Stalker

Chapter Thirty-Three

Derek greeted the new day with tempered enthusiasm. While not wholly forgiving of his mother’s actions he was marginally more tolerant of her. He didn’t bring up the subject of what she’d done again or actively avoid her as he had been doing the night before. She made him a cooked breakfast as a peace offering while he’d fetched a tin of paint from the shed and painted over the graffiti on the front door. He even found it within himself to say goodbye to her before setting off for the retail park and she’d called goodbye too.

Thankfully there were no bail restrictions other than he mustn’t leave the country, although he had to use the bus as the police still had his van and motorbike. He hated every minute of the half-hour journey. All those people invading his personal space. Much better to keep them at a distance and view them through their CCTV. He was relieved when the bus pulled into the retail park and he could get off.

My Computer World advertised itself as stocking everything anyone could possibly need in computing, claiming its ‘specialist staff’ were on hand to help and advise its customers. Derek wasn’t impressed. The assistant who intercepted him at the door soon proved he had no technical knowledge of the products beyond knowing the manufacturer’s name, the size of the laptop and how many photos it could hold. Derek’s patience quickly evaporated and he asked to speak to a more senior sales person, who turned out to know little more than his assistant. Derek sighed repeatedly as he talked to him about the products, shook his head and then finally snapped that the colour of the case was immaterial, and to leave him to choose a laptop for himself.

Two hours later he came out carrying a store bag containing the fastest, most reliable laptop with the biggest memory the store sold, two portable hard drives and a mobile phone. The return journey was more bearable as he held his precious purchases on his lap and looked forward to arriving home and getting started. Soon he would be on the path to retrieving what he’d lost and more. The omniscient, all-seeing and powerful protector of the innocent and punisher of evil would be back in business – despite the police.

Alighting from the bus at the stop nearest to home, Derek walked swiftly along his street, keeping his head down and away from the prying eyes of the neighbours. Thankfully no more press had arrived on his doorstep and no new graffiti had appeared. He took out his key ready, and quickly let himself in. Odd, he thought straightaway. The house was silent. Too quiet. No sound was coming from the television, and when he went into the living room it was empty.

‘Mum!’ he called upstairs. No reply. ‘Mum!’

Where on earth was she? She hardly ever went out alone. With mounting concern he went into the kitchen and found a handwritten note on the work surface: Gone to stay with my sister for a few days. Mum.

‘Oh, I see,’ he said out loud, surprised. She stayed with her sister a couple of times a year but usually spent weeks trying to decide when to go, then asked him to buy her train ticket, take her to the station and see her to the correct platform. Never before had she just gone like this. He’d phone her later and make sure she’d arrived safely and was all right, but for now he had more pressing matters to attend to.

His stomach grumbled, reminding him it was well past lunchtime so he made himself a ham sandwich and a mug of tea and took them upstairs with the bag containing the laptop. In his room Derek set the mug and plate to one side and with mounting anticipation carefully unpacked the laptop and placed it in the centre of his workstation. He manoeuvred his chair directly in front. The laptop looked a bit lonely all by itself after all the equipment that had been there, but that would change over time. This was just to get him going again, the beginning, and his excitement grew.

Taking a bite of the sandwich and a swig of tea, he plugged in the laptop and watched it boot, a warm feeling coursing through his veins. He had to admit he often felt more relaxed and in tune with computers than he did with people. You knew where you stood with them. He typed in his name when prompted and five minutes later the installation process was complete and his new laptop was ready to go. He took another bite of sandwich and drawing in his chair, set the security level to high before connecting to the Internet. As he did, emails rushed into his inbox, uncollected while he’d been without a computer or phone. He ran his eyes down the list. Nothing urgent, he’d read them later. For now he wanted to get on.

Standing, he crossed to the wardrobe and took out a concertina folder from the bottom containing his clients’ invoices. The police hadn’t been interested in these and had left them where they were. More fool them, he thought. What they hadn’t appreciated was that the invoices, as well as showing his clients’ names and contact details, included the make and model numbers of the cameras he’d installed and the router they’d been connected to. In fact everything he needed to hack in.

Returning to his workstation, he typed ‘hacking’ into a search engine – always try the obvious first – and sure enough pages of websites appeared. Set up supposedly to help keep people safe online by showing how hacking worked, but detailing how to hack, assuming you had a bit of technical know-how. They included coding and even links to software programs that could identify your targeted equipment, with disclaimers stating that the website owners were not responsible for any misuse of the information supplied on the website. Derek smiled, found the software he needed and downloaded it, then took the invoice for Mr and Mrs Abbot from the folder. With mounting expectation and a little anxiety he entered their details and within seconds the IP address for their router appeared.

