Near the top of the screen, in the list of people who had sent emails to Brian, Jamie saw his own name.
‘What the hell?’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘There’s an email here from me.’
‘I know. You sent it to me on Saturday. What was it meant to be, by the way? I opened the attachment and it just brought up an empty Word document.’
Jamie stared at the screen, the mouse pointer hovering over his name. ‘I couldn’t have sent you an email on Saturday. I was in Scotland. I didn’t send any emails over the weekend.’
‘What?’
‘I was in Scotland!’
‘But that’s definitely come from your email address?’
‘Yes.’
Jamie knew he hadn’t sent anything from his smartphone.
Somebody’s been in the flat
.
With a trembling hand, he clicked on his name. There was no message, just a paper clip to say there was a file attached. He clicked the paper clip to bring up the name of the file. It was called Honeymoon.
He stood up and ran out of the room, down the stairs, into his own flat. He rushed over and turned the computer on.
‘What’s going on?’ Kirsty asked.
He didn’t reply. The PC was making the same grinding noises that Brian’s computer had made. The desktop appeared and, one by one, Jamie tried to open his files. Nothing worked. He couldn’t even open Outlook to check when emails had been sent from his account. After a few seconds, the computer crashed.
‘Jesus Christ!’
‘Jamie, what is it?’
‘My PC – someone’s put a virus on it.’
‘What? How?’
He turned and faced her, his eyes wild. ‘Someone has been in here. I was right. Someone’s been in here and loaded a virus onto my computer and then sent emails to – God, to who knows how many people – and they’re all going to think it was me!’
‘Jamie, sit down. You’re babbling.’
Brian appeared in the doorway. ‘Jamie, what’s happening?’
He looked up, panic bleaching his skin. ‘I’ve been sabotaged. Somebody’s been in here.’
Kirsty went over and closed the door, saying to Brian, ‘You’d better call back later.’
‘But my computer…’
‘Later.’
She sat and held Jamie as he shook, his face buried against her chest. Eventually, he looked up and said, ‘I’ve got some phone calls to make.’
It wasn’t just that the computer was knackered. He had been violated, and his name was attached to the virus, which might have been sent to dozens, hundreds or thousands of people. God yes, he had been violated.
Somebody had been in the flat.
And he knew who.
Somebody had violated him.
Oh yes, he knew who it was.
But what are you going to do about it?
He stood up and looked at the monitor. As he stood there, a shaft of sunlight illuminated the screen. The dust on the screen twinkled and, horrified, Jamie saw a word etched in the dust, drawn with somebody’s fingertip. A single word:
danger
He spent the rest of the afternoon on the phone to Norton Anti-Virus.. He had been right – the virus was brand new, so his own virus checker software, and the virus checkers of anyone else who might have downloaded it, wouldn’t have detected the virus. He was going to have to rebuild his hard drive, and any work saved on the system was lost.
Still, that was the least of his worries.
He drove into work with dread in his heart. As soon as he walked into the office he knew his fears weren’t unfounded. People looked at him then looked away quickly, their gazes burning his back as he walked to his desk. He sat down opposite Mike.
‘I hate to say this, Jamie, but you’re in deep shit. George Banks wants to see you.’
George Banks was the manager of Jamie’s section. Jamie had never been called in to see him before. As he walked towards Mr Banks’s office he felt like a Death Row prisoner walking towards the electric chair. His colleagues stared at him; he thought he could hear them whispering as he passed by.
He’s going to get the sack. He’s going to get the sack.
‘Jamie.’ George Banks leaned forward across the desk. He was in his late forties but, with his bald head and bloodshot eyes, looked older: a good advert, Jamie had thought before, for staying below managerial level. ‘Do you know what I like to do on Saturday afternoons?’
Jamie shook his head.
‘I like to play golf. Every weekend a couple of friends and I drive down into Kent and play a round. It’s about the only relaxation I get these days.’ He took a deep breath. ‘This Saturday I only made it to the sixth hole when I got a phone call. I guess that’ll teach me for taking my mobile onto the course, but the call told me my game was over. I had to come to the office. The entire computer system had gone down. Files were disappearing into a black hole. Thousands of pounds worth of damage was being done every minute. Do you know why?’
