The Sentence Is Death

Actually, it was me and my younger son, Cassian. At the time, he was twenty-two years old and was just finishing a journalism course at City University. I remembered the picture being taken a couple of days before; it showed the two of us having a drink at the Jerusalem Tavern, a pub close to where I live. But what was so shocking was that it had never been published. I hadn’t sent it to anyone. So how could it possibly be on Kevin’s screen?

‘Kevin . . . ?’ I couldn’t stop myself. I hadn’t gone into the room. I spoke to him from the door.

He looked over his shoulder and realised who it was. I saw the panic in his eyes. At the same time, his hand scrabbled for the mouse and a moment later the screen went black. ‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded. Kevin liked a joke but he was utterly serious now.

‘Where did you get that photograph?’ I asked.

‘What are you doing here? This is my room!’

‘I was looking for the toilet.’

‘Do you mind leaving?’

‘I’m not leaving until you tell me how you got that picture.’ I was already aware that I was behaving badly, that I shouldn’t be speaking to him in this way. Is it ever acceptable to lose your temper with someone who is in a wheelchair? But I was truly shocked by what I had just seen. Kevin had been spying not just on me but on my son. ‘You’ve hacked into my computer!’ I exclaimed. It was the only way it could have got there.

‘No!’ He squirmed in his seat.

‘Yes!’ Looking past him, I saw that the entire surface of his desk was littered with complicated electrical equipment, strange black boxes with antennae and keyboards connected to a labyrinth of wires. I pointed at the screen. ‘That was my son. That was me!’

He searched for an explanation, couldn’t find one and miserably folded in on himself.

‘It wasn’t your computer. It was your phone.’

I didn’t even try to counter that. ‘How did you do that?’ I demanded. ‘Why did you do that?’ And then the next thought hit me. ‘Does Hawthorne know about this?’

Of course he did. That was how Kevin helped him. Suddenly I saw it all, perfectly clearly. The automatic number-plate recognition that proved Akira Anno had never driven through Hampshire. The CCTV footage that had been taken from the Welcome Break service station at Fleet. I had wondered why Cara Grunshaw had shown them to Hawthorne but she never had! He had simply stolen them, hacking into the police computer systems with assistance from his brilliant young friend on the third floor.

Kevin was staring at me, aghast. His whole body seemed to have become more twisted and out of control. ‘You can’t tell Mr Hawthorne you know,’ he said.

‘Why were you looking at my personal data?’ I insisted.

‘Because I like you.’

‘That’s a funny way to show it.’

‘I’m interested in you. I read your books.’

Well, that was very flattering. But it didn’t mean I liked the idea of Kevin gazing out at me through the camera in my computer or perhaps listening to me, via my iPhone, when I was in the bath. I would have been furious but, given his condition, I was forcing myself to stay calm.

‘What exactly do you do for Hawthorne?’ I asked.

‘I don’t do anything. If he knew about this, he’d kill me!’

‘Don’t lie to me, Kevin . . .’

‘I can’t tell you. I can’t talk about him. Please . . .’

I don’t know if he was acting but suddenly there were tears in his eyes and that simply made me feel like the worst bully in the world. Also, I had been away from the book group for quite some time and I didn’t like the idea of Kevin’s mother or even Hawthorne himself coming out and finding me here. I didn’t know which would have been worse.

I drew a breath and tried to sound reasonable. ‘I won’t say anything to Hawthorne,’ I said. ‘But this isn’t the end of it, Kevin. I’m going to have to talk to you again.’

‘You can’t.’

‘Yes, I can. And don’t try to avoid me.’

‘I’m not running anywhere.’ Despite everything, his morbid sense of humour was still in play.

‘And I want you to stay out of my phone! In fact, I’m going to buy a new phone.’

‘Actually, that won’t help.’

‘For heaven’s sake!’ I thought I heard someone coming. I waved a finger in Kevin’s direction. ‘Just stay out of my iPhone, my computer, my iPad . . . even the phone on my front door. Promise me!’

‘I promise.’ He was looking ill. I couldn’t push him any further.

‘We’re going to talk more about this another time. Do you understand? This isn’t over!’

I backed out, closing the door behind me.

‘I don’t believe Sherlock Holmes for a single minute. I mean, on page thirty-two, he says he’s made a study of cigar ashes and he can tell the brand of a cigar just from one glance at the ash.’

I heard Hawthorne’s voice as I entered the room and sure enough the entire book group was focused on what he was saying. I took my place and pretended to listen as he continued.