The London Project (A Science Fiction Thriller) (Portal Book 1)

By Mark J Maxwell

In a smart city that monitors your every move, finding the killer of a young girl should have been easy.

Detective Sergeant Louisa Bennett is assigned to investigate the murder. Following an attack on London’s network, private data on every city resident is leaked. In the ensuing chaos, when Louisa uncovers a connection between her own case and the data breach, she becomes a target herself.

To save her own life Louisa must uncover the truth behind the girl’s death — a truth which leads her deep into the heart of The London Project.

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Set in a familiar yet futuristic London, The London Project blends a detective who-done-it mystery with science fiction to produce a fast paced crime technothriller.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark J Maxwell
• Release date: May 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310314773

Mark J Maxwell

Mark J Maxwell is a writer living in Dublin, Ireland. The London Project is his first novel. Mark would love to hear from you. He can be reached on twitter (@markjmaxwell) or at markjmaxwell.com.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The cruel truth was that some things in life were better kept to the shadows. Or some people were, at any rate. Detective Sergeant Louisa Bennett wrinkled her nose as a young man barely out of his teens simultaneously vomited and urinated in an alleyway beside where she was parked. It was close to midnight, with no street lamps nearby. The alley should have been a sight-stealing void, but to Louisa it was as bright as a summer’s day. The scene had attained such a visceral level of clarity she found herself unable to look away, snared by a voyeuristic compulsion to witness what, under normal circumstances, would have remained cloaked in darkness.

Opaque from the exterior, the car’s Portal glass was displaying a real-time digitisation of their surroundings, as captured by sense strips that blanketed the entire street. It allowed Louisa to add post-scan effects to the resulting video feed, such as increasing the luminosity to midday levels.

The ever-bustling patchwork of streets and lane ways that formed London's Soho surged with revellers. The more traditional pubs in the area had closed, spilling their patrons out onto the streets en masse. For those who weren’t heading home or grabbing a bite to eat, plenty of late night bars and clubs remained open, allowing the partying to continue long into the early hours.

Louisa stifled a yawn and stretched as best she could, wincing as her back protested at the enforced immobility of the past three hours. She’d started the evening envious of everyone having fun around her. Between work and the kids Saturday nights out had become a distant memory. Now fatigue dragged at her, exacerbated by the alarming dip in the average age of those flowing along the street.

Beside her, Detective Constable Rick Drachman tapped the steering wheel with his fingers and hummed to himself as he none too subtly eyed three women in short skirts who giggled their way past, tottering unsteadily on heels so high they could have passed for stilts. It was freezing outside—unseasonably so for April, but the women appeared immune to the cold. Rick must have sensed Louisa’s glare because he turned to her, a picture of innocence. ‘What?’

‘I have eyes on the suspect.’ DI Vaughn’s voice blasting from the car made both of them jump. Rick flicked up the case file from his terminal to the windscreen. The DI’s picture appeared on the map beside a pulsing blue circle. She imagined him back in the incident room at Charing Cross Station, stressed and sweat-soaked. If the DI lost Barry Waters again his career could very well take a sudden nosedive. Well, either his career or some other poor sod who takes the fall. It wasn’t a comforting thought. The fact that all of DI Vaughn’s drugs squad detectives had been kept well back from Wardour Street wasn’t lost on her either. If anything went pear-shaped this time, his own officers wouldn’t be exposed. ‘He’s exited Tottenham Court Road tube station and is proceeding on foot along Oxford Street towards the junction with Wardour Street.’

‘Here we go,’ Rick said. His manic grin took years off his already youthful face, rendering him almost child-like in his eagerness. He sat up straighter in his seat and squinted at the windscreen.

Louisa couldn’t help but return his smile. They didn’t get out of the office much these days. The drugs squad operation was a welcome throwback to how police work used to be before Portal came along.

Rick pointed at the windscreen. ‘Is that him?’

Louisa leaned forward and scanned the crowd. The artificial illumination had exposed the messy and chaotic SOHO nightlife in all its swaying, intoxicated glory. Louisa and Rick had full access to the data collected from a sense strip grid centred on Wardour Street, extending to a half-mile radius. She used her terminal to filter out anyone who wasn’t linked to the case file as an investigating officer or suspect. All but three men faded to transparency. Two were detectives stationed along the street. The last man she recognised from his ID photo in the case file.

