Back to: Byte Betrayal – A Jenks Adventure

Seeking Allies

Jenks chivvied the door handle to their bedsit, and it finally pounced open. The box on his knee tumbled forward, and he grabbed it. The damn thing tore, soaking wet as it was, matching Jenks’s drenched clothes. Jenks shuffle-kicked his few belongings from the university into the room.

‘Emily?’ Jenks called out hopefully.

Click. The lights went on. The place was empty of all of the feminine touches.

‘fuck,’ escaped Jenks’s lips.

To Jenks, in that moment, the room had lost its colour. It was filled with grey. As was his heart. Ever since they’d crossed paths at Ginger’s party, they’d been there for each other. He inspired her, she’d said. She loved his optimism, she’d said. She’d adored how he lived in the moment, she’d said. She’d respected his focus on his final year project, she’d said. His dreams had made hers sparkle, she’d said.

Jenks brushed his hand along the little countertop. These walls had seen them plan their lives together. The threadbare couch had been where they’d set up their council of war for Emily’s research assignment. He’d helped focus her, asked the searching questions of her and her hypothesis. He’d been her pillar. She’d been his balm.

Jenks found himself facing her ghost as he sat on that old sofa. The ghost of her face was laughing with joy, then it contorted into anguish and tears, then again it morphed into questioning, accusing doubt, before finally fading away, screaming its venom at him.

He stared at the wall.

The grief of his loss overcame him. His shoulders started to go. Then his lips gave up the fight. Finally, the moan of despair welled up inside. Tears raged from his eyes, stinging, sawing at his cheeks as they plunged down his face. He just sat there, and with no one to hide his pain from, he let it take him over. As his mournful sobbing depleted him of any final energy, Jenks gave up his fight with gravity, he let it win, and slumped to the floor.

Jenks lay there for what felt like hours, weeping, sucking in the dirt and snot that now impregnated the carpet.

As his body could take no more, he just lay there, snorting elderly, musty carpet. His eyes cleared and he was glaring into the wet box and its contents. Strewn out across the world’s thinnest carpet, by the entrance to their—God, no, his bedsit, was the detritus of his meaningless educational career. Except for one thing, one bright glaring thing. There sat a hand-braided, hand-soldered connector. Not any usual connector wire loom, this smacked of Alex’s handiwork.

With no strength left in him, Jenks slugged his way over to the sodden box. He mustered some energy to slump himself next to the box, back against the wall. His head lolled as his fingers sought out the unusual wiring. They located it and smartly displayed the loom to Jenks’s eyes. It was exquisite! The wires were braided like lace or the most intricate plaited loaf. When Jenks brought the plug in closer for a detailed inspection, he could see the soldering had been individually stamped with a symbol or letter. The artistry of this simple connecting wire was craftsmanship beyond anything he’d paid witness to. Actually, craftwomanship, he corrected himself.

‘No more anomalies,’ he found himself saying as he caressed the wires.

Jenks let that thought murmurrate around his brain. What had Alex been trying to say? Had Alex been trying to say anything? If there was nothing to say, why leave this—this wasn’t a trivial thing.

Well, sitting there wouldn’t get it solved…

Strength came back to him, not all of it, but enough to get him up and out.

*                                  *                                    *

Outside the university gym, Jenks waited impatiently for a quarry. And then he spotted them, a group of first years. They were giggling and gaggling, not paying much attention to their surroundings. Jenks slipped amongst them, making heavy water of the encounter. He must have knocked into almost all of them before someone’s bag went for a tumble. Then he got all the aggro from the group for being an arse. Finally, when he clashed heads with one of the girls, he was unceremoniously ejected from the entanglement as the group helped her.

Protesting his apologies, Jenks turned on his heels and swiped a badge across the barrier into the gym. The display blinked up ‘Nikki Prinn’, the light turned green, and Jenks was in. A buzz of excitement ran up his back. This was the first time in weeks he’d felt positive about anything. OK, granted not the cleanest badge ‘lift’—at one stage he thought he’d never find an unsecured one. This had been the fourth or fifth try… but what mattered was he was in—so where would Alex be… he’d seen her here other times. But when?

Behind him, the group of friends were now in heated discussion with the security person about letting Jenks’s ‘mark’ in, even though she didn’t have her pass on her. Jenks decided the best place to be was anywhere but here. And he headed for the treadmills.

The treadmills were fully subscribed, but no sign of Alex. He must have looked like he was looking because one of the instructors ambled up to him and said, ‘Bud, try a rower, there’s a couple free.’

