Catwalk Criminal (10 page)

“But—”

“You're working with The Collective, which explains why last night's mission failed,” Agent Hatfield said. “You helped the group hack in on Saturday and then tipped off someone that we were coming for Henry. You insisted that your godfather swap a senior agent, Bree, for Natalia, a far less experienced operative, who you knew would be easier to handle and let Henry escape to prevent us from taking him into custody.”

“You've got it all wrong. I wanted Natalia with me because I didn't trust Bree after the Shard job.”

“Another mission you took part in that we suspect involved a leak to a third party,” Agent Hatfield snarled. “Funny, that.”

Jessica glanced at Bree, who scowled back. She'd definitely made an enemy of her. Possibly a very dangerous one, who'd incriminated Jessica before she'd had chance to expose
her
.

“I had nothing to do with the leaks on either job,” she insisted. “If it wasn't for me, you'd never have caught the Frenchman at the Shard or discovered Henry was missing until the ambulance arrived at the hospital.”

Agent Hatfield shook her head. “You've jeopardized the whole of MI6 and put countless agents at risk. How long have you been involved with The Collective?”

“I'm not. Can't you see what they're doing? They're trying to frame me. They hacked my dad's home computer yesterday and used it to get into my Facebook account and my school's database. They posted teachers' names on a dating website and sent emails out under my name.”

She paused. Why hadn't she thought about this before? The Collective had posted about Hatchett Hatcham on her Facebook account. How had the hackers known her nickname for him? They must have read text messages and email exchanges between her and Becky and Jamie. That was the only time she might have referred to the most loathed teacher in her school.

Cyberstalkers had been secretly studying her life.

“You should have reported all of this to me as soon as it happened,” Nathan pointed out. “You must realize that.”

“I only found out about the hack at school this morning when the head teacher called me and Dad in for a disciplinary meeting. I've been suspended while Dad gets an IT expert to examine all the computer software.”

Agent Hatfield's lips curled into a snarl. “Presumably they'll find what we did – a secret back-door password that you used to access the MI6 system. ‘Lily'.”

Jessica stared at her, stunned. It was her mum's name.

“I'm being set up by someone who knows me. Someone who knows how to press my buttons.”

“Really? By whom?” Agent Hatfield looked unconvinced.

There was only one person who'd pull a stunt like this. “Margaret Becker.”

Agent Hatfield frowned. “The ex-MI6 agent?”

Jessica nodded. She'd given evidence against Margaret in a closed court six months ago and the double agent had been jailed for life for treason. She'd worked alongside villains including deranged former supermodel Allegra Knight and the terrorist Vectra before she'd finally been brought to justice.

“Margaret's locked up in a maximum security prison with very limited access to computers,” Nathan said. “She can't be involved in this.”

“I'm telling you, it has to be her. She's using my mum against me again. She's done it before. She told Allegra details about Mum back in Paris. She could have told LibertyCrossing stuff about me. This is personal. Margaret's still trying to attack me from behind bars as revenge for helping to put her away.”

She closed her eyes. How could this be happening all over again? She thought she'd heard the last from Margaret Becker, but it was possible she'd found another way to get at her even from prison.

“You're clutching at straws,” Agent Hatfield said.

Jessica's eyes flew open. “I'm not. You have to investigate this, Nathan.”

“We're under immense time pressure, which means I have to prioritize what leads need chasing,” he replied. “I can tell you that Margaret's subject to the highest level of monitoring, both online and off. Staff double-check all material she has access to and red flag anything of concern. So far, I can tell you there's been nothing. I should know; I get regular updates from Low Newton prison.”

Jessica blinked. She'd heard that name before. “Low Newton. Wasn't that one of the prisons hacked by The Collective on Saturday?”

“Along with virtually every prison across the country,” Agent Hatfield said quickly. “It's hardly significant considering the fact that Belmarsh and Wakefield, which house some of the most violent criminals in the country, suffered much more serious hacks.”

“It's true,” Nathan said, pushing his glasses up his nose again. “Members of The Collective did us one small favour. They exposed huge loopholes in the security systems of many prisons around the country, which need to be fixed. However, Low Newton's firewalls were among the strongest. No one from The Collective managed to open or lock a single door.”

