Black Noise (12 page)

Maggie arrived in Paddington at 9.04 a.m. The Vodafone administrative HQ was located in a large glass office building at One Kingdom Street. Maggie walked into the towering lobby whose walls listed the names of the businesses operating in the building only in small letters. She showed the laminated badge hanging around her neck to the uniformed guard in reception.

‘Good morning.’

The guard glanced at the card, which claimed Maggie was Judith Bates, a telecommunications official with Ofcom, a British communications regulatory body.

‘Good morning, Ms Bates,’ the man said warmly. ‘Do you have an appointment?’

‘No, we don’t announce when we’re coming at Ofcom,’ Maggie said. ‘I’m on my way to the Vodafone legal department.’

The man immediately turned serious. Ofcom had received a great deal of attention in the media recently after attacking the tabloids for phone hacking, and the agency had gained a reputation as an aggressive watchdog for the powers that be.

The guard ushered Maggie through the electronic security checkpoint to the lifts.

In the Vodafone legal department, she was received by a young man who did a good job of controlling his expression after seeing her Ofcom inspector’s badge. When Maggie asked to see the department head, Jon Fordham, the man frowned.

‘Mr Fordham is indisposed,’ the man said. ‘If you had made an appointment…’

‘Dear boy,’ Maggie interrupted, ‘we have our reasons for not doing that.’

Maggie quickly sized up the man. One of the younger employees, possibly only an intern, who didn’t necessarily have access to the company’s protected data systems.

Instantly Maggie decided on her next move.

‘I have a tip for you,’ she said in a more gracious tone. ‘It would be a good idea for you to find me someone in management right now. And your security chief, Mr Grove, will want to know I’m here.’

‘Why?’

Maggie smiled.

‘Security chiefs want to know everything.’

‘Grove is in Newbury,’ the man said. ‘Almost all of the security department have their offices there.’

‘I know,’ Maggie said. ‘I’ve been there too before. Give him a ring anyway. He’ll be pleased with you for informing him so quickly that an Ofcom competition regulator is here. He’ll probably be here before long anyway.’

From the man’s face, Maggie could see how nervous he was. Looking on his laptop computer, he began searching through the department staff calendars.

‘Mr Fordham and Mr Lewis are otherwise engaged,’ he said. ‘Both department heads.’

‘So early on a Monday? How diligent of them,’ Maggie said.

‘A visitor has just arrived,’ he replied.

Maggie shrugged. While she waited, she took two papers out of her briefcase and read them. Then she realised what could be happening in the department.

‘Is another government official already here?’ she asked.

The man lowered his eyes, and Maggie read volumes in his expression.

‘I’ll find someone else,’ the man said, snapping his computer shut and leaving.

Maggie glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot and rang Rico.

‘The police are already here,’ she said. ‘They arrived in the legal department just before me. We could already be too late.’

At the Studio a heated debate broke out in Rico’s office.

If the police had already presented their search warrant to Vodafone and gained access to the phone records, should Maggie continue her mission? Or should she get out of there as quick as she could?

‘Stay there,’ Rico told her. ‘Stay on course unless you hear different from us.’

He rang off and looked at Paddy.

‘Do we have any way to delay the police at the Vodafone office?’

Lia shook her head as she watched Paddy and Rico confer. They were exhausted after a sleepless night, but none of them could go to sleep even after Maggie had left on her assignment.

Maggie’s back story had come from Paddy, who had heard about Ofcom making surprise inspections. It didn’t take long to design an identity for Maggie in keeping with the agency’s style, but creating the necessary identity documents took time.

Those kinds of jobs had been Berg’s territory, since he was the expert. But as a graphic designer, Lia had been up to the task of creating an ID card, and Paddy printed test specimens on the specialised printers in the Den. They knew Berg always did that. They went through several drafts, honing every detail so the final card would stand up to scrutiny at Vodafone. Paddy and Lia had also made up a thin stack of papers with the Ofcom logo and official-looking text. If necessary, this would add to the impression that Maggie was indeed an inspector on a surprise visit.

She had handled her outfit herself: a stylish but unremarkable two-piece suit, wig and glasses changed her appearance sufficiently.

