Cyber Count: A Kat Munro Thriller (The Kat Munro Thrillers Book 2) Read online

  Chapter 6

  Kat and Nate caught the District Line with Rosie to Plaistow. They walked for five minutes from the station along rubbish-strewn footpaths, past shuttered shops and an ugly seventies-build tower block. Halfway along a street lined with three-level red-brick terraced houses, Rosie turned and led them along a short path to a blue front door. There was a white van emblazoned with ‘Newham Village Electrical’ parked on the street outside. The tiny courtyard in front of the house was well maintained. It contained an outdoor table with two chairs, and red flowering bougainvillaea climbed over a trellis separating it from the weed-filled neighbouring frontage. Rosie slipped her key into the lock and opened the door.

  A tired-looking man wearing slippers and a well-worn cardigan ambled into the hallway to greet them. “Oh, hello there, love. I thought it might have been Harry.”

  “No sign of him, then?” Rosie said. The man shook his bald head. “I’ve brought Kat and Nate to have a look at his computer,” Rosie said, pulling off her raincoat and hanging it on a hook on the wall behind the door. “This is my husband, Terry.”

  Kat smiled her greeting, and Nate stepped forward and shook Terry’s hand. “Mr Compton,” he said.

  “Terry, please.”

  “Would you like a cuppa?” Rosie asked.

  “No, we’re good, thanks,” Kat said. “Shall we take a look at Harry’s computer?”

  They followed Terry up two flights of steep carpeted stairs to an attic room.

  “This is Harry’s domain,” he said, opening the door and leading them into a darkened bedroom. Rosie rushed to the window and drew the curtains across as Terry flicked on the light switch. There was a single bed in one corner, which looked to have had the covers hastily pulled up in an attempt to make it. The room was dominated by a large wooden desk with a computer, three screens and a printer. The walls were covered with posters advertising the latest science fiction movies, various computer games and e-sports events. A small bookshelf beneath the window was stacked with schoolbooks and loose pieces of lined paper covered in a messy handwritten scrawl. A thin laptop and a set of wireless headphones lay on the bed, and a long-lens camera sat atop a shelf on one wall among numerous gaming figurines. A pair of Vans lay abandoned at the end of the bed, along with a designer hoodie.

  “He’s got all the kit,” Nate commented.

  “Sawyer’s Hill Grammar called earlier, wondering where he was today,” Terry said. “I told them that we didn’t know and unless he turns up tonight to expect a call from the police in the morning.”

  Rosie let out a sigh, and Terry put his arm around her. “I know, love, but if he doesn’t get in touch soon, then something could have happened to him. I travelled his route to school today and called in at all his local friends’ houses. Since the end of school yesterday, no one has seen him, and those who aren’t at the school haven’t seen him for weeks. He’s moving with a different crowd, it seems – some of the boarders.”

  “Sawyer’s Hill Grammar. That sounds fancy,” Nate said.

  “Harry won a scholarship to attend,” Rosie said.

  “Clever boy,” Kat said, smiling at her.

  Rosie beamed, unable to hide the pride in her expression. “He worked so hard to get in there.”

  “He’s a lucky lad, naturally smart,” Terry agreed.

  “Mind if I take a look?” Nate asked, indicating the computer with a wave of his hand.

  “Knock yourself out,” Terry said. “I don’t understand any of that stuff.”

  Nate sat down at the desk and tapped a key on the keyboard. All three screens whirred to life, and the keyboard began to flash with a pattern of bright coloured lights. The desktop box on the back corner of the desk had a clear side, and four colourful fans started to spin, sending a rainbow of lights across the desk. The centre screen had a game in standby mode, and the left-hand screen displayed a live stream of a popular online game called Zombiegamez. A browser window was open on the third screen. When Nate moved the mouse to activate the cursor, a password box popped up.

  “I don’t suppose you know his password?” Nate said. Rosie shook her head.

  Terry handed Kat a piece of paper. “I don’t know if Rosie mentioned this.”

