Payback (30 page)

‘Just as well we’ve got a copy, then. But we couldn’t find anything on it that was even slightly interesting, and certainly nothing worth killing for.’

‘Which must mean,’ Richter reflected, ‘that whatever it is must be very well hidden. I’ll talk to your computer man when we get back to the embassy, and see if we can
come up with anything.’

‘Lady,’ Watkinson said.

‘What?’

‘My computer man is actually a computer lady. Her name’s Christine Halls, but everyone calls her Chris.’

British Embassy, Dubai

‘How did you check the contents of Holden’s hard drive?’ Richter asked.

‘I analysed the overall directory structure and looked at the program files and utilities,’ Chris Halls replied, ‘because you can gauge a user’s ability by seeing what
software they have in addition to the standard stuff.’

Halls was a slim and attractive woman of about thirty, long dark hair framing a pert and pretty face, square-lensed spectacles giving her a somewhat studious appearance. She had a degree in
computer science, and had worked for the SIS ever since university.

‘And Holden?’

‘He was a user, but not an expert. Take a look.’ She pointed at the nineteen-inch flat-panel monitor on which the cloned copy of Holden’s hard drive was displayed.
‘He’s using Windows Vista Home Premium, and that’s a clue straight away because it’s still pretty buggy. Serious users tend to run XP Professional or Linux. For application
software he’s got a basic version of Office, and that came with the computer because it’s an OEM edition.’

Richter nodded. ‘Original Equipment Manufacturer,’ he said. ‘What else has he got?’

‘What you’d expect, bearing in mind the spec of the machine. He’s got a standard DVD player, and an oldish version of Nero for burning CD and DVD disks for backup. That
probably came with the machine and he’s never bothered updating it. His firewall, anti-virus and so forth are all perfectly good programs, but he’s using the free editions. A serious
user would either run the bought versions or more likely an integrated suite like Norton. This looks like a machine owned by somebody who either doesn’t know too much about computers, or
doesn’t care. As long as the PC did the job, I don’t think he was bothered.’

‘What about data files?’

‘There were a few hundred files in the “my documents” folder, divided up the way you’d expect – letters to the bank, that kind of thing. I scanned the whole disk,
doing wildcard searches for likely filenames. I also looked for text strings within files, choosing words associated with the bombs Holden told us about, but found nothing.’

‘And then?’ Richter asked.

‘And then nothing, really. We were never certain that there
was
anything to find on Holden’s computer. The people we sent in only copied the hard drive because it seemed like
a good place to look for information. The last thing I did was check his copy of Outlook Express. He had no files at all in his inbox, which was a surprise. Most inexperienced users end up with
hundreds or thousands of messages there. But Holden seems to have been good at filing them, and he had a lot of folders. I scanned them all, but still nothing came up. No pictures, no mention of
the words “Damascus”, “Syria”, “Assad”, “suicide”, “bomb” or “
shahid
”. I also searched for “Bahrain” and
got a few hits, but they were all to do with that new waterside development at Manama. The only slight oddity was that his “deleted items” folder was also empty. Most people delete
messages they’ve read or they’re not interested in, and then they sit there until they do a purge and empty the entire folder.’

‘He might have just done that, so it could be a coincidence the folder was empty.’

Halls nodded. ‘You could be right, but you could also argue it indicates a regimented use of the email client, with Holden eliminating every message that he didn’t file. And
I’m not a big fan of coincidence.’

‘Neither am I,’ Richter said, ‘and now that we know somebody killed Holden and took the trouble to wipe his hard drive, we can be sure there was something on that machine the
killer didn’t want us to see. We also know that what Holden was telling you people was probably sent to him by email, and that he was no more psychic than I am.’

‘So what do you want to do now?’

‘That’s your department, I think. There’s something on that hard drive we need to find, and it’s obviously very well hidden. How could Holden have managed that, if
you’re right and he wasn’t a sophisticated user?’

‘We can rule out techniques like steganography, so my guess is that he did one of two things. He could have used online storage, but I’ve checked his favourites in Internet Explorer
and none of them links to a storage site. Most probably, somewhere on that drive,’ Halls pointed at the external hard disk, ‘is a security program Holden used to create a hidden folder,
or even a hidden partition, that won’t show up using normal search tools.’