Jenks nodded at the instructor and turned towards the rowing section, the instructor grabbed his arm, ‘Word to the initiated, gym rules apply, even when we’re full—you see no one else, just the gym,’ she released her grasp on him and pointed her finger at Jenks, ‘No ogling! Safe space. Right?!’

Jenks’s face crumpled up into a half frown, ‘I’m looking for Alex.’

‘JUST the gym. OK?’ she paused, ‘If you bump into your boy, then that happens, but this is no meat factory.’

Jenks nodded, trying to give off the impression it was all sinking in. And moved off to the rowers.

For the next five hours, or more, Alex was a no-show. Jenks made his rounds through the gym equipment, each time decreasing the weights and resistance, creating the illusion of working hard. Some of the time he hid in the loos. Just trying not to be too obvious and avoiding the staff—especially the instructor from earlier. At first, he tried to cover the major areas out of the corner of his eyes. Or by mooching from one piece of equipment to the one furthest away. Anxiety gave way to agitation, gave way to frustration, gave way to boredom and, well, monotony. Jenks was hungry, even pretending to work out made him ravenous. But rather than get hit with the highly inflated prices of the vending machines, Jenks frequented the water fountain. It was just as he was going for another refreshment round, that Alex walked in, behind him. Jenks didn’t notice her immediately. It was only when he’d clocked her out of the corner of his eye that Jenks spluttered over his water intake.

Without waiting to catch his breath, Jenks dashed after her, but catching up to her wasn’t suave or sophisticated, unless you count a hippo choking on its last slug of water as suave and sophisticated. Jenks instantly choked on the water that was as much on his lungs as down his gullet. He could hardly gasp for enough air to keep himself conscious. Alex pulled herself away from his offence, as one might try and extricate themselves from an adult nappy. And with the same stink.

‘Gerroff!’ Alex demanded.

And then realising who it was, ‘How the fu… No, I don’t want to know,’ Jenks’s eyes pleaded for some air to explain, but Alex continued, ‘Did you not get enough of a whipping this morning?’

Jenks’s breathing and choking became more deliberate and controlled. His hand scrummaged around in his pocket. Alex clocked the others’ attention starting to drift over to her conversation with him, and she shuffled her feet a bit. ‘How dare you bring more of your shit to my door,’ she shouted.

Jenks looked up to her, a question mark on his face, only to have it slapped off again, ‘Owch!’ he declared, ‘I just need you—’

WHACK! Alex laid another slap on his other cheek. Sure these stung, but Alex was holding back… these weren’t like the one in the hall earlier. Those had venom laced into all five fingers. Her malice, then, was all too evident. She’d spat her spite at him then. This was different. These were noisy, theatrical… showy. But why? Alex never played to the crowd, she wasn’t part of groupthink, she was smarter. So why was smart Alex giving him, Jenks, a toned-back smackdown? ‘You left…’ Jenks’s pulled his hand out of his pocket.

TH-Whack!

Jenks’s knees buckled.

OK that one hurt. And deafened him. Through his watering eyes, Jenks could make out Alex’s lips moving, but not the words she was saying. Behind her, the assembled beefcakes were closing the distance. ‘Stop, stop it, Christ, Alex stop!’ Jenks heard himself plead.

His right arm stretched out, defending him from another slap from Alex, his left hand grasped the cable loom as it cleared his pocket. He glanced down at it, flashed it to Alex, and then connected with her eyes again. Alex’s eyes flashed a different message to her booming voice, almost pleading with him. ‘So it’s you that nicked my stuff! Been stalking me too?!’

Alex pulled Jenks to his feet and pushed him back towards the vending machines, away from the encroaching mob. Pulling the cable loom out of his hand and turning triumphantly to the student gym rats, holding it aloft. Jenks’s eyes flashed at all this muscle, pretty or not, he was in a whole heap of trouble. ‘Just ’cause the Dean made me do a deep dive on his system, he thinks he can blame me for his bullshit,’ Alex announced to the, now slowing, throng of students and instructors.

Trouble wasn’t going to get more serious for Jenks. This had been a total mistake.

‘That’s Blake Jenkinson,’ a voice declared.

‘He’s been expelled,’ cried another.

‘Get the cheat!’

The mob erupted.

Alex turned back to Jenks and pulled a face at him. If she’d been in a cartoon, it would have read somewhere between ‘eek!’ and ‘sorry’. Neither of which did Jenks much good.

‘ENOUGH!’ bellowed the biggest instructor.

