Faraday 02 Network Virus

- Author’s Note -

Network Virus
is the second novel in the Charlotte Faraday series of detective stories. The fictional events take place only a couple of weeks after those described in
The Gigabyte Detective
and an asterisk indicates where the two overlap. It is perhaps a good idea to have read
The Gigabyte Detective
before tackling this one.

This novel addresses the problems of rape, child pornography and under-age sex from the points of view of both the victims and the perpetrators. It also contrasts the caring approach of some police with the crude, exploitative and over-simplistic attitude of others.

The events are once again set in the beautiful South Devon locations of Torbay and the River Dart. Visits to named beauty spots have been avoided in this novel in contrast to
The Gigabyte Detective.

The same central characters again appear in this tale but most of the peripheral characters are new. Some relationships are developing and improving while others are moving towards termination. However, without exception, all the characters and events described are entirely fictional.

The general locations of the area are as depicted but the specific places where things happen in this novel most certainly do
not
exist. There is no Red Garter Nightclub or any other comparable club on the Brixham Road. There is no Stokewell House and its surrounding parkland. There is no Torbay Upper School.

There are at least two lovely two-storey boathouses on the River Dart. Both of these, so far as I am aware, have been converted into holiday lets with stunning views of the river and its valley and have been used solely for this purpose for many years. Certainly none of the activities described in
Network Virus
have ever taken place in those locations.

* * * * *

- 1 -

The Red Garter Nightclub was very quiet tonight. It was normal for the place to be half empty on a Sunday but this evening there were even fewer customers than usual. In fact, if it hadn’t been for James sitting in the corner, Marion would have been bored out of her mind. She found herself gravitating to his end of the bar whenever she stopped serving other customers.

They had been carrying on a disjointed conversation for the last couple of hours. She’d already found out that he was a captain in the army, currently serving with his regiment in Germany, but home on a fortnight’s leave. Not that he seemed to be enjoying the freedom that his holiday had given him. When she watched him covertly he was just gazing into his glass - a picture of misery.

She went back to talk to him. “Penny for them.”

“
What?”

“
Sorry,” she said gently, “but you seem to be carrying the cares of the world on your shoulders.”

“
Yes, well -.” He shook his head. “I heard today that my best mate was killed last week.”

“
Oh, no! How did that happen?”

“
A detachment of the regiment is out in Helmand province. He was with them.” Suddenly it seemed to pour out of him. “It was the first time we’d been split since we were at Sandhurst. If I’d been there it wouldn’t have happened. We used to make sure we watched each other’s backs. I wish to hell it had been me.”

Marion was struck dumb by his loss. What could she say? She wanted to take him in her arms and comfort him.

“
Apparently it was some Taliban woman who did it. She came to the guard house where he was on duty. She was carrying something in a shawl. They thought it was a baby. Andrew went out to meet her to find out what she wanted.” He buried his head in his hands.

She couldn’t resist reaching out to pat his shoulder.

He raised his head. “Would you credit it? The so-called baby turned out to be a bomb. When he wouldn’t take her into the guardhouse she detonated it outside right beside him. He saved his men but he was killed instantly.” He shook his head. “They’re bastards, those Taliban, most especially the women.”

Just then someone came to the bar and she had to desert him to go and serve them. But her actions were mechanical and her replies were monosyllabic. She couldn’t think of anything else but the loss he had suffered. When she had finished she returned to his side. She noticed his glass was empty so she refilled it without being asked. Then she desperately searched for something to say which might take his mind off his loss - to make him think of something else.

The best she could come up with was, “So, where are you staying while you’re in Torbay?”

She leaned forward a little as she asked the question, not averse to letting him ogle the tops of her fine boobs. She thought he needed something material to cheer him up - if he even noticed. Men liked to chat to an attractive woman.

She knew her breasts were still her best feature. Her waist was a bit too thick, betraying her steady advance into her thirties and her love of gin and chocolates. Her bottom was rather plumper than it should have been because she didn’t take enough exercise these days. There was little she could do about her legs which were shorter than she would have liked, albeit quite well curved. And her face - well, it was still pretty enough from a distance, but no amount of care with her make-up could hide the tiny crow’s feet which were slowly spreading from the corners of her mouth and eyes. So she preferred to let him concentrate on her bosom. It was shown off well in the low-cut decollete of the dress which Mr Martin, the owner, provided to his female staff with the purpose of giving a little extra titillation to his customers.

She noticed James drag his eyes away from their contemplation of her finest feature and reply in his rather plummy accent, “My mother has a place the other side of Totnes. The village is as dead as a doornail but the beds are comfortable.” He smiled his engaging, slightly apologetic smile. Perhaps at least he was now thinking of something else.

“
When do you go back to Germany?” she asked, genuinely interested.

“
Oh.” He shrugged elegantly. “Only a couple of days now.”

“
Your family will be pleased to see you when you return.”

“
What family?” he snorted. “I’ve no-one but my mother, who’s only interested in garden parties and bring-and-buy sales, and my brother in London who I haven’t seen for two years.”

“
Aren’t you married?” She opened wide the thick rings of mascara to display her brown sympathetic eyes.