Jessica bit her lip. She was sure Nathan was wrong about Margaret; she could have found a way past the security checks in prison to contact LibertyCrossing. She may even have been involved in the attack on her own prison.

“I'm going to prove to you that—”

“You won't be doing anything,” Agent Hatfield interrupted. “You're no longer a member of Westwood.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Jessica saw Bree cover her mouth with her hands. Was that a smirk she was concealing? Had she helped Margaret and The Collective to set her up?

“Haven't you heard of innocent until proven guilty?” she said, clenching her fists.

“Have you ever heard of a twenty-year jail sentence for assisting in the hacking of MI6?” Agent Hatfield shot back.

“For God's sake!” Nathan exclaimed. “It's not going to come to that.”

“This is what's going to happen, Jessica,” Agent Hatfield said quietly. “You will hand over your security pass, along with your iPhone. These guards will escort you home and you will give back every single MI6 gadget you possess. Nathan will provide us with a list and the guards will not leave until every item is accounted for.”

Jessica steadied herself against the table, hands trembling.

“We will also take whatever electronic equipment we find in your home – iPads, computers, laptops,” Agent Hatfield continued. “Everything will be subjected to a thorough forensic examination while we investigate the extent of your connection to The Collective. After that, we'll consider what action to take. But Nathan's right, this can't go through the courts. What's happened can never be made public.”

Had it even crossed Agent Hatfield's mind that she could be innocent? The MI6 operative was building a case around the single fact she believed to be true: that Jessica was The Collective's mole at MI6. Was everyone else thinking that too? No one was going to help her, not even Nathan.

Bree broke the silence. “What happened to the thread we collected last night, Jessica? Have you handed it in to MI6 or are you covering for your co-conspirator?”

Jessica reeled. Bree had stuck the knife well and truly in her back as revenge for the whole mobile phone incident months ago. Not handing the evidence in straight away looked bad when she was already under a cloud of suspicion. “It's in a sealed bag at home. I was going to hand it over to forensics later today.”

“Jessica!” Nathan remonstrated. “What were you thinking?”

“It's over for you,” Agent Hatfield said witheringly. “The guards will retrieve the forensic evidence,
our
evidence, as well as all the equipment. You're lucky I don't throw you into a prison cell for obstructing our inquiry. If it wasn't for the fact you're Nathan's god-daughter, I would.”

Bang! Zak threw his rucksack down on the table.

“Seriously? You're actually naive enough to believe that Jessica is involved with these hackers? It makes no sense whatsoever. Sure, she's made a few bad choices. She should have reported the hacks immediately, but she didn't. It's obvious she's been set up. As for the thread, we're talking about a delay of a few hours. Big deal.” He turned to Nathan. “Come on. You have to stop this lunacy before it's too late.”

Jessica stared at him, stunned. Seriously, Zak was the last person she expected to fight her corner. Hadn't he accused her of screwing up the job at the Shard and last night's mission, claiming he could have done better?

“The rules under Operation Chaffinch are clear,” Agent Hatfield said coldly. “Immediate suspension followed by investigation, expulsion and punishment. Jessica's out and won't be coming back.”

“Oh shut up, will you!” Zak snapped. “I don't know what kind of power kick you're on, lady, but give it a rest. You need Jessica on the inside of this investigation, not the outside. She's the best you've got.”

The words rang in her ears. She had no idea what had got into Zak. It was as if he'd been replaced by his far nicer identical twin.

“Be very careful how you speak to me, young man,” Agent Hatfield hissed. “You're in this country by invitation only. That can be revoked at any time, and you'll find yourself on the first plane back to Washington.”

“I'll handle this, Zak.” Nathan strode over to Jessica and placed his hand on her shoulder. “I'm sorry. I'll do everything I can to help clear your name, but you'll need to go with them now.”

“That's it?” Zak's tone was outraged. “That's all you're going to do for your own god-daughter?”

“That's all I can do at present.”