Barry Waters, or Baz to his friends and customers, weaved his way through a gang of women out on a hen night. Even though the display filter had rendered the women ethereal Louisa clearly made out the ‘L-plate’ affixed to the back of their charge. One ghostly apparition made a drunken grab for Baz. He nimbly danced out of her clutches, smiling and holding up his hands apologetically.

‘This is the guy who’s been giving the drugs squad the run-around?’ Rick asked.

Louisa shrugged. ‘I guess so.’

Baz was in his early twenties, white, scrawny, with a bad complexion and ears that stuck out like handles on a trophy cup. He was dressed in pale-grey tracksuit pants and a red hoodie. Everyone else on the street was smartly dressed but Baz didn’t look self-conscious. He strutted down the street with a gait contrived to exude confidence, or arrogance—or perhaps both.

He’d first appeared on the drugs squad’s radar when a student arrested with a vial of Trance named Baz as his dealer. Under normal circumstances, Baz wouldn’t warrant such a large operation, but he’d given DI Vaughn the slip three times already. Now he cropped up regularly on the public feeds. An aura was building around him—that the MET couldn’t catch him, that he was untouchable. The MET was fast becoming a topic of derision on Portal, and the top brass had taken note. DI Vaughn was under pressure to draw a line under the whole debacle. Louisa and Rick had been seconded from Homicide and Serious Crime Command (SCD1) for the evening. The multi-departmental effort also included DI James Lenihan of Serious and Organised Crime Command (SCD7) who was back at the incident room in an observational-only role. It was a typical management strategy: throw more bodies at a problem to get it solved faster.

Louisa kept her eyes on Baz as he sauntered towards their position. He passed one of the detectives standing outside a pub having a fag. The officer raised his hand to take another drag and took the opportunity to speak while his mouth was covered. ‘I’ve got a visual confirmation. It’s our boy all right.’

‘All officers please be advised the suspect is not carrying a terminal.’ This also from DI Vaughn.

That was unusual, but not if he was planning anything illegal. Anyone carrying a terminal would be absurdly easy to monitor. But even without one, the sense strips should be able to pick him out from his biometrics. Once he was ID’d using facial recognition or iris scans, it would be a simple matter to manually track him from then on. Over ninety-eight percent of greater London’s streets were covered by the strips, so there would be few places for him to hide. It’s what made his previous escapes all the more perplexing.

‘Oscar Romeo Five,’ DI Vaughn said, ‘the suspect is approaching your position.’

Baz was only twenty yards away now.

‘Talk about stating the bleeding obvious,’ Rick muttered.

Louisa grinned. It seemed DI Vaughn was determined to run everything by the book. Having a SCD7 DI peering over his shoulder certainly couldn’t have helped.

Baz appeared relaxed, bored even, as he strolled up to the car. Then, as he reached Rick’s driver’s side door he turned and leaned in towards the window. Louisa sank back into her seat as Baz appeared to stare directly at her. Rick glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. Baz surely couldn’t know they were inside, could he? Baz reached into his hoodie pocket and Louisa tensed. They weren’t expecting Baz to be armed but Louisa held her breath all the same as he slowly withdrew his hand. Then she saw the comb. He licked a finger and proceeded to smooth down an errant strand of hair. After preening himself some more he pocketed the comb and continued down the street.

Louisa let out an explosive breath and Rick grinned at her. He hid it well but Louisa was sure his heart must have been thumping as fast as hers. She activated the audio link from her profile to the case file. ‘The suspect is proceeding past our position. No. Stand by. The suspect has gone inside a restaurant called,’ Louisa ducked her head to see the sign, ‘Roy’s Pit Stop.’

‘Acknowledged,’ DI Vaughn said. ‘Stand by.’

Louisa killed the audio link.

‘I take it we’ve got no one in there?’ Rick asked.

Louisa shook her head. The intel the drugs squad received indicated a deal was going down in the vicinity of Wardour Street, but that was all. ‘Do we have any sense coverage inside?’