‘Are you sure it’s still there? I mean, did the people who accessed Holden’s computer copy
everything
?’

‘Yes.’ Halls nodded. ‘They didn’t copy the hard disk – they cloned it. That means they made an exact, byte-for-byte replica of it. This drive is identical to the
hard disk in Holden’s computer on the date our people entered his apartment. If there was a hidden directory or partition on his computer then, it’ll be here on this drive.’

‘Can you find it?’

‘Yes, probably. As this investigation has moved from being merely about an anomaly nobody could explain to a murder hunt, my priorities have changed. Watkinson’s told me I can spend
as much time as I like playing with this.’

Al-Khaleej Hotel, Dubai

Dawson’s update for Langley had inevitably proved to be somewhat protracted. The man they’d travelled to Dubai to interview had been murdered, and his
apartment ransacked. With their witness – using the word in its loosest possible sense – dead, the primary reason for their presence in Dubai had vanished, and Owens had recommended
that they return to the States immediately.

This had always been a potential problem, because local CIA officers usually took a dim view when Langley-based staff were sent out to work on their ‘patch’. But Dawson had handled
that, too, by telling Owens they’d be leaving once they’d shown the Dubai police how to use the explosive detectors they’d brought with them. That, he estimated, would take them
three or four days to accomplish. Owens had grumbled at this delay, but had agreed to relay everything Dawson had told him back to CIA Headquarters.

‘Leave Dick guarding the room, but go get John, will you?’ O’Hagan instructed, as they climbed out of the police car. ‘We’ll go through what happened and make sure
we’ve got all our beans in a row.’

As the three of them headed towards Dubai Creek, he began. ‘Right. What happened at Al-Ramool, John?’

‘It went as exactly as planned. Holden let me in, I terminated him in the study and wiped the hard drive on his PC. I grabbed all his disks and anything else I could find, trashed the
place and left.’

‘You took precautions?’

Petrucci nodded. ‘Yes. I wore my Arab stuff, and sunglasses. I took a taxi both ways but not door-to-door. Nobody followed me in either direction, and nobody took any notice of me at the
building itself.’

O’Hagan shook his head. ‘Nobody you were aware of, John, but actually somebody did. The British SIS had a man watching, and he would certainly have seen you. Whether he noticed you
is a different question.’

‘I saw nobody,’ Petrucci repeated, ‘and I was checking constantly.’

‘He was probably sitting in a café or a car, or maybe even in a building across the street, but I don’t think it matters. The authorities won’t be looking for a CIA
officer working with their own police force, and certainly not one who was lying in his hotel room suffering from food poisoning.’

‘So you reckon we’re fireproof?’

‘Unless something remarkable happens, yes,’ O’Hagan replied. ‘Hussein is going to be busy sorting out the crime scene, and he won’t have much time to deal with us
for a couple of days. Tomorrow’s Saturday, and I doubt if anything will happen over the weekend, but I’ll call him and suggest we start checking the hotels on Sunday. One of us is going
to have to become an expert on those explosive detectors by then, so I’ll brief Dick. Now, the CIA guy here suggested we should just pack our bags and head off back to Langley, because
Holden’s dead.’

‘Maybe we shouldn’t have whacked him so quickly,’ Dawson said. ‘If we’d done an interview with him today, we could have taken him out next week.’

O’Hagan shook his head. ‘No. Holden was an amateur and a loose cannon. He’d already met John and me, and I couldn’t risk him reacting when he saw us again.
Hussein’s quite a sharp cookie, and if he suspected Holden knew us, the shit would really hit the fan. Getting rid of him was the safest option.’

He pursed his lips and glanced around them. ‘Right, the other matter is fairly minor. When we went over to Al-Ramool, Ed and I met a senior British SIS officer called Michael Watkinson.
He’s based locally and Hussein seemed to know him well. I don’t think he’s likely to be a problem, but the man with him possibly might be.

