Exit Node

  Darknet Book 3

  SJ Grey

  This book is a work of fiction.

  While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2022 by SJ Grey

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Acelette Press

  V1.0

  Exit Node

  (Darknet 3)

  Spies are everywhere—can anybody be trusted?

  IG-6 secret agent Mark Penney has died in a car crash, while on a routine trip to the UK. Only, the story doesn’t add up.

  Cyber-security expert and genius hacker Caleb Rush and his friends—including Mark’s fiancée, Emma—don’t believe it. Is it a mistake? Or is it part of a conspiracy to protect a dangerous Russian spy embedded in the agency—a sleeper agent that Mark was close to identifying.

  One thing is clear. IG-6 don’t give up their secrets easily.

  The clock is ticking on how long Caleb’s group can stay hidden from the unknown agents hunting them. Even if Mark is still alive, bringing him home may be impossible.

  Part I – Caleb

  Sunday 7 April (NZ-time)

  Chapter One

  Broken ribs, first thing in the morning, ached like a bitch. The prospect of walking anywhere was unpleasant, but Caleb had set up a meeting with Delilah, and he wasn’t going to wuss out.

  It was going to be a mild autumn day. The southerly wind was little more than a light breeze, and what clouds there were drifted across a mostly blue sky. Caleb couldn’t be arsed getting an Uber into town, so he arranged to meet Delilah at a little café, a short walk away from his house.

  He liked being able to sit outside at the Mermaid’s Rest. He claimed a table in the sunshine and sat to wait for Delilah. Would she drive here? Take an Uber?

  She arrived on a motorbike.

  She was as sexy as the claret-red Triumph she rode. He recognised her, from the little wave she gave him as she swept into the tiny carpark. Her bike leathers were tight, the silver jacket outlining her body in a way that made it impossible not to look at her.

  He tore his gaze away and pretended to read something on his phone. How stupid was he? Yes, he was attracted to Delilah, but there wasn’t a shred of evidence to suggest she felt the same. And she’d mentioned a boyfriend. And she was a reporter, sniffing out a story. He had to remember that above all else. His life was not for sale.

  He wrestled his emotions under a semblance of control and looked up to see her walking to his table, a friendly smile on her pretty face. With her helmet dangling from one hand, she used the other to push her hair back from her forehead.

  “Hi,” she said. “Gorgeous day for a ride. I couldn’t resist it.” She tugged the jacket zipper down, to reveal a close-fitting merino sweater, and Caleb had to consciously check his tongue wasn’t hanging out. Jesus, man. Get. A. Fucking. Grip.

  “Nice wheels,” he managed, and her smile broadened.

  “Thank you. I’m usually a summer rider, but today was too tempting. I thought I might go up Paekakariki Hill after here. I love the views from the top.”

  So did he. It was a great ride on a motorbike, but not one for a novice.

  “You been up there before?” He asked with what he hoped was the right degree of casualness.

  She was busy pouring two glasses of water from the jug on the table, but she glanced up at him. “Dozens of times.” She cocked her head to one side. “You’re a biker too, aren’t you? I’m sure I saw a picture of you next to a Kawasaki Ninja.”

  And just like that, reality smashed into him. She was a journo that had studied his life, his court case, and his subsequent imprisonment. She saw him as either an object of pity or a potential story.

  Neither appealed.

  “I promised to buy the drinks this time,” said Delilah. “What can I get you?”

  He had to keep this on a business footing. “Flat white, one sugar. Thanks.”

  “On it.” She stood and headed to the inside counter.

  Trying not to watch her swaying hips encased in silver leather was an exercise in futility. He couldn’t stop himself. God damn it. He wasn’t a teenager, lusting after the first pretty girl he saw. He was an adult.

  Yeah, a man who hadn’t gotten laid in over four years—not that he was counting.

  Delilah Ross was not going to be the chick who broke his Sahara Desert of a dry spell. They were here to talk about Kaali and other victims like her. He had to focus.

  When Delilah returned a couple of minutes later, she’d removed her jacket. The sweater outlined her breasts to perfection, but Caleb ignored them. He was pretty sure she was playing him, using whatever weapons she had in her arsenal to distract him. No more.

  “You want a Pulitzer-worthy story?” Caleb asked. “I’ve got one for you. But you stay away from Emma Blackthorne, in return.”

  The look she gave him was all business. She sat across the table from him, tugged her phone from her pocket, and placed it on the table. “I’m travelling light today. Mind if I record this?”

  “I’m an anonymous source. My name stays out of this.”

  “Absolutely.” She set the recorder running. “Go on, then.”

  “I’ve been told that New Zealand is a destination location for slave trafficking. Visa scams, to bring vulnerable people into the country with the promise of jobs, and slavery when they arrive. They can’t save up enough to pay their captors back, and are too scared to go to the authorities.”

  Delilah screwed up her face in a puzzled look. “How many are you talking about?”

