Once upon a Spook (The Spooks series Book 1) Read online

  “And Curtis, what part will he play as from now?” Eastern demanded. It was almost as if Rogon had anticipated his question.

  “As from yesterday, Curtis has been given grounds to take compassionate leave.” A plastic smile clouded his face before replying, “I have it on good authority that his Grandmother is seriously ill.”

  “Christ sake! Rogon.” Eastern exploded. “You people really are something else, do you know that?” Shrugging his shoulders, Rogon insisted on having the last word.

  “We do what we do Mike, in spite of the fact it’s seemingly uncivilised. But nevertheless it becomes a necessity should the situation be called into play. Who knows, one day you might get used to the system?” Ten minutes later and aptly blindfolded for security, the pair were placed in a car and driven back to the village, and not before Eastern had been instructed that at 3.30pm (it was now 2.45am) a car would arrive at the flat in Brunswick Square and transport him to spooks HQ for an induction period, followed by a general briefing.

  Part of the deal made by Eastern included at 24/7 surveillance watch on the flat, knowing that Joan could still be vulnerable. It goes without saying that any outstanding sleep left to the pair early that morning, was duly accounted for, once they had been officially dropped off.

  CHAPTER XIII…Under cover and underestimated

  It was tedious, it was time consuming, it was Eastern’s third day on the job, and it was damn uncivilised! “Bloody Rogon got it right, another hour of this and I’ll be glad when I’ve had enough.” Having decided that Central might be a good springboard to commence investigating the bung probe case, Eastern was now having strong reservations about his poached affiliation to the hallowed halls of Law and Order, including the inconsistency arising from the files that he was searching through. Stopping off briefly, he checked for an update on his watch. “God! Is that the time? I should have called Joan over an hour ago. She’s not going to be very impressed.”

  He was almost on the verge of calling it a day, when his suspicions were aroused by one file in particular. Or, as he explained to ‘B’ later on in the day, “the lack of the contents that were listed.” From what he could gather, without delving too deeply, it amounted to the loss of one independent and two other statements both of which were allegedly made while under caution. Although it has to be said, that the name on the file itself was never in dispute, and found to be classified as such. Namely, the ‘Crown versus Henry Dowling’.

  Over a belated dinner that evening, Eastern felt the need to digress over the day’s events. This in turn, prompted Joan to do likewise. “No, you first Mike,” she suggested. “I’m still struggling to come to terms with Dowling’s admission that…”

  “I presume of course that you mean Rogon, darling? There’s a mountain of difference in knowing that Henry Dowling himself did actually exist. In fact the details arising from his case triggered this whole operation, from day one. As for the alleged Andy Dowling, he always was, ands still remains a Government agency spook, AKA Rogon. We must never lose sight of that fact. It’ll be hard, because I can see that it bothers you.”

  “And you Mike, what’s your stand on what has transpired? You can’t tell me that you haven’t had reservations concerning your position? I sincerely hope that you understand who, and what, you’re dealing with?” Toying with his Scotch wasn’t the response that she was looking for.

  Easing off on his glass, a double edged smile creased his face as he looked up. “I’m flattered that you have my best interests at heart Joan. You do realise of course that if I pursue this Government job, then you will no longer require my services. The only issue remaining that we will have left in common, is one of security. And Rogon is dealing with that aspect, as we speak.”

  The look that transformed her face began to have a two-sided effect. A simple ‘yes or no’ would appear to be a prelude too far. Deep down, she knew that she wanted more out of their relationship. The mere thought of total closure wasn’t in her script. “Why can’t we just leave things the way they are Mike? And pretend that this whole rotten mess never existed?” She pleaded. “Besides, I’ve got used to you being around.”

