The Spook who flew over the cuckoos nest. (BOOK 2) Read online

  “Typical ‘silver spoon’ case", Eastern remarked dryly.

  "Exactly!" exerted Rogon and continued, 'Having decided that a one-man assault on the open market would be the way forward, he embarked on a pre-planned crusade. His intention being, to take on the Stock market per se.'

  "Christ! Monetory suicide comes to mind." Eastern interjected.

  "On the contrary, Brezznov got lucky, it seems. His business acumen prospered very quickly, allowing him to become a predominant status figure, as speculators go. Not only at home, but also within the foreign market as well."

  "It's got the beginnings of a bloody malignant fairytale if you ask me" mused Eastern. "And I wouldn't mind betting he's upset a number of people in the process, to achieve his ranking."

  "Touche, Mike, I couldn’t’ agree more so. But to continue. By the time that Brezznov had reached thirty or so, he’d managed to accrue a substantial fortune while trading specifically within the diamond market. The majority of his holdings at the height of his prowess, centered in and around Holland”

  “The latter being the heart of the industry” Eastern interrupted.

  “Quite! With doorstep knowledge plus the finance to back it, enabled his holdings in turn to create a superlative power over the market as a whole. Hence the expression ‘money makes money’.”

  “Although, let’s not forget the grief that embodies it” echoed Eastern.

  “I certainly wouldn’t argue with you on that point, Mike, knowing that the flipside to that has handed the agency a more contentious story”

  “And I guess that’s the reason why I’m here?” he cut in. “Your agency colleague happened to mention earlier on something to that effect. right?” For once, Rogon appeared to come across as relieved, and was quick to acknowledge it’s origin.

  “It’s comforting to know that we both agree on one aspect, Mike, especially when the situation, as you put it, entails a crock of shit!” Averting his gaze back to the file in question, Rogon continued in a more serious vein. “As I stated before, monopoly creates resentment and then in turn, enemies begin to appear. A spate of incidents, including death threats on Brezznov’s life, finally convinced him to take the law into his own hands.”

  "So now we're looking at a severely pissed off, but wealthy financier, looking to play God! Yeah?"

  "I couldn't have put it better myself, Mike. In the short space of two weeks, four 'hits' (assassinations)-three in Holland and one in London, were systematically carried out on his behalf, as a show of reprisal would you believe?" The enormity alluding to Rogon's latest revelation, finally came home to roost on Eastern's doorstep.

  "No Shit!" he retorted. "To me, it sounds like the guy has got shares in 'Murder Inc'!" His intended version then became lost in transit, as Rogon continued where he had left off.

  "On investigation, the Dutch police were primarily at a loss when detailing charges against him. It seems that any effort, on their part, to collect vital evidence and witnesses, remained thwarted. It became clear that the diamond industry as a whole, was set on maintaining an enforced code of silence." An expression of distaste clouded Eastern's face, leaving him to voice a dormant point of view.

  "As I stated before" he reminded Rogon, "to my mind the arsole has got away with murder!" A rare mark of expression, resulting in a smug smile, quickly evaporated.

  Which allowed Rogon a brief moment of satisfaction before responding.

  "Not quite, Mike, you'll be pleased to know. The 'hit' that occurred in London, took place at a certain merchant's jewelers based in Hatton Garden. And! In broad daylight!" he emphasized strongly. "And that, as it turned out, resulted in becoming Brezznov's first mistake"

  "And the crucial one?" Eastern interjected, "There has to be a follow-up surely?"

  "Absolutely, and without doubt, it all centered on the hiring of the 'face' (villain)- that Brezznov employed to carry out the 'hit'."

  "Now your getting warm, in what regard?" Pausing for breath, Rogon spelt out the remaining facts in a contrived manner.

  "Would you believe, that Brezznov, stupidly allowed himself to fall into the economy trap?"

  "From where I'm standing, nothing would surprise me. I can only surmise that you mean a cheap job in exchange for a big deal?"