And the room went silent. The instructors grabbed Jenks and frog-marched him towards the exit. With their bubble burst, the students started to return to their workouts. ‘Hey Jenks!’ called out Alex, ‘I don’t take kindly to being made to work for the ‘Man’.’

Jenks struggled against his captors, ‘Well you did a great job of it—Alex.’

His disdain for her name dripped off it. Alex closed the distance between her and the exiting ‘worm of resistance’ that was Jenks.

 ‘Should have known all of that, was just for show!’ he indicated to Alex’s general appearance with a wave of his nose, ‘Emily dumped me over some plane ticket crap, and now you won’t even give me the time of day.’

‘If you’ve done half of those things I erased from your account—then you,’ Alex closed the gap to just a foot or so as she stabbed the air with her finger and the cable loom, ‘…you…you deserve everything that’s coming to you! You fucking plagiarist!’

Jenks tensed every muscle in his body against the instructors, fixed Alex hard with his eyes.

‘But I didn’t,’ he hoarsely whispered, with all his force.

‘Well let me tell you something… buddy,’ her voice dripping with sarcasm.

She leaned in close to his ear, so close only he would hear.

‘I know,’ she whispered softly, letting her eyes confirm it.

Alex let her weight rock back on her heels and a little grin reach across her lips. Jenks’s body stopped fighting the inevitable as he was launched over the barrier and landed flat on his arse.

The biggest instructor informed Jenks, ‘Don’t come back, or next time we’ll press charges. Now be a good chap, and fuck off.’

Alex propped herself on the other side of the turnstile entrance as the instructors came past. With them out of earshot she said, ‘Would have thought a clever person like you would’ve been able to use a little worm, to locate, and catch a big fish. Oh, maybe not.’

Alex turned and disappeared into the gym.

Jenks dusted himself off. And then noticed something in his pocket. As he walked away, he pulled the cable loom out of his pocket. The loom, that had been in Alex’s hand, moments before he was turfed out. God! Why were women so infuriating?

Jenks slipped away into the evening.

*                                  *                                    *

‘The Academy’ was a tired nightclub just off the main strip, Jenks slouched up to its frontage. He still had the cable loom in his hand—treating it more like some old rosary beads than an electronics cable. He nodded to one of the guys setting up the rope barrier, ‘Is Eddie in yet?’

The bouncer nodded, half instruction, half acknowledgment of the question, and Jenks headed in.

The pungent smell of stale beer wafted up from the space below as Jenks descended. ‘Eddie?’ he asked as he passed the cloakroom.

The old dear looked round and recognised him, she smiled a motherly smile and shrugged. And then went back to putting tickets on hangers. Jenks smiled to himself, some things didn’t change. Delores had been in a band, back in the day, she loved being around music and this kept her up to date…and was warmer than her flat.

Deeper in the bowels, Jenks headed towards the throbbing beat. The stairs opened up onto the empty dance floor, the bar was off to his left and the DJ booth far down the end. The smell intensified. The unmistakable head of Felix bobbed away at his blaring set. Jenks waved, and got a wave back. He glided behind the bar and caught one of the barmen as they stumbled through from the stockroom. Without a word Jenks took the crate of beer and slid it down in front of the fridge. The barman took the opportunity to step back into the stockroom.

Jenks shrugged to himself and eased into the routine of replenishing the beer fridge. And when the next box came, he did that one too. The third box arrived, and the barman touched him on his shoulder, ‘You on this evening?’ he shouted to Jenks over Felix’s tunes.

Jenks shook his head. The barman rolled his eyes and gently pushed Jenks out of the way. ‘What have I told you? ‘No Ticky. No Washy,’’ he grinned as he shouted.

‘I’m looking for Eddie,’ Jenks told him.

‘He thought you would.’

A puzzled look emerged on Jenks’s face. The barman indicated to him to wait. Then looked over to Felix and waved erratically at him. But Felix didn’t respond. The barman smirked a wicked little smirk at him and picked out a small, half-finished, bottle of water. He weighed it gingerly in his palm. ‘Would you?’

Without a second’s hesitation, Jenks picked it up and hurled it at Felix. The bottle whizzed across the room and bounced off Felix’s head. A slightly dazed Felix looked round to see Jenks pointing at the barman and the barman giving it the kill signal. The noise stopped.

The barman turned to Jenks, ‘We heard. It’s your good fortune to join the misfits full-time.’

‘Oi! Eddie says I can practice the new stuff…hey Jenks…during set up,’ called out Felix as he came over to the duo.

