Page 18

Eighteen

Tuesday 3.30pm

Sully Cybersecurity was represented at the convention in a small stall attracting not much attention. Murphy had badged them both in. The man in the ticket booth clearly thought they were there for work and that NYPD was too mean to buy tickets. He allowed them to scan the QR code for the convention guide with obvious reluctance. According to the guide, there was a constant series of presentations, hands-on workshops and networking opportunities, and the exhibition ran all day every day of the event. The floor plan sent Charlie and Murphy away from the more crowded areas of the exhibition. A young man stood in front of the stall, looking eager. Two older men sat at the back, chatting quietly, cardboard cups of coffee in hand.

“May I help you?” the young man asked.

Murphy flashed his badge.

“I hope so. You may have heard that Kaylan Sully was killed in a mass shooting?”

The young man’s eyes widened.

“Kaylan was killed?”

Murphy nodded.

“He used to be here all the time with his dad. You know his dad was murdered? Oh my gosh. Both murdered. That is scary. I thought he was in England. Oh my gosh.”

This looked as if it could go on for some time.

“Is there someone we could talk to?” Charlie asked. “Whoever is in charge?”

The young man blinked and seemed to pull himself together. He turned to the two older men, who had both looked up at the Oh-My-Goshing. “Dieter? There are two detectives here to see you. About Kaylan Sully.” The young man indulged in a few more rounds of “Oh my gosh,” as one of the older men stood up and came over to Charlie and Murphy. His untidy hair was thick but greying, with a matching beard and skin that had spent a long time in the sun. He wore faded chinos, a washed-out Janis Joplin T-shirt and flip-flops. But his voice was educated.

“You’re detectives? What’s this about?”

“Could we go somewhere more private?” Charlie asked. The man led him around the back of the stall without a word, walking along a service corridor and opening the door to an empty room.

“I’m Dieter Moritz, CEO. Now tell me why you’re here.”

Murphy showed his badge again and introduced Charlie as a colleague. Then he told Moritz that Kaylan was involved in the shooting at the bookshop.

“Kaylan was shot? Kaylan Sully? ’

“I’m sorry to have to tell you that he died. My colleague here has spoken to Mrs Sully, and she holds Kaylan responsible for the decline of this company. That, and the death of her husband. I wanted to see if there was any truth in what she told me.”

Moritz looked stunned; his eyes as wide as the young man’s.

“Sir,” said Charlie, “can I get you a glass of water?”

Moritz shook his head, bringing his eyes back into focus on Charlie.

“I’m fine.” A pause. “Shit. I hated that boy and all his schemes, but I wouldn’t see him dead. Shit.”

Charlie thought this was the equivalent of the receptionist’s oh-my-goshing, but it didn’t last.

“Mrs Sully told it right. There were four hundred people employed until the word started to spread about Kaylan stealing money from his high school. Chicago might look like a big city and a lot of people trusted us to keep their data safe. Thing is, they all talk to each other. One of our clients was the Cook County Department of Education. Our reputation was word of mouth, and that works in two directions.”

“Mrs Sully said you lost federal contracts.”

Moritz snorted. “Those bastards just wanted an excuse to dump us. Dwyer and his cronies shouting about big government robbing the American taxpayer, then lobbying to shovel federal money toward his brother-in-law’s firm. The Dems just took their opportunity to badmouth us and shovel the money to their cronies.” He shrugged. “But we were doing good work. Those jobs meant people had healthcare and paid taxes.” Moritz dragged his hand over his face and beard. “You know, Dwyer lost his brother-in-law and now his nephew to gun crime, and he still thinks gun control is the work of the devil. The whole family is gun-mad. This country is crazy.”

A lot of people had cause to dislike Kaylan Sully, but as far as Charlie could tell, they were nowhere near the bookshop when he was killed. Moritz didn’t appear to have anything else to say.

“Go and have a look round,” he said to Murphy. “I’m going to wait outside for a bit.”

“I’ll come with you,” Murphy said.

Charlie gave him a sharp look. “Don’t get in the way,” he snapped. He found a seat on a bench just outside the main entrance to the convention. Murphy sat two benches away and started scrolling through his phone.

Maybe he was wasting his time. But he didn’t move from the bench, and after what seemed like several hours, but was probably about twenty minutes, the young man came out, and he was alone. Charlie stood up.

“Hi,” he said. “Can I buy you a coffee? Or a drink?”

The young man looked Charlie up and down. “Only if you tell me what you expect to get out of it.”

“Information,” Charlie said with a smile.

“Coffee then. And my name is Evan.”

“Charlie.”

Evan ducked into a narrow alley between two buildings, next to the convention centre. At the end, a rainbow flag hung over the door to the Hidden Bean Cafe. The space was small and the smell of the coffee was seductive. A glass display unit offered a selection of cakes, variously labelled with their ingredients and potential allergens and Charlie felt the familiar desire for sugar. He ordered coffee and a brownie and a green tea for Evan. No cake. He suddenly had a powerful desire to be back in the police station in Llanfair, listening to Eddy and Patsy squabble about whose turn it was to go and get more supplies of chocolate. He swallowed the feeling and realised Evan was looking at him expectantly.

“What information do you want?” he asked.

“Do you work for Sully Cybersecurity full time?”

Evan nodded. “I’ve been there for the last three years. They don’t mind me studying when it isn’t busy. Which is most of the time now. I’m not sure how much longer they can keep going to be honest.”

“And this is all down to word getting out about Kaylan’s hacking habits?”

“Mostly. Everything got worse when Roger Sully was killed. It was his company. Dieter’s a nice guy, but Roger was absolutely driven. Always out making contacts, going to DC, New York, the West Coast and he loved a gun show. Roger picked up jobs from their political friends and the gun lobby. Dieter doesn’t have those contacts, though he does try. Also, he’s in favour of gun control and he might even be a Democrat.”

“But he’s the new CEO?”

“I know, right? Thing is, most people just want to do the computer stuff and they don’t care who it’s for — the federal government or the Trump campaign.”

“So,” Charlie asked, “you’ve got all these people who love guns working for a company that Kaylan Sully almost destroyed…”

The shock on Evan’s face was a picture. “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. That’s…” The shock faded to be replaced by something more thoughtful. “No one would do that.” But the denial wasn’t convincing.

“Someone did.”

“I have to go.” Evan scrambled to his feet and almost ran out of the cafe.

Charlie finished his brownie and thought about what to do next.