He chuckled. “Who on earth would have
me
? - a junior officer spending half his time on manoeuvres in Germany and the other half getting shot at in Afghanistan or some other god-forsaken hole?”

“
Why - all sorts of people, I’m sure.”

Marion meant it. She thought he was a good-looking fellow in his dark blazer and white shirt with yellow and red paisley-patterned cravat. He was also quite generous. He’d already insisted on buying her two gin and tonics. (“Make sure you have the gin as well. Don’t just sip the tonic. Disgusting stuff by itself.”) In fact, he seemed to compare very well with her own coarse and overweight seaman husband.

“
What about you?” He grinned. “I bet you’re thoroughly married.”

“
Of course I am. I’ve got a daughter who’s thirteen years old. She’s called Tracey.”

“
Blimey. And your husband let’s you work in a place like this?”

“
What do you mean?”

“
I mean that if I was your husband I’d want to be with you when you were wearing a dress like that.”

“
What’s wrong with it?”

“
Nothing.” He smiled engagingly. “In fact you look super in it. That’s why I’d want to be here with you.”

“
Oh.” She shook her head. “Well, he’s a long way away at the moment. He’s a merchant seaman. The last I heard from him, he was on his way back from Hong Kong.”

“
Really? Doesn’t he ever take you with him?”

“
Oh, no. That’s not allowed - company rules. Anyway I’ve got to stay here to look after Tracey.”

Harry, the only male member of staff at the Red Garter other than Mr Martin, came to the bar at that moment with an order and Marion was busy preparing it for the next few minutes. She was aware of James’ eyes following her. She guessed he was probably looking at her breasts. Anything to help him forget his loss. She always made sure she was wearing a decent bra when she was at the club and she knew they looked especially good as she reached up to get a bottle of brandy from the top shelf.

When the waiter came back to collect the drinks she reminded him, “It’s ten past twelve, Harry.”

“
OK, love. I’ll just serve these people, then I’ll come back to relieve you.”

Marion turned back to the young officer. “Do you want me to do you another drink before I go?”

“
Yes please.” There was a fraction of a second’s pause. “Will you join me for one before you leave?”

She considered for only a few seconds, then she smiled. “Why not? I’m allowed to drink with customers when I’m off duty.” She poured the two drinks and stood them by him on the bar while she dealt with his change.

A couple of minutes later Harry returned. Marion picked up her handbag and went round to join James. He got off the bar-stool which he’d occupied for the last two hours and helped her up onto the warm plush seat. Then he leaned against the bar facing her.

“
They don’t have barmaids like you in Germany.”

“
I’ve never been to Germany. What’s it like?”

“
It’s pretty boring up in the North where we are stationed, but the South is beautiful.”

He began to tell her about touring holidays he’d had with a group of friends from the regiment and she listened with a rapt expression. She’d hardly ever left the Torbay area and had never gone abroad. Falling pregnant with Tracey when she was only nineteen had put paid to young holidays. Soon after she had married Gary, ten years her senior, and life had been a constant financial struggle since then. The stories James told seemed to come from a different world, one she could only dream of joining one day.

Harry served them another couple of drinks and it was only Marion’s bladder which brought her back to earth.

“
I’ve got to go and powder my nose,” she said, slipping off her high stool. She checked her watch. “Goodness, it’s nearly one o’clock. My baby-sitter will be going mad. I must ring for my taxi.”

“
I’ll do that while you’re seeing to yourself,” said James. “Where’s the phone?”

“
Just through there in the entrance hall.” She ferreted around in the front of her bag to find the card for the taxi service. “Ask for Bill. He’s the guy I always use. Tell him to come as soon as possible.”

When she returned, carrying her mack, there was another drink waiting for her on the bar.

“
He’ll be along in ten minutes.” James handed the card back. “I’ve just got us a quick one for the road.”

She took a grateful swig. This one seemed a bit strong, but perhaps she was getting close to her limit. James started telling her about a trip he’d had to the West Indies and she soon became enthralled again.

It was twenty minutes later that he looked at his watch and said, “Here, we’d better be moving. Drink up. Your taxi guy will be fed up with waiting.”

“
You don’t need to come,” she protested, swallowing the last of her drink with a gulp.

He hung the coat about her shoulders. “I insist on seeing you to your taxi. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

She didn’t argue. In truth she was grateful to have him supporting her as they made for the staff exit. She was feeling a little unsteady on her feet. She realised now that she should have refused that last drink. She would be suffering from an awful headache in the morning.

James pushed open the door into the unlit car park. Everything outside was black with the slightest gleam on the surface. A gentle drizzle was falling.

“
Let’s put your mack over our heads. It’ll keep us both dry.” He lifted it above them and they both grabbed a side. Then he put his arm round her to steady her and they moved off across the car park. He chuckled. ““I bet we’ll look like some strange four-legged beast to the taxi driver. He’ll probably be scared to death.”

Marion giggled at the picture he painted. She could feel his arm tighten around her as she temporarily lost her balance. It was rather pleasant, being cared for like this.

They staggered across the unpaved car park, through the puddles which were difficult to pick out in the dark. She thought it was annoying of Mr Martin not to have had it tarmacked.
A
s a result she’d get her fishnet tights all mucky and have to wash them tomorrow.

They reached the corner and stopped, peering out from under the waterproof.