Michael nodded, although still unclear on many points.
“
Any UKCitizensNet user would be given the opportunity to allow the app to control any networked application they have going into their home or business. This could include setting the lights to come on to turning the heating up at a given time. Every user’s eCitTV unit has an individual IP address, or internet protocol address. Essentially, the IP address is your UKCitizensNet ID number. It identifies exactly where you are geographically and your precise position within the state network. You would then enter the manufacturer’s serial number for the appliance you wanted to control. All of this information would be sufficient enough for the servers of the state network operator to get UKCitizensNet to automate the flicking of the appropriate switch at the right time. So, if you want the TV to come at 7am, UKCitizensNet, via its massive infrastructure, will turn your TV on at 7am.”
Jones paused, reaching for a pack of opened cigarettes lying on top of one of the monitors.
“
So they killed Colette and Clare to get their hands on a piece of technology that would help people?” Michael asked, barely believing what he was being told.
Jones rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“
Yes, and no.”
Michael felt his muscles ache and twitch as his body tensed. His heart rate was quickening as he looked into the faces of the four men. The whole thing was so complicated. His head throbbed as he tried to process it all and make sense of it.
“
What do you mean ‘Yes, and no’?”
“
Yes, they wanted the technology. But no, they didn’t want to help anyone with it. Imagine you control the entire country’s networked utilities and household and other appliances. eCitTV is the easiest means to deliver it because everyone has a TV. Why do you think the government made them so cheap to buy? But it’s not the only means to deliver UKCitizensNet or their plans for the app. Don’t forget your home computer, your mobile phone, your iPod. So, imagine if somebody buys 1000 cigarettes online via one of the UKCitizensNet shopping arcades because it’s cheaper than the corner shop and delivery is always promised the same day. They’ve then got a record of your purchase and that you’re a fairly committed smoker.”
Jones quickly stubbed his cigarette out beneath his heel.
“
Then, in the middle of night, using the app, they turn on the gas from your cooker because the gas service is networked and your gas meter has its own unique IP address. Joe Public wakes up the next morning, lights a cigarette and…”
Jones let the sentence trail off as Michael’s face began to turn pale as realisation struck.
“
Alternatively, what if they decide to alter the makeup of the gas that is being piped through to your cooker so that it’s actually carbon monoxide? A discreet leak in the middle of the night and nobody in the house is ever waking up. Or what about causing a small innocuous electrical fire that soon engulfs the entire building. And it doesn’t just have to be limited to one house or building. UKCitizensNet is delivered through regional servers covering large local areas. You could cause any disaster you could dream up silently and without a trace. Imagine if…”
“
OK, OK. I think I get the picture,” Michael interrupted, as Jones’ fervour threatened to get the better of him.
The enthusiasm at the technical milestone they’d just discovered receded a little and Jones continued, a little more somberly.
“
It’s the ultimate weapon. You don’t know it’s coming. You can’t see it’s coming. And when it’s struck you don’t know where it came from. That’s why they want it so badly. And that’s why your wife and daughter, and David Langley, were killed.”
“
Are you absolutely sure?” Michael asked, fearing the truth, but needing to know.
Jones nodded slowly.
“
I’m afraid so. It’s all in your wife’s files. Although the more sinister conclusions are our own. But there’s no question as to why they want your files. They’re incredibly valuable - to us and to them.”
Leaning back in his chair Michael watched as a different expression crossed Jones’ face. It was barely discernible, the slightest flicker in his eyes, almost gone as quickly as it he saw it, but leaving him with the feeling that something was being held back.
“
What aren’t you telling me?” he asked flatly.
Jones began to chew his bottom lip as he shuffled in his seat, briefly casting a glance at the other three men. Exhaling loudly, and finally deciding he needed to share his thoughts with Michael, he leant forward, unsure to the reaction he’d get.
“
Almost two years ago, on the night before access to the internet in this country was banned, we got into a number of the government databases via the old network, looking for anything that could expose what was happening. Needless to say we didn’t find what we were looking for. But whilst we were doing this I briefly saw a confidential Defence Department file about a project called CODEX which mentioned the establishment of UKCitizensNet. At the time, I couldn’t understand why the Defence Department was interested in the network. But now it all makes sense. Thanks to your wife’s files.”
Michael began to chew his bottom lip thoughtfully too as he took in what Jones had just revealed, but knowing he still didn’t have the whole picture. The key fact had been omitted from the explanation.
“
You’re not telling me that’s what you were holding back are you? Why would I care about a Defence Department file unless it had something to do with Colette? What else did the file say?”
Jones half-smiled, although it never reached his eyes.
“
Just before connection to the internet was taken down I came across a section in the file which talked about ‘Primary Targets’. Your wife’s details were in there, along with David Langley’s. In the time I had before the connection was lost I didn’t find any evidence that CODEX, whatever it is, were involved with their deaths. But both you and your daughter were also listed there. Why would any of that be of interest to the Defence Department or the government?”
Michael could feel the knot in his stomach tightening, his heart thumping as he processed what he’d just been told.
“
So where is this file? Surely that’s a starting point for talking to someone, a private investigator or something, who could dig deeper?”
Jones looked down and Michael knew what he was going to say.
“
You don’t have it, do you?”
Silence filled the mobile home for a few long seconds as Michael waited for the inevitable confirmation the four men didn’t want to reveal.