Now for the password to log in. He tried variations of their first and last names as the website suggested and eventually he struck lucky and was successful.

‘Yes!’ he cried, elated. He was once again looking through the Abbots’ cameras just as he had before. If it worked for one it should work for the others.

Barely able to contain his excitement, he finished the last of the sandwich, typed their new password into a spreadsheet, then created a thumbnail of the live stream coming from their cameras, before returning the Abbot invoice to his file.

Now to his next client, Andrews. Same process, and having identified their router he found to his delight that they too had used a combination of their names for their password. Most people did, even when they changed it. With rising joy he entered their password, created a thumbnail and set it on screen next to the Abbots, then backed up on the portable hard drives.

Just like old times, he thought.

The next password took longer to crack; they hadn’t used a combination of their names. Eventually he found it was the name of their street plus 10. So he hadn’t been completely forgotten! Creating another thumbnail he decided to spend a little time revisiting his old friends and family – the three he had so far. A warm feeling of contentment ran through him. It felt good, really good to be with them again. He’d only been away a few days but even in that time things had changed, their lives had moved on, and he caught up a little before going to the next.

Time passed, the evening drew in and more thumbnail images were added. The laptop screen was small compared with what he was used to. Goodness knows why the police had taken away the monitors, they didn’t store information as the computer and hard drives did. He assumed it was out of ignorance or to stop him from working. Well, he’d certainly got the better of them now.

Evening turned to night and the natural light faded. He reached out and switched on the lamp. An hour later he stopped to use the bathroom and fetch a glass of water, and realized he hadn’t phoned his mother. It was after ten now and too late; he’d phone her in the morning. It was strange without her in the house, he had to admit; unnaturally quiet without the television on, and of course he hadn’t had dinner. No time for that now, he’d make up for it in the morning. There was always bacon and eggs in the fridge.

Returning upstairs he continued with his work and at 3am he’d reinstated all but four of his clients whose passwords he simply couldn’t crack. Interestingly three still had the old password he’d suggested, presumably because Mayes hadn’t been able to contact them. Or they’d ignored her advice or hadn’t got around to changing it yet. He’d keep a close eye on them. Tomorrow was a new day and it held the promise of things to come. Why stop at hacking into his clients’ CCTV when a whole world lay out there? Some of his clients had changed security company but that hadn’t stopped him. But now for some sleep. He disconnected the two portable hard drives and then tapped the touchpad on the laptop to start the shutdown. He’d read all his emails in the morning. He was too tired now.

The screen began to fade but then stopped as a personalized pop-up advertisement appeared.

What the fuck! Derek fumed, balling his fists. How dare they! He’d only had the laptop a day and already they were spamming him with their bloody advertisements. Well, he’d have them this time for sure. He was just in the mood. Wide awake now and shaking with fury, he pressed to reboot the laptop. As soon as it loaded he connected to his email and sure enough, at the top of the list of unopened emails, was one from Watching You. Sent an hour earlier, with the subject line: A Product For You.

He opened the email and stared in disbelief and shock. Not a promotion or recommendation for surveillance equipment but a photograph of two men, one sodomizing the other.

And worse, beneath the photo was the first paragraph of a newspaper article from nine years ago: Local man, Derek Flint, pleaded guilty in court today to the charge of gross indecency after a member of the public reported him and another man to the police.

The blood pounded in Derek’s head and a strange buzzing noise filled his ears. Fear and anger coursed through him as he stared at the screen, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Who exactly had sent this and why? What did they want? His first thought was that someone working at the company Watching You had discovered his past and was now playing with him, but he dismissed that idea – the tone of the wording wasn’t funny, and whoever had found the online article must have dug deep. It was nine years old! And while he knew that nothing was ever completely erased from the Internet, he also knew it would have taken a lot of effort to find it.

His next thought was that a journalist had discovered the article while researching after his recent arrest. That seemed more likely. It might have gone unnoticed had his mother not broadcast his arrest to the world. But this wasn’t from a journalist but a company – Watching You – that purported to be selling surveillance equipment. And of course he’d been receiving their pop-up advertisements and emails long before his arrest. Yet the content of the email wasn’t that of a company pushing its wares. It was sexually suggestive and vindictive. Someone had unearthed his past and was now using it against him. What did they want? Was it blackmail? Hardly; the information they had – his past conviction and recent arrest – were already known. He studied the photograph of the two men, possibly male models, his heart drumming wildly. Someone was out to get him, but who – and why?