled at her and aligned the computer to be exactly parallel to the edge of the table. Within a few seconds I lost myself in the program, looking for the moment when I had seen that figure. It didn’t take long to find it and I let the video play.

Most of the people had already evacuated the museum and Manny was talking to the GIPN leader, another policeman and the curator. Through the glass doors three more officers entered, one of them the person I was looking for. I paused the video, rewound it a bit until I was satisfied with the screenshot.

“That’s the man.” I picked up a pen and pointed at the average looking policeman. He was wearing the full GIPN uniform, including the protective gear. It was the perfect disguise. Not only did he blend in with all the other policemen swarming the museum, the outfit also covered any unique features there could have been to his physique. Like a few other officers he was wearing a baseball cap, the cap pulled low over his eyes. His head was lowered so that only his bottom lip was visible.

Manny and Colin were leaning closer to the computer, squinting at the monitor. I took the video back to the moment he entered the building and played that section again. Then I rewound again and paused it.

“He’s too controlled,” I said. “When people are trying to become invisible they control the movements of their arms, head, their whole bodies much more than those who move about normally. If you want to catch a shoplifter, look for the person who has the least arm and head movements. Like this man. His movements are far too limited. Compare him to the officers.”

I played the video and pointed out a different policeman as I spoke. “Look at this one. His movements are much more controlled than the average man you would observe in a shopping mall. But it is awareness controlling his body. He’s alert, ready to act at any moment. His head is raised, his eyes constantly moving, taking note of everything and everyone. His body is loose like a boxer ready for a fight. Even though all his muscles are ready to move, it is not prompted by fear, but by training.”

I pointed at the stranger, the man I couldn’t place but was convinced I had met before. “Now look at him. His head is down, his arms tight against his body and his movements not as smooth as any of the police officers. He walks with confidence, but not the same trained alertness as the policemen. This man is most likely a manager or a powerful businessman. His type of posture can be seen in corporate buildings all the time. There is a level of violence or aggression in the way he carries himself, but he doesn’t exhibit the same physical traits as is the norm with policemen.”

“Bloody hell, Doc.” Manny shifted in his chair. “Who is this guy?”

I didn’t answer him. Instead I pulled my laptop closer, aligned it to Francine’s and accessed the security footage from La Fleur Galerie that had been sent to me. It didn’t take me long to find what I was looking for. First, I played the few seconds’ worth of footage for myself to analyse. I rewound and paused it so that the man was in forward motion, but slightly turned towards the camera.

“I’m convinced this is the same man,” I said. “At the gallery he wore the exact same outfit and the baseball cap again covered his face. It is obvious that he knew where all the cameras were.”

“Why did you not say anything about this?” Manny sounded annoyed, but not as angry as I had expected.

“I believed, naively believed, that the police had full control of the building. That they would never allow anyone in there who was not vetted or part of the team. I am sure to not make that mistake again.”

Colin was looking from one computer monitor to the other. “Are you sure this is the same man, Jenny?”

“Convinced. In the first video he slumps much more.” I pointed to the impostor’s hunched shoulders. “But his legs, height if he were to stand up straight, the length of his arms are the same. The little that I can see of his face on both videos tells me that it is the same jaw and the same bottom lip. His one ear looks the same, but I can’t commit to that. I’m confident though that if it were analysed, the ear on this man in the gallery would be the same as the one on the man here at the museum.”

“Who is this motherfucker?” Vinnie asked. He was standing behind Colin’s chair. No, not standing. He was looming, glaring at the computers.

“I wish I knew,” I said. “I have an exceptional memory, but
in this instance I can’t place him. There has to be a reason why my mind doesn’t want to recall his name or the place where I saw or met him.”