Ava McCarthy - Hide Me

She threw Zubiri a questioning look, but he didn’t fill her in. Instead, he jabbed at his keyboard. Riva’s headshot disappeared and another photo flashed into view: Riva shaking hands with some guy on a podium. The man wore a broad smile and a ceremonial chain, but Riva’s expression was sombre.

‘She’s well respected in the community here,’ Zubiri said. His American-flavoured accent seemed more pronounced, as though he’d been practising overnight with CNN. ‘She’s on the board of trustees for two children’s homes. Contributes to local causes. Fundraises for local schools and hospitals. A real philanthropist.’

Harry caught his tone and shot him a sideways look. ‘Are you saying it’s a front?’

‘I’m saying there’s a lotta stuff people don’t know about Riva Mills.’

‘Such as?’

Zubiri flipped ahead to the next slide. A mugshot: the profile and front-view of a young girl. A waif, really. Maybe thirteen or fourteen, with bony shoulders and a pinched, heart-shaped face.

Harry blinked. ‘She has a criminal record?’

‘Juvenile. Back in the United States. Fraud, cheque forgery, theft.’

‘Did she go to prison?’

Zubiri shook his head. ‘They gave her a break on account of her background. They say her mother was abusive. Unstable. Plus there was a younger brother, some problem kid, that Riva mostly took care of.’

Harry stared at the photo, at the razor-sharp cheekbones sloping into dainty features. She had trouble reconciling this undernourished girl with the businesswoman who ran a casino empire. She glanced back at Zubiri.

‘Okay, so my client isn’t all that she seems. God knows, it wouldn’t be the first time. But what’s that got to do with the casino cheaters?’

Zubiri leaned back in his chair and took his time about answering, almost as though he begrudged her the information. Eventually, he said,

‘She may be involved.’

‘In what? Ripping off her own casinos?’

Zubiri laced his hands across his wrinkled shirt. ‘Who told her about the cheaters?’

‘Her Chief of Security, Victor Toledo. He got a tip-off from a source.’

‘What source?’

Harry shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Does it matter?’

‘What about the scam the crew pulled in the casino? Do you know how they did it?’

‘No. But now we know who to watch, we could pull the surveillance tapes. They might tell us something.’

Zubiri shook his head. ‘Pulling the tapes would alert Riva to their identity. I don’t want the cheaters stopped. Not yet. Not if we want them to recruit you.’

Harry stirred in her seat, aware of a shifting in her gut. Now they were getting to the real reason she was here.

‘I haven’t agreed to do it yet.’ She clasped her hands in her lap. ‘But assuming I did, how exactly would they end up recruiting me?’

‘Same way they ended up recruiting McArdle. Through recommendations from Irish paramilitaries.’

Harry’s heart did a quick flip. ‘You’re kidding.’

Zubiri was watching her closely. ‘That’s how McArdle got most of his clients. Word of mouth, vouched for by his oldest employers. And we know Chavez’s crew has links with terrorists. It’s one of the reasons we’re watching them.’

Harry’s palms felt clammy. ‘So Chavez put the word out that he needed a hacker and his contacts in Belfast put him in touch with McArdle?’

‘Exactly.’

Harry shivered, the hairs spiking up along her arms. Terrorists and paramilitaries. The words conjured up an underworld of hatred and fanaticism, generations of rage that had nothing to do with her. She swallowed.

‘And now you think Chavez will put out feelers for a replacement?’

‘Yes.’

‘But how will you know?’

Zubiri sighed and rubbed his eyes, suddenly looking jaded. ‘The Irish and the Basques are closer than you think. Your paramilitaries have been buddies with our ETA separatists for almost forty years. Explosives in exchange for training. Handguns for solidarity. Our police force has had undercover agents in your country for decades.’ He leaned forward, every line in his face etched deep. ‘There are no guarantees Chavez will approach Belfast again. But if he does, our operatives will know about it.’

‘And do what?’

‘Intercept the enquiry. Redirect it to us and let Chavez know a replacement is on the way.’

Harry’s mouth felt dry. Zubiri fixed his eyes on hers and nodded.

‘And then you go in.’

Chapter 8

‘Would I wear a wire?’

Harry was surprised at how normal her voice sounded. Zubiri shook his head.

‘Waste of time.’

‘But don’t you need evidence?’

‘All we need is information. Wear some piece-of-shit recorder, and you just spend time changing the batteries.’

Harry peered at him through the artificial twilight of the room. The projector beam had excavated lines like dugouts in his face.

‘I thought devices were more hi-tech these days,’ she said.

Zubiri snorted. ‘The Ertzaintza budget doesn’t stretch to hi-tech equipment. They keep that stuff for National Intelligence. Even if we could afford it, they wouldn’t let us use it.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because we gotta explain our technology in court. Show how we acquire our evidence. If we use the smart stuff, the gadgets get exposed and so does National Intelligence. They prefer to keep their box of tricks a secret.’

‘I see.’ Harry’s mouth felt dry. ‘So no wire?’

Zubiri leaned forward in his chair and started itemizing things on his fingers. ‘Look, this crew is professional. They’re going to frisk you, they’re going to confiscate your phone, your laptop, your jewellery, anything that looks like it could be a recorder, a transmitter or a GPS device.’ His sombre eyes locked onto hers. ‘These guys catch you wired and you’re dead.’

Harry swallowed, and a bead of sweat began a lazy trickle down her back. Zubiri’s eyes raked her face, as though hunting for signs of weakness. She lifted her chin.

‘Okay, so no recorders or transmitters. How would you know where I was?’

‘You’d have backup.’

‘Where?’

He shook his head. ‘Basic rule of undercover: you never get told where the backup’s gonna be.’ He tipped his chair back, linking his hands behind his head. ‘Think about it. You rendezvous with a target and you know we got a sniper on the roof? You can’t help yourself, you’ll look up to check he’s there.’ He shook his head again. ‘You won’t ever know where we are. It’s for your own protection.’

Harry suppressed an involuntary shudder. She’d have to be crazy to get involved in a stunt like this. Then she caught the challenge in Zubiri’s gaze, and could tell he didn’t expect her to take the job either.

She shifted in her chair. The projector light flickered as Zubiri’s laptop dozed into standby mode, obliterating Riva’s image from the wall. The room sank into shadow. Zubiri rocked on his tilted-back chair, and Harry glanced at his large, craggy face and thought about his boss, Vasco.

He’d threatened to embroil her in a murder case, to blacken her already tarnished name. She clamped her teeth shut. Her credentials with the Irish police had taken a beating the previous year and, in truth, she was tired of being the bad guy. She’d worked hard the last few months to redeem her reputation, and bit by bit, she’d sensed a growing respect, at least from the Tech Bureau guys. The last thing she wanted was to jeopardize all that now.

The hairs along her arms twitched. It was an in-and-out job. All she had to do was pretend to be a hacker. How hard could it be?

She eyed Zubiri’s face, kept her gaze steady. ‘Let’s assume, for the sake of argument, that I’m going to do this. I presume I’d need an alias?’