Adrian Magson - Retribution

Deane indicated chairs and said, ‘My apologies for the drama, Harry. We’re meeting in this annexe because going through the security screens at UN Plaza would take up too much time. Vince?’ He waved at McKenna to continue and sat back to listen.

‘Right.’ McKenna cleared his throat. ‘Until yesterday afternoon, a woman named Irina Demescu was employed as an analyst in our IT department. She failed to report in today, which was out of character. Her supervisor tried to contact her at home, but without success. When they checked her workstation, they found her desk had been cleared. That automatically triggered an alert to the departmental security rep, who signalled the central security office.’ He blinked as the words tumbled out, as if surprised. ‘We, uh. . ordered an immediate check of any computers she’d been using. That check is still ongoing, but she appears to have downloaded a quantity of personnel data from our archives.’

Harry felt all eyes on him. ‘What sort of data?’

‘Names, addresses, service history. . mostly from our DPKO records.’ He blinked. ‘Sorry — that’s our Department of Peacekeeping Operations. It was mostly military personnel, but there were a couple of civilian names, too, because they were all connected by circumstance.’ He gave a brief flicker of his eyes at Karen Walters.

Harry did not miss the look. Wariness coupled with antipathy. ‘How many people are we talking about?’

McKenna consulted his notes. ‘About a dozen. Most were lifted a week, ten days ago, with one copied as late as yesterday afternoon just before she left.’ He stopped speaking and glanced at Deane.

Harry wondered if all meetings in the UN were conducted at this pace, and was glad he hadn’t taken up Deane’s offer of a job all those years ago. He’d have probably thrown himself in the East River by now.

Deane leaned forward and said, ‘It seems Demescu volunteered to work late on several occasions over the last few weeks. That wasn’t unusual; she was a conscientious worker, so nobody thought anything of it. It meant she had an office to herself.’ He lifted his eyebrows. ‘There’s a minimum staff ruling in the IT department of no less than two personnel at all times. It’s been ramped up since nine-eleven. But there’s been a flu virus going round and the department was hit pretty bad. It seems nobody told security and with the shortages there was no regular audit.’

‘Did she have the skills to search all the files she wanted to?’ asked Karen Walters. She was looking strained.

‘Absolutely,’ said Deane. ‘She came from Microdata after graduating from UCLA in computer sciences. Her supervisor says she was one of the best.’

Harry thought it odd that someone had come from Microdata to the UN; he didn’t know the relevant salary levels, but he was willing to bet the UN paid less than a going commercial concern like the electronics giant.

McKenna said helpfully, ‘Although she left an audit trail.’

‘Audit trail?’

‘Right, ma’am — it’s an electronic footprint showing who’s been in the files. It tells us where she looked, dates, times. . all that.’

‘She didn’t erase it?’ Deane looked surprised.

‘Not over the last two days. Early on it probably wouldn’t have mattered. She could have come up with half a dozen reasons for being in there. Latterly, well, she probably knew her time was up, so why bother? I think she collated the information as she went, taking it out of the building piecemeal or on a memory stick.’ He explained, ‘The terminal she was using was blind, with no access to the outside.’

Deane gave McKenna a pointed look as if reminded how susceptible they were to data theft. He said, ‘OK, let’s move on. Where are we right now?’

McKenna shook his head. ‘We don’t have a lead on her. We’ve checked her apartment, but there’s no response. We’re waiting on a court order to go inside. A neighbour thinks she saw Demescu getting into a cab with a couple of bags late last night. She has family in eastern Europe and spoke in the past of not being able to do enough to help them.’

Walters puffed out her cheeks. ‘Well, it looks like she’s made up for it now.’

‘What exactly did she take?’ Harry asked, before the game descended into an interdepartmental wrangle.

‘Her supervisor ran a duplicate programme.’ McKenna opened a folder on the table before him. He took out a number of sheets of closely printed paper. Each one bore a colour-print photo followed by several lines of information. ‘Most of this was downloaded days ago. The supervisor says that anything lifted more recently was just updates of any changes to the files.’

Walters craned her head to see. ‘What are they?’

‘What he said,’ Deane muttered. ‘Personnel files on a bunch of people.’ He reached across and shuffled the sheets apart, reading out the names. ‘Bikovsky, Broms, Orti, Koslov, Pendry, Carvalho. . and two civilians, Kleeman and you.’ He looked at Walters in apology. ‘There were a couple of other names, one of them deceased through natural causes.’

Harry recognized the sheets. He’d been given the same information but in a slightly different format. The photos staring up at them were the faces of the CP team, with one exception.

‘Who is Carvalho?’

Deane looked at the sheet. ‘That’s a mistake. He’s a US Marine, one of the convoy guards. I don’t think he figures in this.’

‘Why not?’

‘As far as we can figure out, he went to Pristina with the convoy and the other depot guard, a guy named Oakes, from your RAF regiment. The deceased man was a Brit from the Royal Military Police. He stayed on at the compound. With both Orti and Broms murdered, I think we can say that this is categorically part of the threat. A terrorist threat,’ he added heavily. ‘I don’t know Demescu’s, uh. . affiliations, but I gather she’s a Muslim with family in Albania.’

‘That’s outrageous.’ Walters looked shocked. Twin red spots had appeared on her cheeks. ‘You’re saying it’s a religious attack because she’s a Muslim?’

‘You’re damn right it’s outrageous.’ Deane came back at her without heat. ‘It’s also outrageous that an employee of this organization has conspired to provide a killer with personal data for the purposes of murder. And before you get all feminist on my ass, we still haven’t discounted your name being on his list. You were there, too, don’t forget.’

Nobody spoke for several seconds, then Harry said to McKenna, ‘You said the woman downloaded some information before she left.’

McKenna nodded. ‘That’s correct. Her supervisor believes she was accessing and updating recent additions to the files.’

‘About what?’

‘About you. She knew you were coming.’ He pursed his lips. ‘And now, so does the killer.’

Standing in a rubbish-strewn doorway on the Lower East Side, beneath a latticework of scaffolding up the front of the building, Kassim was watching a first-floor apartment across the street. At ground level was a general store, with the owner, an old Vietnamese man, cleaning the front window. A steady stream of customers had been coming and going, with enough movement to cover Kassim’s presence. So far he had seen no sign of occupation, although the page in the binder had given this as his next target’s temporary address.

He checked his watch and wished he had brought something to drink. He was thirsty and tired and beginning to feel the cold. The drop in temperature had been acute after the clammy heat he’d been used to in the mountains, but it was damp here, too, which he was finding debilitating. Maybe he needed to get a coat; one of those padded jackets he had seen people wearing. It might also serve as another layer of camouflage, to help him blend in.