Wrecking Crew

TWELVE

On the return trip, they stopped at a service area just north of Colchester. While Stone was topping off the gas tank, Linda used a pay phone to call Megan and pass on what they had learned. It was just twenty minutes later when Stone’s burner phone bleeped, indicating that he had received a new message. He was driving the last leg of the journey to his house, so he handed the phone to Linda.

“That was quick. It’s from Megan,” Linda said. “Bad news I’m afraid. The cell number we got from Fletcher was a bust. It’s for a burner phone registered to a false address. She thinks that the Wrecking Crew may have a big box of SIM cards. They’re probably stolen from phones, or bought as burners for five-quid each. They use each card a few times and then just throw them out. It would be very efficient and totally untraceable.”

Stone pounded his fist on the steering wheel.

“Damn! So we’ve wasted our time?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why? What did we gain?”

“Apart from being hugely turned on by your awesome display of manliness?”

Stone smiled and relaxed a little.

“You didn’t do too badly back there yourself. Fletcher will think twice before he grabs a woman in future.”

Linda looked embarrassed.

“I got lucky. He must have slipped.”

Stone gave her a long look.

“It looked to me like he slipped under a bus. Anyway — you were saying?”

“The burner phone is a good thing. It tells us that this Wrecking Crew is almost certainly operating through ‘Second Chances’. I mean, wouldn’t a legitimate charity use regular contact methods like email, a web site, and a listed phone number?”

“I guess,” he admitted.

“These places usually want a large and accessible public profile. They rely on contributions from businesses and Joe public, and that’s only going to happen if they can be seen.”

“You make a compelling argument, at least I’m convinced.”

“So what do we do next?” she asked.

Stone said nothing for a while. He concentrated on driving while he thought through the options.

Linda tapped her fingers on the dashboards impatiently.

“Well?”

“Sorry — I was thinking. I think that we need to search their office, to see if there are any clues to be had.”

“You mean break in?”

“I guess. It’s unlikely that they’ll let us look around during the day.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow night’s as good a time as any.”

“Cool!”

Stone shook his head and laughed.

“You’re amazing! Here we are planning to put ourselves in danger, or worse, jail — and you think it’s cool. Linda Smart, I think I’m falling in love with you!”

She giggled delightfully.

“Cool!”

Stone gave her a playful punch.

“Text Megan back, please. Ask if we can meet at her place tomorrow for an update.”

A minute later, the phone beeped again. Linda read the message.

“Megan says meet at 11am. It’ll be just us three. Ed’s on another case, but he wants an update.”

“Good. I’m famished, let’s get back to my place, and order a takeout.”

“Perfect… and afterwards I’m going to make you love me even more.” She leaned over and kissed his neck.

In the end, they didn’t make love as Linda had suggested. It had been a long and tiring day so they ordered Chinese food and shared a bottle of wine as they ate. Then afterwards, like an old married couple, they slouched together on the couch and watched television until they fell asleep.

In the morning, they took the same route to Megan’s place as they had the day before. Again, Linda accelerated hard as they joined the four lane freeway, before slowing unexpectedly to see if they could spot a tail.

“Anything?” she asked as Stone swiveled his head from side to side.

“I’m not sure. There’s a blue Ford back there that looks familiar.”

“Yeah, I saw it as well, although it’s hard to tell if he’s following us.”

“Hang on… its passing us now.”

He watched closely as the car overtook them and accelerated into the distance.

“I think its ok. The driver took no notice of us at all. It was probably just someone late for an appointment.”

Although they saw no other sign of a potential tail, before parking at Megan’s, they drove around the block twice, just to make sure.

Megan greeted Linda like a long lost sister, dragged her along the corridor, leaving Stone behind to negotiate his way past the cats unaided. Today Megan’s hair was coloured in a bright shocking pink and styled into what Stone suspected was something called a ‘beehive’. She was wearing black high-heeled shoes, silk stockings, and a suit that closely resembled a US Army uniform of the 1950’s. Stone wondered how she found the time to create a new look each day. Even without the demands of being an employee, there were days when he barely had enough time to shave. As he watched the two girls chatting excitedly about ‘girly things’, Eric faked mild annoyance at being ousted from the center of attention, but secretly he was delighted to see that Linda had made a new friend. Nevertheless, he consoled himself by playing with the kitten that he had rescued. Megan had christened it ‘Widget’.