  Kat looked at the printout of a bank statement in her hand. It had been screwed up, and the toner had smudged in places making part of it illegible. Kat held it up to the light. The account was in the name of Houdini Harry’s Magic Tricks Ltd and had a closing balance of £104,392. There were deposits of between £500 and £5,000, two withdrawals of £1,000 each and several transfers to another account over the previous month.

  “Is it real?” Terry asked.

  Kat studied the header and footer on the printed page. The bank’s logo and contact details appeared genuine.

  “Do you have any more of these?” she asked, squinting at the page.

  “No, that one was screwed up on the floor beside his rubbish bin. It looks like he’d printed it out.”

  “Rosie mentioned that Harry builds websites,” Kat said. “Is this the company that he uses to bill his clients?”

  “Yes, he builds websites, that’s how we thought he bought all of this computer gear,” Terry said. “But I didn’t know that he’d set up a company. How would he even know how to do that?”

  “Who are his clients?”

  “Well, he built a booking site for our local pub’s quiz night, a sales website for a neighbour who sells greeting cards at the market, that sort of thing,” Rosie said.

  “But only a handful of websites? There are twenty different deposits over as many days here during the last month,” Kat said, referring to the page in her hand.

  “He hasn’t time to make more than two or three a month what with school and football,” Terry said.

  “Who’s Bertie Bear?” Kat asked.

  Rosie and Terry glanced at one another.

  “Harry’s old dog. He died last year,” Rosie said. She gave Kat a strange look. “Why do you ask that?”

  “That’s the name of the account where a lot of these withdrawals are going to,” Kat said.

  “It’s also his Zombiegamez username,” Nate said. “Look.” He pointed to an icon in the top corner of the centre screen. There was an avatar of a grizzly bear with the name Bertie Bear beneath.

  “This isn’t good, is it?” Terry said, sinking down onto the bed and running his hands through his thinning hair. “He’s got more money in that account than we’ll manage to save in our entire lives, and now it’s as though he’s disappeared off the face of the earth.”

  “We should call the police again now, love,” Rosie said in a quiet voice. “Not tomorrow morning.”

  “You should,” Nate agreed.

  “We’ll be back in a moment,” Terry said. He followed Rosie from the room, and together they descended the stairs.

  Kat joined Nate at the desk. “Anything?” she said.

  “Zombiegamez is in standby mode. I can see that a few of his gaming mates are online. See the chat here.” He pointed to a small window at the bottom of the screen where text was scrolling in a chat box. It was mainly trash talk.

  “What’s this?” Kat pointed at the third screen.

  “That’s where it gets interesting,” Nate said. “That’s The Onion Ring.”

  Kat looked blank.

  “The Tor browser,” Nate said.

  Kat frowned. “The gateway to the Dark Web?”

  Nate laughed. “Not quite how I’d have phrased it, but yeah, that one.”

  “Oh.”

  “Now, it looks like the kid is a bit of a computer geek.”

  “Takes one to know one, I guess,” Kat said.

  Nate grinned. “What I’m trying to say is that he has all the gear,” he said, sweeping his gaze around the room. “So it wouldn’t be unusual for him to try to get onto the Dark Web. Seventeen-year-old boys, curiosity and all that, but if you add Dark Web access to a bank account containing thousands of pounds, then I’d say he wa
s up to something.”

  “Something illegal?”

  “Not necessarily, it could be anything. But whatever it is, Rosie and Terry clearly don’t know.”

  “And it could be why he’s missing,” Kat said.

  The stairs creaked, and Terry returned. “We need to go and file a missing person report at our local police station.”

  “Okay, I think that’s a good idea. You need to tell the police about the bank account and that Harry was accessing the Dark Web. They may want to look at his computers.” Kat said.

  “The Dark Web?”

  Kat nodded.

  “How do you know that?” Terry asked.

  Nate pointed to the screen. “This screen is using an encrypted browser to access it.”

  Terry paled. “What would he want with the Dark Web?”

  ***

  “They really had no idea what their kid was up to,” Kat said as they headed back to the station. It was dusk, and the streets were busy with people returning home from work.