“
No, we don’t. The network connection was disabled before we could save or print a copy. It’s my fault. I got caught up in the document hoping, praying, it would give us some proof as to what was going on with UKCitizensNet. I simply forgot to save it before time ran out.”
He began fiddling with his fingers nervously as Michael held his gaze, waiting for the likely condemnation of his failure to procure what might have been the smallest shred of evidence.
Michael could see Jones’ deflation, his forehead knotted with tension, and the resignation of the other men was all too evident in their harrowed expressions. There was no point in getting angry. Anything he might have said to them, and to Jones in particular, would have been said or thought by the men ten-fold. That opportunity was gone. They had to deal with where they were now if he was to find the truth behind Colette and Clare’s murders.
Michael stood up from the warm sofa and began slowly pacing the grimy floor.
“
What are we going to do? What can we do? As you’ve said, we can’t go to the police, can we?”
The four men shook their heads somberly. They were the proof this avenue didn’t work and wasn’t available to them.
“
And with no evidence, private investigators are out as well,” Brown said quietly from where he was perched on a desk behind Jones. “With arrest warrants out for all of us any investigator is legally required to hand over any details to the police. We’d be picked up in hours.”
“
Our biggest potential weapon is their biggest weapon, namely the app and UKCitizensNet,” Smith said finally, breaking the gathering gloom, and turning to a monitor that was scrolling code at an incomprehensible speed.
“
What are you saying?” Michael asked, desperate to find something that might offer the chance of avenging Colette and Clare’s death.
Or was he really thinking revenge? His troubled, angry thoughts had become so blurred he could no longer make the distinction between revenge and simple comprehension of the situation.
Smith traced a line up and down the glowing screen as more text and numbers appeared and then disappeared on the screen.
“
For months we’ve been trying to hack into the UKCitizensNet system, get into their databases, into their information. If we can get in maybe we can find some piece of evidence to expose them or broadcast our evidence over UKCitizensNet, That would be the ultimate fucking coup, wouldn’t it?”
A ripple of approval spread amongst the four men.
“
But you’ve not been able to hack their system yet?”
Green shook his head in extreme annoyance.
“
The bastards have rock solid gigabit encryption on their system.”
“
Which means what exactly?”
“
Which means their network is fucking well protected. We’ve got past several levels of security but never into the system properly, never into his heart. Besides, we’ve had to move about quite a lot. We’ve had to leave equipment in places and the fuckers have found bits of our kit in their pursuit of us.”
Michael tapped the screen that was still carrying on with its operations.
“
So what’s this?”
“
It’s an encryption-breaker tool. It’s trying to crack their system’s security and punch a big hole in their firewall.”
Michael sighed, sinking back dejectedly on the sofa, briefly cradling his head in his hands.
“
We’re not going to be able to prove they killed my wife and daughter, are we?”
Jones placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“
They’ve been after us for two years and they haven’t got us yet.”
Michael looked up, tears in his eyes. Horrific images and disturbed memories rushed through his thoughts.
“
No, they haven’t got you yet. But look at you, all of you. You look like refugees and your hiding in rotting caravans in the middle of nowhere.”
Jones ignored Michael’s outburst. They’d all felt the same frustrations, the same despair at having their lives stolen.
“
Michael, the files you’ve given us also cover data encryption techniques because of the need for security the app would have required if it had ever been developed. So far UKCitizensNet isn’t using this sort of functionality. And we know that SemComNet hasn’t perfected it yet because they want your files. Gigabit encryption is the most advanced there is. These files might just be able to help us crack it.”
“
Might? Might? It’s all ‘mights’ and ‘maybes’ with you. Never anything definite or real.”
The tears were now streaming down Michael’s face as he shook his head in frustration.
“
Michael, we need to keep these files for a bit longer in order to understand them better. We really can help each other.”
Michael nodded in agreement, wiping away the tears. How had it come to this he thought despairingly? Why did his only hope, if it even was that, lie with four men he didn’t know in a rotting hole in the middle of nowhere?
As he pondered this desperate thought, the monotonous words of UKCitizensNet’s female presenter came back to him. She’d been right, he thought bitterly. It had certainly changed his life forever.
It was gone 10.30pm before Michael finally got back to his quiet house in Hersham. The journey back had only taken just over an hour but it seemed like a tortured eternity as ever more disturbing thoughts raced through his mind.
Everything was still so confused as he attempted to grapple with the magnitude of what faced them. At least after spending several hours with these internet outlaws he no longer doubted their sincerity in wanting to help him, and in turn help themselves. The dejected tiredness etched in their faces was all too genuine.
Despite all the confusion he felt in trying to understand how the app worked, and that his wife was killed because of it, there was one thing he knew for certain. He would have justice for Colette and Clare. One way or another.
He’d already decided in the morning he would ring the insurance brokers and tell them he still wasn’t fit to return. They’d understood so far. A little bit longer shouldn’t be a problem.
Upon returning home he’d taken a long hot bath to ease his aches and pains. If nothing else, he’d wanted to get the damp, rotting smell of those caravans, which seemed to cling to his every pore, washed away.
Yet after his cleansing bath his mind was still an agitated maelstrom of troubled thoughts. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep for several hours despite the crushing weariness he felt.
To compound things he’d spent a full half-hour checking, double-checking and checking again that every door and window was securely locked and bolted. His descent into the same paranoid state as his four allies was a rapid one he thought, peering through the lounge curtains, surveying the length of the quiet street outside.