Eventually Megan’s attention came around to the business in hand, and she began talking about the latest developments.

“I’ve had a good look at Second Chances, but sadly there’s very little more to tell. At face value, they’re a small, but outwardly respectable charity. They receive support and donations from several celebrities and businesses, and they have a reputable board of Trustees. Their accounts are up to date and they seem believable.”

She threw her pen onto the desk.

“If Second Chances is just a front for the Wrecking Crew, then there should be something in the figures to back that up — but I can’t find it.”

“So we’re wrong?” Stone asked.

“No… I think we’re right. They’re just very, very good at hiding their nefarious activities.”

She waved a pudgy hand at her desk.

“What I’m saying is that there’s absolutely nothing here. If we’re going to track them down to their ‘evil lair’, then it won’t be through forensic accounting.”

Linda leaned forward.

“Who are the Trustees, anything suspicious there?”

Megan gave a grim smile.

“Sorry — quite the opposite, for a start there is Sir Harold Heathfield—”

“What… The MP?” Stone asked incredulously.

“None other!”

Linda frowned and shrugged, so Megan filled the gaps in her political knowledge.

“He was the former Defense Minister, and before that he was Home Secretary. Currently he’s the longest serving MP in the House of Commons. I think they call it ‘Father of the House’. There aren’t many people in Britain with a more respectable persona.”

Stone rubbed the back of his neck in frustration.

“Bloody hell! Who are the other Trustees?”

“There’s one other Trustee, it’s a man called Simon Cartwright. Hanna, his wife, was the third Trustee… ” Megan looked down respectfully, “but obviously not anymore.”

“Oh!” Stone said quietly.

Linda looked back and forth in confusion.

“Am I missing something?”

“You don’t know?” Megan asked in surprise.

Linda looked at Stone pleadingly.

“What don’t I know?”

Megan jumped in first.

“Hanna Cartwright, her maiden name was Silk. She was better known as ‘Silky’.”

“What, the model? The one that died of breast cancer?”

“None other!”

Megan spun her office chair in a tight circle.

“Hanna ‘Silky’ silk — the supermodel and international celebrity. She was the darling of the catwalk. Then she was the woman who publicly shared her illness, and death, to raise money for cancer charities. She was also the perfect wife of one Simon Cartwright.”

“Could she and her husband really have been the people behind the Wrecking Crew?” Linda asked. “It seems a little unlikely.”

“Well, let’s review. To prove this we need to identify four things: who, how, why, and where. Agreed?”

Megan looked at them both with a bright toothy smile. She received two silent nods in reply.

“Excellent! So let’s look at Simon and Hanna Cartwright. We have at least two strong leads that point directly to ‘Second Chances’, and by association, to the Trustees. I think that puts them firmly in the frame as the ‘Who’.”

“Go on.”

“They certainly would’ve had access to the right kind of criminal contacts through the charity. The other Trustee, Sir Harold Heathfield, could have provided plenty of clients for their unique services. So that’s the ‘How’ part solved. Is that agreed?”

“It seems to fit so far,” Stone conceded. Linda nodded silently.

“Good. Now, the ‘Why’ is a bit of a mystery. All three Trustees seem to have plenty of money, at least by normal standards. Cartwright and Heathfield both came from wealthy backgrounds, and Hanna made bucket loads of cash through her modeling. So I can only conclude that they were either hungry for even more money, or just on some kind of power trip.”

Linda held up a finger to make a point.

“Well, rich people always seem to be obsessed with increasing their wealth. On the other hand, if you look at what happened to Charles Rathbone, it seems to me that he was destroyed for his political ideals. So I would say that the ‘Why’ that you are looking for, is more about the pursuit of power, than the pursuit of money.”

“I agree,” Stone said.

“Me too,” Megan added.

