Three Faces of West

By

Christian Shakespeare

© 2013, Christian Shakespeare. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Prologue

The sky was as grey as the mood on the ground. This Tuesday morning, there was nothing

unusual about the rush associated with the vibrancy of the city at this time of day. In the light

rain, the clock outside the train station, and those within struck 07:28 reminding passengers to

the schedule of their hectic day ahead. London King’s Cross was one of the major hubs in

the nation’s capital, even so at this time in the morning the whole building was abuzz with a

hive of activity.

Inside the trains were pulling in out of the platforms with harmonious pandemonium, all

releasing their passenger loads before taking on the next ones. Around the main area local

businesses and shops were drumming up custom and profit, some serving tea and coffee,

other magazines and publications, others foodstuffs. This aurora of normality rumbled on in

the station as another day began to unfold.

The clock struck 07:29. Platform 1 was a filling up nicely, more so in the last few minutes

as commuters began readying themselves for their travel. Professionals, students, young and

old, all bound by their desire to get to where they needed to with as little hassle as possible.

Finally the station lights turned green and further down the line, out of the grey morning

gloom the 07:40 from Colchester and going to Edinburgh pulled into view. The huge train

with its many carriages thundered into the station shaking the ground as it slowly pulled up

alongside the platform.

Something did not feel quite right as the locomotive brakes let out that familiar, yet tortured

squeal signalling the end of the journey. This was a train that had performed this many times

before, almost daily, yet this morning the mood was slightly off. It was almost as if a

primeval telepathic feeling permeated through the commuters. What turned out to be even

stranger was that this disturbing atmosphere was not just restricted to the platform, but the

surrounding waiting areas and shops.

The train, by now halted, opened its doors, and as customary the carriages spilling their

passengers onto the already crowded platform. The clock struck 07:30 precisely. Just as

platform 1 was at its busiest. There seemed to be sudden shouting and general commotion

further down the train. Sounding as if it is coming from the third carriage back, it was louder

and more profound than the surrounding ambient noise. Through the crowds people shouted

accompanying by pushing and shoving, drawing the attention of people to the event just

because of their curiosity was exactly what was planned to happen. Next was a bit of a blur,

a flash, first blue then orange then a bang. Coming from inside the third carriage, the crowd

of people caught the full force. A second bang came instantly afterwards, this time ripping

through the carriage causing pieces of shattered and splintered debris of all kinds of material

to fly through the air, mercilessly tearing through anything in the way, including flesh.

Smoke and darkness flooded the area both immediate and beyond. What seemed like an

eternity was only punctured by the inevitable haunting sounds of people in distress

accompanied by alarms ringing echoing through the thick smoke. A second flash and

explosion disrupted the chaos, this time from the second carriage of the train. Blasting away

walls, throwing the locomotive off the tracks, this one was more violent. The second one

deposited even more debris across an even greater area, increasing the damage and the injury.

The chaotic overspill spread to the outside. Thick, black choking smoke rose up through the

London air high above King’s Cross like a morbid signal to the site of the incident. Drawing

attention to the site through both the general public, the streets quickly became choked with

traffic and people. Screams and wails from both the shocked and the injured became

permeated by the sirens of emergency services trained in rapid response zeroing in on the site

of the incident.

Kings Cross quickly became a scene akin to something out of a film. One could be forgiven

for thinking this was a movie setup, but this was no tale, it was a very real scenario. Rapid

response teams congregated around the smoke filled entrance sealing off any further inroads

by the general public. Through the smoke, by now as thick as it was black blocked the view

of the rescuers to investigate what had gone wrong. Brave souls donning breathing apparatus

entered the building by crossing the threshold into the darkness, keeping their cool under

intense pressure as the world seemed to collapse around them.

Seconds seemed like minutes, which in turn seemed like hours as people streamed out of the

disaster zone into the blinding daylight of safety. Some screaming, others shocked, some

conscious others unconscious all gave hints to the apparent carnage within. Everyday

commuters, ordinary people flowed out, helped out by emergency crews blood-stained but

alive. Somehow they were the lucky ones. Inside a totally different picture emerged

indicating that what was going on above was just the tip of the iceberg.

Everything completely dark except for a restricted area of light directly above platform 1

greeted anyone who ventured inside. Part of the roof had been blown completely off leaving

behind only jagged twisted metal blasted across the tracks and waiting areas for those that

were not still hanging from above. The sound of cracking and crunching could be heard as

you could not help but walk over shattered debris of various things that littered the place.

Hauntingly the carnage was accompanied by the disturbing sound of people, still in peril

crying out, some for help, some under a shock spell. Priority was given to those who could

not move, but the immediate action was to get everyone out as quickly as possible.

The rescue effort moved rapidly forward, crews and teams putting into action the training

given for exactly this type of scenario, and to save lives. That was until platform 1 greeted

the workers. Unrecognisable and undistinguishable between the twisted metal and the

concrete, the train that had pulled in earlier completely destroyed. The locomotive at the

front smashed, the carriages ripped, the platform covered in bodies – and body parts. Limbs,

extremities, heads and corpses with half their torso’s blasted away strew the vicinity of the

explosion. The walls, repainted with the horrific pinkish reddened tint of human flesh and

organs greeted the sight of the onlookers. The stickiness of the floor felt underfoot from a

blood-washed platform creating the horrible squelching sound usually reserved for a

nightclub dance floor on a Saturday night. Even by hardened, trained men’s standards, it was

a sickening sight.

Laying in momentarily stunned silence, the rescue teams, trained for this could not help but

freeze the human emotion. Reaction suddenly kicked in, spurring the professionals into

action over the scene to try and find anyone still alive.

Outside the situation was just as confusing. Almost instantly the mass media had drawn the

attention of a worldwide audience. Internet and social media outlets meant that the situation

could not be noticed locally. The fringes of the site, crammed with onlookers and the media

at the cordons the police had put up resembled something of a scrum. The sky, active with

helicopters above the chaos all desperately scrambling to airlift the priority wounded away.

Others representing the media, constantly looking down beaming the events live across the

country and to the wider world completed the aerial armada above the thick black rising

smoke.

Chapter 1:

Light streamed in through the three large tall windows in the room. A flicker made by the

rustling of the tree leaves in the garden outside disrupted the light in the room of the ever

brightening sky outside. It clearly was opulent surroundings, expensive blue patterned flock

wallpaper draped over each wall, adorned with valuable 18th

century oil portraits and

landscapes. Leather bound volumes covered one wall indicating to any visitor that the

occupier was one of high social and intellectual class. The room was active, despite the

situation outside. The dark blue uniforms and the white paper suits worn by the occupants

indicated that here was a crime scene. Despite the commotion there was a strangely still calm

to the man standing at the window looking out on the world beyond.

The figure stood tall, his short black hair mirroring the colour of his coat thus completing

the silhouette of his figure against the window light.

“What do you think Jack?” Said a voice from behind, “Why do we get jobs like these?”

“What do you mean John?” He replied,

“Well look at it, all this going on at King’s Cross and we are stuck with this case. Can’t you

hear the sirens outside?”

Jack turned round from the window. Looking John in the eye, ignoring his brown hair and

grey coat,

“Unfortunately we are. Look the reason we are here-“

John interrupted, “What about the police? This should be a matter for them not us.”

Jack responded calmly, repeating his sentence from the beginning again,

“We are here because the police responded first to report the theft of a rather precious item.

They are waiting for the special branch to turn up. Apparently it’s so important that it

requires even people like us to get involved.”

He continued, “I’m guessing the reason why there is only uniform outside is because of the

incident at the train station. Sound like chaos to me.”

Proceeding to move closer to his partner, Jack could not help but examine the surroundings.

Only snapping out of his thought pattern by John’s next remark,

“You know the media are saying there’s been a gas explosion at King’s Cross, everyone

else thinks it’s a terrorist attack” He said rather cynically.

Jack replied in a typically quirky style,

“You might be right. You know this is the one of the apartments of the Duke of

Westminster. His seat is Eaton Hall up in Cheshire, but this is one of his London residences.

That is why we have been drafted in, to make sure that what happened was only criminal and

nothing deeper.”

“Well let’s hope it is only criminal and nothing else.” Replied John.

Jack turned around to look at the evidence in the room. He wasn’t a detective anymore, but

the investigative instincts inside him still profoundly empowered him. There were certain

niggling things out of the ordinary that rang alarm bells, as he surveyed the surroundings

knowing that he was absolutely forbidden to interfere with anything.

“What’s this?” He asked himself noticing objects draped down beside the mantelpiece.

Upon it the ornaments, a complete mess, tipped up and broken showed some signs of activity

here.

John’s attention had shifted to a cabinet case in a centre of the room. Clearly the focus for

the police officers and forensics, Jack, knowing not to contaminate the crime scene by

touching, wasted no time in moving closer to observe and analyse the clue,

“Looks very secure to me.” John remarked, “But it’s easy to see how such a crime could

have happened.”

Moving toward the cabinet case Jack could see the structure was tampered with,

“Is it alarmed?” Asked Jack,

“Almost certainly” Replied John.

Looking at the glass lid of the case in greater detail betrayed some of the clues to the robbery.

It clearly had been cut in a circular fashion. The extra glass fell inside the case and was

resting on the base where the precious contents once displayed. The hole itself was only just

big enough for the smallest of hands to get through. Jack paused in his train of thought for a

minute, then reacted,

“If someone stole this, then they must have entered from somewhere” He pondered.

“Just out of curiosity,” John asked, “What was in this case?”

Jack turned to John giving him a knowing look. Clearly the intelligence was accurate in his

briefing before being sent out on this assignment.

“This John, used to house a brooch. But not just any old precious one, it was made of two

diamonds. Both called Cullinan. Ever heard of the Cullinan Diamond?”

“Yes, the largest rough diamond ever found on Earth. It was discovered in a mine in South

Africa. But they are the part of the crown jewels.” Said John promptly.

“Well,” Continued Jack, “Not all the diamonds went into the crown or the sceptre. The

Cullinan was cut into smaller pieces as well as the larger ones. Two of these small stones,

called Cullinan III and Cullinan IV held together as a brooch, the one that has been stolen.”

He said pointing to the empty cabinet.

“So this is a theft of the crown jewels!? It sounds like something out of a film. Anyway

they are safely locked away either in the Tower of London or displayed in Buckingham

Palace.” Replied John.

“I know, usually they are. But not every Cullinan Diamond is under such guard. The ones

that made this brooch for instance were meant to be worn.”

“By whom?” Asked John

“By the wearer of course, the Queen herself.”

John raised his eyebrows in surprise, “Why? What the hell it is doing here? What is her

majesty doing loaning one of her personal artefacts to the Duke?”

“That John, we are not privileged enough to know. That is one for the police and special

branch. Our job is to assess any apparent security threat. ”

Jack went back to his original thought of the entry of the perpetrator. His intuition, leading

him back to the windows noticed that one of them showed no sign of forced entry. No

broken pieces, splinters or anything obvious in the first instance except for a small semi-

circular mark on one of the panes. Looking closer the marks on the glass was of the same

pattern as those on the cabinet, and of a similar size. Whatever made this mark was

obviously the same instrument that had cut the glass on the cabinet. Inside Jack knew from

the grooves that what had indeed made these cuts was harder than glass, diamond.

“Doesn’t look to me that any of those windows have been forced in any way Jack.” Said

John, stating the obvious. “Do you really think there has to be a real security risk?”

“We have to be sure. This window has been partially cut, like the cabinet. Only something

harder than glass could make these grooves, something like diamond.” He paused once again,

“Let’s have a look at this mantelpiece again.” Said Jack in a rather unsure voice.

Clearly he wasn’t happy with just that, he had to know more. However he was stopped rather

abruptly if not politely,

“Sorry sir, forensics is working on that now. Can’t touch it I’m afraid.” Said one of the

uniform officers upholding his duties.

While Jack was being stumped by the long arm of the law, John was examining the bookcase.

Managing to slip through the police investigation he saw that two old leather bound books

had fallen page open onto the expensive carpet floor.

The immediate striking thing about the open pages, even to the untrained forensic eye, was

that they were not clean,

“What have you got there?” Asked Jack, after joining him at the bookcase.

“Look at these pages. See the marks? That’s not old, they were done recently.”

The marks were clear in the daylight to Jack’s eyes, “Yes they are. Look at the size of them.”

He said.

Jack got to his feet again, turning round to a nearby table, his training taught him to observe

every detail,

“I wonder if there are any clues to here to any potential security threat.” He remarked while

examining some personal documents laid out on the surface.

These seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary here. A few external documents

accompanied by handwritten scribbles what appeared to be bored doodles on one corner of

the table. On the outset it did not appear to be suspicious, but Jack knew that if there was

anything out of the ordinary, the police would be ensured to promptly inform him.

Slowly moving away from the table to meet John who by now had got back to his feet from

kneeling to examine the books more closely, something struck him,

“Hang on,” He said noticing something out of the corner of his eye, “John, take a look at

this.”

Both men noticed a small ornament on the floor. Obviously knocked off during the incident

seemed to be the only explanation for the way it had fallen. There appeared to be no account

to why the table was disrupted in such a way, but before John and Jack could respond an

interesting commotion started to develop in the corner of the room. First four, then five

officers congregated around a small cupboard quickly joined by two detectives feverishly

analysed the scene.

It seemed to very quickly to be the focus of attention as they opened the cupboard by the

door handles. Perhaps they found something inside? John and Jack watched on keeping out

of the way in their capacity of non-police officers, this was not for them and they did not

want to interfere. Taking advantage of the attention of the police officers, and in the

investigative capacity of the two men Jack went to see the door. He did not need to

physically touch the dark oak wooden door to see it was heavy duty. Jack turned to John, to

point something out,

“This door was already locked. Clearly even the privileged elite classes are not immune

from threats. Looks like nobody could have got in here.”

“I checked the security measures of the building with the police when we first arrived, the

room doesn’t even have CCTV. Looks like our Duke felt this thing was safe locked away in

a building in one of the most fashionable parts of London.” Replied John in a cynical

undertone.

At that moment there wasn’t much for the two men to do. The police had this one covered

in what appeared to be a normal crime scene, on this of all days. The law was stretched to

breaking point with the events going on at Kings Cross, it was lucky the police has managed

to get here at all.

“I’m not sure what if there’s any more we can do here.” Said Jack,

“Me neither,” Said John, “About time to fill out a report I think.”

Jack was about to give a suitable reply when he was politely interrupted,

“Excuse me, which one of you is Jack West?” Said an inquisitive voice. Jack turned his

head to the speaker,

“I’m Jack, and you are?”

The man responded like for like in his rhetoric,

“Inspector Brian Waterson, National Crime Agency, Scotland Yard.” The man seemed

friendly enough, with just a hint of caution that can be found in most detectives voices,

“Sorry for not getting here sooner but it’s chaos outside. The whole city’s in pandemonium.

All regular investigations have been put on hold while we try and sort out what happened

over at the train station. We are only here because of who the victim of this crime is.”

Jack looked on knowing that what the inspector said was right,

“Yes I know.” He continued, “May I introduce my partner John Hudson.”

The two men nodded to each other in mutual respect. As soon as the customary introductions

were complete, the inspector unambiguously shuffled the two men off to the side of the room.

It was a body language gesture saying that he was taking charge.

He continued, “Have you found anything indicating a security threat.”

“No” Replied Jack

“OK then, it looks like a high profile crime scene. No need for your attention. I’ll bet you

guys from MI5 would rather be looking into the big show over in north London.” Said

Inspector Waterson,

“As intelligence officers it’s our duty to investigate high profile events and determine any

potential security threats to national security.” Replied Jack sounding official. Deep down he

knew the inspector was right, he would rather be over at King’s Cross but he had to follow

this assignment.

Continuing to probe the inspector, Jack tentatively tried to get any clues as to what

happened here for his own sake, and sanity,

“So do you have any theories as to what happened yet?” He asked,

“Not yet, give it time.” Was the reply.

Using his police background as intuition he gathered the clues to cobble together a working

theory,

“There’s been some activity over there in the cupboard; there’s been no sign of a break in,

any forced door or window. I’ll bet the person you have been looking for was already here

for some reason, waiting in that cupboard for the right time to strike.”

Waterson was interested in this, it sounded quite plausible,

“Perhaps, go on.”

Jack continued, “Whoever was here, tried to get hold of the necklace, and used some kind of

diamond, cutter or something similar-“

“Just like in the old movies.” Waterson remarked,

“Yes, look this cabinet is alarmed but somehow it was triggered, by tilt or motion perhaps.”

Waterson instantly looked for some kind of objection to validate the theory,

“I’ve been speaking to some of the detectives outside. Apparently they received the first call

earlier at around 07:40 this morning. They reported an alarm, from the staff here. Apparently

it is silent so a perpetrator could not be aware he is detected until it is too late.”

