Frame-Up (18 page)

With that I turn my back to her. She could have attacked me as I go to
the bedroom, but sanity seems to prevail. All I hear is Elders murmur:
"Somes, just let it be, all right."

I leave the bedroom door partway open. Going to the bathroom, I feel
my bladder being close to bursting, not a good state to be in when doing
Aikido. So I first relieve myself, then have a superficial wash, brush my
teeth, comb my hair, put on a bit of rouge, and get dressed in my tracksuit
and running shoes. I wear no jewelry, not even a watch. Everything will
be taken away from me anyway. The only thing I take along is a packet
of tissues. Five minutes later I come out. "I’m ready."

Somes must have remained standing a step or two from the bedroom
door all the time. I walk past her to the entrance and remove the spare
apartment key from its hook, the one Gary actually dropped into my
mailbox two days earlier. Somes takes it from me and locks the door.

She sits with me in the back of the car. After the car merges into the
traffic, she takes her cell phone from its holster and searches for a contact
number. She selects Willis from the list. I briefly spy the number that
appears. It is a surprisingly easy sequence to remember: ascending even
numbers starting with four, followed by descending odd numbers starting
with 9. I file it away in my memory. It might be handy to know. She only
says: "We’re bringing Walker in." The rest of the drive to the Snow Hill
Police Station occurs in total silence.

Willis once more goes through the arrest formalities on suspicion of
fraud. He makes no reference to the incident in my apartment. So neither
Somes nor Elders have reported it. I’m allowed to make my one phone
call to my lawyer, who promises to drop by before noon. Then I’m locked
into a holding cell. It is clean, except for some graffiti scratched into the
strip of wall next to the door. I can’t find anything interesting. There is a
narrow metal bunk attached to the wall with a thin plastic covered
mattress on top. I decide I might as well lie down and rest, while planning
the trojan horse scheme, more precisely, the code needed that will search
for the password and return it to Long’s machine, embedded in the
animation.

But I can’t concentrate. Silvio’s image time and again intrudes on my
thinking. Has he tried to call me at home? What will be his reaction when
he learns of my arrest? Fleeting visions of our frantic love making the
afternoon before rise in my mind. Why am I suddenly so hot for him? I’ve
known him for over three years. He made no bones about being partial
toward me, in fact, more than partial. I always fended him off. Why the
sudden change? Has it been it simply because of Gary? The need to be
loyal to Gary that I’ve never allowed myself to take a closer look at
Silvio? Sex with Gary, even at the beginning of our affair, now feels
bland compared to the intensity of what I shared with Silvio.

Although I keep my eyes closed as my thoughts turn in circles, I hear
that somebody periodically looks in through the spy hole in the door.

Thursday, 12.10 p.m.

It is Sergeant Elders who fetches me. Crawford has arrived and
apparently has already talked to Willis. I’m released on police bail under
the same conditions as before, except that I’m to report in person each
Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning between the hours of eight and
ten to the Snow Hill Police Station. Crawford informs me that the reason
for the arrest is the confirmation by the graphologist that the signature on
the UBS bank account almost certainly matches the two of mine provided
to the police by Garland.

"But let me assure you, Miss Walker, that this apparent match of
signatures is not enough to get a conviction. They need much more. So
my educated guess is that Willis simply wants to rattle you a bit, that is
why he immediately agreed to grant police bail."

Police bail? Then I recall that police bail requires no bond. "Are you
going to seek an independent evaluation on the signatures?"

"Yes, if it comes to a trial, I will do that, not only between the
signatures of yours provided by Garland, but also signatures of yours on
checks you wrote around the time the USB account was opened. Your
bank will return to you specific checks for a small fee."

Yes, a rather hefty twenty-five pounds for each request
, crosses my
mind — I’m still in the cut-expenses mode.

As I cross the lobby, Somes comes in through the entrance door. On
seeing me she veers away.

I’m hardly out of the building, when Elders catches up with me.

"Are you going to drive me home?" I query with a smile.

"Unfortunately not, Miss Walker. But may I ask you something?"

"Yes?"

"How did you do this, I mean to Somes? She is one of our top Karate
experts."

"She may well be, but she made a careless beginner’s mistake. She
underestimated her opponent and hence was not prepared for a
countermove. Never underestimate your opponent."

"But I’ve never seen anybody perform the move you did?"

"It’s one of the advanced Aikido defense moves. If you want to learn
more about it, I suggest you take a few sessions with Miss Yakamoto of
the Kensington Aikido Academy."

"I might. Thanks, Miss Walker. I doubt I will ever forget this morning,
nor will Somes." He salutes and turns back.

Thursday, 1:00 p.m.

No calls came in while I got an intimate taste of the holding cells in the
Snow Hill Police Station. I’m surprised at the depth of my disappointment
that Silvio hasn’t call.

The scene of Somes calling Willis from the police car rises in my
mind. I fetch my iPhone and quickly enter his number into its memory.

Although I’m hungry, having missed out on breakfast, I decide to
spend first an hour on a sequence of targeted Aikido exercises. Keeping
up my sharpness, even if I’m barred from formal training at the academy,
seems more essential than ever. Next I take the shower I also missed out
on by the events this morning before I finally eat a late lunch.