  Nodding in agreement, Rogon remained unflinching in reply. "Precisely that! The 'hit' itself was doomed to failure from the word go. The 'face' employed to carry out the job, was a small time career criminal, known by the police as one Freddie Earnshaw." Eastern's face then registered a look that didn't warrant an explanation, as he exploited his own character assassination.

  "Yeah, the name's familiar alright. From what I can recall he's been on the 'Bill's' (police) shopping list from way back. To my reckoning the guy's done more time (internment) than a poxy carriage clock. I can only assume that Brezznov must have been on 'crack' (cocaine) when he got him involved." Once again Rogon concurred with a nod, whilst electing to retain an unrepentant attitude.

  "The fact still remains though, Mike, that, like it or not, Earnshaw still managed to carry out the 'hit' and seriously wound a security guard in the process."

  "Please, go on."

  "Fortunately, the injured victim was in a position to oblige the Flying squad with a one-on-one ID. So, with that and the CCTV coverage at close proximity, finally enabled the police to apprehend Earnshaw within 24 hours of the crime being committed." For the first time since their conversation had opened up, Eastern now felt relaxed within himself. And decided to pursue an alternative line of enquiry.

  "So, tell me, did the police manage to make a connection between Earnshaw and Brezznov after interrogation?" In contrast, Rogon appeared to be somewhat at ease with the question when replying.

  "Not at that particular time, Mike, although suffice to say, the police would have broken him down eventually. Besides which, Earnshaw had nothing to lose by implicating Brezznov as being the paymaster."

  "Uhm, you stated eventually?" Clearly, Eastern was shadowing some doubt, "can you elaborate on that, Rogon? I think I'm missing something here."

  "I won't bore you with the details as such, so I'll make it brief. While he was on remand awaiting trial, Earnshaw's lifeless body was discovered on the floor of a shower room."

  "Presumably murdered?" Eastern conjectured. In return, Rogon was adamant concerning the latter's calculated demise.

  "There was never any doubt whatsoever in that direction. His mouth, we were told, had been forcibly stuffed with bars of soap, causing him to ultimately choke to death." Forced to wince, merely out of habit rather that sympathy, Eastern then decided to come clean himself, by informing Rogon of Brezznov's alleged repatriation scenario, prior to his own secondment earlier on.

  "The amount of coverage put out by the 'CLARION' itself, it seemed to me, that it was small enough to be missed.." and went on to suggest, "That the Press to my mind had been artificially leaned-on to keep the reported facts reasonably low key. Unless you know different of course?" he hinted. Rogon retaliated with a smile, in a manner that remained exclusive to the agency, before replying.

  "Your subservient observations become you, Mike. There's no fooling you, is there? Although you're right of course. The decision to sanction certain injunctions, stemmed from Whitehall, as you've probably guessed already." Acknowledging his patronising explanation, Eastern issued a token nod of gratification, but not before exerting his own brand of sarcasm.

  "In that case, then maybe bloody Whitehall can give me a good enough reason as to why they obviously wish to contaminate my life once again!?" From then on, any form of contact appeared to be put on hold, leaving Rogon to ease himself back into his chair. Having made himself comfortable, he ordered some fresh coffee over the intercom. His hidden emotions at this stage, gave no indication as to his secreted thoughts. Eastern meanwhile, was left to contemplate what might have been.

  "He's building up to something, I just know it" he mused and continued his reasoning in the same vein. "I can r
ead him like a bleedin' book. Poxy mind-games to soften me up and then bam! He's in your face and body with an offer that stinks of rhetoric." Meanwhile, the coffee had been made available , leaving Rogon to pick up where he had suitably left off.

  "Black or white, Mike?" he enquired casually. "The coffee that is." The moment became glaringly obvious, that he intended to keep Eastern negotiating a slippery tightrope of expectancy.

  "Oh,...eh...white will be fine thanks. Sorry I was miles away." At least the coffee appeared to be genuine, and he took full advantage of it.