  It was the longest he’d ever taken to pour himself a Scotch, as his mind went off at a tangent. Delving into a track record that was littered with matrimonial disasters. “I must be a sucker for punishment,” he told himself. “Although Joan is a classy bitch, in an exclusive way.” But that’s the crux of the matter stupid. It’s because they are what they are that you’ve landed yourself with this problem. His subconscious was having a field day, and the jury was out.

  “Mike!”

  “Oh, sorry Joan, I was bloody miles away. Yeah, no, I mean that’s fine. I’ll stick around if that’s okay with you.” On the odd occasion it sometimes pays to swim with the tide, and Eastern wasn’t about to argue the case as the fullness of perfect sensuous lips suddenly locked onto his own. Somehow, the importance of his Scotch seemed to have lost its appeal. Suffice to say that when he did finally get round to drinking it, the quality appeared to have increased its maturity.

  Early the following morning, the Clarion issued them with an unexpected wake up call.

  BUNG CASE BROUGHT FORWARD

  After three preliminary hearings, it has been announced that the defendant DCI Conway will now appear at Lewes Assizes on Monday 14 August to stand trial on conspiracy charges.

  Eastern looked up from the paper before echoing his own thoughts. “At least it’s a start Joan. And even more interestingly will be to see what price loyalty will surface out of it. I am of course referring to family. Will you be attending the trial by the way? It’s not as if you’re a witness.” She shook her head vigorously to pre-empt any likelihood of it every happening.

  “Absolutely no way. Unless of course I was subpoenaed to attend in which case I would have to. No, I’ll rely on you Mike, you can keep me abreast of the proceedings.” It wasn’t so much what he said, as opposed to the way that he said it, as Eastern explained.

  “I’m afraid it will have to be the limited version from now on, under the circumstances.”

  “You mean…”

  “Yeah” he interrupted, and laughed. “You do realise that I’m Government property now.” For a spontaneous effort it became a close run thing, and Eastern did well to avoid the slice of toast she threw at him in fun. As prearranged, he made a covert call to ‘B’ that same day to update him with his findings regarding his stint at Central. His report was documented, and he was then advised to move on to Division.

  Putting it mildly, and if asked, he wouldn’t hesitate to be honest by stating “I’ve had a shit day at the office!” So when Eastern received a random call on his mobile, emerging from a likely source. The end result became the welcome shot in the arm he could never have envisaged.

  “Hello, Mike Eastern speaking, how can I help?” In return, the reply he swiftly noted stank of ‘old school breeding’, which included a distinctive ring of worldly charm about it.

  “Ah! I’m glad we have had this chance to converse at last old chap. By the way the name is Travers. Major Travers that is…retired of course.” Eastern went from confusion one minute to total disbelief the next as the name slowly registered. It seemed like an eternity stranded in no man’s land. “Hello, I say, are you still there dear boy?” The caller enquired.

  Eastern finally gathered himself together, cursing inwardly at his stupidity. “Damn it! I should have known better.” Although, in his defence, it’s not every day that one gets a call from an ex Chief Constable.

  “My apologies Sir, my phone hasn’t stopped ringing over the last couple of hours,” was the best excuse he could come up with at the time. In retrospect, his oversight didn’t amount to a problem, leaving the Major to verify his cause.

  “It isn’t a bad thing to be in demand old chap, and that is the reason why I am phoning you.” In his mind Eastern was having negative thoughts by allowing his past track record into hi
s thoughts. “Shit! I can’t wait for the verbal crucifixion that’s coming,” ran through his mind.

  “I can assure you…”

  “Relax old chap, you’re in good company.” Travers intervened and went on, ”it’s perfectly clear to me that we are on the same side here, and I’m a damn good ‘bat’ when I’m called upon…what!” he expounded.

  “Yes sir, no Sir, three fucking bags full Sir!” was what Mike wanted to say. But he admired the Major’s charisma all the same. “So, how can I be of service to you.”

