Page 59 of Savage Reckoning

Frankie rattles off a string of digits, which she types in. Moments later, the word ‘Welcome’ is emblazoned across the screen.

Casey is silent as she navigates through Frankie’s various records, just occasionally stopping to query something. “This relates to the sale of that shopping complex in Dubai last year,” or “I remember this, that film grossed over sixty million at the box office.”

“Yes. The client was interested in the rights for the sequel,” Frankie mutters. “Can’t stand superheroes myself. I prefer something a bit more realistic…”

“Ah, here we are.” Casey pauses to peer at the screen. “A bunch of encrypted WAV files. You recorded the conversations.”

“There are transcripts if that’s easier,” Frankie offers.

“No, these are fine.” Casey settles on one at random, selects the right programme to decipher it, and clicks. Ethan’s voice fills the small room, issuing instructions to Aaron to settle a dispute between two of our suppliers. She selects another; this time Ethan is letting Cristina know he’ll be back in time to put Sebastien to bed. In another he’s ordering Tony to complete negotiations to acquire a snooker hall that has become vacant.

“I remember that,” Tony exclaims. “It was about a year ago.”

“That file is one of the earliest,” Casey confirms. “So, is that how long this has been going on?”

“More or less,” Frankie agrees.

“Has everything been passed on?” Gabe growls. “Every conversation?”

“No.” Casey leans in for a better look. “He’s been selective. Why would that be, I wonder?”

Frankie is quick to explain. “They just wanted travel plans. Location. I was to tell them his movements, especially when he left his home. He lives somewhere out in the fucking Atlantic, this guy.”

“Does he indeed?” Gabriel hitches his hip against a trolley, arms folded across his chest. “Do you even know who Ethan Savage is?”

“No. Why would I? He’s just a job.”

Gabe’s tone softens dangerously. “Do you have any idea where you are? Right now?”

Frankie shakes his head.

“Look out the window.”

Frankie hobbles over to the window and leans on the sill. “Hey, is that the sea?”

“It’s the fucking Atlantic, moron.”

“Oh. Oh…” The youth pales as the penny drops. “I’m… This is…”

“Yeah. Right. Sit down before you fall over. Casey, can you—”

“I’m on it.” She has started the rapid typing again, and characters dance across the screen. “I’m just trying to isolate… Ah, right, here we are. The original transaction.”

We all cluster around.

“Who was the customer?” Tony demands.

“Music Man,” Casey whispers. “I guess that’s his online persona.”

“Like I said, it’s always anonymous…” Frankie chimes in.

“Nothing is ever anonymous online. You should know that.”

“Yes, but you need specialised… Oh.” He falls silent when the location of the computer from which the request originated is displayed on the screen. “Do you know anyone in Orpington?”

“So, we’re sure the instruction to tap Ethan’s phone was made from Archer’s scrapyard in Orpington? Is there any doubt of that?” Jack’s steely gaze rakes all of us, but it’s Casey he expects the answer from.

“None at all.” She confirms her findings. “Young Frankie has been feeding him a steady stream of intelligence. The only question I have is why has he not acted on it before now? He’s had loads of opportunities to attack Ethan.”

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