“Ok… So they’re guilty as charged on three counts, all that remains is the ‘Where’ — and that’s where we come unstuck. Unless they’re operating this multi-million pound conspiracy factory from a poky little office in the back end of Aylesbury, we have nothing.”

“Nothing?” Linda asked.

Megan shook her head.

“Sorry, not a sausage. There’s absolutely nothing in the finances that leads anywhere. There are no payments that I can find that have a matching — or even similar — deposit in another account. No phone bill, tax bill, building insurance or car rental that shows any link to indicate where the Wrecking Crew operates from.”

She tapped her copy of Rathbone’s file with her finger.

“An operation of that size needs careful management, a lot of administration, access to confidential data, plenty of money and a load of computing power. There should be cars, equipment, offices, somewhere secluded to train, and a computer center with very good internet access — probably through a satellite dish. All I can tell you is that somebody is doing an excellent job of covering their tracks. And incidentally, I’ve had no success in finding who that ‘someone’ is either.”

Megan banged her fist on the desk to illustrate her irritation, startling two of her cats in the process.

“It’s so bloody frustrating!”

“Don’t worry, something will turn up,” Linda said.

“Thanks!” Megan said insincerely. She turned back to her computer screen.

“On the other hand, the Cartwright’s had good reasons for their interest in the rehabilitation of offenders. Hanna had a bit of a criminal record before she broke through in modeling, just drugs, and a bit of shoplifting. And Simon Cartwright was suspected of having mob connections — although nothing was ever proven.”

Megan turned to face Stone.

“He likes to keep a very low profile, unusually low, considering how famous his wife was. I guess he could just be a naturally private person. That’s not a crime — these days it’s more of a virtue. In any event, they’ve certainly done a lot for ‘Second Chances’ — and get this, they even called their house ‘Hug a Mugger’. That must be popular with the locals!”

Stone gave a sharp snort of derision.

“Linda and I are going to search the ‘Second Chances’ office tonight. Perhaps we can find something tangible that will lead us to wherever they operate from.”

“Good.”

Megan nodded slowly as she considered the plan. She looked at Linda.

“You ok with this?”

“Yeah. It should be exciting!”

Megan smiled at Linda’s enthusiasm. She reached into the drawer and handed Stone a small leather wallet.

“I guess you’ll want to borrow Ed’s keys.”

“Thanks.”

He waved the wallet at Linda teasingly.

“Lock picks!”

“Cool!”

Megan shook her head and smiled.

Linda looked over her shoulder and then back at Megan.

“Which way is the bathroom?”

“Down the hall — first on the right.”

When the door was closed, Megan gave Stone a serious stare.

“She’s a keeper, that one.”

“No argument from me. I think I’m falling in love.”

Megan smiled.

“No doubt about it Eric, any woman can see that. You’re s-m-i-t-ten — it’s written all over your face, hers too.”

Stone leaned forward, his eyes sparkling.

“She’s beautiful and fun, and she’s amazing — I mean the way she’s getting involved in all this. She’s so enthusiastic, and it makes no sense. The closer we get to this investigation, the more excited she seems to become. I can’t figure it out.”

“I wouldn’t overanalyze things. She’s probably just feeding off of your commitment.”

“Well whatever it is, I think she’s pretty amazing.”

“Who’s amazing?”

Linda was casually leaning on the doorframe. Open mouthed, Stone stood up and turned. He was caught off guard and unsure of what to say. Unperturbed, Megan jumped in with her usual sensitivity.

“You are Linda! Eric thinks you’re a keeper.”

Linda looked at Stone, who somehow managed to look both horrified and happy at the same time. She gave a matter-of-fact shrug.

“Took you long enough to figure that out!”

She gave Eric a hug and kissed his cheek. Stone coughed in an effort to cover his embarrassment, but his wide grin exposed his true feelings. He wrapped his arms around Linda and kissed the top of her head.

“We’d better get moving soon, I want to get to Second Chances before it gets too dark to look around. Also, the daylight will help us spot if anybody’s tailing us.”

“You’re being followed?” Megan asked, suddenly all professional and serious.

“We’re not sure,” Linda cut in, “Over the last couple of days we’ve seen some cars that may have been following, and the other day we felt ‘watched’. But that was just a weird feeling we both had, there was nothing definite.”