  “Hundreds of women in the sex trade alone. Add in hospitality and the fruit-picking business, and who knows? Thousands. Every year.”

  “What evidence do you have?”

  “The name of a human-rights lawyer in Auckland, who’s trying to pull a case together. She needs someone on the ground, someone to do the legwork. You could get the best story of your career out of this.”

  Delilah rolled her eyes. “The number of people who’ve told me that… What else have you got? Apart from a lawyer who wants a gofer?”

  Caleb slid the data stick he brought across the table. “Her details are on here, along with some background reading.” The documents were all publicly available. “And then go talk to Dane Castor. A young woman asked him for help and told him she was a victim of slavery. Her name is Kaali, and she’s sixteen years old. She came from Samoa, under the belief she was going to work in a hotel. Instead, she was kept in an unlicensed brothel, where she was chained to the bed while she worked, and kept in a cage when she was resting. Dane offered to give her shelter, but she was kidnapped from his apartment by two guys claiming to be cops. He was shot in the process and had drugs planted in his apartment.”

  Delilah was listening intently.

  “When you talk to Dane,” said Caleb, “tell him I gave you his name, and he’ll know you’re legit. The cops are looking at this, so talk to DS Miller and don’t fuck up their investigation. Kaali’s the tip of the iceberg. Someone needs to help the other women like her.”

  The waitress arrived at their table. “Flat white with one sugar?”

  “That’s his.” Delilah’s gaze was fixed on Caleb. “Mine’s the mocha.”

  They stayed quiet while their drinks were delivered.

  Caleb spoke first. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  “You’re welcome.” Delilah drummed her fingers against her mug. “And thanks for the tip. Now tell me why you want me to stay away from Emma Blackthorne.”

  “She’s having a shit time at the moment. I don’t want you to make it any worse.” Emma was his closest friend, and he’d do everything in his power to help keep her safe.

  “That’s cool.”

  “And be careful, okay? Dane Castor got shot, trying to protect Kaali. There’s a ton of research you can do without making yourself a target.”

  “Why, Caleb, you sound as though you care about me.” She gave an exaggerated pout.

  In another universe, he might. “Just don’t want to get blamed for another death. Been there, done that.”

  She looked away, and then focused on her drink, wrapping both hands around it. “So,” she said in a bright voice, “what are your plans for the rest of the weekend?”

  The recorder was still running, and Caleb looked pointedly at it.

  Delilah pressed the Stop button. “Sorry. I forgot about that.”

  “I’m going home, to do weekend stuff, like everyone else does.”

  “Are you always this prickly?”

  He counted to ten inside his head, before answering. His voice was even when he said, “My life has been splattered across the media in minute detail. Everyone thinks I killed my stepfather, and most people think I should still be locked up, not out on parole. Forgive me for not wanting to be more sociable.”

  “Last time we met, you told me I’m to
o trusting, and yes, I am.” She lifted her chin in a defiant move. “I’m a great believer in gut instinct, and I believe you’re innocent. I’ve already told you that. What will it take, for you to trust me?”

  More than a handful of conversations.

  *

  The chat with Delilah nagged at Caleb on the short walk home. Did she really believe in his innocence? She’d come to him in the first place, with what sounded like a conspiracy theory about three of the jurors on his trial dying soon after his conviction. Her investigation continued, and Caleb had started digging at it too.

  What would it take, for him to trust anyone again? He’d never been particularly sociable, but the last four months, he’d kept more to himself than ever before.

  His pre-jail friends were still around if he wanted to see them, but he didn’t. Their lives diverged when he was locked up, and he wasn’t sure how to resurrect the easy friendships he once had. The only friend who was a constant in his life was Emma, and of course, her parents. Geoff and Sandra treated him like an adopted son, and he wished they were his parents for real.

  That led him to thinking about Joss, his twin. He missed her with an ache that would never leave. She was killed while he was locked up. He never got the chance to say goodbye to her.

  One day, he’d find her killer. And by God, he’d make them pay.

  Caleb hadn’t been home long, when Delilah called. “Hey,” he said, cautious.

  “Hey. I had to scrap my plans for this afternoon. A body has been washed up on a nearby beach, and my editor asked me to cover it, since I was close.”

  “Okay…” Where was she going with this?

  She made a frustrated clicking sound with her tongue. “Anyway. It’s a young woman that’s been found, and at the moment, she’s unidentified. Quite young. Not been in the water long, and she has abrasions on her wrists and ankles, like she was tied up.” She hesitated. “I wondered if it might be the girl you’re looking for? Kaali?”

  Caleb was glad he was sitting. “Why do you think this? Have you seen her?”

  “I talked to the surfers who found her on the rocks. They called the police, and now the area’s restricted as a crime scene. I don’t have a picture of her face yet.”

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “Houghton Bay.”

  Three kilometres away. It was close, but there was no point in going there. What could he do? He needed an image of the girl, to show Andi. Jonathan might be able to get one, or Caleb could ask DS Miller. Caleb’s skin crawled at the idea of contacting the cops about anything, but since Jonathan was most likely sleeping now, Miller was Caleb’s best option.

