Back in the passageway between the kitchenette and the bedroom, I checked. No apparatus endured. No place to disguise, but the science in the rest of the camper would be effective enough to register conversations at a distance. Record everything, I told Alexis when I first turned up.
A creak from the bedchamber. I glanced at Alexis, who stood in the doorway and waved me towards her. She found something. Another gadget, attached to one leg of the bed, obscured from view.
I pointed to the device, afterwards to the floor, and held up two fingers, showing I found two more in the room.
What the fuck?
Alexis mouthed.
I put a finger to my lips and cupped my ear.
They can pick up everything.
One hid in a false panel at the top of the fitted wardrobe. A second in an air vent in the bathroom.
Set, I guessed, because the toilet represented the midway point of the caravan and should therefore detect noises from all directions.
I led us back down to the lounge, put on my shoes, and headed outdoors into the rain. I waited while Alexis got dressed and joined me about forty feet away from what she thought about her sanctuary.
"What the fuck?"
Alexis asked after joining me.
I raised a quizzical eyebrow.
"Need me to answer?"
"How long?"
"From the beginning, I should think."
"How did I miss them? I did a sweep of this fucking shit-hole three months ago."
"Alexis, pack some possessions and come with me."
"Where to?"
"The Crown and Castle."
Alexis went back inside, and I stood outside, waiting, and thinking. My primary avenue of thought concentrated on the hard drive found underneath the washbasin. About how they placed each one around the mobile home, and the way technology reacted to our sounds.
The soft hum I detected, the noise creeping out from under the sofa, helped me zero in on the first bug, not starting until I strayed within range. The instrument continued to be silent.
We stayed quiet and careful, but nothing mattered now. Enough prevailed until we registered. Someone listened. Our complete silence in the police's aftermath's appearance would provoke suspicion once they paid attention to the recordings, as would the minor snaps and clicks close to the microphones.
Those echoes, like someone tries to suppress the sound of their movements. Wouldn't take a colossus of knowledge to realize we discovered the appliance and searched for bugs.
Alexis rejoined me with a sports holdall bag, almost bursting at the zip.
"I think the gadgets contain motion sensors."
Alexis frowned.
"How?"
"Would explain why the police and their goons arrived. These devices go into hibernation when no movement, so when I turned up this evening, commotion increased. As soon as they did, they sent out confirmation. Additional activity occurred through a pulsation.
"A pulse?"
"Perhaps the hardware exists as a communication system, too. This entire village stands on the grid, switched on, notwithstanding if the local phone company realizes. The Russians would react, for sure, if we tried to remove the central processing unit."
I realized something else.
"Shit."
"What?"
Alexis said, seeing my face sag.
"Shit."
Dread pooled in the pit of my stomach.
"What?"
A second later, she understood, and when she did, emerged like a wrecking ball hit her. Her feet slipping on the mud as she stumbled back, leaning against a wall, her skin blanched. Whatever she attempted to say failed on her tongue. She stared at me.
"What the fuck shall we do now?"
She shouted.
Obvious from her voice, she battled to stay focused.
As we walked into Cape Ore, her gaze remained fixed on the footpath ahead of us.
"I need to find out how the SVR infiltrated into the Suffolk Constabulary."
"Where does this leave me? My cover's blown."
"Alexis, please continue like nothing happened."
In the trailer, I admitted to breaking into Mill-House Properties. I talked about finding proof about the sinking of the trawler, about locating the bodies of the birdwatchers, and about the sighting of the submarine.
We couldn't deny anything.
We couldn't hide from what we said.
Because everything existed on tape.
I turned away from her, trying to clear my head. As I did, I comprehended how cold I became, the wind whipping in off the sea, the sun faded behind streaks of bruised cloud.
Somehow, the drop in temperature, the chill, all appeared right. I required producing something. I needed a plan.