“Whenever we were driving, we kept a careful lookout,” Stone added, “but each time we thought that someone looked suspicious, they overtook, or turned off.”

Megan’s face looked grim. The light humor of their earlier conversation dissipated like smoke.

“They may have been operating a ‘Box’.” That’s where they have several cars following you. Ed’s told me about this.”

She grabbed a sheet of paper and drew a quick sketch. Stone and Linda leaned closer.

“They keep some cars in front, some behind, and a couple of others in reserve. They rotate the cars regularly so they aren’t seen too often. If they’re doing it properly, then it is almost impossible to spot.”

“Thanks!” Stone said sourly, “That really helps our confidence.”

“So what do we do?” Linda asked.

“I think you need to drop off the grid. Given what we know about the Wrecking Crew and their capabilities, it’s the only safe way to operate.”

Stone frowned.

“How do we do that? How do we drop off the grid?”

“Actually, it’s not easy. First, you would have to shake off any tail, and then you would need to dump everything you have. You pretty much have to strip naked and start over, using only cash.”

“Dump everything, even our clothes?”

Megan nodded sternly.

“Dump everything, Eric. You have to assume that they can track anything with a chip or a radio frequency tag.”

She tapped her computer screen with a bright pink fingernail.

“If I can track it, then so can they.”

Linda was perplexed.

“Sorry — what’s a radio frequency tag?”

Megan rubbed her hands together in gleeful anticipation of delivering one of her favourite lectures.

“A radio frequency, or RF tag, is that little bit of silver foil that you sometimes see on the security tags of CD’s and the like. It’s inert until its hit with a radio wave. Then it sends back some specific information. Most high-end products carry one these days, partly to deter shoplifters. However, rumor has it that many retailers are now collecting information about customers, by scanning every RF chip that enters, or even just passes their store. There’s also good evidence that some retailers are even scanning and collecting information from competitor’s loyalty cards. They’re literally stealing information directly from your pocket.”

Linda shrugged.

“So they want to know where I shop — big deal.”

“Wait, there’s more!” Megan added with a grim smile. “There are companies out there called ‘Data Miners and Data Bankers’. They want to steal, harvest, and store your information.”

“Whatever for?”

“So they can study and manipulate it. Knowledge is power. It’s that simple.”

Linda was still unconvinced. Megan pushed on to make her point.

“Think of it this way. Imagine that Eric wanted to open another karate club in… for example, Norwich.”

“That seems like a bad idea!” Eric groaned.

“Maybe, maybe not — answer me this. How much would you pay for the names and addresses of everyone in Norwich who had a real interest in learning karate, was the correct age, and had enough money to pay a yearly membership up front?”

Eric nodded in acceptance.

“I would probably pay quite a bit for that sort of information. It would certainly be more effective than the leaflets and posters that I usually pay for.”

“Damn right. Now imagine how much some politicians would pay for some really useful dirt on an opposition candidate. Or what some business people would pay to remove the competition.”

She sat back and raised her palms.

“Knowledge is power folks — and it’s probably how the Wrecking Crew makes most of its money. If they have access to those kinds of databases, then they probably already know the RF data codes for all of your clothes, they know your car registrations, and they have all of your credit card and bank details.”

“So that’s why we have to strip naked and start over, using just cash,” Linda said.

“It would be the only way to remain undetected.”

Megan turned towards Eric.

“Just in case, give me the phone Ed gave you and I’ll change the SIM card. I have one ready, Ed already has the number.”

Stone handed over his phone.

“I suppose I’d better get to the bank and withdraw some cash then.”

“No need.”

Megan reached into her desk and handed over a familiar shopping bag.

“A gift from Anton Stephens — a bag full of untraceable drug money. It’s ideal for just this kind of situation. Ed suggested that I give it to you today.”

“Thanks.”

Stone took the bag with some embarrassment.

“Charles left me a lot of money, you know.”

Megan waved dismissively.

“Put it to a good cause after this is over. Perhaps you can donate to a cat sanctuary, or take me out on a date. For the moment, use the dirty money, and keep yourselves safe.”

