Hider/Seeker (4 page)

Goose feather snow was morphing into inky-black puddles as the cars and trucks roared up and down the Marylebone flyover. Harry watched on from the hotel's grubby windows while keeping a look out for Angela Linehan. The afternoon sky was as grey as the concrete ramps of the highway.

Traffic always got heavier in London, the closer to Christmas. Nothing pleased him about the city anymore. It had become oppressive and alienating. Too many people moving too fast made him feel giddy in its streets; that's why he preferred to work the off-hours when he could. It was easier to focus at night as there was no one to disturb him.

Everything was changing around him, not only the city. He despised all of his friends because they'd become dull, and he had nothing in common with them anymore. Eddie too had become different. But now that he'd gone missing, he no longer dwelled on how much he'd changed, just why he'd changed.

Harry had stopped worrying about himself years ago, taking each day as it came. At least he had a job he liked that suited him. He never felt bad about what he did for a living because he never hid the dangers from his clients. The trouble was they never picked up on his warnings. It wasn't his fault if they didn't want to listen. All they dreamed of was running away from it all and going native. But what they never understood until it was too late was that they had bought into nothing more than a self-imposed witness protection programme. A package of rules created by him that required them to give up everything to just keep one step ahead of their enemies. He was little more than a tempter of tormented souls, offering them a way out of sorts.

Today it was the turn of Angela Linehan to be taught how to stay alive in her chosen asylum. It was going to be a crash-course as normally he stretched out his tutorials over weeks, often right up to the date of departure. But time was not on her side and she would have to learn fast.

Harry spotted her getting out of a cab and stepped away from the window to give a final check that everything was ready for her. His laptop was set up in the corner of the dingy room; there was a biro, a note pad for her to write down all his instructions including a host of websites, and two bottles of Evian.

When he opened the door of his room to her, he could tell immediately she didn't approve of his choice of hotel. She wandered around the room, examining its cheap furnishings. The bedspread was stained, the lampshades had burn marks and the floor was covered with a fitted floral carpet that had shrunk away from the skirting board. At least there was a modern en suite.

She took off her coat to reveal a cashmere sweater and short corduroy skirt. Around her neck were three rows of pearls that must have been a special gift from her husband because they looked expensive to Harry.

‘It's cold here,' she said, wrapping her arms around herself.

He bent down to adjust the radiator valve and sensed her eyes upon him. When he stood up straight again, they looked at each other for a brief moment without saying a word. Her red lips looked kissable at that distance but he knew better.

They sat down at the table where his laptop hummed. She pulled out from her Hermès handbag four coloured photo strips – head and shoulder shots of her and her son. While he examined them, she rummaged around her handbag and plucked out an old photo of herself that Harry had asked for over the phone. He needed it for the forged driving licence he would be making for her. Harry had also promised to issue her with an NHS card as well as a national insurance number along with fake utility bills, some invoices and a dodgy library card. It would all help to make her look like a real human being if she was ever stopped.

‘These will be fine,' said Harry, putting the passport photos to one side along with the old picture of her for the driving licence.

‘Should I pay you now?'

‘Let's get the formalities out of the way.'

She took out from her handbag a brown envelope with the money inside. ‘Fifty thousand plus the three thousand for the pre-paid credit card.'

He didn't bother counting it and said, ‘You can manage the rest?'

‘I'll have it ready when you bring me the passports. I need to leave the country by the fifteenth of January.'

‘That's cutting it a bit fine.'

‘I've already fixed a date at the clinic. The fifteenth is the earliest I'm allowed to travel.'

‘Does your husband suspect anything?'

‘I wouldn't be here if he did.'

‘Where is he today?'

‘Up north, with Tucker.'

Harry didn't ask any more questions and slid across a piece of paper with the number of Ernesto Paiz in Guatemala. Harry explained to her that Ernesto was a partner in a law firm who would fix opening a bank account for her. He told her the bank secrecy laws there were as tight as the proverbial camel's arse in a sandstorm and she shouldn't have any worries.

‘All you need to do is send Ernesto your new passport when it is ready and he'll do the rest.'

‘Which is?'

‘He'll set up an anonymous corporation so that you can open the bank account in the name of that corporation with you as sole signatory on that account. You can then bank online, wire transfers and get an anonymous Visa or MasterCard to replace the pre-paid credit card I'm arranging for you. You'll be able to cash money from any hole in the wall in the world without being tracked.'

‘And no one, not even the bank will know who I am?'

‘They don't ask many questions about who you are or where you are from; all they need is a passport. Ernesto will take care of everything and because he will be your lawyer, you will have the benefit of attorney-client privilege. All communications either by phone or email will be encrypted.'

‘But Nick is very clever, he'll figure a way to trace the money when I move it.'

‘So's Ernesto. He's a genius at this sort of thing. He'll even find you a stockbroker to invest your funds, using just the name of your corporation.'

Harry sensed she was unconvinced about the safety of her money and went into detail about how Ernesto could protect it using a network of countries, making it not only untraceable but unattainable to anyone wanting it, including her husband. He assured her that the banks used were reputable and safe. Ernesto would personally accompany her to them, so that she could see for herself.

‘He'll buy a place for me too?' she asked, putting her hand on his. Her skin felt cool against his, her fingers soft.

‘Technically your corporation buys it and you pay rent to help explain your living in the property,' he explained, distracted by her hand on his. ‘That way, where you live is untraceable.'

‘But I don't have to live in Guatemala, right?' She withdrew her hand.

‘Not unless you want to.'

‘Won't it take ages to set up a corporation?'

