The End Game, page 15
‘I’m not sure I agree, Boss,’ Louie said.
Jake turned on him. ‘Well, let’s see if I make your mind up for you,’ he said. ‘What’s your problem with this?’
‘For a start,’ Louie said, ‘we don’t have any idea what this is going to end up costing. He’s only sent us outline estimates for the surveillance equipment he thinks we might need, and the hourly rates and day rates for everything else.’
‘He’s right, Jake,’ Nuan said. ‘It’s five hundred pounds a day plus expenses for a single surveillance operative, and a thousand pounds a day for an investigator. To watch this office and all of our properties around the clock seven days a week, as well as watching our backs, will take at least sixteen operatives working in shifts, and double that if they insist on working in pairs. Furthermore, we have no idea how many investigators he might say he needs to deploy. It would be the equivalent of an open cheque.’
Emboldened by Nuan’s apparent support, Louie chipped in.
‘If it dragged on more than a couple of weeks, it would have been cheaper to pay the two hundred grand the extortionist was demanding at Level One.’
Jake regarded them both with icy disdain. ‘You’re missing the point,’ he said. ‘The reason we’re going private is to prevent it from dragging on. Besides, it’s not just about the money, is it?’
Louie frowned. ‘Isn’t it?’
Jake flared up. ‘No, it bloody isn’t! It’s a matter of principle! Nobody gets away with doing this to us.’
He began pacing up and down the room. Louie and Nuan sat in stunned silence. He stopped and turned on them.
‘Besides, we have no idea how far this mad bastard is going to go. It could cost all of us a bloody sight more than money. It could cost us our lives! Do either of you want to put a price on that?’
Nuan was tempted to point out that this was precisely why they should do as The Turd demanded and put a stop to it right now. Despite her emotional agnosia, even she was able to sense that not doing so would be a very bad idea. That fact was even clearer to Louie. Nevertheless, he plucked up enough courage to suggest a compromise.
Five minutes later, Jake Gorlay was back in front of the video screen. Louie and Nuan had decided to leave him to it.
‘Alex,’ he said, ‘my fellow directors and I have decided on a phased approach. How about if we go initially with the CCTV upgrade, and the tracking devices on our vehicles, along with the trawl of the Dark Web?’
‘That sounds like a sensible plan,’ Linslade replied. ‘I’ll email you with a firm quote and a contract to sign straight away. In the meantime, I’ll set the wheels in motion.’
‘One other thing,’ Gorlay said. ‘I wondered if we might ask you to use your military connections to run a check on someone the police are looking at. Name of Derek Terry? Apparently he’s in the Territorials.’
‘That would be the Army Reserve,’ Linslade told him. ‘The Territorials are no more.’ His smile was reassuring. ‘Worry not, I’ll take care of that myself.’
Chapter 41
Nexus House, 3.00 p.m.
‘We do have one development, Boss,’ Nick Carter said.
There were just three others standing in front of the progress board: Jimmy Hulme, Duggie Wallace and Caton himself.
‘We have doorbell CCTV footage from one of Terry’s neighbours showing Terry arriving home at half past five last night, and then nothing until he left for work this morning, after we’d finished searching his house. As for him leaving on his bike via Millgate Lane, he doesn’t appear on any of the local cameras. The only way he could have avoided them would have been by taking a detour through the park.’
‘That would mean him having to lift his motorbike over the locked gates, there and back,’ Jimmy Hulme pointed out. ‘I know he’s fit, but he’s hardly The Rock.’
‘Who?’ Wallace asked.
‘Dwayne Johnson, holder of multiple world wrestling titles,’ Carter told him. ‘Keep up.’
It put Caton in mind of a case fourteen years earlier when the perpetrator had used a specially modified ramp to wheel his first victim over the locked gates of a Central Manchester park. That perpetrator was still alive in a prison hospital, but in a permanent minimally conscious state. As this could not be described as an end-of-life situation or even a terminal condition, the state was not legally able to switch off his life support. The irony was that Caton had actually watched him attempt to kill himself.