Rick checked his terminal. ‘No, nothing. It’s a dead zone.’

‘Oscar Sierra Two,’ DI Vaughn said, ‘proceed into the restaurant. We need visual confirmation the exchange has taken place before we move to apprehend the suspect. Keep your audio link open.’

So much for keeping a low profile. Louisa activated the link. ‘Received and understood.’

Louisa took out an ear bud from the glove box and tapped it against her terminal, pairing it with her profile, before inserting it in her right ear. She activated an extension on the terminal and a clear, thin, band, one inch by six, detached from the back of the device. The sense band acted as a physical augmentation of the terminal, allowing the wearer to tap out or vocalise instructions to the device and relay back ambient noise. She slapped the band against her wrist and it snapped tight around her arm, rendering itself practically invisible to the casual observer.

Rick gave her an encouraging thumbs-up as she opened the car door. He probably wishes it was him heading in. Surely I wasn’t that green when I first made detective? She smiled wryly to herself. To be honest staying on the sidelines wasn’t her style. If she was going to be shafted she preferred to be front and center, where she could see it coming.

*

Roy’s Pit Stop was jammed and the atmosphere loud and boisterous. Most of the customers looked like they were attempting to soak up some of the night’s booze. A long counter ran along the left hand side of the restaurant. The remaining floor space was taken up by booths with blue leather seats. A party of eight arrived shortly after Louisa and stood waiting for a free table, their raised voices adding to the cacophony of shouts and laughter.

Louisa spied Baz Waters seated in a booth at the back beside a man who looked to be around the same age and wearing a tracksuit top. A mop of unruly dark curls covered so much of his face you could barely see the pair of thick-rimmed glasses he wore.

Louisa grabbed a high stool at the counter near the entrance as it offered a clear view of the pair. She leaned on the counter, covered her mouth with her hand, and spoke quietly into the sense band. ‘Suspect spotted. He’s with a male, IC1, late teens to early twenties.’

‘Acknowledged.’ DI Vaughn’s voice was loud in her ear.

The restaurant reminded her of a cheap and cheerful twenty-four-hour place she frequented when she was still in uniform and working nights—a typical greasy spoon serving strong tea, fry-ups and bacon butties.

For appearances sake Louisa decided to order something. It was only when she accessed the restaurant’s Portal interface on her terminal that she saw the establishment was actually the latest venture by Gabriel Cartwright, the screencast celebrity chef of the moment. It was part of his Basically British restaurant chain that aimed to serve ‘honest British food with a gourmet flourish’. His usual clientele were the well-off who thought it a great jape to be slumming it for the evening in a dingy cafe like a real working class person.

Louisa blinked when she saw the price of a Full English. Seventy quid? She ordered a coffee. It was a strange place for Baz to be eating. Unless he’s pulling in a much higher income than outward appearances would suggest.

Baz and his friend were tucking into a couple of hot dogs and fries. Their demeanour was amiable enough but Louisa was too far away to hear what they were saying. She would have loved to be wearing a set of contact lenses linked to her profile. She had a neat lip-reading extension which provided a reasonable approximation of what people were saying from a distance of up to thirty metres, but it would have been too risky to use. Portal lenses flashed red every few seconds to make it obvious when someone was using them. It leant the wearer a rather demonic air, and also made them easy to spot.

A tired looking waitress with a grease-spotted apron slapped down a mug of coffee and a jug of milk in front of her. The mug’s contents sloshed over the sides and dribbled down to form a pool on the counter. Apparently slovenly staff with an attitude were part of the Basically British experience. Louisa took a sip of her coffee and grimaced. It was piss-weak. And I didn’t even get a biscuit.

Baz slid out of the booth and headed for the nearby toilets. His associate left the table shortly after and walked towards Louisa. She kept her eyes averted as he passed and left the restaurant. They hadn’t made the exchange, Louisa was sure of it. Did I miss it?

‘The second suspect has exited the building,’ Louisa said.

‘Acknowledged. Stay with the primary suspect.’

A waitress cleared the pair’s booth. Louisa swore under her breath. They must have paid up. She got up and walked halfway along the counter. There was a faded fire exit sign above the door to the toilets that hadn’t been visible from where she was sitting. Louisa got a sinking feeling. She decided to risk running into Baz and hurried to the door.