Zak clenched his fists, his green eyes sparking with anger.

“No, Zak. Stop!” She stepped forward, blocking him as he approached Nathan. He looked as if he were about to throw a punch. “It's OK. I'll go with them. I can clear my name, I know I can.”

She turned to face Nathan. “I did access the Sargasso file, but I swear that's it. I had nothing to do with the hack on MI6. Please look into Margaret for me. I know she's connected to this somehow.”

Nathan didn't reply.

Zak caught Jessica's hand as she walked past. “This isn't over by a long shot. I'll make sure of that.”

She managed a small smile. Had she been wrong about him? He'd come into the briefing all guns blazing and dissing her in spectacular fashion. Now he was fighting tooth and nail to protect her from her accuser, Agent Hatfield.

“Thanks, Zak. I appreciate it.”

Before she could protest, he pulled her towards him in a tight embrace. She inhaled the woody scent of his aftershave and felt something heavy drop into her pocket as she broke away.

“This way, please, Miss Cole,” one of the guards said.

As she followed him out, she felt in her pocket. Her fingers curled around a mobile phone. Zak was going out of his way to help her, but why?

“So how does it feel to be the muse of the most talked-about fashion designer in the world right now?” Hillary St Joseph asked.

The
Teen Vogue
journalist smoothed a wrinkle from her red Ossa Cosway shift dress and flashed a smile at Jessica. She was doing an interview alongside Ossa to go with her front cover and photo shoot from the other day. Normally, she'd have tucked into the delicious pastries and cakes served with afternoon tea at Claridge's, but she didn't have any appetite today. She'd been booted out of school and Westwood, and her iPad, computers, gadgets and MI6 phone had been confiscated. That had only happened yesterday, yet it felt like a lifetime ago. Somehow she had to clear her name, but how?

“Sorry, what was the question again?”

Hillary rolled her eyes. Jessica could feel the journalist's patience beginning to wear thin. She had to admit, she wasn't a dream to interview.

“I asked what it feels like to be Ossa's muse,” she repeated.

“It's a huge honour,” Jessica said, pushing her plate to one side. “I never expected to be picked by Ossa. I love his clothes.”

“I have to ask, Ossa, do you give Jessica lots of freebies?” Hillary said. “I couldn't believe it when I was given this dress. I'm so grateful.”

“Jessica receives items from each collection I launch,” Ossa said, stabbing a profiterole. He watched the cream ooze out, suddenly distracted.

“Lucky you!” The journalist sighed enviously.

Jessica smiled dutifully. Would Hillary still be jealous if she knew the truth? Her contract stipulated she had to wear Ossa Cosway clothes any time she wasn't at school in case she was snapped by the paparazzi. It was another way to advertise the designer's clothing range since the pictures could get picked up by newspapers and magazines across the world.

Sure, she liked Ossa's clothes, but sometimes it'd be cool to pull on a pair of old trackie bottoms and her favourite Topshop sweatshirt to run to the corner shop for a bag of crisps, instead of having to promote something posh and branded. Still, she shouldn't complain. She was unlikely to get any sympathy from this journalist who was coveting the navy pea coat and grey sweater dress she'd been instructed to wear for today's interview.

Hillary nodded encouragingly at Ossa. “Can I get more background detail about how you made it to the top? You said you graduated from Central Saint Martin's College three years ago, right?”

Ossa smiled. “That's correct.” He fiddled with his watch, which was attached to his waistcoat with a gold chain. He was wearing his trademark three-piece suit, which had recently been stocked in Macy's department store in New York.

“How did you manage to launch your collections so quickly?” Hillary persisted. “Usually that takes years to pull off. No one from your graduating class has had anywhere near your amount of success so quickly.”

“I was very lucky,” Ossa explained. “I recruited an amazing team of dressmakers, who are all expert seamstresses and work very fast. Plus, my financial backer has been very generous. The cash enabled me to launch Ossa Cosway Ltd in my final year at college.”

“Who is your backer?” the journalist pressed.

“I'd love to tell you, but he's a very private person. He doesn't want any publicity.”

“You're still with him?”