‘Eddie’ll roster you on as much as he can,’ turning to Felix, ‘New stuff? For a noughties night? Give it a break.’

With that, the barman was off to the stockroom again.

‘I’m ahead of my time, this is what everyone’s going for at that Ibiza,’ Felix called after the barman.

‘They don’t get me, you know, them’s phil-o-steins.’ Felix continued.

Then he moved his attention over to his friend, ‘You holding up alright, Jenks mate?’

Jenks held up his left hand, index finger ringless and snorted at it. ‘I don’t know what to do next. I’m planless. Nowhere to go. And in a hurry to get there.’

He laid a weak smile on Felix.

‘Hey, who needs a plan? What’s that one? Plans are what you do when life is passing you by,’ shot back his overly cheerful friend.

Felix glanced down and spotted Jenks absentmindedly thumbing Alex’s cable loom. He gently placed his hand on Jenks. ‘Just for the next few weeks, let yourself, just, you know? Enjoy the freedom. Something else might come up. Something much better.’

‘Or worse!’ snorted Jenks.

Feeling like he’s on a bad tack, Felix asked, ‘What’s that?’

‘Hum?’

Jenks looked at the loom in his hands and then tossed it over to Felix. Surprised, Felix picked it up off the bar, thumbing it as Jenks had done. ‘Could you get me a Sprite?’ he nodded.

True to form, Jenks popped out a half pint glass, balanced it on the back of his palm. Scooped a few ice cubes into it and whipped his hand away only to grab it by the top. Jenks went through the actions, but it lacked the showman, the joy. Then it was a squeeze from the drinks gun into the glass, balancing the froth with an efficient fill. A little napkin went down, followed by the drink and then a paper straw. Felix gave an appreciative slurp.

‘Which way do you reckon this goes?’ Felix indicated to the wiring loom.

‘I don’t even know what it attaches to,’ admitted Jenks.

‘But if you were to guess…’

‘If it’s electronics? Male normally leads to female.’

‘That’s what I reckoned,’ Felix said, stroking it just in that direction, then flipping it over and doing it again.

‘Feel that.’ Felix offered.

Jenks ran his thumb over the offered cable loom. Lightly shaking his head, he shrugged. He looked to Felix for inspiration.

‘It sort of feels like music but written in braille…do you see?’

Felix guided Jenks’s fingers across the bumps.

‘But it’s like no music notation I’ve ever us—’

‘Why is there no fucking music?’ bellowed Eddie from the bottom of the stairs, ‘If you two fucking love birds are quite done bumming each other, I have a club to open!’

Felix couldn’t let go of Jenks’s hand fast enough, gave Eddie a little salute, and scampered back to the DJ booth. Jenks just gathered himself to his full stature. ‘We’re open, so none of your so-called ‘new music’,’ Eddie jabbed at Felix.

‘Right-cha Eddie,’ confirmed Felix,

‘You look pretty behind that bar. Sally’s called in sick, probably time of the fucking month. I’ll do you a little favour, my little son. I’ll let you tend bar, you might make more off the woofters than she does off the dicks. Not like you’ve got much else on. Remember, show ‘em a bit of cleavage…or a tight arse, keep ‘em hot and tipping. You can thank me later.’

And Eddie was gone.

The music picked up and so did the night.

Jenks spent every spare moment trying to crack the code in the wiring loom. Jotting numbers and letters on napkins, bog roll, and ripped open beer mats. Nothing got him close.

‘She wants a mojito,’ a guy pointing to a woman halfway down the bar, ‘and I’ll go for a Red Stripe,’ he shouted over the blaring music.

Jenks made the mojito with his usual flair as he moved up to the woman, then placed the drink in front of her. He indicated to the man the other end of the bar, ‘Oh, he’s asking if you have any dry roast?’ the woman shouted at him, never once checking her admirer.

Jenks let his quizzical look drift down to the man, who was merrily saluting him with a beer. He was only just able to make out people shouting their orders from a foot or two across the bar. These two were yards apart, and conversing like they were in a library. Just then he noticed the guy rap out a few moves of his knuckles. ‘Peanuts, dry roast peanuts,’ the woman clarified.

Jenks chortled to himself, pulled a bag of nuts off the blister pack, and threw them at the guy. He caught them. Jenks laid his hand flat on the bar. The guy tapped out, again. The woman started, ‘How much’ but Jenks indicated to her to stop. Then Jenks formed his hand into a light fist and tapped out, ‘They’re on me!’

