Invasion of Privacy: A Deep Web Thriller #1 (Deep Web Thriller Series) by Ian Sutherland Read Free Book Online Page B

him. He acted like a tube driver announcing a short delay to his passengers. “As I said to you in the lift earlier, Mr Evans, someone has been murdered. It’s a very serious situation, and not one we can take lightly. I think you’ll find it might take more than an hour or so to get back to normal.”
    Out of Evans’ line of sight, Alan winked at Jenny and said gravely, “Maybe as much as the whole day. Perhaps two.”
    Evans’ face whitened.
    MacDonald mediated. “The more you can do to help the police, I’m sure the quicker they’ll be done.”
    “Well, uh yes. I’m sorry. I know it’s more than an inconvenience, but what I was trying to say was —”
    Alan persisted, “Meeting rooms, Mr Evans. How do they get booked?”
    “Uh, yes. Let me see.” He took a breath. “Meeting rooms can be booked by any of our customers already leasing space in this building or any Flexbase customer leasing space in any of our other serviced offices around the country. Well, saying that, anyone could phone up and book a meeting room. All they’d need is a credit card. We have this concept called Local Meeting —”
    “Credit card?” interrupted Jenny, spotting an angle to follow here. “You mean we can see the credit card details that were used to book the room on Friday?”
    “Well, yes. That’s assuming it wasn’t an existing Flexbase tenant with an account. Like WMA here. If it was an existing customer, no credit cards are needed. Just their customer account number, phone number and email address of the person from the company. Then we add it to the company’s bill and invoice at the end of the month.”
    “Can you get me the details of the booking for the room on Friday?” Jenny then forced herself to add, “Please.”
    “Sure, I’ll just go and ask my assistant...” 
    Jenny picked up the phone on the desk and handed the receiver to Evans. “Will this work?”
    “Uh, actually no. It’s an IP phone. It doesn’t work until someone logs into it first.” 
    Spotting the look of malice in Jenny’s eyes, Evans pulled out his mobile phone. He asked his assistant to pull up the records for meeting room eighteen-twelve for the Friday just gone. A pause, then, holding his hand over the mouthpiece, he said to Jenny, “Sorry, not a credit card booking. It was booked out to WMA using their account number...”
    MacDonald exclaimed, “That’s not possible!”
    Fiona placed a hand on MacDonald’s arm.
    Evans continued, “...In the name of a William Webber. He booked it from 4:00 p.m. through to 7:00 p.m. He gave his phone number as the main switchboard number that WMA uses.”
    “How do you request a room?” asked Fiona. “Phone? Email?”
    “You can book by phone, email or even through our website. Whichever method you use, we always ask for an email address for the booking confirmation to be sent to.”
    “Which method was used?”
    Evans repeated the question into his phone. “They can’t tell. Perhaps the IT people in headquarters can tell?”
    “Okay, we’ll check that later,” said Fiona. Jenny knew the DC was doing a far better job dealing with these technology-related issues than she ever could. “What email address was given?”
    Evans relayed the answer: “[email protected].” 
    “But we don’t have a William Webber, I tell you,” MacDonald persevered. “Hold on, I’ll phone my IT guy to see if that address is on our email system.” MacDonald pulled out his mobile, dialled a number and started issuing instructions.
    Fiona asked Evans, “Can you tell when the booking was originally made?”
    Evans relayed it into his phone. The answer came, “Two days before.” His eyes widened. “No way! Apparently, the same person also booked the four other meeting rooms on the same floor for the same times. That’s the whole damn floor!”
    A chill ran through Jenny’s body. 
    “I suppose being that late on a Friday afternoon meant they were all available?” Alan