“Thanks for all the help. You have my promise, at the first sign of trouble we’ll drop off the grid — after phoning you first.”

Megan shook her head and sighed.

“Phone afterwards.”

Linda came over and sat on the edge of Megan’s desk.

“And what about you, are you safe here?”

“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. As far as the world is concerned, a lady called Catherine Dama lives here. Megan Smith is invisible.”

She waved a hand at her computers.

“Even with all of this and the work that I do, I’m so well hidden that even I couldn’t find me!”

Linda smiled and gave Megan a sisterly hug.

“Good to know.”

They parked fifty yards from Second Chances’ office, facing away, and on the opposite side of the road. Using the car’s side-mirrors, for twenty minutes they watched a steady stream of people entering and leaving the office.

“Well they’re certainly busy doing something out of that office,” Linda said, “Perhaps there are an excessive number of ex-cons living around here.”

“Hopefully we’re not going to add to that number.”

Stone checked his watch. It was almost 6pm.

“Let’s take a casual walk and see if we can spot a better way in, than the door on the street.”

Hand-in-hand like a couple of newlyweds, they slowly walked two complete circuits of the block. It was growing dark and the streetlights were beginning to come on as they climbed into Linda’s car. The office of Second Chances was in darkness, and outside a large man was in the process of locking the door. They watched from the car as the man casually walked by, taking no notice of them. In the glimpse Stone caught in the mirror, he could see that the man was younger than he had supposed. He was tall and fit looking, with an unruly mop of long blonde hair, and probably in his mid-twenties. Neither Linda nor Stone had ever seen the man before. Linda spoke first.

“There’s an alleyway at the side of the building that leads to a small yard at the rear. I saw an entrance, an old door — I think that it would be the best way in.”

“Yeah, I saw that. I think you’re right. I don’t see any sign of an alarm.”

“We’ll check when we get closer, but I don’t see any outside bell box or anything else to indicate an active system.”

“Ok, let’s go. Can you stay near the alley entrance and keep a lookout while I work on the lock?”

“Humph! That’s woman’s work. I’ll be doing the ironing next,” she joked as she climbed out of the car.

With Linda guarding the entrance to the alleyway, Stone was able to concentrate on opening the back door to Second Chances’ office. Picking locks is almost a lost art form, and one that takes considerable skill and practice to master. Contrary to popular belief, it can take considerable time, and multiple attempts, to pick a lock successfully. Some time ago, Ed Carter had shown him the basics and, more as a hobby than anything else, Stone had practiced at home for a while, but apparently, he hadn’t practiced anywhere near enough.

Kneeling on a scrap of cardboard rescued from a bin, and holding a penlight in his teeth, Stone inspected the lock and groaned. It was a standard cylinder lock. The generic sort, you would probably get from a discount store. He knew that cheap locks could be more difficult to pick. The mechanism is less precisely manufactured, making it slack and difficult to feel with the lock pick. Nevertheless, he had to try. It was important that the break-in remained secret.

Stone began by spraying the interior of the mechanism with penetrating oil to free any rust and grime. He attached a twisted elastic band to a thumbtack he had stuck into the door, and looped the other end around the arm of the tension wrench. That way he could maintain an even twisting pressure on the barrel, whilst keeping both hands free. After a glance at Linda to check that the coast was clear, he started to pick the lock.

Internally every cylinder lock has a number of pins of varying length that have to be pushed upwards until they all match something called the shear line. When the pins are correctly aligned, usually by the little pointed teeth on the key, the lock will turn. The process of picking the lock involves using a tension wrench to apply a slight rotational pressure to the barrel, whilst using a thin pick to ease each of the pins gently upwards. As each pin reaches the shear line, there is a slight click. Once all of the pins are correctly ‘picked’, the lock will open.

Picking a lock is skillful, difficult work — not like the movies at all. A bent hairgrip won’t do the job, and a lock cannot be picked in just a few seconds with a casual jiggle of the wrist, whilst looking over your shoulder to check that no one is watching. Sometimes, despite his very best efforts, it can’t be picked in twenty minutes of persistent effort.