He waved a hearty thanks to the guy.

*                                  *                                    *

The industrial steel door opened into an organised junkyard of tech, Jenks’s head followed. He sauntered in, more curious than he’d liked to have admitted. Over his shoulder he carried his satchel, and in one hand a paper take-out bag. Through the third floor glass blocks, the morning light cast its warming glow across decades of obsolete computers, printers and…whatever that thing was. This tech junkyard had an air of love about it, a museum cleanliness and organisation to it.

Things had labels on the back of them, to give them context…but a context that only one person cared about. Jenks turned over an Amstrad, ‘Billy Shandwick’s Dad’s. Always played Duck Shoot with his friends. Died Aug 2022 of Covid complications.’

‘Maisy Ray’s first hand me down phone. Thought snake was the best game ever. Until she upgraded to a Samsung Galaxy in 2012,’ it read on the back of a Nokia 8310.

As Jenks put down the phone, there was a movement off to the rear of the warehouse. His eyes scanned the way ahead, looking for its source. He stealthily twisted his body towards his point of focus and slowly set off towards his intended location. As he moved, he slipped into the shadows, taking care not to disturb anything.

The noise came again.

Jenks smiled to himself.

He shortened his steps.

Jenks carefully and quietly put down his package.

He picked up a pan.

Weighed it in his hand.

Then decided to double up.

The noise was almost on top of him now.

He practised a few quick moves with the pans.

Jenks moved more confidently now, his footsteps like ballerina’s, his moves graceful. He was up a little flight of iron steps in a second. He stopped at the top, taking in the air. Listening to the silence. And there it was again.

Jenks tensed his muscles, gripped the pans firmly in his fists…’

WHAM – SCRANGEee – CRACK – PaaaanNG!

Went the pans as Jenks sprang up, marching into Alex’s sleeping area, as if it was the most normal thing for him to be doing. The cacophony of noise continued even as Alex sat bolt upright on her mattress.

Alex’s pad was in total contrast to the rest of her place. The walls hung with lush fabrics, ruched into shape. Little uplighters caught the shape and accentuated it. There was a little chaise lounge behind the stairs as you came in and an antique sea chest as its occasional table. On the floor were layers and layers of rugs.

In the middle of the space was an ornately carved bed and a couple of matching side tables.

In the middle of the bed was a sumptuously styled mattress.

In the middle of the mattress was a furious Alex.

She threw a pillow at the marching buffoon, which only stopped him to look at her. Look at her nakedness. And she wasn’t at all bothered. She was livid at his impromptu band practice. ‘If I wanted an alarm, I would have set one!’ she barked at him.

Jenks went red, he didn’t know where to put his eyes, or his pans for that matter. ‘Thanks for the key loom,’ he said lamely, as he tried to use the pans to cover her from his point of view.

Alex stretched, her head pounded with the wakeup call and last night’s brew. But she enjoyed seeing Jenks squirm. ‘What do you want?’ she asked, her tone sharp and dismissive.

Jenks hesitated, taken aback by her hostility. She’d made her anger about his expulsion obvious, but her demeanour was colder than he had anticipated. She’d given him the key to her pad, she must have known he’d come, she’d told him she knew…this had been her invite…hadn’t it?

‘It was something you said, the purge, when you,’ Alex’s eyes flashed fiercely at Jenks.

‘When the Dean made you,’ Jenks corrected, ‘Purge my work, my existence at the university.’

Alex made her way to the chaise lounge, recovered her dungarees and a t-shirt. Jenks turned his gaze from her and she climbed into her clothes. ‘I need to talk to you,’ he said, his voice tentative, turning to face her.

Alex was rolling some tobacco, finally she glanced up, her eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and resentment. ‘Talk,’ she said, her voice dripping with disdain.

Jenks took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. He knew he needed Alex’s help. She’d seen something, maybe the spark of something. Could it possibly clear him, could it explain the flight ticket to LA? But he also knew he had to tread carefully. ‘I know you’re pissed about what happened,’ he began, his voice earnest. ‘It’s put everyone under scrutiny, excessive scrutiny.’

Alex hunted round for a light, unable to find one, she headed downstairs, Jenks in pursuit. ‘But I need your help. I think you saw something. Didn’t you?’

Alex glanced back up the steps at him, and then on towards her camp stove.

‘And then there’s this plane ticket I didn’t buy, to LA, but someone used all our savings to buy it. Emily thinks I did. But I didn’t, right?’

‘I need someone who can hack into the university’s system and find evidence to prove my innocence. Or to use your programme to do its magic and trace who bought that ticket.’