A short corridor led to male and female toilets with a fire exit at the end. The female toilet was vacant. She pressed against the male toilet door. It was empty too. The cistern block of the toilet lay on the floor, exposing the water tank.

‘The suspect has left through a fire exit at the rear of the building,’ Louisa said. No response from the DI. He's leaving it up to me whether to pursue Baz or not. Louisa weighed the potential consequences of running into Baz and spooking him, or staying put and letting him get away. ‘I’m following him out.’

She pushed open the fire exit door, making as little noise as possible. It opened onto a grimy narrow alley strewn with piles of bulging black refuse sacks. Baz was nowhere in sight. A few other buildings had back doors that led onto the alley but they were all shut. The alley terminated in a brick wall to her left so Louisa hurried in the other direction.

The alley joined a side street that connected Wardour and Berwick Street. Left or right? Wardour Street was to the right. If Baz went that way he’ll be spotted quickly enough by the rest of the team. Louisa headed left.

Louisa paused as she joined Berwick Street. It was as packed with people as Wardour Street had been. She stood on her tiptoes to see above their heads.

There!

Louisa spotted a man in a red hoodie maybe a hundred yards away. His hood was raised so she couldn’t see his face but she recognised the arrogant swagger. She spoke into her sense band. ‘Suspect is heading North along Berwick Street. I’m in pursuit.’

After a short delay DI Vaughn’s voice sounded in her ear. ‘We established a sense perimeter around the restaurant as soon as Waters entered, Detective. Everyone who passed through has been positively identified. Whoever you’re following, it’s not the suspect. He's still within the perimeter.’

Louisa stumbled to a stop, still staring at the man in the hooded top. DI Vaughn had sounded calm enough but she knew he’d be spitting bullets at the thought of losing Baz again. Correction—she had lost Baz. DS Louisa Bennett had eyes on the suspect and then—poof—another vanishing act. She could almost hear the knives being sharpened.

But she was sure the guy ahead of her was Baz Waters. He was the same height, the same build. Louisa closed the audio channel linked to the case file and submitted a call request through to Rick. He answered almost immediately. ‘Sarge?’

‘Rick, patch me through the live sense feed from the corner of Berwick and Noel Streets.’

She took out her terminal and accepted the incoming feed from the MET Subnet. Sense footage appeared, showing an aerial shot of the junction. The man had stopped at a zebra crossing. She panned the viewpoint down and angled it towards him.

Her heart sank; it wasn’t Baz. This man was much older, maybe in his late forties, with a scraggly grey goatee.

What were the odds of some guy wearing the exact same clothes as Baz being in the vicinity at the same time? Close to nil, surely. Was this how Baz managed to evade the drugs squad? Did he have accomplices who led the surveillance team away from his location so he could sneak away undetected? That would mean he was back at the restaurant, but there had been nowhere for him to hide, not in the toilets. Unless he’s hiding in the alley? Under the rubbish bags maybe? Or he entered one of the other buildings?

Louisa was about to turn back when the man twisted around, looking up Berwick Street. Louisa’s eyes widened. It was Baz. But his face was wet, slick, like he’d smeared something over it. Then he looked directly at her. Their eyes met before Louisa had a chance to look away. He stood watching her for a few seconds, then bolted across the road, narrowly missing a car that had to slam on its brakes and swerve to avoid him.

Louisa set off after him. ‘Rick, are you still there?’

‘Yeah.’

‘The guy I was tailing. It’s Waters all right. He spotted me and legged it. I’m going to need backup.’

‘Are you sure, Sarge? He’s not coming up on the sense footage and the DI wants me to stay put until you get back.’

‘I’ll explain later. Get your ass over here!’

Baz was pulling away so she picked up the pace as best she could whilst dodging people on the crowded pavement. Louisa managed to keep pace with him but he showed no signs of tiring as he reached Oxford Street and slipped through the slow-moving traffic. Just my luck to be chasing a healthy drug dealer. When had they stopped sampling their own merchandise and got fit?