  The moment he lowered his cup, Eastern's perception kicked in, and he steeled himself for what Rogon had allegedly got in mind. Slowly and methodically, the latter placed his cup to one side and glanced upward. His unflinching gaze honed in on Eastern's own eyes like a magnet drawn to metal. Finally, he uttered a single strategic word, "Prison!" and continued to penetrate, Eastern's, mind while awaiting a reaction.

  Seemingly unmoved by Rogon's premeditated verbal offering, knowing there could well be a hidden motive lurking behind it, forced him into shifting the onus into retreat. "And!?" he demanded guardedly. It wasn't the feedback that he had been anticipating. For once Rogon had been caught flatfooted.

  "Touche, Mike, I get the impression that you know me better than I know myself these days,so I will get straight to the crux of the matter. Basically, the agency, and not forgetting myself of course, felt that we would like to send you to prison for a while! How do you feel about that?”

  “And you can go to hell!” would normally have sufficed as a suggestion to any such proposal foisted onto him. As it was, their past relationship of late had now matured to a higher level entwined with mutual respect. Given their circumstances when confronting him, Eastern elected to absorb what was on offer before passing judgment. Meanwhile, sensing a reprieve surmounting from a verbal backlash, Rogon continued to exploit his guardian role.

  “As I mentioned previously, Mike, as alternatives go, prison isn’t going to be the best solution on offer. But from the agency’s standpoint it becomes one of sheer necessity. Thus far and with Brezznov in mind, any history that we have touched on is only the tip of the iceberg.”

  “I realize that only too well." Eastern readily confirmed, "so you have my full attention. Please, carry on." He invited.

  "I've no desire to cover any old ground at this juncture, Mike. Unfortunately, the fact remains that the power induced by obscene amounts of money in the past, has given Brezznov carte blanche over the years, to classify his claim as undoubtedly being public enemy number one. Moreover, the fact that he is currently being held in a controlled environment, quite frankly means nothing! His prolonged influence remains as threatening on the inside as it does on the outside.”

  Their in-depth conversation at that point appeared to have materialized into one of game, set and match. Derived from a fleeting image of a mocking Brezznov, gate- crashed Eastern's thoughts. And in doing so, instantly alerting him to what ever grief might lay ahead. Although even with that in mind he wasn't about to cave-in that easily, having digested the facts. "I certainly go along with your comments on that score Rogon, but consider this. The bigger they are...the harder they fall, and that son- of- a- bitch is no exception to the rule, trust me!"

  Now fully convinced that he held Eastern's full attention, assured Rogon, that he could now divulge certain prime facts alluding to the heart of the matter, and Indeed, his own personal views on the agency 'brief'. "Precisely!" he echoed, "and we," he continued, "need to supply the trip-wire by bringing him down to his knees."

  "I get the distinct impression, that you're going to hit me with a designer format at any moment." declared Eastern.

  "And hopefully you can successfully carry it out, Mike your position, thus far, will entail you working on the inside. The idea being, will be for you to investigate the theory that Brezznov has indeed planned a multi-million pound global fraud. Unfortunately, I hasten to add, the subject matter stems from an unknown source,. Hence our desire to get you fully briefed and out of circulation full stop." The acute suddenness of Rogon's decision to move the 'brief' to another level, had now taken Eastern completely unawares.

  "Christ Rogon!" he exploded, "don't you think that you've left it a trifle late to get some sort of system organized? After all." he questioned, "I seem to recall you as stating that, quote, "Brezznov could be released at any time." Rogon then assured him that intervention from a higher power could justify, as he put it

  "A bureaucratic decision to sanction an extension, at any given time, is now in place." Heaving a sigh of relief, Eastern vetoed Rogon's flexibility and enquired as to the source of the alleged planned fraud. From then on, Rogon was at a loss to clarify any solid evidence to substantiate the claim, other than collective SP (information), gleaned from a series of informative phone calls made to Sussex HQ over the last couple of months. "The caller," he went on, "as you've probably guessed, chose to remain anonymous. What I can say, with due justification, is that following a trace,

  the calls themselves were found to have originated in and around the Brighton area."