Stone groaned as he stood up. His back ached, his fingers were cramped, and his knees were shaking.

“I can’t get it!” he whispered irately, rubbing his hands to try to restore some circulation.

“I need to walk around for a moment.”

“Can I have a go?” Linda asked.

“Be my guest,” Stone waved a hand at the unyielding lock. “Don’t tell me you know how to pick locks.”

Linda tipped her head and winked.

“Absolutely; I saw it on a cop show once — you stick the gismo into the thingamabob and wiggle it around and the door opens!”

Stone gave a grunt of disapproval.

“I’ll keep an eye out until my circulation returns.”

He hobbled to the entrance of the alleyway and bent forward to massage his aching calves. Less than a minute passed before he heard Linda whispering his name.

“What?”

“Come here… I don’t think you’re going to like this.”

Stone walked back down the alleyway to find Linda pointing to the open door. She gave him a triumphant smile edged with embarrassment. He stared open-mouthed in disbelief.

“How the hell… did you pick the lock?”

“Actually, the door was already unlocked — that’s why you couldn’t pick it. It was just a bit sticky and there were some empty boxes in the way. It opened as soon as I gave it a hard shove.”

Stone slapped his forehead.

“Idiot! That’s a classic rookie mistake. I never even thought to check the door to see if it was already unlocked.”

Linda smiled sweetly.

“Shall we go in?”

The office was quite small, just fifteen by thirty feet. At the front, facing the street, there was the main door and a large window, probably from when it was used as a store. The first ten feet was a waiting area. There were several hard chairs along the wall and a low coffee table in the center, piled high with old newspapers and magazines. The area behind the counter that bisected the room was clearly used as the office. There was a desk, three filing cabinets, a small kitchenette, and a second door that led to a restroom. Stone pointed Linda towards the desk, and without further comment, they began searching the office.

They both used penlights. To avoid being accidentally seen by some passing pedestrian, they kept their lenses partially shielded with their fingers. Stone checked the filing cabinets, while Linda went through the desk. The search yielded little of any interest. The filing cabinets housed what seemed to be genuine client files. Some were for ex-convicts and a few were for willing employers. In total, there were almost one-hundred files. Stone flicked through twenty that he selected randomly, he found nothing to suggest a link with the Wrecking Crew.

In the end, Linda found the only items of any potential significance. Inside a file crudely marked ‘expenses’, she found a small envelope containing around twenty identical USB sticks. Linda took two. In a second envelope, neatly clipped together, were five paid parking receipts for a shopping center in Aylesbury, and two unpaid parking tickets for a street in the same town. She showed them to Stone and pointed to her pocket, he nodded in agreement. As she slipped them into her back pocket and switched off her penlight, there was the instantly recognizable sound of a gun being cocked. A harsh voice spoke from the doorway.

“Put your hands up, or I’ll shoot.”

Stone reacted instantly. He spun around and pointed his flashlight directly at the assailant. Then he stepped to his left, while holding the flashlight at arm’s length to his right. At the same time he used his left arm to push Linda downward, into what he hoped was a position of comparative safety. The gunman, instantly blinded by the flashlight, naturally assumed that Stone would be standing directly behind the light — which is where he was aiming when he fired.

The bullet passed just below Stone’s arm and buried itself harmlessly in the opposite wall. Before the man could fire again, Stone delivered a sidekick to his elbow, snapping the joint and spinning the gun safely to the floor. The man groaned in pain and staggered backwards. Stone could see now that it was the same young man they had seen locking the office a little earlier. As Stone prepared to deliver a second attack, the man stepped backwards into the alley, holding his useless elbow with his left hand.

“You’re dead you two, you’re fucking dead! You’ve no idea what you’re into.”

He backed three steps away from the doorway, turned and ran. Stone made no effort to give chase.

“Are you ok?” he asked Linda.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, her voice shaking.

“We’d better go, someone may have heard that shot and called the police.”

Be bent down and picked up the gun.

“This may come in handy later.”

“You could be right,” Linda said as she walked through the door, “in the meantime, please try not to shoot me in the ass.”