Jack though about this. He knew he was interfering in police matters, but he had to be sure of

any possible security implications of the robbery,

“OK so it’s a silent alarm, perhaps he panicked when he heard staff arrive to investigate.”

Suddenly John interrupted,

“If that fireplace is disturbed the robber panicked and tried to escape, knocking off objects

onto the floor.”

Jack took over, “Looks like he tried to get out of the window by cutting it through to get to

the latch, but there was no time. So he panicked to hide, the cupboard was the only place.”

Waterson began to quickly catch on to the theory,

“In doing so, knocking off those books, the table ornament and into the cupboard.” He said

finishing off Jacks working theory with an enlightened spring in his voice.

It seemed very plausible, but there was still one gap to fill,

“What about the escape Mr West, any ideas?”

“That Mr Waterson, I don’t know. I’m not the police, that’s up to you to prove or disprove

what I’ve said.”

“Forensics will confirm details.” Said Waterson.

Both John and Jack looked around, “So I don’t think there’s any other need for the security

services to get involved. We’ll leave this in your hands.”

“Goodbye” Said Waterson in a gesture of manners while shaking the two men’s hands.

Both John and Jack left the room, as they went down the staircase there was a niggling

feeling that something was not right. There appeared to be no security risk whatsoever here

at least. They were not instructed to head off to the incident site so they both had no choice

but to report back at Thames House, the headquarters of MI5. About halfway down the

flights there was a sudden shouting and commotion. Both men looking at each other

mutually decided to investigate, heading back to the room the first site they were greeted with

was nearly all the officers gathered around a central figure near a far wall. Waterson situated

in the central congregation right in the thick of the action,

“A new development inspector?” Said Jack,

“You could say that.” Replied Waterson, dragging one of his officers into view, he produced

the one item they were not expecting to see. The supposedly Cullinan brooch right in front of

him.

“It was found in the pot plant, looks like he dropped it in panic.” Said Waterson

triumphantly,

“It’s no security threat, only an attempted robbery.” He continued,

“Looks like we are not needed after all.” Said Jack, “Once again, goodbye.”

This time they left for a second time. Down the stairs and out of the hallway and into the

street. Outside the traffic was horrific, clearly the explosion at King’s Cross had caused

intolerable havoc throughout the city. Most of the roads were gridlocked but they had to get

back.

“You know John,” Said Jack in a raised voice. The air was still filled with the sound of

sirens and pandemonium resulting from the confusion of the mornings events,

“When did Waterson say they received a call from the staff here?”

“About 07:40 this morning.” John responded, “Why?”

“Nothing, something is bugging me that’s all. Something isn’t right about the time.

Anyway its one for them, not us, come on, let get back.”

They got in their silver Lexus IS250, and with John at the wheel, drove off down the street

to join the maelstrom that was the chaotic London traffic.

Chapter 2:

Thames House, headquarters of MI5 in the banks of the Thames was at present the hive of

activity dealing with the latest incident. Both John and Jack arrived in record time after

taking a few backstreet shortcuts to minimise the journey time. As they entered the building

the whole place was understandably a focus for controlled pandemonium.

Making their way up to their offices, passing through the corridors seemed like an

intolerable effort in itself. Like the streets outside, everyone was trying to get somewhere

fast, always coming and going against the direction both men were taking. It felt like more

were coming rather than going against the direction the two men were taking thus creating

the illusion that they were somehow being prevented from their destination.

Reaching the office was a bit of a temporary relief, until Jack opened the door. What

greeted both him and John was a chaotic scene similar to the theft at the Duke of

Westminster, but with the ferocity of the incident at King’s Cross. Proceeding to their office

which both John and Jack shared could not protect them from the general discussions mainly

about the morning’s events. Even though everyone in the building was on the same side, this

did not stop them from barging into one another in a frantic dance for which the two men

could not escape from. As a result it took a good few minutes longer to reach their office

than it ordinarily would do.

Once they reached their little corner of the department both men quickly entered to get out

of the melodrama shutting the door behind them. Instantly the noise from outside became a

muffled blur signalling they had both found a little piece of sanctuary from the hectic outside,

“Well,” Said Jack,

John replied in a typical fashion, “Did you hear some of those comments? Some of them are

saying that we know think it was not accident.” He said with an unsurprising tone,

“Clearly it is. Some kind of bombing, perhaps suicide, or placed somewhere?” Was the

reply.

Sitting down to fill out the report was what the two intelligence officers did. This was the

administrative side of secret work; someone had to fill out the paperwork. With the sounds

of the distressed city in the background accompanied by a longing to get back out there,

minutes seemed like hours and hours seemed like an intolerable age. Report sheet after

report sheet had to be filled in for superior eyes to gaze over to determine any possible future

security threat. Boring work, but someone had to do it.

Filling out the paperwork was taking forever, yet Jack was not fully engaged in it. The one

thing he had on his mind was the one detail ironically that was vital to the report he was

filling out, the timings. John picked up on this too,

“These times you were on about in the car, any ideas?” He asked,

“No, not really” Was the reply, John could tell that Jack was slightly frustrated at the mental

block. He was a man who liked to get all the facts right before moving on.

John wanted to deliver a suitable reply but was a little afraid of the response. It did not

matter; they had to finish these reports before a debriefing session. This one of all days was

going to be far from normal, in light of what had happened this morning, it just made their

case pale in insignificance.

The two men finished the report and Jack as the senior of the two was tasked with delivering

the document to the section leader,

“Here we go.” Said Jack, “Time to deliver the results.”

“I’ll stay here and monitor what’s going on.” Replied John.

As Jack went out of the room John logged into his account on the computer. Inputting his

password gave him specific clearance and therefore access only to very specific intelligence

to what he was privy to.

Ten minutes passed before Jack returned to the office. John waiting for his cue, held off

until Jack had closed the door firmly. Once he had done so het let himself speak,

“Have you seen this?”

“Seen what?”

“Views all over the internet like social media and other places. They are all saying that the

incident at King’s Cross was a terrorist event. Even the media outlets are saying it.”

Jack replied in an unfazed tone,

“That’s not surprising; news spreads like wildfire these days.”

It seemed like a suitable reply, but John had another bit of news, the act up his sleeve,

“They are also saying the Cullinan brooch robbery was a setup. Rumours are that it is

actually a fake.”

This revelation instantly pricked into Jack’s consciousness, making him react like a dog with

pointed ears. Quickly he rebuffed the internet arguments in a vain attempt to quash any

potential fallout,

“They are exactly that, just rumours.” He snapped.

This made John rather defensive but he knew his partner was right, these were internet

rumours, but he had to go further,

“There are also comments questioning the role of the security services, in both incidents.”

He said tentatively.

Jack wanted to find out who was saying these things, inside he knew that if they came from

official news outlets then this would be harder to dispel. Of course there were going to be

questions and criticism but nothing on the scale at the moment. Knowing that if he could

take action, nothing could be sanctioned without authority from those with higher clearance,

so as much as he did not like it, Jack was stuck with the helpless feeling of frustration.

A knock came at the door, grabbing the attention of both John and Jack a young dark haired

assistant popped his head round the door,

“Jack,” He said, “Someone wants to see you.”

“Who is it?”

“Section chief.” Was the reply, “Wants to see you now.”

Jack being puzzled gave John a blank look as if to say “what now?” Getting out of his heat

he left John in the office once more to scour for additional comments in the digital world.

Five minutes later Jack returned rather excitedly. Clearly to John, Jack had been injected

with some kind of enthusiasm that pepped him up once again,

“What this time?” He asked,

“Come on,” He said grabbing his coat while simultaneously throwing John his,

“Where are we going?” Asked John, stomped through the offices like a pair of wild animals,

“New Scotland Yard.” Said Jack excitedly, “They have something they wants to share with

us; apparently it’s about that brooch.”

“Oh right,” Said John.

The two men proceeded to the exit with double haste wondering what the new information

could be.

New Scotland Yard, Broadway, Westminster, time 10:35 am. The arrival of both

intelligence officers was not wholly unexpected at the headquarters of the metropolitan police

force. The shining building stood tall like a silver beacon, outside the famous triangular sign

rotating continuously whatever the crisis. Jack and John entering the building and

announcing themselves in the front reception triggered the special branch into action.

Waiting in the foyer did not seem very long for the two men, Jack spent his moments

observing his surroundings, the floor, the ceiling, the walls, the décor,

“Hello again,” Said a familiar voice. Looking across he was greeted by the face of Inspector

Waterson. West immediately jumped into action,

“Inspector,” He said while shaking his hand, “What can we do for you?”

“Well I think it is better you come up and follow me.” The inspector responded promptly.

Waterson led both men toward one of the lifts, which upon entering imputed the floor

number 9 cueing the lift doors to shut. One could feel the motion of the lift as it transported

the three men upwards. When it opened the corridors and offices that greeted them was one

similar to those at Thames House. With Waterson taking the lead West and Hudson followed

him into a less busy office staffed by only a few select individuals.

Waterson dispensed with the formal greetings, they were already well acquainted with each

other during past operations. A large table in the centre of a room was the defining feature

and it was here that the inspector gestured for both Jack and John to sit with him for the

discussion,

“Now I’m guessing you are wondering why you have been called here.” Said Waterson,

“Of course,” Replied John, “Jack said you had something important to divulge.”

The inspector looked at both men with a hesitant look on his face, absolutely there was

additional information and by the look of it, had to imply security concerns,

“Why else would we be here.” Jack thought to himself.

The inspector continued, “We’ve had forensics sniffing round King’s Cross as well as your

people. We have found something significant.”

“What’s that?” Asked Jack. Reaching down Waterson pulled out from beneath the table a

small bag. Looking closer both Jack and John could easily tell that it was an evidence bag,

but the packaging was not important, it was the contents that caught their eyes. Jack could

clearly see inside a small thin black rod. At first glance he could not distinguish it, until John

suddenly made the breakthrough,

“That’s a clock hand,” He said out loud quite suddenly, “Look at the length, it’s too long

and thin, looks like a minute hand.”

Waterson replied, “That’s correct, we found it in the train wreckage, there’s other bits as

well that indicates this came off an alarm clock. One of those old fashioned ones.”

This immediately aroused West’s suspicions. He knew that with modern technology why

would there be an old fashioned alarm clock on board a train?

“Unless it was used as a timer” He said out loud carrying on from his train of thought.

“That’s what we think.” Replied the inspector. By now the men were on the same

wavelength,

“We have found two sets of these, which is consistent with the number of explosions this

morning.” Concluded Waterson.

Jack thought about this for a second. Deciding to probe further he asked,

“You say there were other pieces, like what?”

“Wires and connections perhaps for radio components. All highly charred and damaged of

course.”

Both West and Hudson looked on attentively,

“We think these are components of explosive devices. If they are, then someone planted

those bombs on the train to perpetrate an incident. This is no accident; we’re looking at a

coordinated terrorist attack.”

John instantly jumped in,

“Then that makes it a security issue.” He said turning to Jack. “I’ll have to see if there’s

anything on file regarding this. Internet, phone taps, the lot.”

Jack looking at the table, absorbing everything just said, decided to ask the inspector for

more information,

“But why call us? Surely there are other teams down there that your lot must be liaising

with. What have we got to do with the investigation at King’s Cross?”

Jack wanted an answer, but before he could put the question again the inspector interrupts,

“There’s another thing as well, we think this morning’s terrorist attack and the robbery you

two attended are connected.”

“What?” Asked John,

“Uniform got a call from the duke’s apartment at 07:40 this morning like I said earlier,”

Both men remembered, they were eager for Waterson to finish his sentence,

“Witness statements and many other accounts we’ve taken so far all show one thing.”

“What’s that?” Asked Jack,

“The first explosion on the train, and possibly the second one straight after occurred at

07:30am, a full ten minutes before the first call at the duke’s robbery.”

Suddenly the niggling feeling in Jack’s head lifted in an enlightened rush,

“Of course, the timings!” He thought to himself. His slight facial expression betrayed his

thought to any other observant enough to notice.

“So we think that this bombing is some kind of distraction? To deter the police away from

the robbery crime scene?”

“Yes,” Replied Waterson, “Uniform gets a call at 07:40am, leaving the perpetrators free to

carry out the robbery. Ten minutes earlier the bomb went off, pulling all available resources

to King’s Cross. Meanwhile our thief takes the opportunity and tries for the brooch. How?

We don’t know for sure yet. We’re working on your theory.”

John looked over to Jack knowing the implications of what they had just heard,

“That is what we think at the moment.” Concluded Waterson. A few seconds of silence

followed as the other tried to take in what happened,

“Then that does make the robbery a security issue.” Deduced John.

Jack decided to play detective in giving a reply,

“So whoever planned the robbery had something to do with the bombing. The train

explosions were just a huge distraction to deter police away from the real prize, the brooch.”

The inspector replied suitably, “Exactly. What better time for a bit of organised crime than

during a major crisis. Even though it does involve murder.”

“That’s not all,” He continued. They thought they heard it all when like another bolt out of

the blue; he delivered the next piece of news,

“You know that we found the missing brooch, even though we don’t have the thief,”

“Yes?” Said Jack,

“Well come and have a look, we have it down in the lab for examination. I’ll explain

everything when we get there. Seems like this little mystery is about to get bigger.”

Puzzled John and Jack followed Inspector Waterson out of the office back toward the lifts

once more.

The laboratory, below ground level looked like something out of a cheap science fiction

movie. Staffed by individuals in little white coats, it was well maintained. Waterson, West

and Hudson all entered through a set of swing doors down one end of the lab, suddenly

exposing Jack and John to the professionalism of the facility. Following Waterson past some

of the tables filled with instruments and testing machines all unified in their work to

forensically disseminate different crimes, he led them to a work bench where upon arrival an

assistant produced another evidence bag. As soon as it came into view, Jack instantly

recognised the contents. Brilliantly catching the sun like a searchlight, the bag contained the

Cullinan Brooch.

Waterson pulled it out of the bag laying the jewels out on the table,

“I know you recognise this, but there’s a major problem.”

“What‘s that?” Quizzed John,

Jack looked on at the brooch as the inspector continued,

“When we found this back at the apartment we had it authenticated before returning it to

Royal possession. It’s a good job we did, because it’s a fake.”

The two men examined the object closer still. Jack could make out some of the details, he

was by no means a jewellery expert but there were clues here. The inspector sensed this and

explained accordingly,

“Look closer, you’ll find that it isn’t as clear as what it first appears.” He said while placing

the brooch under a nearby microscope.

Jack moved in to see under the lens, Waterson was indeed correct, the clarity was off

somewhat. It appeared cloudy in places, not everywhere but enough to raise suspicion. The

inspector continued,

“If we turn it over,” Doing so as he said it, “We find tiny cracks coming off the cutting

edges.”

The cracks, only hairline was visible once magnified, but they were there. This seemed

already abnormal for diamond. This form of carbon is one of the hardest substances known,

but here it was cracked. The Inspector though was not done yet,

“If you look at those edges, we see that even though they are straight, the angle is all wrong.

Brilliant cut diamonds reflect light off all angles, this one doesn’t.”

Jack looked up from the microscope,

“So you’re saying this is not cut correctly because of the reflection of light?” He asked,

“Yes.” Replied Waterson, “And the colour is incorrect. Diamonds can have yellowish tints,

but like the clarity, the colour is not compatible for the Cullinan Diamond.”

“So you are saying this is a copy?” Interrupted John.

“Yes, good enough for a sight only inspection, but will not stand up to scrutiny.” Said the

inspector.

The three men made their way back up to the offices on the 9th

floor. Entering the room

where the previous revelations were made seemed familiar now to both West and Hudson

with Waterson closing the door behind them before any further comment could be made.

Turning round to face his guests, deciding to cut the two intelligence officers off quickly,

“We’ve had rumours that the intelligence was flawed. I don’t know what goes on over at

your place, but apportion of blame is being laid squarely on you.”

“We know,” Said John,

“We saw the news; it’s all over the place. It’s OK; our priority is to get to the truth not

worry about what others are saying on social media and the like.” Added Jack.

Waterson looked at the two; he believed them over what was going around on the internet.

But there was something else, he showed it in his eyes, and John could tell it,

“Look, some of the officers investigating think that perhaps the brooch was replaced before

being stolen,” He said

“You think the robbery was more complicated than before,” Asked John,

“No…Look, some of the lads are investigating the line of inquiry that perhaps one of you

two switched it. I’m sorry but we have to follow all leads, and dismiss any possibility.”

Both John and Jack stood there in silence. How could they think such a thing? How on earth

could they manage it if they did? West wanted to crush this theory from the outset,

“Let me tell you now that piece of glass down in your laboratory was not put there by me or

my colleague! If you or one of your friends have sufficient proof then I’ll be glad to see it,

otherwise don’t even go there inspector. I’m sure you of all people are aware of the

importance of evidence to back up an allegation!”

