internet thinks it’s short for foreword. That’s all. It’s not a known acronym. Hang on. I’ll double-check in a dictionary.” Her fingers flew across the keypad again.
“No,” she added a few moments later. “Nothing.”
“Okay,” Angel replied. “We’re not getting anywhere with it right now. We need a change of direction.”
“The Lemon Jelly song?” Raven suggested.
Angel groaned. “Now Short Circuit’s struck in Ipswich – not in the lyrics – the song’s probably irrelevant. A red herring. Let’s get to the point.
There’s got to be something common to Phil Lazenby, Victoria Truman, Carlton Reed and maybe Paige Ottaway as well.”
Trying to lighten the mood, Raven said, “Yes. He can’t just be killing the people of Suffolk for painting their houses that horrible pink colour.”
“He’s not doing it with an e-bomb either,” Angel said.
Raven nodded. “An electronic bomb would cripple Jordan’s car, not make it go. We’re down to hacking or a hardware Trojan. Although...”
“What?”
“If it was a Trojan, it was an advanced one that allows you to take control of a circuit board, not just kill it. I don’t know how, but rumour has it that they exist.”
Jordan shook his head. “I’m still trying to get used to the idea that it’s easier to down a great big plane than crash a car into a wall.”
“It’s not the size of the target that’s important,” Raven explained. “It’s the complexity of the electronic attack.”
“I guess so.” Surprising the other two, Jordan asked, “Is there a program called SetLink in my car?”
Angel didn’t know. He turned to Raven.
“SetLink?” she said. “Yes. It’s the industry standard for controlling systems, especially power.”
“Who makes it?”
“Why?”
“Because it’s been targeted by a hacker before. That’s how the power station in Edinburgh copped it.”
“How do you know?” Angel asked.
“I spoke to a cyber joyrider.”
He laughed. “Is that what they call themselves now?”
Raven finished reading a webpage and then gazed at Jordan. “You might have a point. It’s made by WT Gaming and Programming – a very small family business in Bury St.
Edmunds.”
“Suffolk?”
She nodded. “In one.”
“We were going to try HiSpec as well,” said Jordan.
“Home of a million microprocessors...”
“With a factory in Cambridge,” Jordan added.
Raven smiled. “I see where you’re going with this. It’s not far from Suffolk. It’d be easy to live in Suffolk and commute into Cambridge.”
For a moment, Angel paused. Then he turned towards Jordan. “I’ll find you another car, but it won’t be like the Jag. It’ll take time to replace all those microchips and
beef up its security, before you get the all-clear to drive it again. For now,” he said, “take the rest of the day off. It’s a weekend and you look terrible.”
WT Gaming and Programming was named after the joint owners: the Warner twins. Ian and Neil were wearing identical smart but casual clothes, identical spectacles and identical
heavily gelled hairstyles. They were obviously doing their best to confuse people. It also made them funny and sinister at the same time. Jordan could have been talking to one man standing next to
a full-length mirror, except that they seemed to take it in turns to speak.
“We don’t have a big crew,” Ian told him.
“Big isn’t necessary,” said Neil in an identical accent.
“Good is more important,” Ian continued. “We have few but good people.”
“But you did have a problem with SetLink,” Jordan said.
They nodded and glanced at each other. Ian replied, “When you phoned and said you’d got some information about a hacking incident, we were...”
“Intrigued,” Neil put in.
“Yes, intrigued. That’s why we agreed to see you.”
Both twins turned their uncanny gaze on him, as if they expected Jordan to tell them everything he knew. But he knew very little. He’d
“No,” she added a few moments later. “Nothing.”
“Okay,” Angel replied. “We’re not getting anywhere with it right now. We need a change of direction.”
“The Lemon Jelly song?” Raven suggested.
Angel groaned. “Now Short Circuit’s struck in Ipswich – not in the lyrics – the song’s probably irrelevant. A red herring. Let’s get to the point.
There’s got to be something common to Phil Lazenby, Victoria Truman, Carlton Reed and maybe Paige Ottaway as well.”
Trying to lighten the mood, Raven said, “Yes. He can’t just be killing the people of Suffolk for painting their houses that horrible pink colour.”
“He’s not doing it with an e-bomb either,” Angel said.
Raven nodded. “An electronic bomb would cripple Jordan’s car, not make it go. We’re down to hacking or a hardware Trojan. Although...”
“What?”
“If it was a Trojan, it was an advanced one that allows you to take control of a circuit board, not just kill it. I don’t know how, but rumour has it that they exist.”
Jordan shook his head. “I’m still trying to get used to the idea that it’s easier to down a great big plane than crash a car into a wall.”
“It’s not the size of the target that’s important,” Raven explained. “It’s the complexity of the electronic attack.”
“I guess so.” Surprising the other two, Jordan asked, “Is there a program called SetLink in my car?”
Angel didn’t know. He turned to Raven.
“SetLink?” she said. “Yes. It’s the industry standard for controlling systems, especially power.”
“Who makes it?”
“Why?”
“Because it’s been targeted by a hacker before. That’s how the power station in Edinburgh copped it.”
“How do you know?” Angel asked.
“I spoke to a cyber joyrider.”
He laughed. “Is that what they call themselves now?”
Raven finished reading a webpage and then gazed at Jordan. “You might have a point. It’s made by WT Gaming and Programming – a very small family business in Bury St.
Edmunds.”
“Suffolk?”
She nodded. “In one.”
“We were going to try HiSpec as well,” said Jordan.
“Home of a million microprocessors...”
“With a factory in Cambridge,” Jordan added.
Raven smiled. “I see where you’re going with this. It’s not far from Suffolk. It’d be easy to live in Suffolk and commute into Cambridge.”
For a moment, Angel paused. Then he turned towards Jordan. “I’ll find you another car, but it won’t be like the Jag. It’ll take time to replace all those microchips and
beef up its security, before you get the all-clear to drive it again. For now,” he said, “take the rest of the day off. It’s a weekend and you look terrible.”
WT Gaming and Programming was named after the joint owners: the Warner twins. Ian and Neil were wearing identical smart but casual clothes, identical spectacles and identical
heavily gelled hairstyles. They were obviously doing their best to confuse people. It also made them funny and sinister at the same time. Jordan could have been talking to one man standing next to
a full-length mirror, except that they seemed to take it in turns to speak.
“We don’t have a big crew,” Ian told him.
“Big isn’t necessary,” said Neil in an identical accent.
“Good is more important,” Ian continued. “We have few but good people.”
“But you did have a problem with SetLink,” Jordan said.
They nodded and glanced at each other. Ian replied, “When you phoned and said you’d got some information about a hacking incident, we were...”
“Intrigued,” Neil put in.
“Yes, intrigued. That’s why we agreed to see you.”
Both twins turned their uncanny gaze on him, as if they expected Jordan to tell them everything he knew. But he knew very little. He’d
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