‘And what if Vodafone contacts Ofcom asking about what the inspection is about?’ Lia had asked Paddy during the night.

‘That’s possible but highly unlikely,’ Paddy said. ‘Under no circumstances does a telecom company want to irritate Ofcom. And they’ll know that getting personal data on inspectors like this isn’t that simple since the agency wants to protect their work.’

No detail had been left to chance. Maggie had thoroughly thought through her role, and they had done a string of test runs. Now they had to change their plans on the go.

In the Vodafone legal department, Maggie was directed to a smiling man in his fifties.

‘Good morning, Ms Bates,’ Kenneth Laing said, shaking her hand. ‘How can we be of assistance to Ofcom?’

Maggie handed him the memory stick.

‘Thank you, Mr Laing. You can start by opening this on your computer.’

Bewildered, Laing stared at the blue stick adorned with the Ofcom logo.

‘You must know that isn’t possible.’

‘How so?’

‘We have very strict rules about what outside devices we can attach to our work computers. No memory sticks. Unless they have been carefully inspected first.’

‘Smart rule,’ Maggie said. ‘That’s standard procedure anywhere. But unfortunately I had to send my own laptop in for service on Friday and I haven’t got it back yet. Of course I can stop by our office at Riverside House and bring back another computer.’

The man saw on her face what intense irritation the idea aroused in her.

‘How long would that take?’ Laing asked.

‘At least an hour. Perhaps an hour and a half, depending on traffic,’ Maggie said.

Laing hesitated.

‘This is highly irregular,’ he said.

Maggie looked at Laing, evaluating whether she should apply any more pressure. She decided not to say anything and waited.

‘What’s on the memory stick?’ Laing asked.

Maggie knew that everything depended on her answer right now. They had rehearsed it ahead of time.

‘That’s precisely what I want to hear from you. An explanation for what is on this memory stick.’

Laing was taken aback. Maggie noticed how the man continued shifting his weight from one leg to the other in agitation. Laing probably didn’t realise he was doing it.

And even before the man said it out loud, Maggie knew she was through.

‘Please follow me,’ Laing said. ‘Would you like coffee or tea?’

As Maggie was walking into a small office decorated in Vodafone red and white, Paddy was calling the company’s central telephone exchange.

‘This is Detective Chief Inspector Martin Beresford,’ Paddy said, introducing himself to the operator and asking to be connected to
Jon Fordham in the legal department.

A moment later the woman replied that Fordham wasn’t answering. He was on the premises but wasn’t picking up his phone.

‘I’m calling on police business. This is very important,’ Paddy explained. ‘I need to get in touch with the inspector meeting with Mr Fordham immediately.’

The woman tried ringing again, to no effect.

‘I’m sorry, but Mr Fordham still isn’t answering. You’ll have to ring your colleague at his own number.’

‘But my colleague isn’t answering his phone either. Otherwise I wouldn’t be talking to you,’ Paddy pointed out.

‘I can try someone near Mr Fordham if that would help,’ the operator suggested.

‘Yes, if you would be so kind!’

A small red light flashed on the memory stick as Kenneth Laing’s computer loaded it.

‘Can you please now tell me what this is all about?’ Laing asked.

‘Of course,’ Maggie said pleasantly. ‘Or let me open this file. It’s easier to show it.’

She leaned over the keyboard and double-clicked a file on the memory stick named ‘Vodafone3.xlsx’. On screen a table of numbers and alphabetical codes opened up. At the same time programs on the memory stick were also opening a connection from Laing’s computer to somewhere else entirely: to Rico, at the studio.

Laing looked at the Vodafone3 spreadsheet and then turned to Maggie.

‘I’m sorry, but I don’t recognise this, Ms Bates.’

‘You really don’t?’ Maggie asked.

She let the innocent question hang in the air between them. Kenneth Laing had experience and talent, which was why the young man had directed the inspector to him. But Laing’s ability to tolerate silence was just as weak as most people’s. Long, pregnant pauses made him uneasy. Calmly Maggie looked at Laing, whose face was illuminated by the light filtering through the large windows. The blue-tinted glass panels of One Kingdom Street created an unreal feeling as if everything were happening in a dream world.