“Yes, his funds enable me to continually expand the global brand. We now have branches in Paris, Tokyo and New York. I can also afford to experiment with innovative ways to create outfits, such as the hashtag dress that promotes the latest digital technology.”

“Brilliant!” Hillary exclaimed. “I need one more thing from you, Jessica. How do you manage to juggle your schoolwork with modelling? Are your teachers very understanding?”

Her teachers hated her guts right now, as they thought she'd posted their personal details on a dating website. If they saw her, they'd probably string her up. She had plenty of time to model since she was kicking about at home with absolutely nothing to do.

“School's been great,” she said through gritted teeth. “My teachers have been really accommodating. Obviously, I try not to let modelling interfere with my schoolwork too much. I want to get good grades and eventually go to university.”

The journalist nodded. “Anything else you'd like to add, Ossa?”

“Jessica is strong, intelligent and beautiful – an inspiration to girls and women all over the world. She's a true role model.”

It was a good job he didn't know what else she was – an ex-Westwood agent and suspected member of a sinister group of hackers, The Collective. That would definitely damage the Ossa Cosway brand.

 

Jessica's new mobile buzzed as she left Claridge's a short time later.

“Meet me at Café Panorama. Heading there now.”

Zak had picked a venue close to her home in Ealing, West London; he must have done it for convenience. He couldn't have known that was where she usually met Jamie after school. She checked her watch. She had time to grab a quick drink with Zak; Jamie had football practice today. It was the least she could do considering Zak was the only person who'd stood up to Agent Hatfield yesterday. He'd given her this disposable mobile and was her only contact with Westwood now. She had no way of monitoring developments without his help.

 

The Underground was hit with signal failures again; the Piccadilly and Central lines weren't running, no doubt due to another hack from The Collective. Despite a long-winded route back to Ealing, Jessica still managed to arrive first at the café and grab a table. She texted Jamie to say she was running late, which would hopefully delay him. As she sipped a camomile tea, she picked up the newspaper lying on the table.

 

MI6 LEAK: AGENT ALMOST KILLED BY LYNCH MOB

 

MI6 operative Aarash Sadai was airlifted from Afghanistan yesterday after his identity was mysteriously leaked to a news website.

Sources in Afghanistan say that Mr Sadai narrowly escaped with his life when his home was firebombed by an angry mob.

On Sunday, another MI6 agent working in Iran, Annette Oderra, was named by a different news website. Sources say she is now in a safe location.

MI6 has refused to comment, but insiders claim that an internal investigation has been launched to discover the source of the catastrophic security leak.

Jessica pushed the paper aside. What a nightmare, but at least the agents were safe. That was something. Plus, it didn't look as though The Collective had approached the press, claiming responsibility for the hacks, so MI6 could keep a lid on what was happening. However, another agent's identity would already have been leaked this afternoon, and their life would be in jeopardy. Had they been as lucky as the others?

Jessica glanced over her shoulder, wondering whether to order another tea. She spotted Zak stride in and place an order at the counter. For some reason, she had butterflies in her stomach and her throat felt dry. She took a last gulp of tea and knotted her fingers. What did she have to be nervous about?

He flung himself down across the table from her and ran a hand through his curls. His chin was covered with stubble and dark shadows circled his eyes.

“I guess you didn't get much sleep either?” Jessica had resorted to piling on bucketloads of under-eye concealer ahead of her magazine interview after a night spent on the sofa, channel hopping with the TV remote control.

“I pulled an all-nighter. So did Nathan. It's been intense with the whole list thing, plus the general hacking problems.”

“They targeted the Underground again today.”

“Along with Manchester airport, eBay and the
Guardian
and
Wall Street Journal
's Twitter accounts. Hackers are flooding websites with demands for the million-dollar jackpot. They're desperately trying to get LibertyCrossing's attention in a bid to win his hacking contest.”

“And have they?”

“Who knows? There's no news about the jackpot. In the meantime, LibertyCrossing's troops are getting careless. MI6 has made some arrests already. More hackers will be detained this week.” He flashed the attractive waitress a dazzling smile as she delivered his chocolate chip muffin and hot chocolate. Jessica watched as he devoured the muffin in a few mouthfuls.