He tried to lose her by ducking down a few side streets north of Oxford, but each time Louisa managed to keep him in her sights. After a few minutes of running flat-out Louisa was feeling the strain. A stitch had formed in her side and her lungs burned. He can’t keep this up for much longer, surely. Baz glanced back at her and must have reached the same conclusion because he snapped his head to the side to look down each side street and alley he passed. Abruptly, he skidded to a stop and ducked under an archway between two large red-brick houses.

Louisa arrived at the mouth of the entry a few seconds behind Baz and stopped, panting. It was barely six feet across. In the gloom, Louisa saw that the passage dog-legged to the left after twenty feet or so. Refuse bags were strewn across the entrance. ‘Rick, where are you?’

‘On my way. Another few minutes, tops. The traffic is mental.’

She took out her terminal and accessed the maps extension. It zeroed in on her position but there was no sign of the passageway. It could terminate in a dead end or empty out onto any number of streets and alleys. It probably didn’t have any sense coverage either.

She shouldn’t continue without backup into a dead zone. She knew that. It was one of the lessons they drummed into you at police training. Baz could be waiting for her in there. Then again, he could be getting further and further away. He’d managed to fool the sense strips with whatever it was he had on his face. It was the only explanation. The face she’d seen on the sense footage must have belonged to a different profile—one Baz had forged.

Profile forgery was the kind of thing SCD7 would be more familiar with. Only organised criminal gangs would have the funds necessary to pay some techie enough cash to risk creating a forged profile. If the user was caught, the forger would share the same fate. The length of the sentence was reason why profile forgery was rare: convictions carried up to fifteen years in prison. Why is Baz taking the risk? The money he gets from selling small amounts of Class A’s surely couldn’t justify it.

Louisa took out a thin metal tube fifteen centimetres long and snapped her wrist out to her side. It extended telescopically until it was around half a metre in length and locked in place. The SLE (Straight Lock Enhanced) baton was standard MET police issue. When a recessed button on the handle was depressed, enough current ran through the tip of the baton to reduce a horse to an insensate mass of flopping, jellied limbs. It should be more than enough to incapacitate a scrawny bloke in his twenties.

She stepped over the refuse bags and slowly approached the bend in the passageway. The noise of the traffic had faded away and her breathing sounded loud in her head. She leaned gingerly around the corner, half expecting Baz to jump out at her, but the way was clear.

The passageway widened and continued straight for another thirty feet or so before bending to the right. Bright fluorescent light streamed from an open doorway up some steps to her left. Louisa’s stomach rumbled as the heady smell of spiced food wafted from an extractor fan beside the door. The passage was clear apart from two large commercial wheelie bins propped against the wall opposite the doorway. Louisa eyed the bins and crept towards them, flexing her grip on the handle of the baton.

A sonorous crash erupted from the doorway followed by the hiss of steam and angry shouts in an Asian sounding language. Louisa spun towards the sound. Had Baz run inside?

She was halfway up the steps when something heavy slammed into her back, propelling her to the ground. She cried out as her shin cracked against a step’s sharp tiled edge. Her left arm was trapped underneath her body but her other hand still gripped the baton. She twisted around, flailing out with the steel rod towards her assailant, but he was faster, grabbing her wrist and bashing it painfully against a step until the baton fell from her limp grasp.

The grip on her wrist relaxed. Louisa lashed out with her elbow. This time she connected with her attacker and he yelped. She scrambled up the steps on her hands and knees towards the doorway but something caught her ankle and she was dragged back down.

She twisted onto her back. Baz’s face loomed over her, distorted in a mixture of anger and wide-eyed panic, his lip bleeding from where her elbow had struck him. He lunged and wrapped his hands around her throat. She managed one last choking gasp before his grip tightened.

Louisa clutched at his hands, trying to prise them from her throat, but his grip was like iron. Panic bubbled up from deep inside. She clawed at Baz’s face. He grimaced and leaned back out of reach.

Louisa’s vision dimmed. With the last of her fading strength she brought up a knee sharply between his legs. His grip went lax and Louisa gratefully sucked in lungfuls of air. Baz had adopted an almost comically startled expression, but he wasn’t finished yet, not by a long shot. With both hands she grabbed hold of his ears and propelled her head forward, smashing it against the bridge of his nose. He let out a shriek and lurched back, clutching at his face.

