D.E.M.: Deus Ex Machina

CHAPTER 1

AWAKENINGS

The screen filled with a CCTV recording that she watched without breathing. Over and over the scene played, as it burnt itself on her consciousness. The mother stood just outside the train station toilets, browsing at the shop displays. The child exits the toilets and spots mum a few metres away. As he takes a step in her direction, a man emerges from the toilets and grabs him from behind, covering his mouth and sweeps him away in the opposite direction. The scene cuts to a composite of the mother glancing around then disappearing into the toilets and back out again. At the same time, a grainier CCTV picture shows the boy being bundled into the back of a van.

Rachel stopped the loop and sat back in the chair, old experiences and memories overwhelming her. This was too close to home in more ways than one. This was her neighbourhood! How could this happen? The mother’s face was frozen on the screen, with all the emotions that it entailed like ghosts in the static of the image. Guilt, terror, anger, hope.

The image was too much and Rachel clicked off it and switched back to the live news. The ticker tape at the bottom of the news feed said a child abduction gang was operating in the area. She’d heard of these gangs before. The gang shipped the children off to other parts of the country, or even to other countries, and sold them. The police were searching… said the newscaster. She was listening but not taking anything in.

Rachel slammed her clenched fists into her thighs and then leapt up, threw on a pair of sweat pants and a hooded top and ran out of the flat. She slammed the door behind her but didn’t lock it. Time was short, she had to be able to do something, anything, to help. There were a few people milling around chatting at the police cordon. A stony-faced policeman stood on the other side.

Excuse me, is there a search or anything that you need help with? Rachel asked.

The policeman looked at her and curled his lip.

Go home Miss. There’s nothing to see here.

I just want to help find the boy, Rachel replied

Step back, miss.

Rachel put her hands on her hips and scowled.

Go home miss. We’re doing everything we can. He turned slightly away from her, the conversation over.

A man in a suit came by, ducking under the cordon and flashing a badge at the police officer. He received a nod in return.

Hey you, what are you doing to find the boy? Rachel asked.

The suited man turned in annoyance. Are you a reporter?

No. Just someone who wants to help with the search. She pointed at the first policeman. But he won’t say anything.

The policeman shook his head and walked across to a colleague further along the cordon. He said something and then pointed back to Rachel.

We’re doing everything we can, said the suited man and turned away.

How many do you find? Rachel demanded

The man hesitated and half turned back to her.

It’s a simple question. How many do you find?

The man looked to be about to say something and then shook his head and turned his back on her.

Hey. Hey, Rachel shouted as he disappeared through the train station doors.

The two uniformed policemen were walking toward her, one of them had his notebook and a pen in his hand. Rachel spat out a frustrated sigh and wandered away, her head spinning. A news van pulled up, with aerials and a huge satellite dish on the roof. She stared at it as an idea formed and she started to run.

Back at the flat she kicked the door shut and rushed over to the computer. She hammered the keyboard, her fingers a blur.

The gestation for creating a new virtual person was only minutes. In that time she created accounts for everything; YouTube, Google, Facebook, Twitter, PayPal, all anonymous. One minute nothing, the next a complete persona appeared in the ether. The PayPal account was important, she was going to need money, a lot of money.

It didn’t take long to trace the social media accounts of the missing boy’s family. The boy posted a lot of innocent personal information and the mum wasn’t much better. Rachel rolled her eyes, people these days were clueless. She downloaded pictures and videos of the boy, Danny, created a montage video of him and she was good to go. Now it was time to breathe life into it. This could get dangerous so her own anonymity was everything. She was taking on an organised gang of criminals.

Rachel monetised the video, linking it to the PayPal account and pushed it out to all the new social media accounts and to as many boards with as many tags as she could think of with #FindDanny on each one. A few minutes later she had a dashboard of all the feeds on a second monitor.

She sat back and watched the dashboard on the left hand monitor, biting her fingernails, a long-forgotten habit resurfacing. Danny had been missing for five hours now. Time was critical, but she had to be patient. The numbers grew exponentially faster. Still, she waited. The timing of the next phase was critical. She had no idea how to judge it, but she just knew it would feel right.

The BBC site now linked her video and the subscribers to the YouTube channel shot through the ten-thousand mark. Her campaign was now included in the main news story. It was time for phase two. Rachel uploaded the next video. It was similar to the first, more footage of Danny, but this time she’d included an overlay.