  “Without being presumptuous Mike, if I can be so bold? I have a feeling that I’m in a position to help you, from what Joan has related to me. And i have to say at this juncture, that she comes across as being most contented, more than she has for a long time. All thanks to you my dear boy. This bloody awful business that you’re both surrounded by, could use an injection of influence, what!”

  Eastern wasn’t about to argue, “I couldn’t agree more, it’s all about who you know Sir, as opposed to what you know, when push comes to shove. What did you have in mind, Major?”

  “Well I won’t dwell on any opinions for a start, as I feel sure that we both share the same conclusions. So now, I’m thinking in terms of knowledgeable back up, should a problem arise.”

  “My thoughts entirely Sir, money can’t buy that aspect.”

  “Precisely, old chap. So I suggest that you contact a trusted ex colleague of mine, stationed at HQ, CS (Chief Superintendent) Gleason. Damn good chap to be around, what! I’ll be following your progress at a distance, and good luck old man!”

  He then rang off, leaving Eastern to ponder over a couple of beneficial issues he didn’t have before. Just then, Joan entered the room as he was down loading his mobile. On looking up, he noticed that she appeared to be a trifle sheepish. “I presume by your manner, that you heard the conversation. It was your step father wanting to get in touch.” He remarked casually.

  “Oh really?”

  Eastern was forced to grin. “Don’t look so surprised, I’m sure that you knew he would at some stage?” Her face broadened into one of false recognition.

  “Well he did mention the fact, last time we spoke. So, did anything come of it?” It became a throwaway line and she bowed to his supremacy.

  “Yes! Fortunately, he’s done me a great favour, and ‘marked by card’ in the process.”

  Full of apprehension, Eastern made himself known to the desk Sgt at Division the next morning. Who, in turn put him in touch with the IPCC team. Following a short preliminary discussion he was left to his own devices, sifting through unlimited files and dossiers dating back some six years previous.

  Not withstanding the relevant files held and processed by the then prosecution as evidence, there was always the slim chance that something amiss could have been overlooked. One vital lead above all others would mean locating a specific signature, or reference on a contentious file that could be traced back to source and redefined. The said name itself, or authorisation stamp, was believed to hold the key if proven in bringing down ‘Mr Big’, the absolute brains behind the conspiracy.

  It soon became clear to him in time, as he progressed, that in many selective cases, leading evidence submitted by the defence at that time appeared to have been held back, on alleged discretionary grounds. Bearing in mind the supreme importance of this disclosure, he found himself struggling to keep his thoughts to himself. “No bloody wonder they grounded Johnnie Curtis, he could see what was going down. God knows how many innocent people have been fitted up in lieu of an offshore investment.”

  Mulling over a midday coffee in the canteen, Eastern poured over the reference notes that he’d procured earlier on. One insignia in particular that he’d managed to procure earlier on appeared to be troubling him. “Uhm! SDC, the initials are just not working for me, in fact the letter S is really bugging me.” It wasn’t until he’d finished his second coffee, that a session of lateral thinking suitably put his reasoning back in the frame. “You bloody idiot Eastern!” he chided himself, “how could you be that dumb? The answer has been staring at you all along and you couldn’t see it! The S doesn’t have to represent a name, but moreover the leading part of a title instead.” Finally it all fell into place as he adjusted his brain. “Sir Daniel Conway, assistant Police Constable, no less.” He blurted out. “Hell, Rogon will have a field day on the strength of that.”

  Eastern was now fired up, allowing his brain to run wild on an injection of scenarios, including the omission of a well worn adage that hammered away inside. “Like father, like son.” In the past, the mere possibility that the two Conways could somehow be linked in the conspiracy would only have run to conjecture on his part. Still out on a high, he milked the moment as he targeted his principal thoughts. “I strongly suggest that you two arseholes make the most of your borrowed time, your road to perdition is nearing a dead end.”

  As an off the cuff remark goes, only fate itself would be in position to clarify its two way illegitimacy, although reality ends here. In so far as he was concerned, his day had been fruitful. Left with time on his hands, he made a snap decision to drop in on Gleason over at HQ, giving himself the opportunity to make himself known.

