IMPOSTURE: Hunters become the hunted in this gripping murder mystery, Ray Clark [classic books for 10 year olds .txt] 📗

scene of the collision,” offered Paul Benson, “and the grass verge where the vehicle hit the railings. There was enough of a print for the tech guys to come up with something.”

“That sounds positive,” said Reilly.

“Not as much as you think,” replied Edwards. “We know it’s a 4x4. The search narrowed the tyres down to possibly an Overfinch.”

“A what?”

“A Range Rover,” replied Benson. “From that we’ve discovered that they were fitted to thirty-five million vehicles worldwide. Only three million were sold in this country but it’s still like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

Gardener sighed. “But at least it’s something. Do we know the make of the tyres?”

“Yes,” replied Benson. “It was a Goodyear Wrangler, but they also fitted Michelin and Bridgestone to some of the vehicles so that might help to narrow it down again.”

“What about the paint scrapings?” Gardener asked.

“It helped, but there are still over five hundred thousand to comb through, with no idea where it was bought. We don’t have a registration, or even a partial one.”

“Good luck with that one,” said Reilly.

“Are there any registered in this area?” asked Gardener.

“No,” replied Benson. “Not white ones anyway.”

As Edwards and Benson were discussing their find, Gates and Longstaff entered the room. Both were laughing and chattering. Each of them held a bottle of coke in one hand and a Mars bar in the other.

Reilly jumped up. “Now we’re talking, girls.”

Both deviated away from Reilly. “No you don’t,” said Gates, “these are all ours.”

“So much for team players,” muttered Reilly, making his way to the coffee machine.

“It’s not all bad,” said Longstaff, dropping a couple of chunky KitKats on the table in front of him, creating a smile as wide as the Liffey.

“I take it all back.”

“Please tell me some good news,” said Gardener.

“I wish we could,” replied Gates, taking a seat.

Longstaff joined her and took a sip of coke. “We’ve just come from the bank.”

Reilly sat down, placing bottled water in front of Gardener, with a coffee for himself. “Knowing what we know about banks and how secretive they like to be, I guess it didn’t go well.”

“Actually,” said Gates, “it depends on how you look at it.”

“Go on,” said Gardener.

“Cyber crime is all over this one,” said Longstaff.

“Cyber crime?”

Gates nodded. “They’ve been at it for a few days. It appears that there are some irregularities in bank procedure.”

“Yes,” said Longstaff. “Brian Jennings, the manager, isn’t quite sure what’s happened but it involved David Hunter. There wasn’t a lot more they could – or would – tell us.”

“I’d look at that as positive,” said Paul Benson.

Gardener shook his head. “If cyber crime are involved there must be a whole side to this story that we know nothing about.”

“Which means we’re going to need your help, sir,” said Longstaff. “We’ll need you to contact them and see if you can get them to cooperate.”

Chapter Nine

Four days after the attaché case had been discovered – seven following the hit and run – two cyber crime team officers from Bradford walked into Millgarth police station in Leeds and asked to speak to DI Gardener. They were shown into his office.

“Grab a seat,” said Reilly.

The Bradford Two introduced themselves as DI Steve Winter and his partner, DS Shona Pearson. Winter was a thin, fresh-faced youth with a head of spikey black hair and wire-rimmed glasses. If he turned sideways on, Gardener would have trouble seeing him. Shona Pearson was a pretty woman, also slim, late twenties, with olive skin and almond eyes.

Gardener stood and, shaking hands with them, he introduced Reilly, who took an order for drinks and swiftly returned with them.

“I have to say,” started Gardener, “that when one of my officers informed me that cyber crime were already involved in a murder case we were investigating, it more than piqued my curiosity.”

“And ours,” replied Winter, “but from what we’ve learned about the case, we figured it wouldn’t be long before something serious happened.”

“Would you mind telling us your involvement, Mr Gardener?” Shona Pearson asked.

Between them, he and Reilly explained the strange events of the hit and run. The Bradford Two listened without interruption and then came straight to the point.

“How much do you know about computers, sir?” Pearson asked Gardener.

“A little,” he replied, “but I’m certainly no expert.”

“Mr Reilly?” she inquired.

“Less than him.”

“Do you know anything about Bitcoins, Mr Gardener?” asked Steve Winter.

“No,” said Gardener. “I’m afraid you have the edge on me there. I’ve heard the term but I’ve managed to stay away from it.”

Shona Pearson continued, “I’m not being disrespectful here when I say that we’ll try to make it as simple as we can.”

“It’s a modern bank account,” elaborated Winter. “A ‘wallet’ is basically the Bitcoin equivalent of a bank account. It allows you to receive Bitcoins, store them, and then send them to others.

“It’s digital currency. There are two types. Virtual Currency; unregulated digital money, which is usually issued and controlled by its developers, used and accepted among the members of a specific virtual community.

“And then there’s Cryptocurrency; a digital token that relies on cryptography for chaining together digital signatures of token transfers, peer-to-peer networking and decentralisation.”

Reilly stared blankly at Winter. “Jesus Christ. You’re not talking my language here, son. I have enough trouble with normal bank accounts.”

Winter smiled, and continued, “Essentially, every hacker loves dealing in Bitcoins because they think they are completely untraceable. But that’s not true. With every Bitcoin transaction, anyone with an ounce of skill can see the entire chain block.

“A Bitcoin wallet is similar to a numbered Swiss bank account in old money. We might not know who sits behind the account, but we know the account number.

“So, people with Bitcoin wallets will pay money in and