playing seriously with computers. I write a shell script which will, I hope, stop the secure shell server, unmount the external hard drives, and erase all the data using a handy little command called shred. Finally I set the script to run at five a.m., exit the admin shell and close the terminal window. I wipe the keyboard and my coffee mug to get rid of any finger prints.
I put Chris’s hands back into position and wake him up so that he’s unaware that his attentions were interrupted. ‘You know,’ I whisper, ‘I’m not wearing any knickers. Why don’t you get on your knees and take a look?’
He grins excitedly, and it’s not long before I’m also grinning excitedly.
Swings And Roundabouts (Friday)
Four o’clock in the morning and I’m back outside Alex’s place, again wearing the black running suit, hood up, and some thin, black leather gloves, but no bird seed today. The night is still clear and I can see quite clearly. Unfortunately the cameras can also see quite clearly. I’m just going to have to move quickly and hope no one is watching. I climb up onto the wall and walk round to the gate, jump down on to the path outside the guard hut and step inside even as the guard, the one who looks like Bruce Willis, is reaching for his radio. I kick this out of his hands and he leaps at me. We crash to the ground with him on top of me, trying to lock me in position, but not before I manage to jab my K95 taser in his side and send electricity shocking through his system. He’s still conscious, but he’s twitching, not really in control and I am able to escape from underneath him.
The radio is quiet, and there aren’t any lights that look like warning lights, so I guess I haven’t been seen. I tie Bruce Willis up with handcuffs, blindfold and a ball gag from a bondage shop in the city, rifling through his pockets, finding his ID, a second chipped card that must be the duty card, and a couple of sets of keys, one of which is carefully labelled. One key says ‘Front Door (Outer)’ and another says ‘Front Door (Inner)’ and a third one that says ‘Gate’, which doesn’t make sense, unless it means the guard hut rather than the gate itself.
I let myself in through Alex’s front door, closing it behind me. There’s a computer display in the entryway showing floor plans of the whole house in green, except for the front door which is blinking green-amber-red. To the right of the display is a card reader with a number pad, with a small screen that says ‘Insert ID’. I insert Dominic Wright’s ID and enter his daughter’s birthday. Next the screen says ‘Insert Duty Card’, which I do, and the front door stops flashing on the floor plans.
All systems green. So far so good.
I open the inner door, and that starts blinking. I insert Dom’s ID again, but immediately the door turns red on the display and half the rest of the house turns amber. Somewhere an alarm trills. Damn. I race for the stairs and up, the guard’s radio in my pocket squawking ‘Greg? What the hell’s happening out there? Greg?’
The bedroom is on the first floor at the front of the house. I was able to guess the location by watching the lights in the house last Saturday. Besides, it’s a nice south-facing view, and the room has large windows to make the most of it. The house is only about twenty years old and the design and decor have a modern elegance. It’s a shame I’m in too much of a hurry to enjoy it.
I barrel off the wall at the top of the staircase and bounce into the bedroom just in time to see a naked leg disappearing into the wardrobe. I race after the leg, through a curtain of white shirts, and slam cheek-first into a heavy steel door. It stops me dead, but the door wasn’t fully closed and the impact sends Alex sprawling across the floor inside his secret chamber. I push the door open and search for a light switch, which turns out to be in the obvious place. Alex scrambles to his feet. He is dressed in blue