Inspector Waterson looked on in silence before speaking,

“Of course.” Was the muted reply.

John watched in silence with fascination the standoff between his partner and the policeman

only ending with Jack turning to him,

“I think we are done here John, I trust there’s nothing more inspector?”

“No that’s it. I’ll be in touch if there’s any development.”

“Good,” Said Jack, “Come on John time to get back.”

The two men left the room, pounding through the busy office toward the lift they had just

emerged from. Arriving swiftly thus allowing entry by the two men in double quick fashion,

and once inside, turning round to hit the control panel Jack gazed out to where they had just

come from. Directly in his line of sight, yards back he could not help but see Waterson

staring from across the office. This non-verbal but suspiciously disturbing encounter was

only broken by the automatic shutting of the doors.

Thames House, 11:27am, West and Hudson arrived back to their office complex within the

building. Still busy, but slightly more ordered was the mood but that did not concern them at

the moment. They knew they had to report this new evidence and they got the chance. In the

main office their superior, the section chief, Charles Harvey could be found, a tall man in his

early fifties, slightly overweight nothing unusual for his age. Characterised by his trademark

three-piece suit, he turned round to greet both West and Hudson as they returned from

Scotland Yard,

“What did you find out?” He asked,

“Well, we spoke to an Inspector Waterson of the special branch; he was there at the robbery.

He says the police seem to think that the robbery at the Duke of Westminster’s apartment and

the atrocity at King’s Cross were linked. They are also confident that the explosions were

terrorist related and not accidental.”

“That’s the conclusion we have reached as well. There’s got to be more to it than this.”

Jack continued, “He also showed evidence that the stolen Cullinan brooch recovered was in

fact a fake, and a pretty crap one at that.”

Section Chief Harvey seemed surprised at that,

“Then there is more to it than this.” He remarked,

“That makes the robbery definitely a security issue and not just a police matter.” Said John,

“Yes,” Replied Harvey, “There’s something I want you to do. Go to Whitehall and brief a

man called Peter Finnin, he’s a junior home office minister, a sort of intelligence attaché to

the security service. Not the Home Secretary I’m afraid, you haven’t got clearance for that.

Go and brief him on your findings, then come back here and amend your report.”

“Whereabouts is it in Whitehall?” Asked John,

“It’s a small section in the Cabinet Offices at 70 Whitehall.” Replied Harvey.

West and Hudson agreed, John imputed the directions into his smartphone as the two turned

tail and headed straight back out of the exit. The city was still in chaos, and it made the act of

keeping the government in the loop all the more vital.

Chapter 3:

The Cabinet Office, 70 Whitehall, 12:51pm, Whitehall itself was hard enough to get down

the best of times, especially at lunchtime. This day however was different, the usually busy

street lined by huge office blocks as a statement to central government power was strangled

by traffic diverted and bottlenecked in the capital due to the incident not two miles away.

Arriving amidst the honking of horns and the frustration of commuters, West and Hudson

approached the main Cabinet Office outside the public entrance just round the corner from

Downing Street itself.

Going up the white stone steps and through the tall doors felt a little like going through the

famous black door in Downing Street itself. Indeed the buildings were linked and to both

West and Hudson, they were entering the very heart of government. As soon as they both

came off the street and crossed the threshold they were greeted with a grand entrance hall

well lit and well-staffed,

“May I help you?” Asked an authoritative voice. A stern business like lady approached, a

real conservative type, obviously a senior civil servant playing gatekeeper to anyone who

strayed in from outside,

“Yes,” Said West, “We have an appointment with a Mr Finnin.”

“And you are?” She replied,

“Jack West and this John Hudson. We are here from MI5, D Branch. Counter Intelligence.

We were told to report here regarding a high profile robbery incident this morning.”

Discretely producing small identifications proved to the civil servant that what they spoke

was the truth. The lady softened somewhat as a result,

“If you would like to follow me, I’ll show you to his private office.”

They both followed her down a long spacious corridor, full of bland walls lined with dark,

heavy oak doors.

Getting to Finnin’s private office took a few minutes such was the complexity of the

building. Seemingly less busy in this area made is easier to get to where they needed to be as

their guide led them through a door and into an adjacent office,

“These two men are from counter intelligence, here to see Mr Finnin,” She said to a

secretary who was at that moment sat at a desk dealing with something administrative.

Appearing rather flustered, or could that be stress, and obviously lower down the career

ladder in the Civil Service, she rose rather obediently to greet John and Jack,

“Good afternoon, I’m Carol. Do you have an appointment?” She asked rather candidly

while shaking the two men’s hands. By now the other lady had departed to attend to her

other duties,

“We are here to brief Mr Finnin on a robbery that occurred this morning.” Said John,

“I believe he should be expecting us.” Added Jack, “Is he in?”

“I’ll just go and see if he’s available. If you would like to wait here.”

“Thank you.” Said Jack in a polite tone as Carol disappeared into the adjoining main office.

In the brief few seconds that they were both alone, both men savoured their surroundings.

The office was a mix of all the trappings of modern technology and fine classical

architecture. The paintings on the wall, the 18th

century leather bound volumes in a closed

bookcase along one side of the room, the large secretary’s desk with the modern flat screen

monitor coupled with the large filing cabinets. It was all very nice,

“AAARRRGGGHHH!!!” A scream shrieked out from the Finnin’s office. Both West and

Hudson instinctively reacted by both looking at each other in the briefest of glances before

rushing through the door to the source of the noise.

What greeted them was a sight of pure horror. Peter Finnin sat at his desk slumped in his

chair obviously dead and surrounded by disturbances giving clues as to whatever happened.

It was an extremely distressing sight as the body had clearly been mutilated in situ and that

was the first thing that struck anyone who saw this. Directly in front of the door stood the

assistant Carol, frozen in terror as to what was before her. As West and Hudson entered

behind her apart from the terrible scene Hudson noticed her expression, here dark brown eyes

wide open unable to take her gaze off the body yet mentally tortured by the scene. Beginning

to tremble was the cue for West to open arms as she turned away; shaking like a leaf was the

proper bodily response. Jack though for a second,

“Go and call the police.” He said to her in a reassuring tone. Without looking back she

exited the office to make the call obviously, almost desperately trying to compose herself,

“Well,” Said John, “This is something else.”

“Go outside and ask if our political friend has anything of value here.” Asked Jack,

“You think this has similarities to the Cullinan diamond robbery earlier today?” Asked John,

“Probably, go and ask her”.

John went back out to the secretary’s office. By now Carol had composed herself somewhat

slightly, but she was still shaking. In the process of picking up the phone, John appeared to

interrupt,

“Excuse me,” He said lightly, “What was Mr Finnin’s role here?”

The secretary paused briefly as if she was thinking of an answer. Her state of mind was

understandable but it still seemed a little suspicious nonetheless,

“He was the seconded to non-terrorist security matters from the home office. His job was to

brief senior civil servants and ministers on potential security threats.”

“How did he do that?” Pressed John,

“He based his briefs directly from people like you, the security services and also from

GCHQ. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to call the police.”

John wasn’t going to get much out her at this stage, in frustration he went back to join West

who was at that time busy utilising his police background before he joined MI5 to

disseminate the scene. Just like he had done earlier at the Duke of Westminster’s apartment,

“I’m not getting much out of her Jack, she doesn’t seem all that cagey, can’t tell if there is

anything of value here.”

“There must be a motive here, something to commit this crime.” Responded West.

Hudson cut in, “But what? It’s not for us. We need to leave this for the law, not the security

service.”

John’s remarks fell on Jack’s deaf ears. He was far too engrossed in the surroundings.

Walking over to the desk did not deter him from interfering in the situ of a crime scene as he

knelt down to examine something. Hudson looked on as the West could see that there was

broken glass scattered down one side of the desk. At first glance it seemed rather ordinary,

like from a tumbler or something similar, but it wasn’t, it had a pattern and a regular one at

that. This gave the fragments some kind of structure,

“This is no drinking glass,” He said, “We are not looking at something that was knocked

over by accident on the edge of this desk.”

“What do you mean?” Asked Hudson.

“Look at the grooves in the glass John, see that?”

“Yes,” said Hudson, “I’ll tell you what that looks like-“

West turned to look at his friend; he already knew the answer,

“A decanter.” He said.

Jack, rising to his feet could not help but face the body in front of him. It was his next

obvious target for investigation. Looking around the body in close proximity was a quite

gruesome task, there were signs, some stark others not so. The attention immediately focused

on Finnin’s hands as they were situated on the chair arms,

“Look at that.” Said John.

West examined closer, all four fingers and the thumb of the right hand were clearly bent in an

unnatural way. It was if someone had placed his hands in a vice and turned the screw in

some king of morbid, sadistic torture method,

“They’ve been crushed.” Said West noticing the left hand had suffered the same fate as the

right one,

“They both have.” Hudson pointed out.

Just as John made the remark Jack, now looking at the left hand noticed something which

only a former detective like him could have seen. Finnin’s white shirt sleeve and grey

polyester suit had ridden up slightly given the posture of the body and this gave him a peek at

his left wrist. Squinting to focus Jack made out through the forearm hair a pattern of the skin.

Parallel lines and the reddish mark of a buckle.

“This man used to wear a watch!” He said, “John, see that? Look there, the mark of a watch

strap.”

“Oh yes, but where is it?”

“That’s what I want to know” Replied West.

Once they had examined the hands, both men’s inquisitiveness carried them inexorably

toward the rest of the body. The torso was one thing that stood out. The red tie, skewed at

one side led to the white shirt pulled open at the buttons to reveal the meaty flesh of the torso.

The stomach area, hairy, had been slashed violently to create open wounds filled with and

seeping fresh blood down the body. These cuts were deep and recent indicating an infliction

of incredible and tortuous pain on the individual. The events were shocking enough if John

hadn’t noticed one very significant detail,

“Look, his arms have been tied to the chair” He said rather excitedly. It was an important

discovery,

“Then this proves Mr Finnin was restrained while tortured.” Remarked Jack.

Indeed his forearms had been tied to the chair arms by thin lengths of hessian. It was not

immediately obvious as the hessian lengths ware applied quite tightly to prevent any leeway

in the movement of the arms. Whoever did this clearly did not want to afford their captive

the opportunity of movement.

“Like something out of a horror movie.” West commented.

“Yes.” Agreed Hudson, remorsefully.

Jack quickly got to his feet. Looking around the room he quickly spots something to draw his

attention. Walking over to the nearby cabinet, Jack clearly senses something here but there

doesn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary on the outset. A few books on a shelf, files

and the like, nothing unofficial except for one thing West noticed at the side, the drinks

cabinet minus the decanter,

“This is where the decanter came from.” He said.

John agreed, but just as West turned round something else caught his eye, it wasn’t big, but

just visible enough to draw the attention of a searching mind,

“What’s this?” Asked Jack as he drew closer, whatever it was it appeared to be a small

silver door,

“A safe, it’s a safe John.”

It was not meant to be opened easily, there appeared to be a combination lock on the front to

prevent any unauthorised tampering. West thought about trying to gain access, but his police

and intelligence background taught him that it may be alarmed, and a silent one at that. Jack

wanted to investigate further, however their misfortune came to the fore as Carol the assistant

came to the door. Going no further, she clearly found it extremely distressing to be in the

same room as the deceased,

“The police are on their way.” She said while looking furtively at the corpse. John turned to

her knowing what Jack wanted to ask. He thought he would get in first,

“Do you know what is in this safe?” He asked,

“No.” Was the reply. John suspected dishonesty here so decided to probe further,

“We would like to investigate but the safe is locked by a combination. Are you aware of

this?”

Carol hesitated for a second before replying,

“I’m aware of the security code required for that safe, but I would be happier giving it to the

police rather that you.”

“Why is that?” Queried John,

“Because I don’t. Look I’d really rather wait until the police arrive.”

She seemed very tense, almost agitated as to the line of questioning. Clearly Carol did not

want to be probed in this way. John sensing this decided to employ a bit of reverse

psychology by asking a different question,

“I guess there must be CCTV in operation. I guess that’s the first thing the police will want

to check.”

He was hoping to get some answers from Carol through her body language. But she came up

with a surprising answer,

“The CCTV systems all run on different circuits, each office has their own camera system

rather than from a central hub, to prevent any underhand action. But, I’ve just checked the

CCTV tapes, but they are not there, they’re missing.”

Both West and Hudson looking on in astonishment both reached the same conclusion,

“Whoever killed our friend here also stole the tapes, to prevent detection. Sounds like a

professional job.” Concluded West.

There definitely seemed to be more here than what meets the eye. Moving across to a small

room at the end of the office triggered Carol’s emotions once again as West approached the

wood panel door,

“There’s nothing in there. It’s just a small en suite bathroom.” She said with a preventative

tone in her voice.

Glancing at her was no prevention. Opening the door and peeking inside confirmed what she

claimed. Without stepping inside all Jack saw was a small marbled tiled room containing a

bath with shower, sink and toilet, adorned towels and a rather expensive mirror. There did

not seem to be anything out of the ordinary here, if there was the police would surely pick it

up.

With the assistant looking on in the doorway, John himself was rather pre-occupied as Jack

was peering into the en suite. Looking around the light from the window just at that

particular moment brightened as the Sun shone through the sky. The increased light flooding

into the room highlighted a silvery object on the other side of the desk. The glint catching

John’s eye, causing Hudson to step over to look closer made the object increasingly

recognisable. The long thin handle with the short triangular blade on the end, making it

obviously clear to John as Jack came over to join him. Both men instantly knew what it was,

“It’s a surgical scalpel.” Proclaimed John,

“Look at the blade,” Queried Jack. It was stained with blood, the texture and colour

indicating it was still fresh, but only just. From what they could make out it was beginning to

darken to a burgundy colour as it was beginning to dry out on the metallic object,

West instantly issued a note of caution, “Don’t touch it.” He warned, “Leave it there.”

They both rose to their feet, but in doing so their attention was focused on the carpet. It

appeared scuffed, disturbed as if someone had been heavily walking on it. The marks seemed

quite obvious in the light, one of those things where the more one looks at it the more

obvious it becomes,

“Footprints,” Said Jack.

“And dirty ones by the look of it.” Replied John.

The darker scuffs on the carpet were fairly localised around the desk, and like the blood on

the scalpel, fairly recent. It was a clear indication that these were not just any old wear and

tear. Because they stood out though this drew the attention of the two men to further

investigation, and it paid off,

“What is that?” Asked John.

He noticed a tiny fragment, black and hard embedded in the carpet. Jack proceeded to pick it

up, sparking a protest from John,

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked

“What does it look like? I’m taking this fragment back.”

John looked shocked at Jack, why would he be removing evidence from a crime scene? Had

he taken leave of his senses? Did West realise that he could be inadvertently implicating

himself through contamination? Hudson wanted to find out, if it wasn’t for Jack cutting him

off,

“Don’t worry; we’ll let Scotland Yard know of the existence of this. We shall say that we

removed it for some kind of security lead or something of that nature.”

John looked on unconvinced, “I hope you’re right West.”

Rising to their feet again Jack thought on while observing out of the window,

“Do you think the motive for this was to look for something specific?” He asked,

“Probably, why do you say that? Was the reply,

“Well look around, the lack of disturbance around the room, the obvious focus on the

slaughter of such a public figure, the theft of the CCTV records.”

His line of questioning was inevitably shifting toward the safe, and as John picked up on this

he butted in,

“I think whoever was here wanted what was in that safe.”

“Precisely.”

John turned back toward Carol,

“Who was here normally? Don’t you think someone could have heard something?”

“I was on lunch, I came back but there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary.” She went

all defensive again, “I’m not prepared to say any more. I’d prefer to wait for the police, what

justification do you have for questioning me? I saw you pick up that piece of stone.”

Jack cut in again. While the conversation has been going on, he was still looking,

“So the murderer was looking for something specific, but his watch is missing. Many

criminals take so called trophies, and I think the watch was just that. No the perpetrator was

definitely looking for something, but I don’t think they found it whatever it was.”

Jack was as intrigued as John as to what was in the small safe. Thinking for a second he

finally came up with a plan,

“John, why don’t you take out assistant outside, seal off the office and wait for the police to

arrive. You can inform them as to the nature of our visit as well as the evidence we have

procured.” He said turning to Carol trying to calm her fears.

John agreed and the two of them disappeared out of the door leaving West alone in the office

with just the lifeless corpse for company. Making sure that he really was alone, his attention

turned toward the computer on the desk. It had been left on, which was a relief, no such time

wasting second guessing passwords. The screen already opened at the desktop served as a

perfect access point to start exploring through the system files.