Laing searched the table for details he could recognise.

‘This isn’t about taxation or finance, which are what I specialise in,’ he said.

‘No,’ Maggie said.

She watched the red light flashing on Rico’s memory stick. At first it had been quick, but now it was just a steady blinking.

‘I could do with a coffee with milk,’ Maggie said. ‘No sugar. And skimmed milk, if you have any.’

‘No one in that department is answering right now,’ the woman at the Vodafone switchboard said to Paddy with regret. ‘They’re all off somewhere. Some of them aren’t even at work yet at this hour. A lot of them don’t come in until ten.’

‘Isn’t there any way to contact them?’ Paddy asked insistently. ‘What do they do if an emergency happens where people’s lives are in danger?’

‘I’m sorry,’ the operator said. ‘You’ll need to ring back a little later. Or I can take a ring-back request.’

‘No, I’m the one who is sorry,’ Paddy said. ‘I’m sure you’ve already tried everything possible. What was your name, by the way?’

‘Martha,’ the woman said uncertainly.

‘Martha,’ Paddy repeated. ‘Nice to meet you, Martha.’

The woman laughed.

‘So first thing Monday morning you have a rude policeman calling you,’ Paddy said. ‘Not the best way to start off a week.’

‘You haven’t been rude at all, just demanding,’ Martha said. ‘There just isn’t anyone answering over there right now. Unfortunately.’

‘It is unfortunate,’ Paddy said. ‘You probably aren’t even in the London office. The phone centre isn’t here, is it?’

‘No, we’re in Newbury these days.’

‘What would you do, Martha, if there were an emergency and you had to make contact with someone in the legal department but no one was answering their phones?’

The line went silent. Finally a second laugh came.

‘I’d make an announcement over the PA system,’ Martha said. ‘We have a connection to that too.’

Paddy closed his eyes and waited.

‘I can’t do that now though,’ Martha said.

‘Why not?’ Paddy asked.

‘Well because we’re only allowed to do that in special circumstances.

We’ve only ever really used it during fire drills,’ Martha explained. ‘And once they played music over it and read greetings from all the companies at the anniversary of the building’s opening. But it’s really only there for emergencies. It broadcasts everywhere in the building, to the conference rooms and loos and everywhere.’

‘Martha, this is an emergency,’ Paddy said. ‘No one is dying, but believe me, this is about big things. We’re going to spend weeks cleaning up the mess if I can’t talk to that police officer right now.’

A long silence.

‘If we do make an announcement over the loudspeakers, what would you want it to say?’ Martha asked.

Maggie sipped the coffee Kenneth Laing had brought and looked at the man and his computer screen.

‘Listen, you probably don’t have any reason to worry,’ Maggie said. ‘That table contains your monthly mobile traffic figures, a comparison to the other major operators in Britain and the number of service disruptions for each of you. I’m here to find out how your own figures match up with the information that has come to us.’

She cast a friendly glance at Laing.

‘This hard approach is intended to test how you handle information transparency requests,’ Maggie pointed out.

Laing visibly relaxed and mimed wiping sweat from his brow.

‘Whew,’ he said. ‘I was thinking we had a problem.’

‘That depends on how your numbers compare to ours.’

She knew her role. During the night she and Lia and Paddy had determined what she needed to know about the Vodafone legal department’s work.

Maggie was just about to continue when an announcement rang through the office.

‘Mr Fordham,’ a female voice said from a small loudspeaker situated above the door. ‘Mr Jon Fordham, this announcement is for you. Please ring the switchboard immediately.’

Laing stared at the loudspeaker in surprise. They heard as the same message was repeated, also echoing in the corridor.

‘Excuse me,’ Laing said. ‘That request is for one of my colleagues. Highly irregular.’

He stood up, stepping into the corridor and glancing around. When he apologised for the interruption and left for a moment, Maggie leaned back in her chair in satisfaction and watched Rico’s memory stick. The light had started flashing faster again.

Rico’s fingers flew over the tablet’s virtual keyboard at a speed Lia and Paddy found unreal.

Most people can’t type that fast on a real keyboard,
Lia thought.