  “Thanks,” he said to Delilah. “I appreciate it. I’ll let you know if it’s her.”

  “I hope it isn’t. It’d be nice for something to have a happy ending, you know? Just this once.”

  “Yeah. I know what you mean. See ya.” He disconnected before he’d be tempted to chat.

  The detective answered his phone on the second ring. “Miller.”

  Here went nothing. “This is Caleb Rush. I heard a woman’s body was washed up in Houghton Bay. Can you get me an image of her face? She matches the description of someone my group has been looking for.”

  There was a pause before he answered. “I wasn’t aware the description had been circulated.”

  Caleb didn’t know how to reply, so he said nothing.

  Miller sighed. “Okay. I don’t have any details, yet. When you say your group, I assume you mean SIA? The New Zealand Security Intelligence Agency?”

  “Yes. She’s the person who alerted us to the underground brothel.” Miller had been there with Caleb, Griff and Andi, trying to rescue the enslaved girls from the bunker. Griff was banged up pretty badly when the bunker collapsed.

  “The one you went looking for?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll get you an image for identification purposes.” He hung up.

  Chapter Two

  Caleb dropped the phone at his side on the sofa. What a weird feeling, to be openly sharing info with the cops. This would take some getting used to. He hoped it wasn’t Kaali, who’d been found. Andi would be devastated. Should he warn her?

  Yes. He had to. He called her, and it went to voicemail, so he left a message. “Hey, it’s Caleb. You should know that a woman’s body has been found in Houghton Bay. I’m getting an image of her face, to see if it’s Kaali, but I’ll need you to confirm it one way or the other. Sorry.” There was nothing else to say.

  Caleb needed to occupy his mind. He logged into his PC and checked the status of the multiple searches he had running at any given time. It felt like his entire life was a search for information. As fast as he slotted one jigsaw-puzzle piece into place, more gaps appeared.

  His Top Five searches revolved around the same two primary questions. Who killed Joss? And who killed his stepfather, ensuring Caleb took the blame? Delilah added more questions to the list, with her suggestion that, not only had his criminal trial been rigged, but the judge and key jurors also died in mysterious circumstances within weeks of his conviction. Add in his totally useless defence lawyer, who had disappeared off the face of the earth, and there were way more questions than answers.

  Today, he focused on Joss’s killer again.

  Joss had left a record of intrusions into her network—hackers who tried to take control of her computer systems—and Caleb was working through them slowly, tracing each one back to its source. It might take him years to go through the list, but he could be a patient man.

  The knock on the door snagged his attention. He glanced at the security camera output to see who it was.

  DS Miller stood on his step, a sombre expression on his face. Yeah, this whole idea of working with the cops took some getting used to.

  Slowly, his ribs protesting with every step, Caleb went to open the door. “You have a picture?”

  Miller showed him his phone. “This is the woman found in Houghton Bay. There’s no ID on her, so we’re running fingerprint searches and checking missing person reports. Is this the one you’re looking for?” The image was cropped, to show the head from the neck up. Brown eyes stared sightless from her coffee-coloured face, and her short, dark-brown hair was tangled with sand and salt. She looked young, no more than sixteen.

  “I don’t know. I never met her, but Andi, one of my team, would know.”

  “The same Andi from the other night?”

  Caleb nodded. “Yep.” How best to share the photo with her? His brain was working slowly today. He didn’t like the idea of emailing it to her.

  “Where can I find her?” Miller asked. “These things are best done face to face.”

  “She’s probably at the hospital, with Griff.” What Caleb really wanted to do was lie on the sofa and close his eyes for a few hours, but this could be Kaali, and Andi might need a friend. “Can I come with you?”

  A uniformed cop drove, with Miller sitting in the front of the unmarked police car, and Caleb in the back.

  This wasn’t how he’d thought it’d play out. He imagined sitting in the passenger seat while Miller drove. Instead, he was in the back like a prisoner. His heart thudded, and he wiped clammy palms on his jeans. Man, he didn’t like the view from here.

  “Rush,” said Miller. “Caleb.”

  Caleb dragged his attention back to the here and now, and the streets flying past through the windows. “Yeah?”

  “Wellington Hospital in Newtown, right?”

  “Yeah.” Caleb scrubbed his hands over his face. Focus. This was so not the time to fall apart. Not when he had to be here, to support Andi. “Griff’s in the intensive-care ward. I’ll call Andi again. She wasn’t picking up earlier.”

  He and Miller were dropped off at the main entrance to the hospital and walked together through the corridors to the Intensive Care Unit. Caleb kept checking his phone, but there was no reply from Andi. Best case, she was catching some sleep, or her battery was flat. He didn’t want to consider the worst case.

  Delilah’s words echoed in his brain. It’d be nice for something to have a happy ending. He wanted that happy ending for Andi and Griff.