Page 45 of The Burnt
Chapter Nineteen
Mrs B cleared her throat. “I’ve just received an email from Simon Griffin. He says that if you find anything on Milo, that you should come to him first before taking any action.”
“Got it,” Charlie replied.
“He also sent the photo of his son that you requested.”
“Can I see it please, Mrs B?”
She walked over to his desk and handed him a USB key. “Here. It’s labelled ‘Milo’. When you’ve got a few moments, you might want to set up your own corporate email address. It’ll save me time.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that,” he said sheepishly.
Charlie inserted the thumb drive into his computer and transferred the file to the Simon Griffin folder on his hard drive. He double-clicked on the file name and the image opened up. There he was—Milo.
Simon was right, it was a good picture. The teen stood on the banks of a river with the mountains behind him. He had a slim build and his curly light-brown hair cascaded off his head to well below his ears. His cheeks still carried a bit of baby fat, which rounded out his face. He looked like a professional model, but his dark-brown eyes gave off a sense of deep loneliness. Milo looked very little like his father.
Maybe he took after his mother.
Charlie opened the BenButton app and uploaded the image. He’d played with these programs before and was amazed at how ‘imaginative’ they could be, if software could be describedas having an imagination. This program, however, utilised more advanced artificial intelligence.
Charlie followed the prompts, first identifying the year that the original image had been taken, as well as the age of the person depicted at the time. The program also asked what age he wanted the new image to represent, as well as other attributes including the current location, and the economic and social status of the person. That would affect things like clothing and hair style. He pressed the button labelled “Age me”.
Within sixty seconds, the program offered up three options for what the Milo of today might look like. Charlie picked up his laptop and walked into Declan’s office to show him the results. “I give you present-day Milo with three different looks,” Charlie said, showing him the computer.
Declan’s eyes widened. “Wow. These are great.”
“I tested the software on a picture of me, ageing me back to when I was a kid, and it was pretty accurate. So hopefully it works as well when it makes people look older.”
Declan stared at the pictures on Charlie’s laptop, nodding. “Can you send me a copy of these? I think I’ll take them over to Katherine O’Grady and see if any of them ring a bell.” He looked up at Charlie. “Archie’s last words were ‘It was Milo’. Maybe she saw him.”
“Or,” Charlie offered, “maybe Milo was the mysterious man in the brown coat. I’ll email them to you right away.” Charlie took his computer back from Declan. “Now to see if internet searches can find anything that matches these pictures. I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”
“Great,” Declan said, “Would you mind closing the door on your way out? I have a personal call to place.”
“Sure.”
Charlie left Declan’s office wondering if Milo was, indeed, involved in Archie’s murder. He also wondered who Declan was calling.
* * * *
As soon as Charlie had left the office, Declan picked up the phone. He found the number he needed in his contacts and called it.
“Hey,” a voice answered. “Long time, no hear. Can I assume that you’re not just calling to ask how my day’s going?—which is deathly slow by the way.”
Declan laughed. “No. Not this time, Martin. Are you still at the AMA? I have a professional favour to ask you.”
“So not a booty call then?”
“No,” Declan replied.
“I’ve seen the pictures in the paper of that cutie you’ve been seeing. Must be serious. The boys at the bathhouse were convinced that you’d died.”
“Nope. Still alive.”
“All right,” Martin said. “And yes, I’m still at the AMA. What do you need?”
“I have to track down a licence plate. Gotta pen?” Declan asked.