Working quickly he tapped through the explorer menus and all the system files. Some were

locked, password protected and that was of no great surprise, the computer was linked to a

central government network, access to some parts of the system were denied due to security

clearances. There had to be something here, something, even a hint of whatever the murderer

came for. This was a high security building, someone off the street could not just walk in and

commit a crime of this magnitude, there had to be a reason somewhere.

Clicking through all the files he eventually came across a window showing compatibility

files. Engrossed in what he saw Jack did not notice that he accidently clicked the right button

on the mouse which brought up an additional menu. On this menu there lay the

breakthrough, a little button checked for hidden files. Playing on his instincts, West

unclicked the button which changed the display immediately. Directly in front of him the

window still appeared blank, for a second, then a file appeared. West clicked on it half

expecting a password screen to appear, but it didn’t, the thing opened automatically. As the

contents displayed in front of him, West’s eyes widened in astonishment. The contents of the

file were not something he was expecting, but it was one of those pieces of political dynamite

only seen by privileged eyes.

Reading through the file was engrossing enough, only disturbed by the noise of activity in

the outer office. Reactively shutting down the file as he had seen enough, West quickly

moved away just in time as the wooden door swung open allowing John and Carol to re-enter

the room,

“The office is sealed off, by security. Our friend Inspector Waterson is on his way, he

shouldn’t be too long.” Stated John.

Jack looked on with a glance to suggest that is what he hoped would happen. However it

could just as easily have something to do with the information he had just come across. He

turned his attention back to Carol in one last attempt to gain access to the safe. He felt more

confident now he had some ammunition,

“Are you going to give us the access code to this safe?” He asked,

Carol still dug in, stubborn as before, “No why should I?”

“Because,” He declared, “I have come across some interesting information, regarding you.”

Carol looked distinctively uncomfortable, as if she had been found out,

“What sort of information?” She asked tentatively,

“A file on Mr Finnin’s computer. A hotel booking form in his name, but with yourself as a

companion.”

Carol tried to deflect the accusation, “So, that does not mean anything.”

West anticipated this. He knew additional info while browsing through computer files to back

himself up,

“Ah yes but you see this was for an engagement that was not scheduled on any official

calendar. I came across such an itinerary while browsing through this system.”

“So what? It is not uncommon for PA’s to accompany their boss on business trips, not all

are listed, some are impromptu.” Replied Carol,

West fired back, “But all are official.”

Throwing Carol somewhat, the non-verbal communication between the two suggested she

knew what West meant. In truth he already knew, and was using the info he obtained in a

kind of blackmail,

West continued, “Surely there should be some kind of record of any trip, even impromptu.

Let’s face it if the truth doesn’t come out here, then the police will get the truth, and that will

inevitably leak to the press, very embarrassing don’t you think?”

Lowering her gave and then her head, Carol knew exactly what West was talking about, and

she was aware of the consequences. West decided to capitalise on this,

“Let’s cut to the chase, you were in fact having an affair with Mr Finnin yes? That’s what I

found on the computer as a hidden file, a hotel reservation for you both, nothing in the

itinerary, just another short notice official visit.”

Carol looked at her accuser in the eye but only very briefly. West decided to go in for the

kill,

“If you divulge to me the code for this safe, this goes no further, you can deny all

knowledge of the hidden file and we shall say no more about it. If not, then you can explain

everything to the police. You’re not the first person to have an affair with a politician and

you definitely won’t be the last.”

It was checkmate for Carol. She knew full well the implications of her affair, especially with

her lover now dead. She may even be courted as a suspect; to the police crimes of passion

are a more than sufficient enough motive to kill,

“I’ll give you the code.” She said in a resigned tone. Pulling out her thin black shiny

mobile, it only took a couple of touches to bring up the code stored on the phone. Showing it

to Jack, he raised his eyebrows in enlightenment as he strode over to the silver door of the

safe. Tapping on the black keypad seemed a doddle for him now; at last he was going to

satisfy his curiosity as to what the strong box contained.

Punching in the last number was too much for Carol. A beeping noise from the safe telling

West he had gained entry piped her up into a scorned fury,

“You can’t do this! You have no right! I’ll tell the police myself! I saw you pick up that

black thing off the floor; I’ll tell them you are hiding evidence! There’s got to be a law

against things like that!!”

Running out of the room triggered a sense of urgency in the two men; John had already

turned round to react when West barked an order to him,

“John get after her! Now, quickly!!”

He did not have to issue it twice, indeed before he even finished the sentence, Hudson was

making for the door. He was fast, but she seemed faster, West could only observe from his

position as John disappeared around the door frame. As soon as he did this West took the

ample opportunity to open the safe to observe and examine the contents he longed to see.

It only took a few minutes to complete the examination and that was enough time before

John came back around the door looking rather hot and tired. West noticed that he was

alone,

“She’s gone.” Said Hudson breathlessly, “I can’t find her.”

John instantly knew that the safe had been opened, why would it not be? He decided to ask

about it,

“What was in the safe? Something important?”

Jack evasively hesitated for a second, “It was nothing, just some official files that’s all.”

Was the reply he received.

John wasn’t satisfied with this at all. Why would the assistant be so reluctant to give up the

security code? What had Jack found? He felt he had a right to know,

“If it isn’t so important, why did we have a hard time getting the code?”

“I don’t know Hudson, it is of no concern.”

This wasn’t right; John could tell that Jack was hiding something. Nothing felt right about

any of this, the terrorist attack, the robbery, the connection, the murder and now the cagey

attitude of his partner. He wanted to probe further regardless, but in the background came the

familiar sound of sirens of the impending police approach,

“We have no time John; the police are on their way. Time for us to go.” West excused,

“I don’t like this Jack. What’s going on? I have the same clearance as you; I’m not going

to be kept in the dark.” Snapped John, frustration in his voice all the more evident,

Jack gave an order, “We have no time John, come on, there’s nothing we can do here.

Time to go.”

As Jack left the office and the crime scene John quickly followed suit. He wasn’t certain

about this at all, even to a point of mistrust of his ally. Piecing together all the parts of this

giant puzzle just seemed to reveal more and more disturbing facts. It was beginning to get to

a point of uncertainty not just of the event, but of each other, certainly that was the case from

Hudson’s point of view. The same could not be said true for Jack as they made their exit.

Chapter 4:

Thames House, Central London, two days later, 8:00am. The offices of Section D had a

particular feel to them. The atmosphere although professional, remained tentative at best.

Even though it had been two days since the events that first brought light on the affair they

were entangled in, John still couldn’t shake that feeling of skirting around the edges of the

law in relation to Finnin’s murder. He knew that it was not a matter for him or for West, but

he had that sinking feeling associated with improper behaviour. Harvey had been informed

by report as by now, 48 hours later, the whole world knew thanks to the internet and the

media.

John himself was already sitting at the desk when West entered ready to start a new day.

Between them the air of uncertainty still hung around them. Why was West being so

uncooperative? What was his motive? The niggling feeling kept at John, he was not satisfied

even after 48 hours. He wasn’t to get an answer just yet though, the case they were

investigating needed to be investigated if it was to progress. Wanting to ask questions about

the other day, Hudson knew the answers he would receive, the same one he got yesterday and

the day before that as well. Nonetheless he was not one for giving up, but before he could a

knock came at the door. One of the younger assistants stuck his head in the door to deliver a

message,

“File from Scotland Yard here, pathologist’s preliminary report on Finnin’s autopsy.” He

ventured into the office. Wearing a casual business suit the young dark haired lad seemed a

young member of the team, couldn’t be no older than 25 years old. Handing the report to

John he quickly left to attend to his own duties. As soon as the door closed to leave the two

men alone was the cue for Jack to open the A4 brown file. Inside was a white paper brief

accompanied by additional information, but the brief was all that Jack wanted. It was only a

preliminary report but it was good enough. Reading through it seemed rather basic, nothing

more than usual info until about half way down when West saw something that caught his

eye,

“Bloody hell,” He stated,

“What’s up?”

“This pathology report, an external examination of the body that’s been cross referenced

with dental records showed that there were fragments of human skin tissue in the teeth.”

“So what?” Was John’s reply,

“Apparently the skin is different to Finnin’s own.”

John suddenly sat up. Why on Earth would there be someone else’s skin tissue in the mouth

of a politician? John like Jack was intrigued and shocked in equal measure. They had to find

out more, he got up and walked over to stand beside Jack in a bid to find more details out.

Reading on they noticed that the report went into quite some detail regarding the skin

fragment; it was of no surprise. About half way down the summery page the pathologist

reported that the skin, although it was of a different type, had hair follicle patterns consistent

with a forearm. Reading on the report also noted that the skin fragment had bite marks that

was of a particular size and depth, the size of these showed that bite marks came from human

front teeth. Dental records confirm that the marks originated from Finnin himself. Both

West and Hudson were shocked to hear the conclusion of the report, why would the politician

bite into the forearm of another? Presumably the skin comes from at least one of the

attackers which the fact was noticed by the pathologist and included in the report. The

conclusion was that the fragment of skin was ripped around the edges suggesting that there

were no clean cuts such as the scalpel found at the scene. Therefore the surgical instrument

could only have been used on the politician, and blood analysis suggests this. Both men read

on, as they were to discover that clearly the pathologist had saved the best for last. It was

found during microscopic skin tissue examination, the layers contained traces of dirt that had

shown through on the surface; this was intriguing, and if baffled the police at the moment.

Jack wanted to know more about Finnin’s murderer and is did seem that this was the best

clue. The police knew it and so his he. Wanting to go and pay a visit to New Scotland Yard

seemed like the best course of action and the next logical step but just as Jack was about to

suggest it to John, and at seemed like he wanted to as well, the phone rang. Jack instantly

silenced the beeping tone by answering it,

“West.” He said in his mandatory greeting.

For the next few seconds there was silence as the person on the other end relayed their

message. John could see Jack perk up slightly as his eyes widened,

“Right, we’ll be right there. Give us a few minutes.” He said before putting the phone back

down. John wanted to find out more,

“What is it, a development?”

“Come on, we are going down to the lab. The police have released the evidence we

requested from the crime scene.” Said Jack.

The two men hurriedly exited the office, making their way down to the laboratory a few

floors down.

Below ground level lay the high tech lab facility. West and Hudson came down a big flight

of stairs from the ground floor level to a subdued light area. The metallic grey on the walls a

tell-tale sign this was a specialised department. Ahead of them lay some large silver double

doors, which gave access to the underground complex. Opening them, they were faced with

a medium sized but very technical lab facility. Walking past some of the tables filled with

samples and machinery and all very complicated they approached a small man in a white

coat. They knew this was the right place as they could plainly see the evidence laid out on

the table before him,

“Excuse me,” Queried Jack. “This is the New Scotland Yard evidence relating to the Finnin

murder?”

The scientist turned round. A small dark haired fellow, mid 40’s with a thin beard greeted

them. His round glasses glinting in the light of the bulbs above their heads, he seemed

friendly enough,

“Hello Jack, yes this is it. I’ve matched it to the stone fragment you removed from the

crime scene to see if I can find a match.”

Jack responded with the same courteous fashion,

“That’s fine, let’s see what we’ve got.”

The forensic scientist carefully removed from the clear plastic bags laid out on the table,

wearing white latex gloves as to not contaminate the evidence even though the police took

the same precautions. West and Hudson looked on as the technician carefully placed each

item in order next to the fragment of stone Jack procured, first the penknife, still stained but

now darkened with the dry blood. Next the broken bottom of the decanter came out, then

finally the small length of hessian rope, all the evidence was there, the clues had to reside

within. Both John and Jack was anxious to set about the objects before them,

“Let’s start with the scalpel.” Said the scientist, picking it up carefully by the edges of the

handle being careful not to taint the object. He placed it on a metallic tablet with a large

circular lens placed over it. With a lamp nearby to provide a light source the scientist was

ready to work. Sitting down at the desk he produced a bottle with a special type of cleaning

fluid, proceeding to clean it off with a cotton wool bud required special care. Removing a

sample of blood he followed forensic protocol by inserting the now precious item in a small

airtight container ready for analysis. With some of the blood removed a tiny mark could be

seen highlighted in the lamp light. John could see that the pattern was a crest or stamp of

some sort,

“Looks like some kind of identification mark” He said cautiously,

“Yes,” replied the scientist, “It’s probably a manufacturing mark. If there is some kind of

identification number present, it may be possible to trace the origins of our tool.”

Deducing this he proceeded to place the object under an ultra-powerful microscope. All three

men went to a computer screen to watch what the lens would discover. The whole machine

was remote control so they could easily dictate and manipulate the direction which they

looked. Apart from the crest and the tiny microscopic grooves when the thing was originally

casted, there was nothing out of the ordinary on the blade. They moved down to the handle,

still nothing until they reached close to the edge, then Jack cried out,

“What’s that?!” He said rather loudly while pointing at the screen. The other two had seen

it as well so the technician zoomed in a fit further to see. All three moved closer to the screen

as the new image re-adjusted the focus, until focus of interest came into view,

“A number.” Said John

“Take a note will you. It looks like an ID number, very useful.” Said Jack.

John did so, jotting the number down on a pad he carried with a small pencil,

“774459” Were the figures he wrote. The scientist butted in,

“I can trace this item from here, using this number it should be relatively easy to check any

medical records. Just as a rough guess, I would say it comes directly from a hospital, but I’ll

have to check that one out.”

“Thank you.” Was Jack’s reply.

They moved on from the screen. Finished with the scalpel, the technician carefully removed

it and placed it back on the table. Next on the list was the hessian rope sample, picking it up

and placing it underneath a microscope in front of both Jack and John. This was deliberate so

they had full view of the object they set about the external examination.

The scientist cast his eyes over the eyepiece, a little focusing of the instrument and the

enhancement of the hessian structure was complete. Looking at the twisting stands of the

rope fragment, one thing was evident,

“It’s worn down one side. The strands are smooth going from right to left.” He declared,

“Why would it be worn down one side?” Queried John,

“I’m not sure,” Was the reply from the technician. Continuing the analysis, the lab

technician knew exactly what to look for, there had to be a reason for the wear and tear. His

deductions were interrupted as he suddenly jerked upwards in a spring like fashion,

“What’s this,” He asked himself. Grabbing a pair of tweezers while not taking his eyes

away from the eyepiece, both John and Jack knew there was something else. They watched

as the scientist’s steady hand went to work on the rope fragment. Carefully he pulled as the

structure managing to pick out a small black fragment on the end of the tweezers, setting it to

one side,

“There’s something else.” He said as he put the tweezers down. Picking up a tiny scraper

tool he set to work again, this time scraping something off, Jack looked as close as he dared

without disturbing the young man. Observing what he was doing, Jack could see that what

the scientist was removing was small amounts of earth.

The technician set to work on the new discovery. Not moving very far from the microscope,

he reached out for a small pipette containing water. Carefully squeezing it caused a tiny

amount of fresh water to drip out and onto the small earth fragments,

“Note how dark the soil is,” He commented to both John and Jack, “The water is not being

absorbed very well, telling me that the earth was already damp.”

“Could it have come from somewhere near water?” Asked Jack,

“Or somewhere underground where the water retention will be higher. Of course we have

to determine if the hessian came from the same place as the soil or not.” Was the reply.

That was something to ponder later, for now Jack wanted to find out more about the small

stone fragment,

“Let’s take a look at the stone you found, I want to see if it matches the one I picked up at

the crime scene.”

Taking the stone to a nearby table the scientist put the fragment on a slab next to the stone

Jack had earlier procured. Using a brush and dipping it a bottle of thinning solution, he

carefully applied the chemical to the surface of the stone fragment just removed from the

hessian. Just a couple of brush strokes were all it took for the surface to come away very

swiftly. The blackness turning whiter with each stroke indicated that the stone embedded in

the hessian was painted,

“It looks seems to be a match for the stone you already recovered Jack,” Was the statement

from the scientist, “They both look to be some kind of concrete.”

“Yes” Jack replied. He clearly saw the connection here, these concrete fragments had

forensic potential, but there had to be something more. Could the clues here be somehow

linked to the robbery and the bombing two days ago? He couldn’t say, but there was one

more thing, the most vital and damming evidence of all, the decanter,

“What about the decanter? What can that tell us?” He asked.

The scientist picked up the broken glass, the object still had some kind of recognisable

structure to it as it was clearly the bottom of the container they had. There was only so much

they could actually do with it as the police had already tested it,

The scientist informed the two men, “The police have already set about this, and they think

the decanter was broken at the same time or just before the murder.” He paused, and then

continued, “They tested the contents of the decanter that was still left in the bottom. They

say they detected traces of a ‘foreign substance’.”

“What sort of foreign substance?” Asked John,

“Poison.” The scientist replied.

