The Boss by Monica Belle Page A

reliability. Indeed, so far we have enjoyed a one-hundred-per-cent success rate. Felicity, if you would be kind enough to play the video.’
    There was nothing I could do but comply and praythat if Mr Phelps hadn’t recognised me in my work clothes then he wouldn’t recognise me in my jeans and hoodie. At least my hair was different, which made me deeply grateful to Mum as the DVD began to play. I appeared, the image crystal clear as I made my way down the path, looking highly suspicious and immediately triggering the camera. Then came the captured image, showing my head in detail on the screen, rotating slowly and with my name now in place of the code number. Mr Phelps said nothing, nor as I appeared again, now in my office clothes, and once more triggering the camera to identify me correctly on the spot. As the video finished Stephen was looking immensely proud of himself.
    â€˜There we are, Mr Phelps. As I have explained, the facial recognition program works on the individual’s bone structure and requires only a small area of the face for accurate recognition. Yes, I think we can safely say that had Felicity been the one who stole your car, you would now have the satisfaction of a prosecution pending.’
    He finished with a dry chuckle, amused by his own wit in suggesting that I might have been the thief. Mr Phelps was looking right at me, but still with no hint of recognition and as he spoke again I began to let myself relax.
    â€˜Very impressive, Mr English, if all you say is true. However, the price is considerable and we will need to study the matter at length. Meanwhile, would it be feasible to install a pilot scheme with which you can make good your claims?’
    â€˜Absolutely.’
    It was as much as we’d expected, and more importantly I seemed to have got away with it, leavingtriumph and relief as my main reactions, so much so that I had to actively remind myself that I was supposed to be against the scheme. There were more questions, but even Mrs Shelby seemed moderately impressed, and by the time they left Stephen was rubbing his hands in satisfaction and talking earnestly with Paul about the details of the pilot scheme.
    â€˜What we need are concrete results, something to show them we’ll really make a difference. If we are to test the entire system they’ll need to allow us significant freedom of operation, and hopefully they’ll allow us to choose our own testing ground, but the question is: where? Felicity, you know the area, where do you think we should set up the pilot?’
    I hesitated, desperately trying to decide what to say and asking a question as inspiration struck me.
    â€˜It depends who you want to catch. I suppose the more serious the crime the better, and you’ll want to keep public support?’
    Stephen frowned.
    â€˜Public support only really matters in so far as the council represent the public, which frankly isn’t much. But yes, that might ward off any protests from idiot liberals. As to serious crimes, we have to bear in mind the probabilities involved. Murderers are few and far between.’
    He made it sound like it was a pity.
    â€˜Maybe not murderers, but how about dirty old men? Nobody has any sympathy for them, and I bet you’d get some if you put the cameras along the river behind the path.’
    It was true, and I was earnestly hoping that Mr Phelps might prove to be one of them.
    I’m all for catching dirty old men, the nasty sort, along with murderers, rapists and any other dangerous psychos who happen to be about, but the pilot scheme had to fail, otherwise life would soon be unbearable, and not just for me. I know I’m a bad girl, and maybe I do deserve to be caught and punished, at least for some of the things I’ve done, but most of the time I haven’t hurt anybody. OK, so maybe I did deserve it for my joyriding activity, or maybe not, but where does it stop? If the full ZX system was