Alex clicked the gas ring, and it exploded into flame. She hardly reacted as she lit her rollie off it and extinguished it. Alex scoffed, her lips twisting into a bitter smile. ‘Why would I help you?’ she asked, her tone laced with sarcasm. ‘After what you did?’

Jenks’s heart sank as he realised the depth of Alex’s anger. He had saved her from humiliation at the expo, but it seemed, that wasn’t enough to earn her forgiveness. ‘I didn’t plagiarise my work,’ he said, his voice pleading. ‘I swear, Alex. You have to believe me.’

Alex’s expression softened slightly, but her eyes remained guarded. ‘Why should I?’ she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jenks felt a surge of frustration. He had risked everything to save Alex’s reputation, and now she was turning her back on him when he needed her the most. ‘Because we’re friends,’ he said, his voice tinged with desperation. ‘Because you know me better than that. You know I wouldn’t do something like this. Sure…a few bits of open source, but that’s it!…standing on the shoulders of giants…right?’

Alex raised an eyebrow and fixed him with a stern look.

‘And ‘coz I got you the gayest coffee, extra hot, with that bran blueberry muffin you like.’

Alex studied him for a long moment, her gaze searching his face for any sign of deception. She took in a big drag, held it, and finally let out a big sigh, ‘should have started with that,’ Alex’s austerity broke.

Jenks felt a surge of hope as Alex stepped forward, her expression still guarded but willing. She wasn’t fully convinced yet, but her presence was a start.

Jenks swallowed hard, nodding earnestly. ‘Thank you, Alex. You’re doing me a solid.’

Her gaze softened ever so slightly, a hint of the old camaraderie flickering in her eyes. Jenks felt a warmth spread through him.

Alex waved him off, her expression unreadable. ‘Don’t thank me yet,’ she said, her tone tinged with bitterness, ‘You still have a lot to prove.’

*                                  *                                    *

‘Those two anomalies didn’t look right to me,’ Alex explained, ‘do you see?’

Jenks stared at the same data Alex was, but nothing was jumping out at him. How Alex made this briefcase of tech junk work was also beyond him. ‘Maybe this will help,’ Alex suggested as she pointed the projection section at the wall and focused it.

Jenks stared blankly. The night shift was starting to take its toll on him, what had felt right at the crack of sparrows this morning was now feeling foolhardy. How long had he been up for? He looked at his phone for the time. Too long. Jenks forced himself to focus once more on the problem at hand. Then he spotted it, ‘The dates!’

‘Exactly!’

‘These are British format,’ Jenks energised, bounced round to the projected image, ‘…and those are American!’

‘So?’ prompted Alex.

‘So, they can only have been inserted…after the expo…after Hathaway accused me of stealing her code.’

‘Probably…’

‘Probably?! It’s a smoking gun!’

‘Writing dates a certain way isn’t going to get you reinstated.’

Jenks’s excitement dissipated as quickly as it arrived. ‘Course Alex was right. His frustration rose again and lashed out at the junk on the ground. It skidded across the floor and impaled itself into the breeze block wall. The old tape deck cracked on impact, and a key pinged off.

‘Hey!’ shouted Alex, ‘That’s valuable!’

Jenks shrugged a half-arsed sorry as Alex recovered it.

‘Look, your system…it traces back stuff? Right?’ he asked.

Alex held up the damaged recorder, obviously quite annoyed by Jenks’s outburst, ‘You owe me a new one!’

‘The whole find ‘me a worm and I’ll find you a phisherman’ thing? Yeah?’

‘I’m serious Jenks!’

‘You’ve got this worm. You’ve got the plane ticket worm. This would be a great field test of your tech!’

‘That’s for identity theft, Jenks,’ Alex pointed out, ‘And I’m not doing another jot for you until you replace this!’

Alex dumped the broken recorder in his hands. Jenks’s attention landed back in the room, at the recorder. ‘Variable tone, variable speed, battery operated—C or D size—Texas Instruments,’ Alex was instructing Jenks as she ushered him out of the door.

Jenks looked round to Alex on the threshold, ‘Got it?’ she asked.

Jenks nodded and she whipped the damaged recorder out of his hand, ‘Good,’ she said flatly and closed the door on him.

‘OK,’ thought Jenks, ‘That didn’t quite go to plan…’

His phone was vibrating. He checked it.

‘Sunny’s – shift start in 20 mins’ the reminder read.

Jenks rolled his eyes and headed off.