Jamie swallowed hard. ‘The virus.’
‘That’s right. A virus that we traced back to an email sent by you and opened by one of your colleagues working overtime.’
‘But I didn’t send it.’
‘What?’ He spoke sharply.
‘I wasn’t anywhere near my computer on Saturday. I didn’t send any emails that day. It was…’
‘Jamie, we’ve ascertained that this virus wasn’t even created until Saturday. I spoke to a chap at Norton this morning who told me that every reported case of this virus they’ve received came from the same source. An email titled Honeymoon. An email that came from your email address.’
‘But…’
‘Do you know how much damage this virus has done to us? How much it’s cost? An amount not dissimilar to your annual salary. It would have been a lot worse if we hadn’t noticed it so quickly.’
‘It wasn’t me! With respect, sir, I know how these things work. If I did, for whatever sick reason, want to send a virus to everyone in my address book, I sure as hell wouldn’t be stupid enough to send it from my own email account!’
George Banks sighed and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. He appeared to slump in his seat. ‘We’re all under a lot of pressure here at the moment, Jamie, what with the takeover.’
‘Is that definitely going ahead?’
‘We think so. And our prospective new bosses certainly weren’t too happy when they heard about this episode. We install software, for God’s sake. If it got out that we had a deadly virus on our systems we’d lose all our customers overnight.’
George was clearly anxious about the takeover himself, like the rest of the staff. Nobody below management level even knew the identity of the company who were going to take over. People were worried about their jobs.
‘Are you going to fire me?’ Jamie said, his voice cracking a little. He pictured himself going home, having to tell Kirsty – his new wife, his pregnant wife – that he was unemployed. ‘I swear, it was nothing to do with me.’
George Banks shook his head. ‘I’m going to leave that decision to our new masters. I’m willing to accept that this was a mistake, that maybe you forwarded this virus by accident. Your record has been impeccable up to now. Everyone tells me what a good worker you are – how bright and reliable you’ve always been. I understand you’ve just got married and have a child on the way. Personally, I can’t see what you could gain from sabotaging your own employer. But for God’s sake, Jamie, you’ve got to be careful.’
‘Yes sir.’
‘Maybe you’d better take a few more days’ leave. Some of your colleagues lost a lot of files and are – understandably or not – unhappy with you.’
‘OK.’
Jamie stood up and George Banks opened the door. Before Jamie left the office, George said, ‘It goes without saying that if I find out that you
did
do this on purpose, you’ll be out of here so fast you’ll catch fire.’
‘Yes sir,’ Jamie said bleakly. ‘But I didn’t.’
He walked through the office with his head down, ignoring the whispers and stares. He picked his bag up from his desk and walked towards the exit. Mike followed him to the lift.
‘What happened?’ he asked, eager for gossip.
‘He told me to take a few days off.’
‘He didn’t sack you?’
‘No.’
‘Did you do it on purpose? Striking a blow for the workers and all that?’
Jamie hissed, ‘Of course I didn’t do it. But I know who did.’
‘You do? Who?’
‘My neighbours.’
Mike looked surprised. ‘How could they have?’
The lift reached the ground floor. ‘They broke into my flat and put the virus onto my PC then emailed it from there. Chris works in computing too so he’d know how to do it.’
‘Fucking hell.’ He shook his head. ‘That’s just…unbelievable.’
‘Tell me about it.’
Jamie strode off, leaving Mike behind. For a second there, as the lift doors pinged open, he had been on the verge of asking Mike to contact his thug friends. Only a mixture of fear and willpower had stopped him from doing so.
He walked out to his car, taking his keys out of his pocket and rattling them in the palm of his hand. As he went to unlock the door he caught his breath. There was a long, deep scratch along the side of the car. He felt his heart fly up into his mouth. He rubbed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. When he looked again the scratch had gone.
He had been so certain he had seen it. It had been there, right before his eyes, a thick silver line etched deep in the blue paintwork.
Jesus. The noises in the flat. And now this.
He drove home, convinced he was going mad.
‘I asked for Dodds.’
‘I’m afraid Constable Dodds is on leave, sir.’
‘Well, what about Sutton then?’
‘Who?’