Zak wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “Sorry. No time for lunch today.” He glanced down at the newspaper and pointed to the story on the exposed agents. “Have you ever worked with either of them?”

Jessica shook her head. “I haven't done a foreign mission before. Well, not officially.” Sure, she'd spied in Paris and Monaco, but she hadn't been part of Westwood back then. She dug out the mobile and placed it on the table. “Do you make a habit of carrying around spare disposable phones?”

“I do, as a matter of fact. They're an essential tool of the job. You should stock up too.”

Jessica bit her nail. She was usually good at getting the size of people, but Zak was a hard one to figure out. She still didn't know what to think.

“Why are you helping me? You seemed to think I did a rubbish job at the Shard and at the boarding school.”

“I thought your Westwood backup was rubbish, but not you. From what Nathan told me, you were the only one to show any real initiative. You were fearless that night on the Shard. You weren't to know…” His voice trailed off.

“That I was going to be ambushed and attacked?”

Zak's cheeks coloured. “Yes. Anyway, that's not why we're here. It's D-Day tomorrow afternoon. The US won't release Lee Caplin, so the entire agent database will go up online unless we can stop The Collective.”

Jessica shivered. How many agents would lose their lives if that happened?

“What are you doing about it?” she asked.

“Now you're out of the picture, I'm supposed to liaise with Bree.” Zak raised an eyebrow. “Which I'm thrilled about, naturally. She's not exactly Miss Super Spy.”

“It could be worse than that. She could be a double agent.”

“Really? Go on.”

“Nathan says she's good, but I don't trust her. You saw her coming down the stairs that night at the Shard. She could have attacked me and stolen the USB flash drive. It's possible she helped The Collective find a way to hack MI6 and tipped them off about the raid on Henry's boarding house.”

“I'll get Rodarte to run its own background checks on her,” Zak said, stroking his stubble. “But to be honest, I'm not sure I trust anyone at MI6. Neither should you.”

“Nathan's my godfather. I can trust him.”

“Are you sure? From where I was standing yesterday, he rolled over when Hatfield went for you.”

Jessica nibbled another nail. She wanted to disagree but couldn't. He was right. Nathan hadn't put up much of a fight against Agent Hatfield. Maybe he was worried that she could drag him down with her and was trying to protect his own career with MI6.

“Why are we really here, Zak?”

“I want your help.” He fiddled with the sugar sachets in the bowl without looking up. “Work with me to bring down The Collective.”

“I've been thrown out of Westwood, remember? I'm not much good to anyone.”

“Officially you're out, but you can assist me off the books.”

“I'm flattered you're asking, but what can I do? I no longer have access to Westwood info. I have no idea what's going on with the investigation. I'm completely out of the loop.”

“I can regularly update you on everything that's going on at Westwood and Rodarte to do with The Collective in return for a favour.”

Jessica's mind whirred. She couldn't think what he was after. “Which is?”

“Help me get to Margaret Becker.”

She sat forward in her chair. “I'm listening.”

“My bosses are interested in your theory that she's involved in this somehow. They believe she's a lead worth pursuing, yet MI6, which has the jurisdiction to organize a prison interview, has ruled out the possibility, as it's concentrating on other clues. We believe that's a mistake.” Zak rubbed his forehead. “That makes things difficult for us. Time's running out for Britain and America. When that list goes live tomorrow, British agents working in hostile countries overseas could be captured and tortured; undercover US operatives could be endangered by association too. Plus, we have the president's visit to worry about. He's insisting upon going ahead, against the advice of the National Security Council, because his daughter won't pull out of London Fashion Week. The CIA has to act. Rodarte wants me to visit Margaret, but I can't do that alone.”

Jessica's mouth fell open. “You want me to come with you?” Helping Zak get to Margaret in prison was one thing, but actually having to see the traitor who'd repeatedly tried to kill her was another.

“You know Margaret,” Zak said. “She'd never agree to speak to me, but the two of you have history. She could open up to you.”