‘His name’s Paul Richter and he works for some kind of deniable outfit attached to the SIS, but he wouldn’t be specific, and wouldn’t show any ID either. None of
that’s real important, but what worries me is that he’d opened the door of Holden’s apartment and been inside. In fact, he was still inside when we arrived with Hussein, which
shows he’s not afraid to break the rules. I don’t know why he’s out here, but he has the definite look of a trouble-shooter about him. If he gets too close to us, we may have to
arrange for him to have an accident.’

British Embassy, Dubai

‘Don’t either of you two have a home to go to?’ Watkinson asked, opening the door of Chris Halls’s office and peering inside. It was late evening,
and Richter hadn’t emerged in over three hours, except to go to the loo and collect mugs of coffee.

Richter glanced up. ‘I do have a hotel room and a bed with my name on it, but Chris here thinks she’s getting close to cracking this, so I plan on staying around for a
while.’

‘No problem. But to avoid ruining her concentration, can you come to my office? There are a couple of things we need to discuss.’

When they got there, Watkinson sat down behind his desk. ‘I’ve been talking to George Blakeney about Holden. He’s very embarrassed because it happened on his watch.’

‘He shouldn’t be. He was supposed to be watching the building and following Holden if he left the premises. He wasn’t there as a bodyguard and, as far as I’m aware, there
was no known threat to Holden.’

‘Agreed. I asked him to give me a description of everyone he remembers entering or leaving the building, and he’s come up with a few, but nothing detailed enough to start a search.
Almost all the visitors he can recall were Arabs – or at least they were dressed like Arabs – and he has no recollection of anyone looking out of place.’

‘I’d be surprised if he had. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. They went there prepared to wipe the hard drive beyond recovery, which requires specialist software
that the murderer must have taken with him.’

‘I thought you could just delete everything on a disk using a DOS command?’

‘You can but it’s pointless, because anyone with any serious knowledge of computers can recover it quite easily. Deleting a file simply stops it being accessible, but the data is
still physically on the disk. Wiping the drive only makes sense if it’s permanent, and that needs special software. It’s even possible to recover data after a format, if you’ve
got the right tools.’

‘How’s she doing?’

‘Pretty well. She’s discovered that there
is
a hidden partition on the hard disk and she’s trying to identify the program used to create it. It’ll take her some
time.’

‘OK. The obvious question is who did this. Any ideas?’

‘Actually,’ Richter replied thoughtfully, ‘I think the “why” is more important than the “who”. Holden could have been assassinated by somebody on
contract or even by a member of the terrorist organization he’s been working for.’

‘You’re sure of that? You’re certain he was part of whatever was going on out here, that he wasn’t a genuine psychic?’

‘Holden was no more psychic than my cat.’

‘Have you got a cat?’ Watkinson asked doubtfully.

‘No, but that’s not the point. Holden being involved with the terrorists is the only scenario that makes sense. There were exactly two possibilities here. First, Holden could have
been genuine, and been seeing these visions, or whatever you like to call them, and was assassinated by the terrorists so that he couldn’t warn anybody else. If that was the case we have
three questions to answer. How was he getting his information – premonition, telepathy or some other equally unlikely method? Second, how did the terrorists get to know about him? As far as
I’m aware, no details about Holden have been released outside the intelligence community. Finally, why did his killer wipe his hard drive?’

‘Go on,’ Watkinson said.

‘Now, if on the other hand he was in league with them, all those questions have simple answers. He knew about the bomb attacks because the people who planted them told him exactly where
and when they were going to explode. The terrorists knew about him because they’d recruited him as a conduit to the authorities. And they wiped his hard disk because they knew it stored
information that would prove his contact with them.’

‘You make a good case,’ Watkinson said, ‘but that still doesn’t answer everything. Were the two attacks Holden described organized by the same people? And why on earth
were they using him to leak details in the first place?’

‘I’ve no idea, but they must have had a reason. And I do think both attacks were coordinated by the same group.’

‘If you’re right,’ Watkinson said, ‘that also suggests something of real concern.’

‘I know. Whatever the aim of this campaign is, the final act is probably imminent. And that worries me too.’