Jack was perplexed and stunned in equal measure, “How do you know this?” He asked,

The scientist was ready for this question. He knew exactly how to handle it,

“The police toxicology report, preliminary like the pathologists report, but it gives them a

working theory as to what happened.”

“That they think the politician was poisoned.” Said John,

“What does the report say about the type of poison?” Asked Jack clearly wanting to probe

further. The scientist brought out a piece of paper that was a summation of the toxicological

report. Reading from it he sought to teach the two men about the types used,

“Apparently the poison contained three compounds; first they identified traces of

Scopolamine, found in the Datura plant,”

“Scopolamine is a medical drug, anti-vomiting, used to counter the effects of motion

sickness.” Interrupted John,

“Yes, but it is highly toxic if administered above the recommended medical dose. It is a

deliriant, meaning it causes hallucinations. The second compound the toxicologist reports is

arsenic, the extremely potent, yet slow acting poison, causes death within hours.”

Already this was sounding very sinister. Jack probed further,

“But is the timing enough to explain the way the politician died, I mean presumably he

couldn’t have laid there for hours.”

“No, and that brings me to the third and final compound, Domoic Acid. It’s a natural poison

usually found within sea life but can affect mammals like humans. It causes brain seizures

and the behaviour displayed is acute and outward aggressiveness.”

Jack, while not a medical man himself, knew the effect of such a concoction,

“A poison like that would be extremely potent, and fatal.”

John added to the conclusion, “Something that causes aggression akin to madness followed

by eventual death.”

“Brought on by delusional hallucinations.” Agreed the scientist, “Such a virulent mixture

like this requires advanced toxicological and chemistry knowledge. Whoever formed such a

poison was no amateur.”

“And that’s what the police think at the moment.” Said Jack, turning to John he had seen

enough,

“I think it’s time we went back to the office. Let’s see if there’s anyone on file with a

known history of such knowledge.”

John obviously thought this was the next step,

“We can also do a general sweep to see if there’s anything out of the ordinary across the

internet. Perhaps there is a security lead.”

Upon their return to the office, the ramifications of what they had revealed had hit them

both. They knew they had discovered the presence of a highly toxic poison, and it could be a

potential security risk. If it was, than it was definitely a matter for them and not just the

police,

“So a politician is murdered, likely poisoned by a drug cocktail that made him go mad first.”

Said Jack, but John wanted to piece if together further still,

“So the most plausible explanation so far is that he was tied up, ingested the poison, and

probably was tortured for some reason.”

“Looks that way doesn’t it? Anyway that’s for the police to decide if that hypothesis is

correct. For now that’s all they have to go on. But what about the motive? Don’t forget, if

one junior politician is murdered in this way, then the threat to other senior members of

government are just as great. And that poses a definite security risk.”

John sat at the computer to begin his search, there was no problem logging on to his system

and he set to work. He began by scouring the internet for any potential clues, who were they?

What was their motive? Was it political, racial or ideological? The global reach of the

internet meant that it wasn’t too long before he came across news websites harbouring

rumours and gossip,

“Look at this, more criticism of the security services. Says here that given recent events and

the murder, public faith in national security has plummeted. It asks here if this country has

an actual security service and if so why is it not protecting us. It makes MI5 look impotent

and us look like idiots.”

Jack tried to respond, “Just gossip. Ignore it; you and I both know there is something deeper

happening here. Look, you continue to search for a possible known suspect, search the

personnel files, access it through the national database and see if anyone stands out. I’m off

to see Harvey to report back.”

John looked on as Jack left the room leaving John with his computer and the entire nation on

his files. He had a lot of work to do.

Half an hour passed before Jack returned looking rather energetic, almost agitated. John,

who had been sifting through database file observed his partner’s state,

“Harvey has given us the go-ahead to pursue this case. He clearly thinks this is a security

threat to other high ranking members of government and possibly others. He wants to know

who they are, what do they want and why.” He said turning to the window to look at the

bright morning outside,

“Something is going on out there John, and I want to know what.”

John got up and out of his seat grabbing an A4 file in the process; he had some news of his

own,

“Well we may have a lead. While you were away I searched through national databases for

any individual specialising in poisons. It came up with too many, so I refined my search,

cross referenced with internet matches. That gave me a hook; apparently someone was

arrested about two years ago for terrorism offenses involving poisons.” He said while

handing him a thin file. Opening the light brown cardboard cover Jack read the info inside,

he was impressed but still had some questions,

“The poison of choice for terrorists is usually ricin.”

John, undeterred pressed on with his findings,

“Yes but this one person stands out as interesting, his name is Maxwell Grey. 37 years old

and born in this country he is the son of an immigrant from Georgia who married a woman

over here. Becoming a dissident around 10 years ago and radicalised by a hatred of authority,

he was responsible for the bombing of an administrative district office in southern Russia

which killed 17 people. He fled back to the UK about 8 years ago therefore evading Russian

authorities.”

This sounded like the ideal man, a possibly candidate behind the King’s Cross attack he

continued to listen to John,

“Russia had so far unsuccessfully tried to extradite Grey from the UK but to no avail, but

listen to this, here’s the interesting bit.”

This was the part Jack wanted to hear. He move in a little closer to listen attentively,

Before becoming radicalised and heading east, he was a student at Bristol University,

School of Chemistry. He was there for at least four years eventually leaving with a Masters

degree in the subject.”

John as slightly smug in his triumph, this man looked like the perfect fit. But there were still

holes in the story,

“Highly educated, knowledgeable and determined, sounds like a real terrorist role model. Is

there any more? How do we find our dissident?” Asked Jack,

John revealed more, “Just after he fled from Russia, Grey was implicated in an attempted

contamination plot of the office of the Mayor of London, another high profile authority

target. Thankfully it was foiled but in the subsequent inquiry afterward it was found that

Grey tried to release a poison called Atropine, a liquid substance derived from the Datura

plant!”

“The same plant used to derive Scopolamine back in the lab.” Replied Jack. Clearly he was

catching on,

“Yes enough released through various methods is sufficient to cause headaches, nausea,

dizziness and general disorientation. That was enough for the police to charge Mr Grey with

terrorism offences. The investigation was carried out by the Serious Organised Crime

Agency led by, according to this, our very own Inspector Brian Waterson!”

This was definitely a positive lead; the man clearly had form, a motive and history to boot.

Jack desperately wanted to find him,

“Where is he now?” He asked knowing that John probably had the answers,

“Exactly where I managed to derive this info from, the police files, intelligence sources,

well only as much as I can obtain with my level of clearance, and the prison service.

Currently he is being held in Belmarsh Prison.”

“Then that is where we need to go.” Stated Jack.

They proceeded to get their coats, only interrupted by the ring of Jack’s telephone. Quickly

reacting West turned round and grabbed the receiver. Instantly recognising the voice on the

other end, told him exactly what the call was about,

“Right we’re on our way.” He said sternly. Things were moving along now,

“Who was that?” Asked John,

“The lab, some kind of development. Come on lets go.”

Both men stormed out of their offices towards the corridor. They hadn’t got 400 yards until

they inevitably bumped into the scientist they had earlier conversed with,

“Hello again, Listen I’ve done a cross reference with local hospitals in the greater London

area, checked stock records for items and the like. I have a match! Remember the number on

the scalpel? That was a tracking number; I found the supplier and obtained their medical

delivery records. The number 774459 indicates it comes from Lewisham Hospital, right next

to Lewisham Park.”

This rang bells with Jack. Instantly his instincts about the scopolamine came to the fore. If

that was a medical drug, a hospital would be the perfect place to obtain it, same with a

scalpel. That would be if the scientist dipped in with a slight variation,

“Tracking this device I found one thing out, it’s not used in general surgery; it is used on

cadavers in the hospital mortuary.”

He carried on. Clearly he had been busy himself,

“I know this hospital; I’ve done some research work there before, at the moment there are

building or road works happening opposite. Perhaps your stone fragments and hessian could

have come from there?”

Jack agreed, “It’s a possibility. We’ll have to see, thanks for your help. If there’s anything

else let us know will you.”

“Will do.”

Leaving West and Hudson to go back to the lab, both men stood in the corridor. Jack began

wondering what to do next, he now a more than one lead to follow. They decoded to chase

the Belmarsh line first, heading back to the offices to get their coats was a fateful decision.

Entering the offices they were stopped again, this time by Harvey. Ever present in his three

piece power suits he cut a powerful figure,

“I’ve just had word from the Met police; I know you have been following up possible leads

to this case so I’m telling you both now. Thanks to the autopsy examinations of the body

they believe with some confidence that the killers indeed had a poison that causes madness, it

was contained in the decanter that was broken and whoever made this attack forced the

potion down Finnin’s throat almost drowning him in the process. In a fit of rage he lashed

out and bit at one of the killers, apparently with some considerable violence.”

“They told you all that?” Asked John

“I requested an update, I don’t have to tell them the reason, they have an obligation to

divulge any assisting evidence when it comes to national security. I did it for you two, I

suggest you use it.” Was Harvey’s straight cut reply.

Jack decided to report there and then,

“We have been doing some investigating. We have a possible suspect, and man called

Maxwell Grey, English born half-Georgian dissident. Highly educated, in chemistry and has

carried out attacks at home and in Russia.”

“I’ve heard of this, is this the one who tried to poison the Mayor a while back?” Said

Harvey,

“Yes and he was caught, tried and charged under the Terrorism Act. He’s being held

currently in Belmarsh prison.” Interrupted John,

“This has all the hallmarks of his handy work, but don’t forget he’s quite intelligent if he’s

inside he could have hired assailants to do the dirty work for him. And that really does pose a

security threat.” Asserted Harvey,

“Just what we were thinking.” Replied Jack,

“Then I suggest you go to Belmarsh and confront our friend.” Ordered Harvey while turning

round making his way back to his private office.

West and Hudson followed suit, making the way back to their offices to get their coats before

being interrupted again, this time by a junior member of the team. Some additional

information had come their way on Finnin himself,

“Excuse me sir, this just came through.” The junior handed West an email printout,

“According to New Scotland Yard Finnin had an understudy, a student from the London

School of Economics seconded to him as an intern. Somebody called David.”

“What do the police know about this David?” Asked West not expecting a definite answer,

“According to the police report this young lad called David had shown disciplinary issues

both at the university and at the secondment and was therefore volatile in nature.” Replied the

junior,

“Sounds quite a character.” John remarked,

“Very much so, where does this David live?” Asked Jack

“Finchley” Was the reply from the young official. North London, in the borough of Barnet,

and on high ground, yet another lead in this case. If the police hadn’t followed it, both West

and Hudson had to oblige,

“Where are we going next, to Belmarsh, Lewisham or Finchley?” Asked John,

Jack replied swiftly, “Belmarsh. That’s where our potential criminal mastermind is so that’s

where we are going.”

John looked on pensive wondering why they were following up on so many leads. He knew

they had to follow up direct threats to security, but multiple leads and investigations are for

the police, not the security service,

“That’s fine, but can I remind you that we have not been cleared by the police to follow so

many lines of enquiry. I know they have been cooperative but what if we interfere with the

course of justice more than we have already, we could prejudice any future trial and if that

allows a terror suspect to walk free then how do we look?”

Jack afforded John the outburst, but he had a good reason to because he knew more than his

partner ever could at this time,

“In the interests of security the intelligence service comes above the police force. If they

have a problem they go above our heads. In the meantime we just keep our heads down and

get on with it. If we get shot at or get dirty then so be it. It isn’t our job to complain, we just

do what we are told to. No matter whatever the circumstances we always come first.”

This was the second time John had questioned the motives of Jack’s methods. The case was

rapidly becoming more complex than before, and it was showing a strain on their

professional relationship.

Chapter 5:

Belmarsh Prison, 10:00 am, the brightness of the day outside only tempered by a slight

breeze. West and Hudson arrived at the front of the prison, pulling up in the car park. The

great vast high walls surrounding the compound spanned before them crowned by the main

red brick gate gatehouse in the middle. Making their way across the car park took no time at

all to reach the brown doors of the main reception, upon entering and looking up, John could

not help but notice the obviously visible CCTV camera on the outside watching the entrance,

“God knows whoever that camera has captured.” He thought to himself.

Going through the automatic glass doors the reception felt quite warm inside. Obviously this

was the comfortable inviting part of the prison but the rest would not be as such. Even so

there was an atmosphere of gloominess about the place, the walls, white and stippled with

paint, the brown out of date carpet covering the floor, those long fluorescent light bulbs you

only get in hospitals adorning the ceiling. The only splash of colour to alleviate the drabness

was the large A3 type statutory posters on the wall indicating the prison regulations, health

and safety practices and other smaller notices. Accompanying them were the other

adornments in the form of tiny posters warning of the dangers of crime.

As soon as they were approaching the door from the outside, they were seen by the duty

receptionist so upon entering the element of surprise had completely dissipated. West

approached the large reception desk with Hudson in tow. The clerk on duty acknowledged

them as they stood in front of him,

“Can I help you? Have you got a visiting order?” He asked, sitting behind the large glass

screen covering the desk like some kind of grandiose bank counter, John intervened,

“Who we work for means we don’t need a visiting order.”

“My name is Jack West; this is John Hudson, counter intelligence. We would like to see

your governor; there’s one of your inmates that we would like to interview. Is there

somebody we can speak to?”

He produced his special ID as did John to prove their claim. The receptionist, while

sceptical, was prepared to accept the request,

“Can you wait there?” He ordered while disappearing through a back door into an adjoining

corridor.

Taking the time to look around the room they noticed chairs around the edges, upholstered to

the same taste as the carpet. They had no time to comment as the receptionist very quickly

returned from the back with a superior and both West and Hudson both introduced

themselves again this time to the senior warden. Like his junior counterpart he appeared to

accept them as he gestured for them to follow him around the side. Opening up a door to the

rear of the reception by keypad the heavy entrance swung open as the warden stood aside for

the West and Hudson to enter,

“If you’d like to follow me sirs, I take you to the administrative block.” He said,

“Thank you.” Replied Jack.

He led them out of the rear of the reception down a corridor. Brick lines and painted white,

the decor was somewhat lighter than the reception as the carpet had changed from brown to

blue. The corridors of the prison seemed like a maze, corridor after corridor, passing office

after office, the admin block seemed like miles away.

Eventually they arrived at a white iron bar security gate. Fitted with a time lock, both West

and Hudson tried not to be tempted and take a peek at the code imputed by the senior warden.

The whole area was laced with security cameras so even if they did have a look, the strong

chances were that they would be seen by unknown prying eyes. Passing through the gate was

not problem as it pivoted open to allow access for the three men. Jack noticed that this area

seemed different in its feel, there were definitely more office workers and wardens here than

before. Jack knew they were in the administrative block so the governor’s office could not be

far away now. Continually they followed the warden, up a flight of stairs and into yet

another office,

“In here sir,” He said to both men, “This is the governor’s reception area. I’ll just let them

know who you are”.

“That’s fine.” Said Jack. By now they were a little apprehensive. Hopefully the governor

should be a reasonable person, and cooperative in letting them interview one of their terrorist

prisoners. Standing in the doorway, the two men could clearly see the warden have a quiet

word with the secretary who was clearly pre occupied with her computer at her desk. Seemed

like she was having problems with the computer system at her workstation directly in front of

them. Jack watched as she glanced over to them, obviously checking them out, seeing her

nod her head told Jack that they were clear to proceed,

“Over here sirs.” Said the warden gesturing them to advance. John and Jack advanced

forward to the secretary’s desk,

“I’ll leave you to it. I have to get back on duty.” Said the warden. He left the two men with

the secretary as Jack began the introductions,

“My name is Jack West and this is John Hudson-“

The secretary politely interrupted, “That’s OK, I’ve been informed who you are. You wish to

speak with the governor.”

“That’s correct. Is he available right now?” Replied Jack.

The secretary got up from her seat and moved around the desk,

“I’ll just see if he’s free. If you would like to wait here please I’ll be just a moment.”

She knocked on an adjoining door, disappearing into the next room,

“I hope she doesn’t find him dead.” Thought Jack cynically.

They did not have to wait long, looking around the room; it was a typical office, notice

boards, filing cabinets, desks, office equipment, nothing unusual. Their instinctive scan of

the office was only interrupted by the opening of the door. Both West and Hudson turned to

face whoever was coming out. The secretary came out first followed by a grey haired man in

a light grey suit, early fifties and slightly shorter than John and Jack. He greeted the two men

cordially,

“Hello my name is Stephen Jones, I’m the governor here.” He said while shaking the two

men’s hands,

“I have been told who you are; I understand you require access to one of our inmates here.”

“Yes,” Replied Jack, “We wish to see one of your long term prisoners, someone called

Maxwell Grey.”

The governor replied somewhat audaciously,

“Mr West, we have many prisoners here, all of them serving lengthy terms. We house some

of the most dangerous men in the country.”