  Disappointment, linked to frustration, was integral to Eastern's make-up. And he asserted his own personal views when summing up. "It sounds to me like it could be a classic fall-out amongst thieves, you upset me and I'll return the favour. Right?" Incidentally, did the informant at any time state the method, or indeed put any particular person in the frame, used for incorporating the alleged 'scam'?"

  Once again, Rogon was forced into a climb-down. "Like I stated before, not even a hint of a motive has emerged. Putting it mildly, we have been left hung out to dry." Negativism was one thing, and Eastern wasn't about to be rubber-stamped by association.

  There is of course another angle that you might wish to consider." Acting bland as ever, Rogon committed himself to acting as an observer.

  "I'm listening, what's on your mind?"

  "I've been thinking, those 'bent' phone calls the police received?"

  "Calls? I thought that I had passed on that issue and stipulated why?"

  "Maybe from where you're sitting; only it's occurred to me that they might not be coming across as being totally 'kosher' ( genuine)."

  "And how the hell would you go about justifying that score?"

  "Just bear with me for a moment Rogon. I'm simply sticking with the word 'misrepresentation' for the present. Who's to say that the calls are only just one part of a double-edged 'scam'?" The point had been made leaving Rogon to seize the moment. "In other words, a ploy, planted specifically to draw our attention away from a hidden agenda. Given the amount of intrigue thus far, I have to say that your implication certainly holds water, Mike."

  "Exactly!" Eastern retorted, "Now your beginning to think on your feet at last Rogon, by fully admitting that the 'scam' theory suddenly becomes a feasible one. Personally, I can imagine the consequence of such a scheme ultimately occurring. And in turn, resulting into a flaming nightmare in terms of policing, should the situation ever arise. The possibility being, that you could wind up throwing all your potential resources at the wrong target. Consequently, leaving Brezznov with a passport to carry

  out his intended game plan without any grief involved. Assuming, of course, that he's at the heart of the matter."

  At that juncture, Rogon's body language could well have spoken for him, and he lost no time in concurring. "You're 100% right, of course, Mike, or should I say as usual? And as you so rightly put it, until we know otherwise we will endeavour to play our percentage card." On that note and having achieved an overall level of mutual understanding, Eastern elected to remain within the confines of the agency to further discuss various options relevant to his covert self portrayal. Also taking on board, the possible pitfalls arising from any unforeseen consequences. Prominent being, the close attention given to the body and soul makeover, consistent with a whole new identity. When physically adapting to his proposed new under-cover role.

  Meanwhile, back at
his Flat in Brunswick Square, much aided by the benefit of time on her hands, his worried partner, namely Joan Travers, had likewise been engaged in contemplating a few personal views of her own. That apart, the majority of women would knowingly have been divided in their respective thoughts. Once again she stopped off to check the time. "God! he's been absent for almost four hours," she remarked in a contrite manner.

  Knowing him as she did, plus the erratic work pattern that encompassed his maverick way of life as a PI, had became a trait that she readily accepted on a day to day basis. Having decided to retire to bed, she left a brief note of intimacy alongside a cold chicken supper in the kitchen. Some minutes later, the last dying thoughts that entered her head, as it gratefully hit the pillow, tended to sum up her current feelings. "There's no point in staying up I'm sure to get all the legitimate excuses in the morning anyway."

  CHAPTER 2...Induction by proxy.

  If challenged, anybody who knew her well enough, would never question the fact that she 'knew it all'. So Joan could be excused into thinking that her predictability associated with timing, should it ever come under scrutiny, would leave her feeling a trifle jarred. It was just after 12o/c midday the following day, when Eastern finally decided to surface, preceding his unexpected and covert abduction arising from the previous evening. With that in mind, Joan didn't waste any time when getting on his case.

  "Good morning, Mike, I trust your business trip went well? At the very least, you have to say that your clients are getting their money's worth out of you." With that in mind , there comes a point in every seasoned P.I's life when the reality world tends to collide with Mars. And Mike Eastern was fast becoming no exception to the rule. The time to confront his demons had arrived , and this particular nemesis, hugging the limelight, just happened to be called Rogon.