REWARD – Danny has now been missing for seven hours. Half the PayPal account will be paid to anyone who finds Danny and hands him over. The whole amount will only be paid on proof that the gang have been stopped from doing this again.

Rachel shook her head as she thought about the obstacles the police put in the way of people wanting to help. Her campaign had only taken two hours so far and she now had tens of thousands of hits with the number growing all the time. Her YouTube views had now topped five million globally, with over a hundred thousand subscribers. There was some serious money in the PayPal account. Both videos now had a redacted screen shot of the PayPal account balance with the reward message. Rachel ran both hands through her hair as she watched the screen. This had to work.

The familiar theme tune for the evening news show caught her attention. Danny was the lead story, but her campaign was second lead. She was called the social media vigilante. She rolled her eyes.

A message popped up on the Facebook messenger from her personal account.

"Hi, Rachel." No user name showed.

Rachel stopped breathing and gripped the arms of the chair.

Had she accidentally been logged onto her own account? Had she somehow accidentally given away her name? Of course not, she hadn’t even posted on that account. She’d allowed everyone else to do the work. How the hell had her name become public? Wait this wasn’t public, this was a direct message.

She started her reply half a dozen times, different ways of denying her name, but deleted them all. Whoever this was already knew her name. She took a deep breath to control her racing heart and settled on a straightforward reply.

"Who is this?"

"That’s not important. I have Danny."

Rachel’s mouth dropped open and her hands froze above the keyboard. The stakes had just got very high. She hadn’t been prepared for this.

"What do you want?"

"I want to help you."

"Then give Danny back." She was getting angry, she needed to calm down.

"Don’t worry I will. He’s fine. I’m not part of the gang."

"Then why not give him back?" Rachel replied.

"Because of the ransom."

"What do you mean? Why haven’t you handed him over?" The keyboard ought to be getting hot from the speed she typed.

"I thought I’d wait. I was interested to see how high the money would go. You were doing such a good job earning it for me."

She stared at the screen. Who was this psycho?

"Why contact me now?" Rachel typed.

"The news thing is a little too much attention for my liking. It’s time to close it down. I need to move on. I’m sending you an email now."

She switched across to the other monitor and clicked on the email attachment. There was a photo of Danny, across the road from a police station holding up a card with an email address on it, exactly as she had instructed. Incredibly, Danny had a big grin on his face.

Rachel hovered over the keyboard then started to type again. As soon as I have confirmation from the police, I’ll email back the PayPal details. You can have all of it. You don’t need to do anything else. I only put the comment on there about handing over the gang to increase the hit rate.

Messenger chimed. Oh, it’s too late for that Rachel in more ways than one. I’ve already carried out your instructions. The gang won’t be doing this again.

The email pinged now and she opened up the next attachment. In it was a picture of two figures, tied to chairs with burlap sacks over their heads. The front of their shirts were covered with blood and it had pooled in their laps. The image was too terrible for her and Rachel spun her chair and vomited onto the wooden floor. She had gone cold and was shivering.

"Why would you do that? I meant for you to report their location to the police."

"Maybe you should have been a little clearer. ;)"

"How did you find me?"

"Think about it Rachel. You’ve just offered a lot of money to find someone that the whole police force can’t find. Didn’t you think that a person who could achieve that could find you?"

Rachel’s head spun. She was in way too deep and needed to get out of this fast. Her hands shook as she tried to type. Where do I send the money?

"Keep it. Use what’s left of it to pay off the rest of your debts and keep the bailiffs at bay."

She couldn’t help herself. She typed the question, even while she feared the answer.

"How did you know about the bailiffs?"

The email pinged again. The attachment was a picture of the door to her flat. She reeled. Clasping her hand to her mouth as she retched again.

"It was never about the money, Rachel. It was always about you. I could use someone with your skills. I’ll be in touch. I know where you live. D.E.M."

CHAPTER 2

DEBORAH

How long had she sat there, staring at the screen? An acid taste in her mouth reflected the disgust in the pit of her stomach at what she’d seen. At what she’d done.

Rachel looked but saw nothing. Time passed. A distant part of her mind recognised that the news showed that Danny had been found, but her subconscious recognised it as unnecessary information. She was already way ahead of the news on that one. Her conscious mind was far too busy trying to process what had happened.

Rachel’s eyes refocused as the images on the screen changed to the familiar face of Danny’s mother, tears of joy streaking her face in stark contrast to the images from earlier. Reunited with her precious son, she crushed him to her body like she would never let him go.