‘Boss?’ Carter said. He sounded concerned.
‘Sorry,’ Caton said, ‘I was thinking.’
‘We’ll be the judge of that,’ Carter quipped. ‘Anyway, I was asking if you still have Terry down for this one?’
‘I always kept an open mind as far he was concerned,’ Caton replied, ‘but it’s certainly looking unlikely that he was involved in the firebomb or the dognapping. That doesn’t mean he’s not involved at all.’
‘Whether he is or not,’ Carter said, ‘we do know that he’s been a very naughty boy! Tell him, Duggie.’
‘The analysis of the hard drive on Terry’s computer,’ the intelligence officer said, ‘revealed that he’s been using a colleague’s log-in to access ANPR records relating to his wife’s car and Jake Gorlay’s car.’
‘Inappropriate and unauthorised access to information, and use of a colleague’s personal password without their knowledge. That’s gross misconduct on both counts,’ said Jimmy Hulme. ‘He’ll be suspended and then given the boot.’
‘And the Army Reserve will have to be informed,’ Carter said. ‘They’re sure to kick him out too.’
‘God knows how he’ll react to this,’ Caton said, ‘or his wife. We know he has a temper. There’ll be duty of care issues for both of them.’
‘Not our responsibility, Boss,’ Carter said. ‘That’s down to the Professional Standards Branch.’
‘We’ll need to warn them before we tell his line manager,’ Caton said. ‘Leave that to me. But so far as Operation Sentinel is concerned, he remains a person of interest. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, Boss!’ they said in unison.
‘Good. Now, as I understand it, the only people who we’re aware of having a potential personal motive are Terry and Gorlay’s girlfriend, Becky Kerson. We have nothing evidential on either of them?’
‘That’s correct, Boss,’ Jimmy Hulme said. ‘Plus she’s lost her beloved dog, which pretty much rules her out.’
‘What about corporate motive? Where are we up to with Castlefield Digital Creations?’
Duggie Wallace raised a hand. ‘Harry Draper, the father,’ he said. ‘His contacts include associates with criminal backgrounds who are known to Serious and Organised Crime Branch. Their activities include robbery, extortion, handling stolen goods, money laundering and the importation and distribution of drugs. It’s feasible he could be paying them to lean on MancVG. Fortunately, Serious and Organised Crime have been running a surveillance operation on these associates, and they have a CHIS. If any of them are involved, it’s likely they’d have heard something.’
‘That doesn’t mean they’d tell us,’ Carter said. ‘They like to keep their cards to their chests, especially if there’s a CHIS involved. They don’t want to risk their targets discovering they’ve got an inside man.’
‘Or woman,’ said Jimmy Hulme.
Carter couldn’t tell if he was joking. ‘Or woman,’ he said.
‘Send me the details,’ Caton said, ‘and I’ll go and see their boss.’ He scanned the board. ‘Duggie,’ he said. ‘You were looking for political activists working to put an end to in-game purchases?’
‘That’s right, Boss,’ Duggie said. ‘We found several well-organised campaigns, including the intended recipient of the payments being demanded by our unsub. So far, all of them appear to be exactly what they claim to be – peaceful, if vociferous, pressure groups. And all of their named activists have come up clean on the Police National Computer. The chief executive of the End In-Game Purchases charity is on her way here as we speak. She was horrified to learn that her organisation might be linked with a criminal venture, and she can’t wait to help us. She hopes to be here by half four this afternoon.’
‘Good,’ Caton said. ‘What about people who might have been seriously affected by in-game purchases?’
Wallace grimaced. ‘I’ve a list as long as your arm,’ he said. ‘You’ll be surprised how many there are. There’s even a social media support group. The problem is that while people are happy to share their stories in these groups, they don’t always use their real names or provide contact details. But I have been able to link some of them to specific events in news items.’
‘How long is the list?’ Carter asked.
‘One hundred and ninety-eight incidents so far, covering bankruptcy, theft to cover debts, serious mental illness, missing from home, suicides.’