“I’m only interested in just one, Maxwell Grey.” Jack fired back.

The governor paused for a second before turning to his secretary,

“Jill, can you access the prisoner register, call up the file for a prisoner called Grey.”

“I would, but we’ve been having these stupid computer glitches all morning. The system is

completely down. The technicians are trying to fix a workaround but until then...”

Stephen knew what she was talking about; he was suffering the same glitches himself,

“Can we get a hard copy of the physical file then; the records should be in the admin block.”

The secretary promptly obeyed as she turned to exit the room. The admin block was just

round the corner so it shouldn’t take long to locate the correct file,

“She won’t be long gentlemen; we have an excellent filing system here. Can I offer you

some refreshments perhaps; would either of you like a cup of tea?”

“No thank you.” Said Jack sounding as polite as he could,

“I’m fine as well thanks.” Added John.

The sound of thudding outside told the three men that someone was approaching the office,

perhaps it was the secretary. The wait was momentary as it was indeed the secretary walking

in through the door carrying a brown paper folder. Opening it she positioned herself beside

her boss to allow him to examine it,

“File number 654/989, for prisoner number 384788/C name Grey, Maxwell.” She

pronounced. This instantly grabbed the attention of both John and Jack as they knew their

man was here,

“Ah yes Grey.” Said the governor as he looked inside, “First admitted here 24 months ago

after being convicted for terrorist offences. Currently serving a 15 year term.”

West needed to find him, “We need to talk to him in relation to a possible secondary incident.

Can you tell me where he is, it’s imperative that we speak to him.”

The governor respected the wishes of West, in charge of a category A prison he knew full

well the calibre of men incarcerated within its walls. Twelve foot high barriers are not going

to stop the most hardened criminal,

“Well he was on C wing but it says here in the prisoner log that he was moved last Thursday

to the seg unit.”

“What’s the ‘seg unit’?” Asked John,

The secretary filled him in. She was used to the jargon and abbreviations used by prisoners

and wardens alike,

“It means segregation unit.”

“So he’s in solitary confinement.” Queried Jack,

The governor butted in, “Yes that’s correct. Prisoners are usually transferred there on a

temporary basis when they step out of line. Additionally they get part or all of their

privileges removed as a result. This being a maximum security prison you cannot

underestimate the type of criminals we have here. We’re not talking about petty thieves;

these are dangerous men, murders, rapists and terrorists. I’m afraid not even barbed wire and

iron bars can deter the criminal minds of the mindless filth that we have in here.”

Jack totally understood the rhetoric of the governor, even though it was a little bit

unorthodox for a man in his position. Still he needed to speak to Grey,

“Can you arrange for us to set up an interview with our friend?”

“I’m afraid that may be a little difficult, for normal prisoners we could, but those in the

segregation wing are in there for a reason. The only times they are moved from their cells are

during transfer, a medical emergency or exercise.” The governor replied,

John stepped in to the polite little standoff, “We do need to speak to him today though.”

The governor back down slightly. He was not unreasonable and was prepared for

compromise,

“Alright what I can do is arrange for you to be escorted to the isolation wing, but I can only

limit access to Grey himself. I’m not prepared to compromise the security of the wing so I’m

afraid you will have talk to him through the door. That’s the best I can do I’m afraid.”

“That’s fine.” Replied Jack,

“One more thing though Mr West, I’ll call ahead to the segregation wing and let them know

you are coming down, but I’ll have to issue you both with security passes, Jill can you get

some out of the draw just there.”

Jill removed from a nearby drawer two swipe cards as security passes. Jack and John both

took theirs taking the opportunity to have a peek at the design. Meanwhile the secretary

fleeted out of the room to catch a warden to act as escort. Re-entering the room with a rather

tall and bulky dark haired man, this was the chaperone to West and Hudson,

“Warden Giles here will take you both down to the segregation unit. As I said I’ll phone

through and let them know you are coming. If there’s anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.”

The governor stated while trying to be as cooperative as possible. Jack returned the courtesy

in his reply,

“Thanks for the help. I’m sure we will need your assistance again.”

He turned to the Giles the warden in a non-communicative gesture to get on their way. Giles

responded like for like,

“Follow me, I’ll take you there. Don’t be scared about what you’ll see or hear in this place.

Full of nutcases, but don’t show any fear. Just stick close to me and you’ll be fine; anybody

tries anything I’ll tell them where to go.”

West and Hudson looked at each other as they proceed to follow Giles out of the office and

down the corridor which they came. Despite the obvious brusque attitude of the hardened

warden, Jack wanted to find out more about Grey. It was likely that Giles had come across

Grey before so he may prove a useful point of information on the suspect before they were to

meet him face to face,

“So what type of inmates do you get in here?” He asked,

“All sorts, usually terrorists.” Giles replied.

They came out of the office block and onto the wings. Suddenly the doors turned to barred

gates that needed to be unlocked and re-locked on at a time in line with security protocols

which delayed their journey down somewhat. Jack pressed further on the subject or Grey,

“So have you had many dealings with Grey before?”

“Oh yes, I’ve come up against him. Right little character.”

West continued to probe, “So what is he like then?”

“A bit of a Jekyll and Hyde character really. One minute he is OK the next minute, he flies

into a rage.”

West knew what that meant. Now having a bit more insight into Grey he felt a little more

confident in tackling him personally. Moving through the wings on the way to segregation

block meant passing through gate after gate full of security checkpoints. Luckily the isolation

wind was only just down the corridor as the noise of the prison became ever more apparent

with each step taken. Shouting and commotion in the most colourful terms permeated the air

like a bad television programme,

“SHUT IT!!!!” Shouted Giles to one of the prisoners as they passed through another security

gate into an adjoining office. Approaching the heavy door covered by a rather ominous

CCTV camera recorded every movement in and out of the specialised wing. Stopping at the

door the warden punched in a code at the keypad located at the side. Initiating a buzzer the

thick heavy door opened allowing the three men to enter. Inside was a small admittance

office, three desks with the usual paperwork on them, notice boards and posters decorated the

walls. It was staffed by what appeared to be three wardens on duty at the time. Giles

introduced West and Hudson to the senior one,

“Hi, we’ve been told you were coming down to see us. I’m Davison the senior warden on

duty here. I understand you want to talk with one of the inmates, Grey was it?”

“Yes that’s correct. My name is Jack and this is John, we need to speak to him regarding a

sensitive matter.”

The warden piped up slightly, “I’m afraid I’ll have to see some form of ID or security pass.

Protocol you see.”

The two men displayed the ID cards given to them by the governor which was acceptable and

this prompted Davison to act in accordance with their wishes,

“Is that where the cells are?” Asked Jack while looking beyond Davison. Noticing a large

barred access door with a large timer keypad lock on the handle,

“Yes that’s the way to the unit. It’s time locked because this is the most secure part of the

prison.” Replied the warden.

Jack also noticed some metal detectors behind, so no one was able to escape the scrutiny

going in and out,

“The door is time locked.” Proclaimed West,

“Yes sir, but I’m afraid we are having a few problems at the moment. This morning we

have been hit by some kind of computer glitch, so we’re having a bit of trouble with the door

locks.”

“You mean your security is at risk?” Asked John concerned,

“Oh no, don’t worry about that, the locks are automatic. The problem is with the access

codes required to automatically be changed daily. But because of this stupid glitch we can’t

get the updated code.”

“So you can’t gain entry at the moment.”

“Yes we can, there is another entrance in the adjacent D Wing. You see each wing has its

own set of codes. The thing is the normal shift patterns around here coincide with the

changing of the codes. No new codes, no shift rotation.”

Jack waded into the conversation, “So you’re stuck, even though you can still gain access

through the adjacent wing, you cannot leave your post.”

“Exactly.” Replied Davison.

West began to wonder if they were going to be able to speak to Grey at all. He decided to ask

all the same just to make sure,

“Are we going to be able to speak to Grey?”

The reply from the wardens was swift and decisive,

“Yes you will. These time locks can only be opened from the inside, not from this side.

There is a warden on duty at all times so he will know to let you in.”

John was puzzled by the answer, “Why are the locks only opened from the inside? What if

you have an escape?”

“Because if there is an escape, and if the escapee does get out of a particular wing, it

prevents him from gaining access to other parts of the prison you see, restricts his movements

within the compound.” The warden replied.

After explaining the layout of the security system, he turned round to buzz the door. Taking

only a few seconds to pass before the duty guard appeared, he punched in the code to unlock

the door. A clicking sound indicated that it was open thus allowing West and Hudson to go

through,

“This gentleman will show you through,” He turned to the duty warden, “These two are here

to speak to Grey. Show them to his cell will you?”

The duty warden obeyed,

“Follow me; he’s in the cell at the end on the left hand side. I’ll take you to it.”

Both West and Hudson followed the duty warden into the segregation block. First arriving at

a small office cubical full of computer consoles, CCTV monitors watching every move made,

bordered by bullet proof glass panels reinforced with wire mesh. The floor, shiny, was a

complete contrast to the ceiling adorned with plumbing and air conditioning vents. Still, at

least the décor was OK; everything apart from a few furnishings was painted in the

supposedly uplifting colour of cream white. Swiftly both men was led down a corridor lined

on both sides by thin green metal doors, these were clearly the cells. Each door was the

same, a thin Perspex window allowing the briefest of glimpses into the world of the

individuals who occupy them. The heavy duty silver locks were the main feature of the doors

designed to keep the occupants in; beside each door to the right hand side, a small rectangle

of whiteboard with the name of the inmate written in ink. The sounds coming from within

each cell, voices, banging, thudding all displayed the worst kind of nature from the misfits of

modern society. It was better here than on the outside, especially from Hudson and West’s

point of view. Eventually they arrived at the end of the corridor, West looked at the

whiteboard at the side, written in black ink was the name ‘Grey’. He knew he had the right

one and was about to come face to face with the key to the Finnin murder and possibly more,

“Here we are,” Said the warden, “Maxwell Grey’s cell. You can only talk to him through

the window; I’ll be standing just over there.”

“OK that’s fine.” Replied Jack giving the warden the go ahead to rouse their man,

“Grey,” Called the warden through the door, “Come on, someone wants to talk to you.”

West looking on at the window could not see anything at all,

“Stop being an idiot Grey, COME ON.” Said the warden sternly.

Through the slim window of the door a figure appeared. Jack could quite clearly see his

features as he set eyes on Maxwell Grey for the very first time, a blond haired thin looking

man adorned with a tattoo on high left cheek greeted him. The psychopathic stare purported

by the convict cut through West and Hudson like a knife through butter. Jack knew he had to

get past this if he wanted to uncover the absolute truth,

“You Maxwell Grey?” He asked,

“Who are you?” Came the slightly sarcastic reply,

“Who we are is not important, what we want to know is. We want to talk to you about a

poison used in a murder a couple of days ago.”

A wry smile grew on Grey’s face. He had an idea at what West was getting about,

“You mean the murder of that politician? Yeah that was classic.”

“What do you mean ‘classic’?” Asked Jack hoping to get more insight,

“I read about it in the papers, sounds like a professional job. Haven’t you caught them yet

then?”

Jack could see the Grey was toying with him. The patronising look in his blue eyes, the

sarcasm in the tone of his voice, Jack did not like it,

“You have a history of poisons don’t you Grey. That plot to poison the Mayor’s office, very

crafty, quite intelligent too. Takes a real mastermind to pull that one off.”

Grey paused, he was visibly rattled and Jack could tell as the smugness gradually disappeared

from his face,

“What’s that supposed to mean? What you think I did it?”

He began getting angry, all three men on the outside could hear Grey banging inside his cell,

taking out his frustration on the objects nearest to him. The warden in the background

decided to step in, moving forward to restore order. He was only stopped by Jack raising his

hand in protest, with John following suit by physical intervention against him. Reluctantly he

backed off to let Jack resume his interrogation. He could see that Grey calmed almost as

quickly as he piped up,

“You also have form when it comes to violence then. We know about that attack in Russia

about eight years ago.” Quoted Jack,

“So? You come to ship me back there have you?”

“No, I’m just trying to ascertain what type of person you are. This knowledge of poisons,

comes from your education. You studied at Bristol didn’t you, left with a Masters, very

handy.”

“I have a very intricate working knowledge of the world of chemistry. I’m not like other

amateurs, they always make mistakes. They lack the intelligence to understand why things

work the way they do, not just how.”

West decided to probe ever further into the Finnin’s murder,

“Like what poisons come together to cause madness followed by death?”

Grey stared at Jack before reverting to a wide smile. He had definitely hit something here

and he could tell he was dealing with a high intellectual, but the criminal was giving nothing

away,

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh come off it, you know exactly what I mean. You into botany?”

“What?” Asked Grey pensively,

“Botany, the study of plants, in particular the Datura plant”,

Grey clicked onto Jack’s line of questioning. Aware now that the person he was talking to

was not only on the right track but hot on his heels, realising this he decided the best form of

defence was attack,

“You found out who did that bombing at the train station yet?”

Jack thrown slightly by the sudden change decided to counter move,

“We’re working on it. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Better get a move on. Don’t want another bombing to happen do we?” Taunted Grey.

Both Jack and John could tell something was missing here. It wasn’t just the taunting and

uncooperativeness from Grey, he knew something. Frustrated from knowing that he wasn’t

going to get anywhere with this approach, Jack decided to go straight in for the kill,

“What do you know about the King’s Cross bombing? Were you involved somehow? I

think you were, I’ll tell you what else I think, I believe you masterminded the murder of the

politician. I think you arranged to poison him didn’t you? What I want to know is why.”

Grey replied in equally stubborn fashion,

“That’s crap, you can’t prove anything. Besides how am I going to poison someone from in

here?”

“Oh you’ll find a way somehow” Replied Jack looking his adversary straight in the eye.

Grey stared back, John watched as the two men carried out this psychological body language

battle through the door. Eventually Grey broke the pause,

“I could be a very useful asset to you Jack. But I can’t help you anymore.”

Jack responded, “Or you won’t.”

“No…I won’t.”

Grey turned away from the door and out of immediate view signalling his intention to

terminate the interview,

“Well that’s the end of that.” Commented John.

Jack turned to reply, “Seems so.” He said with a slight resignation in his voice.

“Smug isn’t he?” Commented John, clearly citing the obvious,

The warden stepped in, he knew Grey better,

“That’s the way he is. Plays mind games with you, and then loses it.”

“Yes,” Said Jack, “He’s clever but I get the feeling he’s definitely hiding something.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Was John’s reply.

They proceeded to backtrack the way they came out of the corridor. Going past the office

they passed on the way in, the duty warden sat at his desk keeping an eye out at all times for

any signs of abnormal activity in the secure wing. Approaching the iron gate and the metal

detectors cued the accompanying warden to shuffle past them to input the access code. It

opened and buzzed despite the computer glitch allowing escape from the isolation cells. At

the moment it looked as if they had no other business here in the prison as they passed

through safely back into the admittance office. On the way out and passing a coat stand

tucked away to one side with some tunics on it, unnoticeable when they went in suddenly

caught John’s peripheral vision. It proved fateful,

“Jack,” He said, suddenly stopping him in his tracks, “What about Grey’s possessions?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well when he came in here, he had to have had possessions confiscated. If we could get

access to them, perhaps that could reveal some clues.”

West thought on for a second. It seemed a good idea, there had to be a part of the prison

complex where items were stored upon induction into the prison. If they could get hold of

Grey’s things there could be something there, he turned to warden Davison,

“Is it possible to access the prisoner’s possessions?”

The warden looked somewhat unsure. It was an unusual request, he reverted to protocol,

“It’s possible, why?”

“We need to inspect them. We have reason to believe there may be something else.”

“Like what?” Asked Davison,

“We’re not sure; we’re hoping to find out.” Replied John.

Davison realised he had no authority and no grounds to refuse,

“Well if you need to you’ll have to go back to the admin block and get permission from the

governor.”

“We’ll do that.” Said Jack pleased with the green light to go ahead.

The governor’s office was a hive of activity as the technicians flit from one computer to

another in their fruitless quest to locate and isolate the source of the technology glitch. By

now it was beginning to interfere with the running of the whole prison complex. West &

Hudson entered with another warden again as escort to allow safe passage through the

quandary of the high security gates. Leaving them to attend to duties found both West and

Hudson wanting attention to facilitate their requirements. Their presence could not go

unnoticed in the busy room as they were instantly spotted by the secretary,

“You’ll have to excuse the mess; it’s these stupid computer problems. Don’t understand,

everything was fine yesterday but this morning all the systems have crashed.”

“That’s OK. We’d like to speak with the governor again if that’s possible. There is a

favour that we would like to ask him.” Asked West

The secretary got out of here seat navigating around the wires and I.T. personnel trying to

diagnose the source of the tempestuous attitude of the computer systems,

“I’ll just see if he’s free.”