  An hour later, on exiting a side door at HQ, he noted that the car park was almost full to capacity, leaving him with a slight problem in pin pointing the location of his car. As it turned out, he remembered leaving it close to the main exit for convenience sake. This in turn, was served by a one way system throughout.

  With bearings now intact, he casually proceeded in the direction of his car. Glancing over his shoulder, he reminded himself to be aware of exiting vehicles approaching him from behind. One minute nothing, then suddenly a vision of hell on four wheels consumed his being. To be wise after the event is one thing, staying alive became paramount. The estimated speed of the vehicle rapidly bearing down on him left Eastern in no doubt that the intention behind the premeditated altercation was for his benefit. Question! How does one define a split second, in terms of thinking? For Eastern, it wasn’t even an option, as the wheel screeching ominous vehicle reached its potential, hell bent on delivering a lethal package of designer metal neatly wrapped in a contrived death sequence of events. From that moment on, any form of reflex on his part materialised from a combination arising from ultimate shock and instant fear, amid the acrid stench exuding from burning tyre rubber and metal heat that now bore down on his body.

  With all options barred, the nearest car bonnet proved to be his one remaining salvation as instinct kicked in. Every muscle, and every sinew in his frozen body combined in a last do or die attempt to avoid being mercilessly run down. Instinctively he hurled his frame sideways in the forlorn hope that he’d succeeded in his last ditch effort. The whole episode in its entirety had taken only seconds but to Eastern, it became sufficient enough to view a double take on his life. Then, just as swiftly as it had started, his nightmare was redundant, leaving his bedraggled body to slide unceremoniously off the car bonnet, and land in an un-majestic heap on the asphalt surface of the road.

  Almost immediately, the sudden realisation of what might have been gripped his ravaged body, and in doing so, forced him to retch unashamedly. He found himself sweating profusely, in spite of a cold wave of alien air that consumed his body, causing his frame to involuntarily shake, and then tremble. Only this time it was in sheer anger and frustration, in knowing that he’d been deliberately targeted. Accepting the fact that the premeditated incident had been executed and where the danger itself had been conceived, was within the HQ precinct only aggravated the problem.

  On considering the facts, to rush headlong into a private war with the same organisation he was trying to bring down wouldn’t make any sense at all at this stage. At best he could use the experience, albeit a threat, as part of a learning curve in the art of security. Satisfying himself that the altercation had been a huge wake up call in more ways than one, now emphasised the danger that existed on a p
ersonal level. The irony was that the person, or persons, responsible for this latest charade to have him removed from the equation, could well be somebody already known to him. If this was the case, then his maverick style position could be even more vulnerable than previously. The time had now come to readdress his flagging existence. Rising shakily to his feet, he dusted himself off and, minutes later, climbed behind the wheel of his car. For the moment, he was content to sit it out, and regain some of his lost composure before driving off, although his overworked brain had other ideas by allowing his immune system to kick start a verbal defence.

  “God almighty! That was a close call; I reckon I got lucky this time. It’s clear that some nasty bastard wants me out of the way full stop! It can only be for what I know, I’m convinced of that.” Without any prompting he found himself quietly laughing to himself as his mind took a u-turn by switching to a more positive streak. His actions became the shot in the arm that he craved as he voiced his own script. “Well I’ve got news for you, whoever you are, you’ve only succeeded in pissing me off some more. So, bring it on arsehole!”

  His outburst became the edge he was looking for, “Just remember this, what I’ve got on you is now ‘banged’ up in here and awaiting a release date, that’s something you can’t take away from me baby.” Slowly and methodically he tapped the side of his head. Seconds later, and still chuckling, he turned the key in the ignition and manoeuvred the exit. Twenty or so minutes later found him parked up in the village and, would you believe it, still smiling.