‘Right,’ Caton said, ‘star the most serious, prioritise anywhere there’s an obvious military connection, and send me the list.’ He turned to his deputy SIO. ‘Nick, you and I had better go and prepare for this interview with . . .?’
‘Ms Rea,’ Duggie said. ‘Poppy Rea.’
Chapter 41
4.50 p.m.
Poppy Rea was impressive. In her mid-forties, with short black hair, a square face, and standing at a little over five foot tall, she wore a crisp white shirt and black pinstriped suit that struggled to contain her highly toned physique.
She strode, tight-lipped, down the corridor with an air of impatience. Behind her trailed a man in his early twenties. Tall and slim, with long curly hair, he was dressed like a student. Caton assumed him to be of North African heritage, in all likelihood the Horn of Africa.
Caton showed them into the meeting room. Before he had a chance to introduce himself and Nick Carter, Poppy Rea leaned forward.
‘I was surprised and curious when your Mr Wallace said you wanted us to assist you with an investigation,’ she said. ‘When he told me it was connected with a criminal enterprise that, for some inexplicable reason, is using our organisation’s name to extort money from people, I was shocked and horrified. Naturally, I can’t wait to prove that the charity has nothing whatsoever to do with this, and to help you put these people behind bars.’
‘Thank you,’ Caton said. ‘How would you prefer me to address you?’
‘As Poppy,’ she said. ‘I find it’s much simpler without titles or pronouns and avoids unnecessary embarrassment or offence.’
‘Poppy it is then,’ he said. ‘I am DCI Caton, and my colleague is DI Carter, but in both cases “Mister” will be fine.’
He turned his attention to the young man on her left, expecting an introduction. When none was forthcoming, he pressed on.
‘To be clear, Poppy,’ he said, ‘there is nothing at all to suggest that your organisation is involved in any way, other than as an unwitting beneficiary.’
‘Of course there isn’t,’ she said. ‘Why would there be? We’d have nothing to gain.’
‘Except a great deal of money for the cause.’
She glared at him. ‘And a prison sentence! And the removal of our charitable status! Why would I risk any of that?’
Caton held up both hands. ‘I understand,’ he said, ‘and I’m not suggesting for a moment that you would. However, among the thousands of social media responses to your website and publicity videos posted by passionate supporters, there are some that could be described as bitter and vengeful.’
‘Have you any idea why I became involved?’ she asked. ‘Why all of us became involved?’
‘No.’
‘Because we’ve all been directly affected by video gaming. There are mothers and fathers whose children became addicted to these games, and there are some whose own lives were all but destroyed by this addiction.’
She looked across at Nick Carter and then back to Caton, to see if they had the faintest notion of what she was talking about.
‘Have you any idea of the harm the monetisation of these games has caused . . . is causing?’
‘That’s not strictly . . .’ Carter began.
Caton placed a hand on his arm. ‘I think we should hear this,’ he said.
Her expression softened a fraction. ‘Very well. I don’t wish to waste your time, so why don’t you tell me what you know about in-game purchases.’
‘As I understand it,’ Caton said, ‘within many of these games, the player will come across mystery boxes . . .’
She nodded. ‘Loot boxes and bonus buys.’
‘. . . where they can purchase virtual items that will help them to progress faster within the game. Items such as weapons or shortcuts that might give them better protection.’
‘Or change the appearance of their avatar,’ Carter said.
‘They’re called skins,’ she told them. ‘And then there are power-ups, which help improve the gaming experience: changes to the time limits in which to complete each task; the ability to engage in real time with other people playing the same game. On the face of it, these elements appear harmless, and of course the players have the option to ignore them altogether, but in reality that’s almost impossible to do.’
‘Because?’ Caton asked.
‘They’re specifically designed to entice the players like a bait on a hook. And there’s often a lucky dip or mystery element that appeals to children, and to the kind of born risk-takers you’ll find in any bingo hall or booking shop, online or otherwise. The immediate gratification that comes from securing something that will give you an edge in overcoming the challenges in the game, the advantage it gives you over other players, the possibility that this will make you a winner, or help you improve on your previous bets – these are the equivalent of sport-enhancing drugs to an athlete. And once the bait is taken, they reel you in. And since you feel no pain, only excitement and empowerment, you keep going back for more until you’re well and truly hooked, just like with any drug or addiction.’