‘Constable Sutton. He was with Dodds when he came round. When I first explained to the police about all the fucking shit our neighbours have been putting us through.’
‘There’s no need to use that language, sir.’
‘Why the fuck not?’ Jamie clenched his fists, bit down on his bottom lip. ‘I’m on the verge of going down there and…doing something.’
The young policeman put his hand on Jamie’s shoulder. ‘Sir, calm down.’ He gestured towards the kitchen. ‘Why don’t you make a cup of tea?’
Jamie didn’t want tea. He sighed and sat down on the sofa. The policeman pulled up a chair and sat in front of him.
‘So you don’t know PC Sutton?’
He shrugged. ‘I haven’t been in the Force long, sir. Sutton might have transferred to another station. It does happen.’
‘But it was only a few weeks ago.’ Jamie put his head in his hands. Right now he felt like he only had the most tenuous grip on reality. He imagined himself at the edge of a deep, deep pit, clinging on desperately, his knuckles white with the strain, his fingernails breaking as he clawed the earth, trying not to fall into the darkness.
‘Well, I’m here now, sir. Why don’t you tell me about it.’
‘I don’t want to have to explain the whole thing all over again. That’s why I asked for Dodds or Sutton. They know what I’m going through. Why is Dodds on leave? Is he ill?’
The policeman – whose name Jamie had forgotten the moment it had been uttered – shifted in his seat. Jamie could tell he was growing impatient. ‘Policemen are allowed leave too, Mr Knight.’
Jamie put his head in his hands. He simply didn’t have the energy to tell the story all over again. He hardly had any energy at all. The only things that were keeping him going was his outrage and anger, twin engines of fury burning and smoking in his gut.
‘Somebody broke in here while we were away at the weekend. They tampered with my computer, installing a virus on it. Then they emailed that virus to my workplace, my upstairs neighbour and God-knows-who-else. I’m waiting for my friends to start phoning me to tell me how much they hate me.’
The policeman took out a notepad and a pen. ‘OK. Any signs of forced entry? Were any windows broken, doors kicked in, locks broken?’
‘No.’
‘Was anything taken?’
‘No.’
‘Any damage caused – apart from the computer virus?’
Jamie shook his head. ‘No. God, I know this sounds ridiculous. But I also know that someone was in here. They wrote something on the computer screen. The word ‘danger’, drawn in the dust, mocking me.’
‘Ah. Can I see it?’
‘Of course.’
They stood up and both peered at the screen.
‘I can’t see anything, sir.’
The screen was shiny and clear. No dust. No words.
‘I don’t believe this, Kirsty must have cleaned it. Oh, that stupid…’ He bit his tongue.
‘Sir. You’re shaking. Are you sure you don’t want a cup of tea?’
‘Will you shut up about tea!’
The policeman’s mouth formed an O of surprise. Jamie saw his hand go beneath his jacket, ready in case Jamie got violent. How the hell had it got to this point, the point where he was yelling at a policeman? This was all wrong. He sat down again and the policeman relaxed.
‘I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.’ He lifted his head. ‘I’m so stressed out by all this. I promise you, somebody was in here, and I know who it was. My downstairs neighbour, Chris Newton. He works with computers. He might know how to program a virus. If not, he’ll certainly know someone who could.’
‘What do you do for a living, Mr Knight.’
‘Well, I work with computers too.’
‘So you also know people who could create a virus?’
‘Yes, but…’ He trailed off.
‘And would you know how to do it yourself?’
‘I suppose so.’
The policeman tapped his notebook with his pencil. ‘How did this person get into the flat? You say there was no sign of forced entry. I take it all the doors and windows were locked.’
‘Of course they were. And I don’t know how he could have got in. Maybe he’s got a key. He’s got a key for the outer door.’ A thought sprung into his head. ‘Maybe the previous occupants gave him a spare key in case they got locked out.’
‘It’s possible.’
‘Yes. That explains it! That’s why there’s no sign of anyone breaking in.’
‘Well, can you ask the previous occupants? Or give me their name and telephone number and I’ll do it.’
‘I don’t know their telephone number. In fact, I wouldn’t have the first idea about how to contact them. They were gone before we even looked at the flat. The sale was handled entirely by their solicitor and the estate agent.’