Afraid of the Dark

Chapter Fifty-nine

It was a ten-minute walk to the hotel. Not surprisingly, Shada was facile with the computer, and Jack zoned out as she set up communication with Chuck. Funny how the mind works, but Jack spent half that time trying to remember the name of the pub they had just left. Too many authentic pubs had converted into gastro bars-not much profit in Scotch eggs, but tuna tartare was a whole new world-and Jack thought he might want to return someday with Andie, when this insanity was over.

Hamilton Hall. That’s it.

“We’re good to go,” said Shada. “Chuck, can you hear me?”

Jack expected to see Chuck’s face on his computer screen, but it was his usual desktop even when Chuck’s voice came over the speaker.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Shada explained. “Chuck has control over your computer now. We can watch what he clicks on, what files he accesses. It’s as if he’s in the room with us and we’re looking over his shoulder.”

Jack wondered how many times Chuck had done one of these remote-access jobs without people knowing it.

“Go ahead and insert the flash drive,” said Chuck. He was talking about the files Shada had copied from Habib’s computer.

“Which one?” she asked.

“How the fuck would I know, Shada?”

“You don’t have to be nasty about it,” she said.

Jack detected the tone of a man none too keen on his wife’s sleeping habits. So much for any likelihood of long-term coordination between these two.

“I really don’t know which one to choose,” she said.

“Just pick one that has video content. I’m most interested in seeing what this fucker has been downloading.”

His tone wasn’t getting any sweeter. Jack just hoped Chuck could control his anger long enough to get the information they needed from Shada.

Shada sorted through the flash drives. She’d numbered them, presumably based on the order in which she’d copied the files. Jack filled the lull with what was on his mind. “Chuck, do you know where Vince is?”

Chuck didn’t answer right away, and it was more than just a Web transmission delay. Finally, the response came over the speaker: “I haven’t heard from him.”

“That’s not what I asked,” said Jack.

More silence. Jack pressed. “Chuck, do you know something?”

“Vince is a big boy. I’m sure he’s fine. Shada, the flash drive, please.”

Shada selected one and inserted it in the USB port.

“I don’t like being kept in the dark,” Jack said.

“You’re seeing the files the same time I’m seeing them,” Chuck said. “How is that being kept in the dark?”

“I’m talking about Vince. You don’t sound very happy with Shada, and I have this feeling that you’ve pressured her into creating this complete diversion to keep me from finding out what Vince is really up to.”

“The files are encrypted,” said Chuck.

Jack was being ignored.

“Can’t you break the code?” asked Shada.

Ignored by both of them.

Jack’s cell rang. He checked the number but didn’t recognize it. He answered on the third ring, and the urgent voice on the line was strangely familiar.

“Mr. Swyteck? Is this Jack Swyteck?”

“Yes, who is-”

Jack stopped himself, suddenly recognizing the voice. It was the teenage girl who’d called him from Bethnal Green, who’d talked to Jamal right before he was killed, who’d claimed to know McKenna’s killer-and who was too frightened to call the police. Jack drew a breath and tried not to spook her this time.

“I was hoping you’d call again,” said Jack in a calm voice. “Are you doing okay?”

“No-I don’t know,” she said, straining with confusion.

Jack wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say, but he said it anyway: “You may not know this, but I’m in London right now. Probably not too far from where you are.”

“How do you know where I am?” She sounded more than a little paranoid.

“Don’t worry, I’m not following you. But I would like to meet with you, if-”

“No! I’m not meeting with anybody!”

Jack glanced at Shada, who was suddenly more interested in Jack’s phone call than in Chuck’s work on the computer screen.

“That’s okay,” Jack said into the phone. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Is he dead?” she asked.

“Is who dead?” asked Jack.

“The man who killed McKenna Mays.”

“We don’t know who killed McKenna. Do you?”

“Yes! I told you before, and I told Jamal, too. He’s creepy and scary and showed me pictures on his computer, and he said if I ever tried to escape I’d end up just like McKenna Mays.”

Jack glanced at his computer, wondering if those pictures were among the files that Shada had copied onto the flash drive.

“What’s his name?”

“I don’t know.”

“When did you see him last?” asked Jack.

“A couple of hours ago,” she said, her voice cracking. “He came to the cellar and…”

“And what?” asked Jack.

She didn’t answer, and the crack in her voice had mushroomed into outright sobbing. Jack wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep her on the line.

“Listen to me, please,” said Jack. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me where you are, but can you tell me where that cellar is?”

“No! Not if he’s not dead. I saw the pictures. He showed me what he’d do to me if I ever told anyone!”

“He doesn’t have to find out you told me anything.”

“He knows everything! This sucks so bad. Why couldn’t he die? He looked dead. ”

Jack did a double take. “He looked dead when?”

“When we left.”

“We?” said Jack. “Someone was with you in the cellar?”

“There was a big fight, and he just laid there as I cut off the ankle bracelet. Then we ran.”

“Ankle-” he started to say, but the bracelet was secondary. “Who was with you?”

She didn’t answer.

Jack tried again. “Please, I need to know who was with you.”

He heard her talking away from the phone. A few seconds later, she was back on the line. “I don’t know his name. And he’s not answering me.”

“What do you mean he doesn’t answer?”

Her voice was suddenly racing. “It was really a bad fight. They both got hurt, and he seemed okay when we ran. But I’m not so sure now. I’m taking care of him, and if he has to go to the hospital I’ll call an ambulance. But right now I don’t want to go anywhere until you tell me that I’m not going to end up like McKenna.”

“I promise that is not going to happen.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that I can help you.”

“No one can. Not until the Dark is dead!”

The Dark? “Did you just call him the Dark?”

“That’s what he told me to call him-what he told me to be afraid of.”

“Please, you have to tell me where you-”

Jack stopped. The line had gone silent, and he could tell she was gone. Jack immediately dialed back, but she didn’t answer. It went straight to voice mail.

“Hello, this is Hassan, I can’t come to the phone right now…”

Jack knew the voice, and it gave him chills. It was Maryam Wakefield’s brother-in-law.

Jamal’s uncle.