Chapter Twenty One
Bridger's mind was working overtime on the drive over. Glenn Gallagher’s presence in the police station still bothered him. Had he been visiting Mrs. Watson before he arrived the other day? Did Gallagher ask Matthews to investigate? Why was Matthews being secretive about it all?
"Not very auspicious for an Internet company", Becky was saying from the driver’s seat.
"Sorry Becky..., I was miles away", Bridger said.
Looking up at the listed address for Revenge.com, Bridger was surprised to see it was only a small wooden bungalow on an even smaller plot of land. Jo and Grant had already got out of the back seats and had started to walk down each side of the house towards the rear. Bridger smiled to himself; it was almost an automatic reaction for a group of police officers visiting an address of interest to cover all points of exit. You never knew who was going to be coming out of a rear window when the police knocked at the door. Before Bridger and Becky got to the front door, the door swung open and a chubby bearded face peered out of the gloomy interior.
"Yeah, what do you want?” the face queried suspiciously.
"Police", said Bridger reaching for his identification.
The face changed its expression from suspicion to paranoia. "Oh, I thought we were meant to come and see you guys later this afternoon. Don't you need a warrant or something to come here?”
"This can't wait," Bridger said, walking up the front stairs followed closely by Becky.
The face retreated into the shadows inside the hallway. As soon as they stepped inside the door, the unmistakable odour of freshly smoked cannabis hit them full in the face. The face had grown a body that matched its flabby appearance, the person whom it belonged to was dressed in casual sweatpants and top. The pants were sporting a large stain on the front, something Bridger did not want to think about too much.
"Let me guess, you're Steve Jobs", Becky said with obvious disgust in her voice.
"What, no, no I'm Jack..., Jack Woolwich", he stuttered, the Steve Jobs inference going straight over his head.
"So you must be Simon Freeman", Bridger said to the equally scruffy male who appeared from a room to the rear.
"He certainly is," Jo said, following him into the hall. "I saw this falling out of the bathroom window", she added, holding up a plastic bag containing a substantial amount of cannabis plant. "It nearly hit me on the head".
"He was sitting in the kitchen having a cup of tea as we came in the back door", Grant said. "He swears blind he does not know anything about it".
"I'm sure he doesn't", Bridger said, "Lucky for you two we are too busy to worry about your smoking habits just now. I take it you know why we are really here then".
"Yeah, it's about the puppet girl..., isn't it?” Simon said, "That's pretty unhinged, even for our site. The stream has over three thousand viewers from all over the world. We normally only average a couple of hundred if we are lucky. It is an advertisers dream. This is going to put us on the map".
"I'm afraid your plans of expansion will have to be put on hold, we want you to cut the stream", Bridger said. "Can you show us where it all comes from", he added, unsure of the terminology to use.
"What..., no, you can't make us do that, what about freedom of speech, freedom of the Internet, our rights as a company", Jack spluttered, small balls of spittle forming at the corners of his mouth.
"What about being a party to a serious crime", Jo said sternly, "And I'm not talking about the weed. That poor girl is there against her will. We do not know what is going to happen to her. We are not in the business of letting every Tom Dick and Harry get their jollies sitting in some smelly darkened room in front of a computer. I do not care a toss what deals you have jacked up with advertisers willing to put their products on your twisted site. Your revenue stream means nothing to me. We are talking about a girl’s life here. Now show us where you run it all from".
"It's through here", Jack said, looking chastised.
Nice work Jo, Bridger thought, as he followed them through to another room. He could see by the look on Grant and Becky’s faces that they thought the same thing about the quiet new girl.
The epicenter of the business was a small musty room with a large array of computer equipment quietly humming away. Bridger looked at the screens to his left and saw a view of the front of the house.
Well that explains how they knew we were here, he thought. A bit paranoid though, what else did they get up to in here?
Leftover fast food wrappers littered what little free space the desks had. He could see four screens with various things playing out on them; one view was disturbingly similar to what Marion was currently going through. It was clearly a parody of the real thing though as it depicted a female crudely tied to some string with a male standing behind her on a chair using her like a puppet. They were both laughing and joking.
There were some callous people out there in the world, he thought to himself.
"Do you not regulate what is and isn't shown on your site", asked Grant.
"If it’s not illegal then we don't have a problem with it" Jack Woolich said, "It's normally pretty harmless stuff. We do have a list of do's and don'ts before you can upload anything".
"That obviously works well for you", Becky said sarcastically, indicating the screen with Marion's image plastered all over it. Nothing had changed in the short time they had been out of the office.
The large 42-inch screen above the monitors was showing Marion, displayed unnaturally large in the small room and in high definition. Below the picture was a series of numbers that kept changing, going up and down at random.
"What are these numbers?” queried Becky.
Simon answered, clearly no more the brains behind the operation than Jack was. "Those numbers tell us how many people are viewing this stream at any one time. It is a worldwide thing. Those numbers could be coming from any country in the world... Well not every country", he corrected, "As some countries, like China for instance, have very regulated Internet use. It helps to tell the advertisers how many people they are reaching. Some sites generate millions of views worldwide. It is better than any television campaign could ever hope to generate. It's the way of the future".
"Can you tell us where the stream is coming from?” asked Bridger.
"We don't have the software to record incoming IP addresses for people who upload to our site, I guess it can be done, but don't ask me how". Simon said, looking at Jack for confirmation.
Typical, thought Bridger, they can run a program but do not have the first clue as to what goes on under the buttons they push. I guess that is why they still base themselves in this shithole, so much for Bill Gates and Steve Jobs.
"I take it you know how to shut the thing down", Bridger said aloud. "We need everyone but us blocked from viewing it".
"I would need to know where to send the stream but it can be done remotely from here", Simon said.
Bridger's phone rang in his pocket, "Grant can you ring Sam back at the office and get him to sort that out with these two Internet tycoons", he said as he backed out of the cramped stuffy room and into the hallway. He answered the phone as he stepped outside onto the front steps.
"Bridger here", he said, as he gulped a lungful of fresh air.
"Mike, it's Stan, we have your boy inside the university. One of my lads has it under control. When he leaves we will be all over him".
He cut the call and turned around to find Jo coming out of the house. "Sarge, my contact has just phoned to say Jonas is in the university".
"Cheers Jo, but I think the surveillance boys beat your contact to the punch... Nice work in there by the way,” he added. “Sometimes you need to be forceful in this job to get things done".
Jo went her trademark red colour and looked at the ground. "Thanks Sarge", was all she managed to say when she raised her head and looked him in the eye.
Becky and Grant came out the door, followed by Jack and Simon who both looked ver
y pale and unkempt in the sunlight.
"These two have agreed to come down to the police station until we can sort this out", Becky was saying as she descended the stairs. "They have cut the connection for the live stream, Sam talked them through diverting it to the computer he has back at the office. We should be the only ones that can see it now".
"Good", said Bridger. "Do you think whoever is streaming the images can tell he is not being watched anymore?” Bridger directed his question at both Simon and Jack.
"I'm not really sure", Simon replied, "Probably not".
Jack just shrugged his narrow shoulders.
"Well we will have to take that risk I suppose", Bridger said. He was thinking that Jonas was not at the warehouse to seeing any change in the streaming anyway, and when he eventually led them to his warehouse, he would not have any time to do anything about it.
The familiar thrill of the chase was beginning to build in the pit of his stomach, the adrenalin slowly building, which was helping him feel almost human again.