Even as she watched, all Rachel could see, in front of her open eyes, and burned onto her retinas when she blinked, were the messages from the unknown person and the image of the two dead men.

They were bad men, but they were no longer living and breathing because of her. She saw the blood staining the front of their shirts, it was black, not the red from crime shows on TV. She saw the picture of her own doorway and tried to comprehend how this had become about her.

She could make no sense of it. The thoughts swirled through her mind, unconnected, random, like a school of fish swirling this way and that in the sea, close but always out of reach and untouchable, twisting away from her as she reached out for them.

Rachel’s unconscious mind finally took control of the situation and shut down. Her eyelids fluttered briefly and then all her muscles simply stopped working as she fainted. She didn’t hear the heavy thump as she dropped like a dead weight to the uncarpeted floor.

Her eyes fluttered open. It could have been a moment or it could have been a day, but some time had passed because above her was a woman’s face. It looked like a kind face as it swam into focus. She blinked away the saltwater from her eyes so she could see better and the woman’s features became more defined. It was the lady from the flat below.

Rachel tried to sit up and groaned. The woman held her in place with gentle pressure on her shoulder. Not much, the lightest of touches, but it was enough to prevent her from rising.

Take your time dear, there’s no rush. Being called ‘dear’ seemed out of place somehow, the woman not old enough to talk like that but, Rachel let the thought evaporate.

Where…? What…? she mumbled.

The woman put her arms behind Rachel’s shoulders and eased her into a sitting position, manoeuvring her so that she leaned against the leg of the desk. A cushion had somehow been positioned behind her back to make her more comfortable and she had no idea how it had got there.

I heard a thump through the ceiling and it sounded wrong somehow. I waited to see if there was any other noise and when I couldn’t hear anything I thought I would come and check if you were okay. The woman’s voice was soft, soothing, calm.

How did you get in? Rachel asked, her mind starting to work again.

I have a key, remember? We exchanged keys when I asked you to keep an eye on my place with me being away so much. I’ve never had cause to use yours until now but I keep it on a hook by my door and grabbed it on my way here.

Rachel frowned and then remembered, the thought processes clear on her face.

The woman smiled, it was a warm and patient smile. Don’t worry, I’m not a nosy neighbour. I knocked and called for you but there was no answer, which worried me because of the bang. I wanted to make sure you were alright. It’s a good job I did.

The woman touched Rachel’s hair above the temple and her fingers came away red.

Let me get you a towel. The woman left her there and then came back with a hand towel damp with water and squatted next to Rachel, pressing the towel tenderly to Rachel’s head, dabbing at the blood.

Rachel closed her eyes and then opened them again, seeing the white towel spotted with red. She frowned, the first thought that occurred to her was ‘I won’t get the blood stain out of that.’

The woman mistook her frown for one of concern. Don’t worry, it’s just a graze. You’re not going to die of blood loss. She smiled again. There was no sarcasm in her voice. Do you know what happened, Rachel?

The use of her name jarred Rachel into trying to think of the woman’s name. She couldn’t. They had talked briefly only a few times and so long ago, maybe two years had passed. The woman was hardly there. She was a saleswoman or something, some kind of professional job. If there was an envelope that was too big for the letterbox, Rachel would take it in to the woman’s flat, picking up the other assorted mail on the mat behind the door and piling it neatly on the small dining table. She only knew whether the woman had been back or not if the previous mail was no longer there. Other than that, they kept to themselves.

The flat was similar to Rachel’s but where hers was a tangled mess of computers and random items, mismatched furniture and bric a brac, the woman’s was clean, organised, beautiful. A little bit like the woman herself. Everything was functional, but not cold; compact but not small. Efficient. That was the word that popped into her mind. The woman and her flat. All in order, everything where it should be and exactly as it should be. The flat and the woman.

But she still couldn’t remember her name. She must have seen it a hundred times in the last few years, on the envelopes she picked up, but she hadn’t taken any notice. Didn’t need to. Now she was here, helping her and the memory was driving her mad.

The woman paused from dabbing at her head, looking at Rachel staring at her, a bemused look on her face. I bet you had a fright waking up and seeing me hovering over you? ‘What the hell is Deborah doing here?’ I’ll bet. Sorry if I startled you.

Rachel wondered if she’d been thinking out loud and then shook the thought off. You’ve had a knock to the head Rachel, get a grip! At least she knew her name now. Deborah. It fit perfectly, as did everything else about the woman.