  “Most parents don’t,” Nate said. “Technology has advanced so quickly, leaving many adults behind.”

  “Well, it looks like Harry has found a golden goose somewhere. That’s a lot of money for a teenager,” Kat said.

  “And that’s just the account that he left lying around,” Nate said. “A smart kid like that wouldn’t just have all his funds in one account. I suspect the Bertie Bear account will have more.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Kat said. “I hope whatever he was involved in hasn’t led to his disappearance.”

  “Hey, excuse me,” an out of breath voice behind them called as they reached the entrance to the underground station.

  They slowed and turned to see a teenage girl running along the well-lit street towards them. Her long sandy blonde hair was highlighted with pink streaks, and as she reached them, Kat saw that she wore heavy eye make-up. She was dressed in a short black skirt topped with a denim jacket.

  “Hi, I’m Caitlyn. Rosie’s daughter,” she said. “You were just at our house, right?”

  “Yes. I’m Kat, and this is Nate.”

  “I overheard you talking to Mum and Dad. You think something bad has happened to Harry, yeah?”

  “I don’t know,” Kat said. “Your mum just wanted us to take a look at his computer to see if it gave any clues as to where he might be. Do you know anything?”

  “Harry will kill me for telling you, but he was doing more than just making websites. He was selling Z-cash,” she said.

  “Z-cash?” Kat said, frowning.

  “Zombie cash,” Nate said. “It’s the currency of Zombiegamez. It allows players to buy clothes, weapons, vehicles and magic potions to use in the game.”

  “Where would he get Z-cash to sell?” Kat asked

  “You earn it through completing various tasks in the game or by winning,” Nate said.

  “Harry must have won a lot,” Kat said.

  “He wasn’t that good.” Caitlyn shrugged. “He was getting it from somewhere, though, but he wouldn’t tell me where,” she said. “Anyway, I don’t know if that’s useful.”

  “It could be. Have you told your parents?”

  A look of disdain crossed Caitlyn’s face. “They don’t know a cursor from a spreadsheet, let alone anything about online gaming, which is why they called you in, I suppose.”

  “Funny, your mum works with spreadsheets every day,” Nate said.

  “Really?” Caitlyn’s surprise sounded genuine.

  “They’re off to the police station to report Harry missing, so you should tell them what you told us. It could help the police,” Kat said. She slipped her hand into the side of her messenger bag and pulled out a business card. “Here, take this. You can call me if you think of anything else.”

  Caitlyn smiled, lighting up her features. “Okay, thanks. The little creep will probably already be sitting at home laughing at us all for being worried.”

  Chapter 7

  Kat followed the maître d’ across the restaurant to where Connor O’Malley was already seated. The lighting was subdued, and soft jazz tinkled from a piano in one corner. Each table was angled, so every diner had a view of the rooftops of the surrounding buildings and the lights along the river beyond. Connor rose as she approached the table. Kat had come straight from visiting Rosie’s and still wore the tailored navy-blue trouser suit and high-heeled boots that she’d worn to work. Her dark auburn hair was bouncing around her shoulders as she strolled across the room. Kat had almost called to cancel, the thought of an evening batting away the man’s flirtatious advances causing her stomach to clench with dread, but here she was.

  “Kat,” Connor smiled, standing to greet her. “I’m so pleased that you could make it.”

  “Hi, Connor, sorry I’m a little late; I had to help out a friend after work.”

  He leaned over and kissed her cheek, waiting until Kat sat down opposite him before retaking his seat.

  “It’s fine, I haven’t long arrived myself.”

  She gave him the hint of a smile. “Thank you for inviting me,” she said. “Although, I wasn’t sure if this was a date or an interview?”

  “I’m not thinking about work right now,” Connor said. Kat raised an eyebrow. “But I am interested to know more about you.”

  “I’m pretty boring, really,” Kat said.

  Connor laughed. “You’re not very good at this, are you? This is the point where you are supposed to regale me with stories highlighting your fabulousness.”