Louisa rolled to the side in the direction the baton had fallen. She half-fell off the steps and landed on all fours. She frantically groped for the baton, which had disappeared into the shadows beside the steps. Any moment Baz would be on her again. She heard movement behind her just as her hand found the smooth hardness of the handle. She swung it round again. This time Baz wasn’t fast enough. It cracked him square in the side of the head. At that exact moment, she depressed the button on the handle. Baz’s eyes rolled up in his head and he crumpled to the ground, his limbs twitching and jerking spasmodically.

Louisa staggered upright, gasping for air. She stood a few seconds, her head whirling, processing what had just happened.

Baz had stopped moving but she approached him cautiously in case he was faking it. Not that she believed he was; the baton shaft was reinforced steel. He’d be feeling the blow tomorrow, never mind the effects of the electrical discharge.

Louisa retracted the baton and fished her cuffs from the holster in the small of her back. She straddled Baz who was lying face down, yanked one arm around, cuffed it, then locked his other wrist in place. He groaned. Well, at least I didn’t kill the bastard.

A shadow fell across her and she flinched, but then relaxed as two men in chef’s whites peered around the doorway with startled expressions. Now they decide to come out and have a look?

‘Call the fucking police!’ Louisa shouted. They ducked back inside.

The sound of someone running reverberated off the brick walls of the passageway. Louisa looked up to see Rick appear around the corner. He skidded to a stop beside Baz, his mouth hanging open in amazement. ‘Are you all right, Sarge?’

Louisa sat on one of the steps. ‘Yeah. Nice of you to finally get here.’

Rick knelt beside Baz and checked the cuffs were secure. ‘His nose looks like it exploded. What did you hit him with—a brick?’

‘Nope, my head.’ She rubbed it gingerly. A lump had already formed.

Rick moved over to her and squinted at her forehead, then prodded the swelling with his thumb.

Louisa winced and jerked her head away.

‘You’d better get some ice on that.’ Rick squatted beside Baz. ‘Have you searched him yet?’

Louisa shook her head.

‘What’ve we got here?’ Rick retrieved a bright blue pouch made from thick plastic from Baz’s hoodie pocket. He unfolded the pouch and retrieved a tiny, clear vial. He held it for Louisa to see. It contained a dark red powder.

‘Trance,’ Louisa said. Or something a user was supposed to think was Trance. The red coloured powder was a dead giveaway.

Rick bounced the bag on the palm of his hand. ‘It feels kind of heavy for a bunch of plastic vials.’ He set the bag on the ground and spread out the opening. ‘Take a look at this.’ Rick held up a red block measuring about four inches square wrapped in cellophane. ‘I think the vials were the samples. How much do you reckon this is worth?’

Louisa shook her head. Trance didn’t get transported in its trademark powder-filled vials. That was the end product. She’d never seen it in its uncut form. ‘I don’t know, a hundred grand maybe?’

Rick’s mouth made an O shape. He stared at the block for a moment as if considering what to do with it, then shrugged and tossed it back into the bag. ‘How come Waters didn’t show up on the sense logs?’

‘There was something on his face. Some sort of gel that fooled the strips into registering a different profile.’

Rick let out a low whistle. ‘A forged profile?’ He bent to look at Baz’s face. ‘Well it’s not wet now. Bloody, but not wet.’

Louisa shrugged. ‘It’s one for Forensics and SIU to figure out. He must have wiped it off.’

‘Baz is going down for a long time, then.’

‘Longer, once you tack on attempted murder.’ Louisa rolled her head around, flexing her neck. It was sore, but luckily Baz didn’t seem to have inflicted any major damage to her trachea.

Rick lowered his head and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. ‘I can’t believe I wasn’t here for this.’ He looked like he was going to cry.

Louisa groaned. She didn't need him feeling responsible for what happened on top of everything else. ‘Hey, it’s all right. I’m fine, okay? No harm done.’

Rick looked up at her. ‘No, I mean—this was my chance to see some real action. And I missed it!’

CHAPTER TWO

Rick flopped into a chair beside Louisa.

‘Well?’ she asked.

He shrugged. ‘Vaughn wanted to run through my report.’