She stopped and stared at Nick Carter.
‘You seem to be having some difficulty in hiding your scepticism, inspector,’ she said. She turned to the young man who had been sitting silently beside her.
‘Tell them, Ali,’ she said.
Chapter 43
‘My name is Ali Hassan Mahamoud,’ he began, tentatively at first, but growing in confidence as his story unfolded.
‘I am twenty-three years old. I was born in Somalia. Twenty years ago, in 2002, I was brought by two of my uncles as an asylum seeker to the Netherlands. In 2006 I was granted EU citizenship. I came to the UK in 2014 and went to Manchester University to read Business Studies and Economics. During lockdown, in isolation in our rooms, a group of us became hooked on a particular video game, competing against each other, and others, on the internet. I would spend hours playing into the night. I began making in-game purchases to give me an edge, an advantage. At first it gave me a buzz. But then I found myself falling behind my fellow gamers and slipping down the championship tables. I raided more and more loot boxes. I was spending up to seventy or eighty pounds a night. When that made little or no difference to my performance, or my standings, I became depressed. By the end of the second term, I’d squandered most of my student grant. I failed my first year.’
He paused and took a sip from a water bottle he had brought with him.
‘I was forced to resit, although the university waived the resit fees because of the disruption caused by the pandemic. I failed the resit and dropped out. I did not tell my uncles, and I was too embarrassed to go home. When I confided in a friend, he told me about EIGP. I was introduced to Poppy.’
He turned to her and smiled. She nodded and smiled back.
‘Poppy arranged counselling,’ he said. ‘I received CBT and group therapy. I am now free of my addiction, although I know I can’t expose myself to any form of gambling, and I no longer engage in video gaming. Poppy spoke to the university on my behalf. They told her that I was far from the only student whose studies had been affected in this way. They agreed to allow me to resit my first year.’
He paused and took a deep breath.
‘Without the help of Poppy and EIGP, I truly believe I would have taken my life.’
‘Ali is now working with us,’ Poppy Rea said, ‘helping to warn other students online, on campus and in local schools, including primary schools, because these games can normalise gambling among very young children. We have several parents in our organisation whose children maxed out their credit cards to the tune of over a thousand pounds – children under ten years of age. And there are instances of young children and teenagers running away from home because they’ve been stealing from their parents to feed their obsession and are too ashamed or frightened to tell them.’
‘I understand that there have been incidences of suicide and attempted suicide among video gamers?’ Caton said.
‘Too many!’ she responded. ‘Research tells us that more than sixty thousand eleven- to sixteen-year-olds are addicted to some form of gambling, primarily as a result of addiction to video gaming.’ She became increasingly impassioned. ‘As many as ten per cent of suicides in the UK are related to gambling! That’s over six hundred and fifty deaths per year. Gambling addicts are twenty-five per cent more likely than any other kind of addict to commit suicide. There have even been examples of young children killing themselves, simply because they lost a game to which they had become addicted. So you’ll understand why, in May 2017, “gaming disorder” was included as a behavioural addiction in the World Health Organisation’s International Classification of Diseases.’
She took a breath to calm herself.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I know I’ve gone on at length, but if you’re looking for someone who has a reason to support us, and at the same time bring video game purchases and gambling to an end, you won’t be spoilt for choice.’
‘I do understand now,’ Caton said, ‘and it’s not going to make our investigation any easier.’ He paused while he thought about how best to put what he had to say next. ‘Our strong advice to the directors of MancVG is that they should not give in to these demands, but I’m afraid, Poppy, that the police have no control over what they decide to do. So, and please don’t take this the wrong way, I’m obliged to advise you that acceptance of any donations to your organisation made under duress will leave you open to prosecution as an accessory.’