‘He's got a shelf full of them to go. It's as anonymous as the old Swiss numbered bank accounts. The only difference is you have a corporation instead of a number. Trust me you'll like Ernesto – unfortunately for his wife, Gabriela, all women do. He's just awaiting your call.'

She folded the paper with the contact details and tucked it inside a pocket in her handbag.

Harry started his tutorial with a party trick to underline how easy it was to hack into her life if she didn't take precautions. He clicked away on his laptop and minutes later her BlackBerry bleeped to say she had email. His eyes invited her to look at her inbox. He'd sent her an email from one of her own email accounts.

‘How did you do that?' she asked.

‘Just from the few things you've told me about yourself.'

‘But I didn't do anything.'

‘That's the point. From here on in, I can do anything I want because I've got control of your email. That means I can see your financial transactions, get into your online accounts and even use your credit card to do a bit of shopping. Not only that I can see who you correspond with and what you're up to.'

Now that he had her full attention he began to explain how the professionals her husband would hire would start looking for her. Every great journey starts with a first step; the same for hunting someone down. They would begin by searching for any electronic data held on file that could give them a lead. They would call her old banks or service companies for a kernel of information that takes them a step closer to her.

Even a silly innocent picture of a friend on the social network could lead to connections being made and filling in gaps in the jigsaw. He showed her on his laptop an open source intelligence gathering tool used by law enforcement and intelligence agencies. It could simply work out the relationship between people, by just pumping in a name, a phone number or email address. By scouring the websites and online directories for references, it would build visual links between the people found. Maybe the name of one city would keep coming up and bingo the reconnaissance could with luck even be narrowed down to a neighbourhood. Reverse directories might even find her house.

He then showed all types of data repositories, both open and closed, that could be used to hunt her down. It shocked her how much information was sent into the ether for anyone to snatch. If she was frightened before, she was terrified now. Having gained her full attention, it was time to go through his list of thirty-three rules of dos and don'ts for when she was abroad. She picked up her pen and began to take notes.

He started with the story of McCaffity and all his stupid mistakes in Santiago. It was a salutary tale of what could happen if she ignored the basics. He told her to think of herself as an urban guerrilla, wrong footing the enemy by turning around the sign posts on every occasion; altering the spelling of her name, tampering with the telephone numbers and playing around with her date of birth. Subtle changes had to be constantly made so that the hunters with keyboards couldn't make any connections to the flotsam and jetsam of data that floated their way.

She would have to deal with all her electronic footprints at home before leaving the country. Harry went through a check list of potential accounts that might call for some guerrilla action to send her enemies down blind alleys. She shook her head to everything he read out on the list. All the accounts she and her husband had with various services and banks were in his name. Nick Linehan might have been a busy man but he always found time to take care of paying everyone from the paper boy to the gas bill. For a woman with so much money, she surprisingly had little financial independence from her husband at home, as she shared a current account with him, used his credit cards and had all the store card bills sent direct to him. Most mornings he left plenty of cash on her night table to buy whatever she wanted, she said.

Harry told her that all mail had to go to a PO Box and she urgently needed to set one up in London if Ernesto was to return her passport without her husband accidentally stumbling upon it on the door mat. From now on she had to get used to the idea of corresponding via a PO Box and under no circumstances could it ever be connected with her telephone details. A few clicks on the laptop showed her how to set up mail drops abroad. Before running away she should also pay a year in advance for an online account that could relay voicemail messages to a Hotmail account. She should also throw her laptop away before leaving and not replace it until she arrived in her new home. All surfing in future would have to be carried out at internet cafes.

While he spoke she scrawled and flipped pages, underscoring any useful web addresses. There were plenty of questions and stops on the way. He didn't mind going over anything she hadn't grasped or repeating the spelling of some useful names and numbers.

Her eyes widened as he demonstrated, with a few clicks, ways she could change her caller ID number on the phone if she ever had to. He reminded her that when changing her mobile phone each month, she should try to buy ones with different area code numbers. And under no circumstances ever give out her number.

Like all good tutors, he tested his pupil by role playing; setting up hypothetical scenarios that she may face when abroad alone. For example, what would she do if she had a car accident? Or her son needed to stay in hospital for a long while. She was sharp, very sharp. Her brain was working along the right tracks; innovating variations of his rules when she had to.

The day had flown by but there was time for one final question: what would she do if she felt suspicious that someone was on to her? Pick up her stuff and run, she replied again. What if she were returning home and found them watching the house? She would just run, she replied. But what about money, clothes and passport? Her eyes became anxious again. He poked his index finger repeatedly between her furrowed brows and told her to always be prepared, like a good boy scout. Leave passports, clothes and plenty of cash in a lock up or a self-storage depot, he instructed. Where? Harry asked. In another city, she replied.

Angela Linehan closed her note book filled with her undecipherable writing, diagrams and squiggles. She had absorbed every single word of advice he'd given her as she knew her life would depend on it. No single rule could be ignored and had to be diligently followed until her husband kicked the bucket. She asked plenty more questions and he answered them all. No one would find her if she stuck to his rules. Her eyes told him she wasn't the sort that would let anything slip. She would survive the ordeal ahead of her.

The sun had moved behind the buildings and the room had become dark without either of them noticing. Harry switched on the main light and the room brightened.

‘Have you thought how you're going to leave your home on D-Day?' he asked.

‘That's easy. I'll do it when my husband is abroad.'

‘Does Peter know yet?'

‘I plan to tell him that we're going on a short holiday to surprise Nick while he's on a business trip as it will be around his father's birthday.'