‘That’s all?’

‘Yeah. The SCD7 DI was there as well.’

Louisa frowned. ‘Was there anything in particular they quizzed you on?’

‘Now you mention it, they kept asking me to go over what happened when you left the restaurant.’

‘What did you tell them?’

‘That you followed Waters and then requested backup. There wasn’t much else to say, really. Then they asked about Waters when I found you two in the alley.’

‘What about Waters?’

‘They kept asking about Waters’ face, if I’d noticed anything strange. Then they told me to keep my mouth shut about your forged profile theory.’

The forged profile. She should have guessed why she and Rick were the only ones left in the station apart from the two DIs. Likely they’re chewing it over, trying to decide who to pass the mess onto.

‘How’s the head?’ Rick asked.

Louisa lowered the ice pack and studied her reflection in the deactivated screen of the Portal console on the table in front of her. ‘Better, I think. The swelling’s gone down a bit at any rate.’

Rick yawned. ‘Well, I’m off home, Sarge. Unless you want me to hang around until they’ve gone through your report?’

‘No, there’s no point both of us missing any more sleep.’

Rick nodded, then stood up and stretched. ‘See you tomorrow then.’

As Rick was leaving the room DI Vaughn stuck his head around the door. ‘We’re ready for you now, Detective.’

*

‘Apologies for the choice of venue,’ DI Vaughn said perfunctorily. ‘We’re short of meeting rooms in the station.’

The DI held the door for her and smoothed his hand over his slicked-back hair. When he reached his bald spot the smoothing action turned into a gentle series of pats as he reassured himself the area was evenly covered by a sufficient grouping of strands. It was a mannerism he repeated continuously during the post-op briefing as he eyed up DI Lenihan standing in the corner.

‘That’s quite all right, sir,’ Louisa said.

He had led her to an interview room. It was normally used for formally questioning suspects and would be lined with sense strips. She didn’t bother to ask if they were active, or to query why all the normal meeting rooms were in use at five in the morning.

‘You remember DI Lenihan?’ He gestured to the DI and sat down beside him. ‘He’s observing this operation for SCD7.’

‘Sir.’ Louisa nodded at DI Lenihan and sat opposite the two men.

DI Lenihan nodded in response. He had projected an air of confidence at the drugs squad briefing and it remained with him still. The DI was in his early forties but his shock of prematurely grey hair made him appear older. His calm, resolute stare was rather unsettling, like he was able to take your measure simply by being in your presence. For some inexplicable reason Louisa found herself wanting to impress the man.

DI Vaughn picked his terminal off the table; Louisa caught a quick glimpse of her report open on the screen. ‘First of all, Detective, how are you feeling? According to your report, the suspect put up quite a fight.’

‘If you mean he attacked me without provocation and I

Reviews for The London Project (A Science Fiction Thriller) (Portal Book 1)

[naomixbray · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I really got into this book I like to read crime fiction. From the first chapter I knew I would be hooked on this book and I wasn’t wrong. I really enjoyed how the futuristic feel of the police force. It didn’t seem to unrealistic at all. I could feel Louisa frustrating when looking at information into how the victim appeared where she was,. I really like how the author has really thought about the technology and how advanced it could be in the future I don’t know whether I would like to live in that sort of world but it is an interesting idea on how the future may be with all the technological advances.

‘Okay, I tell you what,’ Louisa said. ‘I bet you a fiver you didn’t get in under
the hedge. Care to prove me wrong?’
I really like how down to earth Louisa is in this part of the story. She knows exactly what will get her answers and makes sure she gets them.

‘Louisa couldn’t imagine how she’d feel if Jess went missing and turned
up dead. She’d never be able to rest until she found out what had happened to her daughter. ‘
Being a mother i can really associate with Louisa, if anything happened to my daughter i wouldn't stop trying to find our until my last dying death i like how the author knew how a mother would be with the lose of a child.

I really enjoy how caught up in all the technical advances there are in this story, I always love to read stories by authors who can make me loose myself into its pages to the point I don’t realise what is going on around me.

I would rate this book 5 out of 5. I have already recommended this book to a friend. If you love a book you can loose yourself in then I highly suggest this book.