Still no call from Silvio. I expected that he would want to know the
results of last night’s intrusion into Long’s computer. I try to convince
myself that maybe he surmises that I might still be asleep and that he
doesn’t want to wake me.
What’s holding me back from calling him
, I ask
myself?
Worried that I may come across as too eager?
Finally I can wait
no longer and call the restaurant, still the only number I have. He is not
in yet. They expected him at the latest by five o’clock. I chide myself for
not having obtained his cell phone number. Annoyed at myself I put the
phone back in its cradle.

Almost instantly, it rings. Hope rises. I answer. It’s my father.

"I’ve just returned from —"

"Don’t name it!" I cut in, more loudly than intended. It has suddenly
occurred to me that my phone may now be tapped.

"Why?"

"I was arrested this morning on suspicion of fraud and the walls may
have ears."

There is silence for several seconds.

"Are they safe?" I ask.

"Yes … What does that imply? I mean why did they decide to arrest
you now?"

"Apparently, their graphologist confirmed that in his expert opinion
the signature on the account is mine. Crawford though thinks that this
isn’t enough to go to court. The conditions for my bail are the same as
what Willis ordered already last week."

"And how do you feel? Worried?"

"No, I feel fine. I’m convinced that in a week or two I’ll have what I
need to clear myself."

Again, silence for a moment. "Let’s hope so. Maybe, now that I am
alone for a while, we could have the occasional meal together."

"Yes, dad, I would love that. How about tonight? We could go to
Il
Corno d’Oro
, you know, the Italian restaurant at the end of Harrington?
It’s only a fifteen-minutes walk from your place."

"Yes, that would be nice and a bit of walking will do me good. I
haven’t set foot in there for a long time. Don’t they have a new chef?"

"Yes, but he’s not that new. He’s been there for the last four years."

"So it must be even longer than I thought since I ate there. Say, we’ll
meet at 7:30?"

"Agreed."

I finally knuckle down to what I intended to do this morning —
program a trojan horse for Garland and search Long’s e-mail files for any
clues. I figured that the trojan horse is now more urgent. Long’s e-mail
files will have to wait some more.

The first thing I do is to look for a suitable animation. A pornographic
one or close to would be best. For the first time ever I search the web for
pornographic sites. Some of the things I encounter are truly off-putting.
I can’t imagine why any man would want to see the entire screen filled by
a cunt like for an anatomic display. And how could anybody become
excited over the scenes of a couple having mechanical sex, with the man
croaking ‘argh’ and the woman dutifully responding ‘yes’ with every
thrust, while she looks bored at the ceiling? I’m so disgusted that I almost
give up. Then I stumble on a site that contains cartoons of animals
coupling. There is one of two rats, with the male using his tail to whip the
female with every thrust and then doing
coitus interruptus
, with the
oversize penis shooting semen high into the sky like a pulsating water
spout. I download it. Next, I search through my old computer science
course files for the exercise that involved identifying a virus or trojan
horse embedded in another executable program. It will help me on how
to insert my code into the animation.

Thursday, 5:30 p.m.

It is five thirty by the time I finish the trojan horse as an attachment to an
e-mail, ready to be sent to Garland. I’ve completely lost track of time and
only notice now that Silvio still hasn’t returned my call. I call once more.
This time I reach him. He apologizes for not having called back. He has
had a rotten day, he claims. First, their usual supplier of fish didn’t have
the snapper advertised on their menu, so he had to visit several other
places to get the fish he needed. Then he had to deal with a private
emergency and only got that sorted out a few minutes ago.

"Couldn’t you just have substituted another fish?" I query.

"Not if it’s the one for which many people especially come to the
restaurant. Wouldn’t look good."

"I guess you’re right. Anyway you managed. Won’t you tell me about
the private emergency?"

"It was a call from my parents." He seems hesitant.

"Did something happen to them?"

"No, it’s just that my mother needs a hip replacement. She can hardly
walk anymore, and the waiting time in a public hospital is several months.
But that’s not the real problem. She doesn’t think she can look after my
daughter for much longer."

Silvio has a daughter? Why hasn’t he told me before? "
You have a
daughter?"

"Yes. She is four, four and a half."

"And she’s not with your wife?"

"No, I told you. My wife just disappeared and left us."

"And your parents look after your daughter? Why didn’t you bring her
to England?"

"She was half a year old when I left for England. How could I have
looked after her? And my mother is good with small children. I visit them
every two months or so."

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

"I don’t know. Does it make a difference that I have a daughter?"

"No, it doesn’t. I just would have liked to know. What’s her name?"

"Teresa. She’s a darling."

"When will I meet her?"

"You could come with me this weekend. I’m booked on a flight to
Venice and return Wednesday morning. My parents live in Belluno, about
an hour by car north of the airport."

"Oh, I would so much like to, but I can’t. I was arrested this morning
and released on bail. I have to report each Monday, Wednesday and
Friday morning to the police."

"They arrested you? On what charge?"

"Suspicion of fraud. But my lawyer says it won’t stick."

"Couldn’t you ask for permission to skip the Monday reporting?"