  Kat relaxed a little and allowed a smile to creep across her face. “I knew there was a reason that I hate going on dates.”

  “You’re a forensic accountant with a very hi-tech looking prosthetic hand, who kickboxes in her spare time. I wouldn’t call that boring. I would say there are several fascinating stories there,” Connor said.

  “So speaks the journalist.”

  “What can I say? It’s in my blood. My father and my grandfather before him were newspapermen,” Connor replied.

  A waiter dressed in black arrived at their table, small tablet in hand. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “I’d like a glass of red wine, please,” Kat said, running her eyes down the wine list on the menu. “The Chianti looks good.”

  “Are you driving?” Connor asked. Kat shook her head. “Then let’s make it a bottle.”

  “Certainly.” The waiter turned on his heel.

  “So, tell me about the kickboxing. Do you compete?”

  Kat shook her head. “No, it’s for fitness only. I started attending Marco’s gym after the accident because he specialises in rehabilitation. I’m sure you already know that since you’re writing about Tommy. Marco worked with me to get my strength up and anger out, and that included a kickboxing class, which I found I loved.”

  “Can you actually box with that hand?” Connor asked, glancing at her prosthesis.

  “Not really, but it’s good defensively.”

  “How did you lose it?”

  Kat hesitated. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re very direct?”

  “Sorry, it’s the journalist again,” Connor said, giving her a sheepish grin. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

  The waiter returned with the wine, and they were silent as he pulled the cork from the bottle and splashed a small measure of the ruby-coloured liquid into Connor’s glass to taste. He took a sip and nodded his assent to the waiter who half-filled Kat’s glass before adding to Connor’s. He placed the bottle on the table and retreated.

  Kat picked up her glass and took a gulp. “It was a car accident nearly three years ago. My boyfriend, at the time, Gabe, was driving, and my best friend died. I blamed him for a long time, but it turns out it wasn’t entirely his fault.” Connor opened his mouth to ask a question, but Kat held up her hand. “It’s tied up in a case that’s still going through the courts, so I shouldn’t say any more, especially to a reporter,” she said.

  “Fair enough,” he s
aid. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

  “Thanks,” Kat said. “Now, tell me about this story you’re doing on Tommy.”

  “The article is part of a series on our armed forces. I’m particularly looking at how our injured servicemen and women integrate back into society after combat. Covering someone injured in the line of duty is only one angle. I’m also looking at the impact on families, future employment and mental health.”

  “Have you heard of The Valkyries?”

  Connor took a sip of his wine. “Yes, but not much, I’m afraid.”

  “It’s an organisation that I’m involved with, which specifically supports the rehabilitation of female members of the armed services who are injured. I can put you in touch with the head of the charity if that would be useful.”

  “That would be grand, thank you,” Connor said as Kat retrieved her phone from the bag on the floor beside her chair. She scrolled through her contact list, selected Marjorie Peters’ contact details, and forwarded them to Connor’s number.

  “There you go,” she said, putting her phone down on the table.

  “Thanks. I’m also researching a piece on how Eastern European syndicates are using online scams to fund their criminal activities,” Connor said.

  “Now that sounds interesting,” Kat said. “How did you get onto that?

  “My grandpa is in a retirement village in Dublin and has been taking seniors’ computer classes. You know, they teach the oldies how to get online, send an email, browser searching, Internet banking and gaming.”

  “Gaming?”

  Connor laughed at Kat’s surprised expression. “You’d be surprised how many old folk like a good game of Fortnite.” Kat’s features displayed her disbelief. “Okay, I’m kidding. But the class is taught how to play online scrabble and solitaire and the like.”

  Kat smirked.

  “Anyway, the bank accounts of twenty of the residents were hacked, and their credit card details were stolen. Between them, eighty thousand euros was taken.”

  “Oh, no,” Kat said. “How were they hacked?”

  “Quite simple, really. One of the old dears shared a funny meme that someone had sent to her, and once it played, it installed a small virus on each device. The police lost the money trail fairly quickly. But before the cards were cancelled, money spent all over the world.”