I’m sorry, I’m not thinking straight yet. I should have said thank you, Rachel said.

Nothing to apologise for, I’m just glad I was around. Do you know what happened?

The boy Danny…… The memory flooded back and then she realised she wouldn’t be able to explain to the woman anyway. Her eyes jerked to the computer screen with the messages on, to see if the woman had seen them, but the screen saver had kicked in. She tried to remember how long the screen saver took, but she couldn’t. She was never still long enough for it to work.

The woman caught the look. I could hear the news in the background while I was trying to wake you. I don’t really watch TV, I prefer listening to music, but it sounded awful. It does have a happy ending you know, the boy was found and he’s fine. The woman’s concerned look was begging her to realise the drama was over.

If only she knew, thought Rachel. This did give her a way out though. I was watching it and it made me cry so hard. I don’t know why. Seeing that poor woman’s face. Next thing I knew, you were here. The lie slipped from her tongue, smooth and confident.

It is very upsetting. Do you think you can get onto the chair now? The desk chair was lying on its side a short way off and the woman righted it. At first Rachel thought she didn’t feel stable enough to sit on a mobile chair, but realised that the woman was just moving it out of the way, clearing the path to the beaten sofa, then returning to help Rachel to her feet.

Come and lie down on here and I’ll make us a cup of tea.

A cup of tea. The British answer to any crisis. If only it was that simple, Rachel thought, as she lay down.

CHAPTER 3

LOCKDOWN

Rachel and Deborah sipped their tea in silence. Deborah seemed happy not talking and that was alright with Rachel.

Deborah finished her tea and stood.

You seem okay now. I’m supposed to be leaving again tomorrow. She pursed her lips. Is there someone who can check on you?

I’ll be fine, honestly. Just a bit overwhelmed that’s all. The bump wasn’t that bad, Rachel said.

Deborah studied her for a moment. I’ll check on you before I go. Don’t worry, I’ll knock. She smiled. Get some rest. I’ll let myself out.

Rachel didn’t need any convincing, but thought sleep would be a long time coming. She lay down in bed, going through the motions for Deborah with the intention of waiting until she heard her neighbour leave and then getting back up. She just about heard the door latch with a soft click, before tumbling like Alice down the rabbit-hole, into a deep, exhausted sleep.

She awoke with a start, sunlight streaming through the thin curtains. There was a moment’s delay and then yesterday’s events came crowding back into her thoughts. This time though, she felt invigorated, with a desire to wrest back control. What she needed was positive action.

Her first thought was to run. Go somewhere and start again, hide out. But the very thought of it made her angry. Why should she have to? After all, this crazy person hadn’t actually threatened her. She had to accept that they seemed to be able to find anyone they wanted to. Running wouldn’t solve the problem and might make it worse.

She felt better having made the decision. She didn’t have a plan yet, but she had direction. Rachel dressed in her sweat pants and hooded top. She wanted to start straight away, but she knew she had to wait until Deborah had seen her. She glanced at the clock. 8:30. Sod it, she’d get herself breakfast and if Deborah hadn’t called, she would stop by on her way out.

At 9am, she knocked on Deborah’s door.

Oh hi, Deborah said with raised eyebrows. I was leaving it as long as I could to let you sleep in. I didn’t hear you up and about and I didn’t want to wake you.

Rachel nodded. I thought I’d save you the trouble, especially if you’re travelling again today. Who has to travel on a Saturday? What is it you do?

Business to business sales and negotiations. It’s a bit boring but the pay’s good. Deborah still looked concerned. Are you sure you’re okay, not putting on an act?

No, I’m fine. Going to do a bit of retail therapy. Rachel gave Deborah her brightest smile.

Okay, if you’re sure you’re alright.

Rachel smiled again and turned away, throwing a Have a good trip, over her shoulder. And thanks again.

A few hours later, Rachel got back to the flat. She couldn’t tell if Deborah was still there or not but she didn’t knock. She wanted to get on with what she had to do.

She kicked the door shut and then dumped her purchases on the sofa. It was time to take control back. It was great to have money though, she thought. She now had way more than she needed to pay off her debts and she was putting the rest to good use.

The first part of her plan was physical security. She’d phoned around and found someone who could fit her a security door. Steel frame and steel plate. He’d said it looked like a normal door from the outside but you couldn’t break it down. Even the police wouldn’t be able to get in. He’d made