She disappeared again leaving just the computer technicians for company. Clearly having

their hands full with their present problems they acknowledged the presence of the two men

but were too busy to stop and chat. There was no time as the door to the governor’s office

opened with the secretary standing in the doorway,

“Would you like to come in please?”

Upon entering the room they were greeted by Mr Jones,

“Did you speak to Grey? Did you get all the info you needed?”

“Yes we did,” Replied West, “But we have a favour to ask.”

“What’s that?”

“We think there may be clues to what we need to know located in the items of Grey.

Governor we require access to the storage of the prisoners items.”

Jones paused for a second. Giving permission to interview the prisoner was one thing, but to

give access to the prisoner’s items was another. There were rules and regulations regarding

this sort of thing. Jones was no amateur, he had been in the prison service for years,

weighing up the request against the need to know dictated his thinking. Given Grey’s volatile

nature the request of the men seemed to be not too unreasonable,

“Yes OK, I don’t see why not, Jill take issue them with a cardkey to the locker facility

would you?”

“Thank you.” Replied West.

Upon leaving the office the secretary handed Jack a silver card for the locker facility,

“If you want, I can take you to it. It’s just here down the hallway.”

Jack took up the secretary’s offer,

“That will be very helpful thanks.”

They proceeded to leave the governor’s office. Moving out of the door leaving the I.T.

technicians to their work, they hadn’t got five paces down the hall when a voice from the

office caught Jack’s hearing,

“What’s happening with the computer system? It’s been down all morning. I want it sorted!

The time locks on the wings haven’t even been changed for today, just get it done now!”

The governor was clearly not just frustrated but downright angry with the computer system.

Taking it out on the technicians in a kind of blame game as to who or what could be

responsible for the compromise of prison security.

Taking only a couple of minutes to reach the facility, the secretary led them through the

door. They were greeted by a large room lined with locked drawers akin to a bank vault.

The solitary clark at the introduction desk provided the only resistance to prying eyes,

“I’ll leave you to it.” Said the secretary. She quickly vacated the room leaving only West,

Hudson and the clerk together,

“We’re here to examine the contents of one of your inmates, prisoner Grey.” Proclaimed

Jack. Both West and Hudson showed the initially sceptical clerk their security passes which

seemed to alleviate the situation somewhat. Opening a small gate to the lockers he guided

the two men through the maze of strongboxes and lockers all stacked in alphabetical order to

located the one marked Grey. Going through each one seemed fruitless until they stopped at

one marked “384788/C – Grey.”

“This is it,” Remarked Hudson,

“We’ll take it from here.” Said West, cueing the clerk to leave them alone,

“See what is in here.” He asked.

The clerk did not immediately disappear, instead once he knew they had the correct

strongbox he proceeded to grasp at a large bunch of keys swinging from his hip in the fashion

of a classic jailer. Almost barging through the two men performing his duty to the letter by

inserting the right key, the clicking of the lock told them they were in,

“Thanks for your help.” Said West, politely gesturing to the clerk to leave them alone.

Doing so gave West and Hudson the breathing space to finally grasp at the locker, hopefully

this would be the correct course of action to give them the clues they were missing and so

desperate to find. West quickly opened it, inside he found a small briefcase. Being the only

item there, West quickly grasped at it to gain a better view. In the light from the solitary

window he could see that the case was not locked by any sort of combination,

“Thank God.” He thought to himself.

John looked on as West probed further. Quickly opening it to divulge the contents inside he

dipped his hand in to feel around the interior. There appeared to be only one thing in the

case, a small singular piece of paper. Jack pulled it out to see what was written on it, but as

soon as the light shone on the document both men could tell exactly what it was. Printed in

black ink, the grid filled with familiar combinations of letters told both men exactly what it

was,

“Look,” Said John, “That’s the periodic table!”

“Yes.” Said Jack examining the piece, all the time looking closer at the document. His

vision made him notice that at least five of the periodic elements were marked with what

appeared to be slight pencil marks. He made a mental note of each one in turn,

“John take a note of these, C L, that’s chlorine. C, is carbon, H is hydrogen and O, now

that’s oxygen I think.”

John took down the notes to what the periodic table was referring to,

“It sounds like a formula for something to me.” He remarked.

West wanted to give a suitable reply but he interrupted himself after having another feel

around inside just for good measure. This time he located another, smaller piece of paper he

had missed the first time, thinner and more delicate than the one making up the periodic table.

He pulled it out wondering what it was. He looked on with John also examining the

document. West could see two addresses, one in this country linked to another name,

“Mr Fisher”, Said Jack to himself. The other address in China, a tracking number, quantity

and product,

“This is an invoice, it’s a shipment from China for something called arsine,” He declared,

“What is arsine?” Asked John,

“I don’t know. John get on the phone, contact through to HQ, give them the elements see

what they can dig up. Tell them about the invoice give them this tracking number, see what

they can find.”

He showed Hudson the tracking number, “528799411” printed clearly across the top.

Pulling a phone from his pocked John furiously danced his fingers across the touchpad

keying in numbers as he went. Putting the phone up to his face the signal strength was good

for a prison as he started to get through pretty much straight away,

“Hi, yeah it’s me Hudson, listen can you recall some info for me? I’m going to give you a

list of chemicals, see what you can find for me. Also do a check on an invoice, I’ll give you a

tracking number….Yes…OK, well here it is, its 528…799…411, got that? OK the chemicals

I want a check on are chlorine, carbon, hydrogen, oxygen and something called arsine.

Check with the lab see if any of those chemicals make something, perhaps some kind of

compound will you? Get back to me on this number once you’ve found something

out…OK…thanks then, bye.”

Pressing the little red button terminating the call he turned back to his partner,

“Hope we won’t have to wait too long for a result.”

“Hopefully not, because from the look of this, there’s more than meets the eye here. Let’s

hope the lab finds something of interest.”

A few minutes passed. Both west and Hudson spent the time examining the rest of the locker

making sure that nothing was missed. The only thing in the strongbox was the case. West

took a few moments to examine it a bit further; he could see that it was quite well made,

black, soft leather with a silver buckle,

“A designer bag. Must be quite expensive.” He thought to himself.

He didn’t have time to make any more deductions; just a quick external examination of the

bag could be made before a faint jingle could be heard from behind him. Instantly

recognising it as John’s mobile tone, his partner was way ahead of him. Pulling it out of his

pocket to answer the expectant phone call,

“Hello….hi there, yes that’s correct….what do you have for me?”

Jack looked on observing John’s reaction for any clues to what was being said to him. West

looked on as John’s eyes widened in a reaction, clearly there was something that had been

found, he was desperate to discover what,

“Right then, what about the chlorine?....and what does that mean?...OK…and the

arsine?...Right yes I understand thanks for that, any news about the invoice?....OK let me

know when you do.”

“What have you found?” Asked West as John hung up.

“In the case of the nitrogen, oxygen and carbon, certain isotopes make up the formula for a

drug.”

“What kind of drug?”

“Our old friend scopolamine.” Replied John

Ringing alarm bells inside Jack’s head, well aware of the effects of scopolamine he knew that

this periodic table heralded something potentially sinister,

“So we have the formula for a drug which we know is dangerous in quantities and is also a

known deliriant. What about the chlorine?”

“According to the lab, chlorine is a poisonous substance, but it’s what they call an oxidizing

element.”

“What does that mean?”

“According to them it means that it can start an ignition if another element is present.”

“So it’s explosive?” Asked Jack,

“Perhaps not, I suspect chlorine is more toxic than explosive. But that other element-“

“Is arsine!” Said Jack, cutting him off. John restarted again relaying the information he had

been given,

“Yes and arsine is a highly flammable gas. Ideal as an accelerant.”

West thought about this for a second, obviously choosing to examine Grey’s possessions paid

off handsomely. He tried to look at it objectively,

“So here we have the formula for hallucinogenic drug, extremely powerful, chlorine, a

potent poison and arsine a flammable gas used as a combustible accelerant.”

“Providing you have a source of ignition” Added John pointing out the finer details. Jack

wanted to tell him not to jump to conclusions but was interrupted by John’s phone ringing yet

again,

“Probably more about that invoice.” Said John pressing the green button on the phone to

answer the caller,

“Hello…..yes sir,” Jack could tell instantly it was Harvey on the phone,

“The invoice sir…….right……no, that’s very interesting…….well thank you for

investigating……sorry?.......really?! now that is a bit of news……..yes Jack is here with

me……OK I’ll mention it…….thanks once again…..OK, bye.”

This sounded promising to West, as soon as Hudson hung up he turned to reveal the news,

“That was our Harvey; they’ve done a trace on that invoice. Apparently an order was

placed in the name of Mr Fisher, likely an alias for Grey, for half a litre of arsine from a

Chinese chemical company. Apparently the dates show that this was ordered after the

mayoral attack plot, when Grey was on the run. The tracking number was picked up by the

police and used it to lead then straight to him, that why these are here, he must have

attempted to hide or get rid of them somehow to distance himself from any future plot.”

West tried to challenge his partner,

“And you think there definitely is another plot involving Grey?”

“Pretty conclusive don’t you think?” Was John’s reply.

West believed him. The truth was he though exactly the same thing himself,

“Then this is the proof we need to link Grey indirectly to the Finnin murder. It also

highlights the potential of another attack somewhere on a larger scale. Prison is no deterrent

for someone as radical and determined as him. OK I think we are done here, come on let’s

go.”

Putting the contents back in the case and the case in the locker, they proceeded to the exit.

The duty warden at the desk at the top of the room watching the men head for the exit rose to

close the locker back again leaving the contents to gather dust as they had been before they

gave up their secrets. West and Hudson had made disturbing progress, but this was only the

tip of a very large iceberg, they were not finished here yet, and they both knew it.

Chapter 6:

Upon exiting the locker room they found themselves back in the corridor of the admin block

from which they came. By now the two men were at a bit of a loose end as what to do next.

Hudson thought on for a minute, then turned to West,

“You think we have to see Grey again? Confront him with the evidence?”

“Yes, come on let’s go back to the segregation unit.”

They proceeded back to the corridors passing the admin offices on the way down. They still

had their security passes so there should be no problem with regards to access, but the

commotion from the rooms was beginning to get quite noticeable,

“You hear them?” Asked John,

“Yes. They’re complaining about the computer glitch interfering in the running of the

prison.”

The wardens, admin staff and the I.T. personnel were all at loggerheads as to determine the

cause and the resolution to the system meltdown. Talk was turning to security risks, clearly

they wondered if one or more of the dangerous criminals would dare to abscond.

Back in the segregation unit the supposed order had broken down somewhat, this glitch was

certainly taking its toll by the time West and Hudson arrived. The wardens all seemed to be

concerned about one thing,

“Problem?” asked West boldly,

“Yes,” replied Davison, turning round to see who had walked in, “It’s these bloody

computer problems, they’ve affected the doors, and they’re automatically locked up.”

“So you can’t get in?”

“No, and we can’t get anyone out either.”

West thought this was supposed to be the idea, but he remembered what was said earlier

about the duty wardens inside,

“So the duty warden is trapped inside with the prisoners?”

“Yes, that puts him in danger if we have a situation, even though we’re all fully trained for

any emergency.” Replied Davison.

West and Hudson knew just what havoc the bug was causing to the prison operation, but

this was a modern establishment, surely they could not have been crippled. West tested

Davison with a single, simple question,

“Do you have some kind of override procedure in place here, for something like this?

Surely you must have a contingency plan.”

“Yes all the security codes are held on computer file, but there are backups in case of

emergency. Normally these backup files are held on a separate computer server in case one

goes down, but this problem has affected all the servers. We can’t get access to anything

until they’re back up and running.”

John decided to challenge the warden’s explanation. He was not satisfied with the whole

prison system being dependant on just one computer system,

“Can’t you open the doors manually with your keys?”

Another warden butted in with a very suitable answer,

“Not in this part of the prison. Here to open those doors you have to use a key and punch in

a code within two seconds, otherwise it locks you out.”

“It’s standard procedure,” Said Davison, “Here we house some of the most dangerous

criminals in the county so you’ve got to take special steps.”

West turned to John, he had an idea. From the current evidence there seemed to be no way

inside at the moment, but there could be a way with extrinsic help,

“John, go back to the admin offices, see if you can’t access a security code from there.”

“How, the servers are down?”

“Use your ingenuity John. Perhaps we could use a little outside help.”

John cottoned on to what Jack was referring to. There was a definite way to access to the

security files, and he knew just the trick on how to do it.

The admin offices were still a mire of confusion and panic when John walked in. It was

almost as if nobody noticed him as he appeared in the doorway,

“Yes?” Said a young woman,

“I’ve come from the segregation unit, the doors down there are locked, can I log onto one of

your systems to try and gain access?”

The I.T. technicians looked on almost in hilarity, what did they expect this man to do? The

admin assistant decided to challenge him further,

“Sorry, you can’t. You can see that we are tied up at the moment. We’re aware of the door

problem so no I’m afraid not.”

Turning out of the room it seemed like a bit of a dead end for John. Walking back down the

corridor proved a slice of luck for out of the corner of his eye, just off to the right there lay a

smaller office. Pausing only briefly just enough to see if there was anyone inside John

tentatively pushed open the door with shifty eyes to check the coast was clear. There were no

detectable cameras in this part of the block so it seemed safe. He was in luck the small office

private was vacant and John took the opportunity to slip inside. Upon closure of the door,

apart from the usual office furniture the one object that was of interest was the computer

situated on the desk. Taking his seat he pressed the first key he could on the keyboard

prompting the screen to light up. Carelessly someone had left it on standby and it wasn’t

locked so John proceeded to probe the files. Instantly he found that the whole operating

system began to freeze, menus would not load and files would not open or disappear

altogether, this was the legacy of the computer glitch. With his patience wearing thin

discretely he pulled out his phone from the pocket and began to finger dance across the

screen dialling a specific phone number. Hearing the ringing and knowing he had to speak

softly, he pressed the phone as close to his face as he dared allowing his comments to be

heard as clearly as the situation allowed,

“It’s me, listen I need you to perform a computer hack on a system for me, track and lock

onto my phone signal with a GPS.”

The few seconds seemed like minutes, the phones throbbed against his temple in sync with

each pounding, nervous heartbeat,

“You have my location, good. Give me a second, I’ll try and get the IP address.”

Typing through the menus, took a couple of seconds, gaining access to the MS DOS prompt

screen. Thankfully the computer would let him do that. A few clicks translating to

commands brought up the IP address of the computer,

“Got it, listen carefully, 98.823.446.228.”

Waiting nervously for a response from the other end of the phone told Hudson that his

colleagues at Thames House were working on something. Small quiet pings rang out from the

central processing unit below the desk as the system was clearly being hacked into. Three

pings…four pings…five pings; John wondered how many more before the system could be

cracked,

“I wonder what they are doing?” He asked himself.

Suddenly the screen flashed up with a black screen. Tiny green writing flowed from bottom

to top in machine code like a backward cascading waterfall. John looked on oblivious to

anyone who may happen to enter as the writing continued to flash across the screen. Then it

stopped; the black screen disappeared leaving John with the desktop. He was about to press a

key when without contact, up popped a file,

“I’m in, thanks.” He confirmed before hanging up. Putting the phone away he now had two

hands to explore the system. Clicking the mouse on the file opened it up. There seemed to

be more sub-folders inside, quite a few,

“No choice but to explore.” He thought.

Clicking through each file seemed easy, they were not zipped or password protected, perhaps

an after effect of the hack, but it did not mind John at all. Coming to the fourth file, named

pass.exe opening it seemed different to the previous three ones. The file was full of

subfolders; scanning down with his eyes close to the flat screen, Hudson looked for anything

that could indicate a password. He stopped around one-third of the way down when he saw a

notepad file named PWord.file. It certainly grabbed his attention so he probed further by

instantly opening it. Presented before him was a huge list of passwords and code

combinations, for each gate on each wing,

“Found it, now where’s the correct one for the segregation unit?”

Scrolling down he could see complete access to each section, of each wing,

“The prisoners would kill for something like this.” He thought to himself.

No sooner had he had that though then he came across the codes for the segregation unit.

The times and dates against each combination illustrated that the codes were still valid at this

time. He could use them. Quickly taking notes of the four digit combination, his fingers

worked fast to record the code on his phone. His mission accomplished, shutting down the

computer in a rapid fashion ensured he quickly got up and moved toward the door wondering

if he had been spotted or noticed missing.

Back in the segregation unit Jack waited with the wardens. The air filled with uncertainty

certainly from the warden’s point of view. Jack however remained pensive, he knew where

John had gone and to some extent what he was doing. He only hoped his partner had been

successful. Hudson entered the isolation block swiftly. His body language told Jack he

understood and achieved what he went for,

“I’ve got the code, hacked into the system. Do you want me to try it out?” Asked Hudson in

a hushed tone. He didn’t want the warden’s to find out about the technique used to

compromise their system,

“Ok let’s give it a try.” Replied Jack.

Hudson walked over to the gate thus instantly attracting the attention of the guards,

“What are you doing?” They asked

“I’m going to try this code.”

West butted in, “We want to speak to Grey again, about his possessions. So we need access.”

“Yes but the codes are locked out, you can’t get in.” Rebutted Davison,

“I’ll try anyway.” Said John as he punched in the known code into the keypad, 7…5…3…1,

the door buzzed and clicked open.

The wardens looked on in surprise, how on earth did he do it? They were certainly

perplexed, but West knew exactly how he did it. He clandestinely instructed Hudson on what

to do when he first suggested it. Knowing the way the two men re-entered the isolation unit

to find Grey once again. The duty warden in the small office chamber looked as surprised as

the ones outside, there was no way anyone could crack the security codes, how did they do it?

West gave them no time to answer, with Hudson in tow; they made their way back to the end

cell where they knew Grey to be incarcerated. Looking through the small window, they

could see Grey was busy at a small table. With his back turned to the door he didn’t notice

the re-emergence of his visitors. West wanted to cry out to alert Grey once more but he did

not have to, he could see him pause as if to be aware of a presence. Quickly but discretely he

put away what he was doing before turning round to face them. The stare between Grey and

West was intense, but West wasn’t going to break. Getting up and slowly walking to the

door both men faced each other this time closer than ever through the Perspex window,

“I’ve been through your possessions.” Said Jack,

Grey didn’t like that, he tensed up, “You have no right!”

“Why not?

“Because.” Replied Grey in a sinister undertone. West Probed even further this time,

“We found the periodic table, and the elements marked on it.”

“So what?”

“Oh come on!! We know the elements marked on the table are the formula for

Scopolamine!! Remember that? Now what do you know about its use?”

Grey suddenly became defensive. A sure sign of a cover up,

“No comment.” He replied. He knew that the burden of proof was on West, if he kept his

mouth shut there was nothing they could do,

“I’m not taking that for an answer.” Said West trying to extract info, Grey sensing his

adversary’s tactics tried to deflect him by using the notion of double bluff,

“Look the Scopolamine is harmless, unless mixed with something else to increase the

concentration, then and only then does it becomes deadly.”

Hudson could tell what Grey was up to, and as a result he knew that even though Grey tried

to make it look like a bluff in reality he was telling the truth. Grey continued,

“Perhaps the strength of the poison is enough to kill a grown man, even one that is protected

like say, a public figure.”

“Like Finnin.” Said Hudson

“A poison like this requires so much knowledge, that it would take a person with a special

knowledge to mix it.” Replies Grey smiling.

This was the focus of Grey’s bluff, in doing so he tried to finish it off,

“So how could someone like me obtain the materials, mix them and smuggle them out if I’m

in here.”

West threw back at him, “I didn’t say you were responsible, why did you imply that?”

“It’s what you think isn’t it?”

West wasn’t buying any of Grey’s games. Instead he shifted the direction of the interview,

“What about Mr Fisher?” Asked Jack, suddenly triggering a reaction from Grey. Now they

were beginning to get somewhere,

“I don’t know a Mr Fisher.”

“Yes you do, we also found an invoice from China in that name for a quantity of something

called arsine. We know Fisher is one of your aliases, pretty poor of you’re still using it, I

believe it’s been compromised.”

Grey for the first time was disadvantaged. He tried his best not to show it but the body

language mood changed,

“So you was arrested and convicted on this name by a man called Waterson.” Commented

West

This clearly checkmated Grey, turning away from the door was his signal two the two men

that the conversation was over. Grey had tried to use mind games to throw them off the scent

but clearly it has not worked. Grey’s response was to block them out with West looking on.

He saw him return to his desk, back turned toward them fidgeting in a pattern resembling

what he was doing before. It was obvious that he was resuming his activities and it was even

more obvious that what he was doing, he was doing in secret. West turned away from the

door waiting until they were a safe distance from the cell before turning to Hudson,

“What do you think?”

“I think he’s planning something. I wouldn’t be surprised if he used this computer glitch

problem as a way to make some kind of breakout attempt.”

“You mean take advantage of the compromised security?” Asked West,

“Exactly.” Replied John, “He’s smart, it would be dangerous to underestimate him.”

West agreed, they couldn’t leave it like this,

“Come on let’s go and talk to the governor again. Best to warn him if something is

brewing.”

With that they exited the segregation block with a haste that couldn’t be hidden, even to the

wardens.

Back in the administrative block, things had calmed somewhat now. The glitch was still

present and the corridors still filled out with personnel, but the overall mood had changed

somewhat, become more controlled. West and Hudson arrived in the main corridor to find

the governor talking to another member of staff. Even though he was engaged in

conversation, this did not deter him from noticing the two men from approaching him,

“Governor,” Said West, “We’ve spoken to Grey for a second time about what we found in

his possessions. He appeared rather cagey in his behaviour. It seemed like we disturbed

something he was doing, something he didn’t want us to find out.”

“What do you mean?” Asked the governor,

“We’ve got reason to believe that he might try to use these computer problems you’ve been

having to attempt to break out, or at the very least smuggle information out through visitors.”

Interrupted John,

“Do you think he’ll try to abscond?”

“Yes.” Replied West, “Look there’s clearly something in his cell. Either he’s having

chemicals smuggled inside or he’s shipping them out somehow. Either way I’m not satisfied.

Why don’t you conduct an impromptu search of his cell, do it by surprise and you may catch

him in the act whatever he’s up to.”

Governor Jones agreed. Clearly he became very concerned at what he was hearing and to

what both men were implying,

“This is all we need on a day like today, OK; I’ll sanction a cell search. I’ll put a call

through from my office.”

Disappearing back into his office prompted John to turn toward West,

“We’d better get back down to the segregation unit.”

Heading the opposite way, they both departed.

By the time they reached the segregation unit the prison officers had reached Grey’s cell.

Full riot gear could be seen on the side, spares for another and a clear indication of the

precautions taken with such an individual. Commotions could be heard from the cell corridor

while the search was being carried out. Some of it was even quite violent as Grey, ever the

unstable individual, objected profusely,

“Sounds interesting.” Thought Jack.

It wasn’t long before the commotion died down indicating something had happened. A group

of around ten prison officers, eight of them in the same blue riot gear as what was on the side

emerged through the now working security gate,

“We’ve found nothing, there’s no indication that Grey is attempting an escape.” Said

Davison removing his helmet after putting his clear plastic riot shield down,

“Are you absolutely sure?” Asked West,

“Yes, we’ve done searches like this before. There’s nothing in there that shouldn’t be.”

“What about Grey himself?”

“We had to restrain him at one point but he’s alright. Good job these doors are now OK,

kept them shut while he was out of his cell.”

West understood, he really thought something was to come from his hunch. Deep down he

was disappointed, even though he wasn’t going to show it. However he had something to do,

something private. John was not privy to West’s next instruction as he turned toward him,

“John, stay here will you? I’ve got something to do.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have to make a phone call, see you later.”

He rushed out of the segregation unit. Looking on in puzzlement as to why his partner retired

away so quickly and under such strange circumstances made him wonder if there was more to

this than meets the eye. Observing him he noticed that Jack had pulled out a phone before

disappearing,

“Why?” He thought to himself.

With every out of character action West had been making lately only served to fuel the

suspicions of Hudson. What was his motive? Why was he acting the way he did?

“What’s going on?!!” Shouted one of the wardens, John turned round to the sound of noise

not usually heard from the cells. Something was happening and they didn’t know what.

Reacting to the confusion, Hudson along with a couple of the other wardens poured over the

CCTV screens in the corner. Through the black and white screen the image was not the best,

it seemed to have lost its usual clarity,

“What the hell is that?” Asked on of the wardens,

“Its gas!! Some sort of bloody tear gas!!!” Shouted Davison, “Get us in there, now!!!”

Barging past Hudson, Davison and another officer buzzed open the door to enter the now

smoky cell block. John stayed well out of it; he wasn’t trained for something like this.

Being perfectly happy to let the prison service kick in its training, something just wasn’t right

for the situation,

“Why aren’t the alarms ringing?” He asked,

A third warden who had stayed behind with John answered,

“The alarms are linked to the doors. They’re both on the same circuit so if anyone tries to

force it, they go off.”

John became puzzled, “But there’s no alarm, so what about the doors-“

“Unless…” Questioned the warden, He rushed over to the security gate with John in tow.

Frantically keying in the code for the code for the day coupled with the keys did not work.

Like before the door became stubbornly closed,

“The door’s locked again!! DAVISON, THE DOORS HAVE LOCKED UP, WE CAN’T

GET IN!!!”

“How the hell are they going to get out?” Asked John panicky”

“I’ve no idea.” Said the warden.

“Do you think it’s this computer glitch you’ve been having?”

The warden looked at Hudson despondently, “Yes.” He replied.

The situation looked momentarily hopeless, but they had to do something, the gas substance

was rapidly filling up the block,

“We’ve got to do something,” Said John, “That gas is filling up the whole section, it’s not

just the wardens you may have to evacuate, it’s the prisoners as well!!”

This kicked the warden into action,

“Wait a minute, there is another way in, from the adjacent wing.”

“How do I get there?”

“I can’t take you, but this young man can.” The warden grabbed a younger warden, clearly

pulling rank in a situation such as this,

“Take this gentleman over to D wing, try and get access to the segregation block from

there.”

The younger warden led John out of the office toward D wing. They only thing they could

do apart from speeding there was prey,

“Where the hell is Jack?!!” Though John angrily.

On D wing life was ticking over as normal when the junior warden burst in with John in

tow. Immediately drawing the attention of the on duty prison officers, they could tell

something was up,

“What’s this?” One of them asked,

“Something’s going on in the segregation block. We can’t get in from our side. Can we get

access through here?” Asked the junior warden,

“We’re not aware that something’s gone wrong in the segregation block.”

John intervened, “Take a look, there’s some kind of gas release near the cells. This

computer glitch you’ve been having has locked us out from the other side. We need to get

inside, there’s wardens trapped in there!”

The prison officer looked at John suspiciously,

“Who’s this?”

“My name is John Hudson; I’m here with my colleague to interview one of your inmates.”

“What are you, police?”

“No, counter intelligence. Look can you give us access?”

As John was busy informing them who he was, time was of the essence, the sound of

crackling coming from a radio filled the room as another prison officer in the background

tried to radio for verification to what was going on,

“You better take a look at this.” He declared suddenly. Turning round to the CCTV

monitors, the same circuit as the ones where they had come from showed the same black and

white images. Looking on they could see the smoke getting thicker, figure stumbling about

inside unable to tell which ones were jailed or jailer,

“Shit!!” The warden shouted, “What is it, some kind of smoke?”

John cried out to the point, “No it’s a gas!!”

“Why is there no bloody alarm?!!”

“Because of the glitch!!”

“Come on.” The wardens had no time to investigate; they had to take Hudson for his word.

Leading them to an outer gate, the prison officer pulled out a special key and inserted into the

locking system guarding the door. Swinging open allowed them to penetrate as far as the

outer part of the unit from this side, but still unable to get into the main inner part itself,

“Bloody hell, it stings!!” Shouted the warden,

“Cover your eyes!!!” John replied. By not the hot stinging smoke irritated their eyes and

their throats. Almost unable to speak due to the dryness and their coughing they could be

forgiven for becoming unable to point out what was going on in front of them. In the

immediacy it looked as if they were most definitely stumped, the inner doors would not open

allowing access, how on Earth were they going to get through? Almost turning round to give

up, John heard footsteps accompanied by an urgent voice behind him,

“Here try this!!” Shouted a secondary warden as he joined them, covering his face as best he

could he thrust another cardkey into his hand,

“How do we know it’ll work?” Asked John,

“I don’t know!! Just try it!!”

John tried the card but to no avail. By now the smoke was getting almost too thick to see, the

only sense reliable in this kind of confusion was hearing,

“It doesn’t work!!” Shouted John frustratingly. They were rapidly running out of options,

“It only works from the inside!!” Was the reply.

John in his desperation shouted to anyone inside the segregation wing, anyone who could use

the key and operate the doors,

“Is anyone there?!! ANYONE?!!!!”

“Yes!!!!” Shouted a faint voice,

“Here, take this card, try and open the doors!!! QUICKLY!!!”

Throwing the card in was a bit of a forlorn hope, could anyone see it on the floor? Should he

have waited for someone to come to him? He didn’t know, until he saw the almost

silhouetted figure of a warden stumble through and pick it up. It was the last thing he saw for

the situation was now beginning to get unbearable, the gas was becoming too much. Nobody

knew what it was so for all they knew, they all could have been poisoning themselves.

Stumbling back out into the outer office to join the other wardens, the air seemed like a soup

of freshness as each of the men fought for every last breath,

“I threw the card into the block; one of the wardens picked it up.”

“You sure?” Asked one of the wardens, coughing, “With this computer glitch, for all we

know the locking system to the cell doors could have been affected.”

“Hopefully not.” John replied. That was a dangerous thought. He knew he had to get back

and try and meet back up with Jack, surely the alarm must have been raised,

“I’m going back to the other side; see if we can’t get the wardens out. The alarm must have

been raised by now.”

Hudson disappeared sharply, making his way out to where he once came.

In the C Wing side of the segregation block the atmosphere was almost as smoky as the D

Wing side. Hudson rushed back in accompanied by his original warden escort to find Jack

standing there. Holding yet another card, he turned to face John, whose face had a look of

demanding where his partner had been,

“Where the hell have you been?” Asked John angrily,

“Here take this cardkey, it should open the doors from here but it may need activating.”

West was clearly trying to avoid the question,

“Jack, where the hell have you been? What’s going on? Aren’t you aware there’s

something going off in the segregation block? Now come on, we need to get these wardens

out!!”

Hudson turned toward the gate that was still locked. He shouted above the commotion to the

people inside,

“Will that card work?”

“No.” Was the muffled reply

Putting his anger aside, he turned toward his partner,

“Will that card work?”

Jack, not rising to the confrontation responded in a rather calm matter,

“It should work, I got it from the admin block again, but I was warned that it could need

activating beforehand.”

“Give it here.” Replied Hudson, taking the card from West. Knowing he had to work

quickly he took the initiative by taking over a nearby computer console. The system was

already logged on so that was one obstacle overcome. Scrolling through the menus again

triggered a familiarity in his mind. It was this that allowed him to work quickly, even so the

glitch was still interfering with progress going through the files. By now the wardens were at

the gate wanting to get out, trying to do their bit they placed the card in the digital lock, but

like at the other side, this gate also denied them escape,

“Hurry up!!” Was the cry from the imprisoned officers,

“Got it!” Said John,

The gate clicked and buzzed in conformation allowing an overspill of the wardens out into

the office,

“How did you do that?” Asked Jack

“No idea” Said John as he got up to accompany West as they assisted the freed personnel.

All were coughing some worse than others. One was especially bad,

“Sounds like he needs to be taken outside for some air.” Commented West. He was

escorted outside, clearly it was common sense based medical advice, John took the

opportunity to ask,

“I think we’d best see if the cells are OK, I’m not sure if they remained locked from the

other wing when I was there.”

“Good idea.”

The smoke, whatever it was began to dissipate. They could clearly see inside now, still, they

had to be cautious. Entering the isolation block with the younger warden beside them,

making their way through the now hazy atmosphere, the noise from the cells already a signal

telling that the inmates were very much OK. Upon reaching the office in front of the cell

corridor they noticed it was vacant, this was no cause for alarm as all the accounted personnel

came out when the door was released. The warden led both West and Hudson toward the cell

block checking the integrity of each door as they went. All were locked…..until they came to

the end cell……The one marked Grey. John, noticing the door slightly ajar, wanted to peer

in to see what was inside. However he did not make it to the cell for in the corridor close to

the door they could make something out in the haziness,

“What’s that?” Asked Jack,

“I don’t know, but I’m going to check.” Replied John, as he pounded over to the object. The

image that immediately struck him was one of a body slumped on the floor, his immediate

concern prevented the warden from immediately raising the alarm,

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked,

“Look I’ve got to see if he’s OK. If he’s not we call for a medic.”

Jack watched on as John leant over the seemingly unconscious person dressed in prison

clothes,

“Careful.” He commented to his partner.

Both the prison officer and West looked on as Hudson turned over the body. HIs back turned

to them, there was no way of gauging his reaction to the identity of the person. But then again

why would there be? It had to be Grey,

“Is it Grey?” Asked West naively,

“Come on; let’s get him back in his cell.” Replied the warden.

“Take a look for yourself.” Said John.

Both men moved closer, the cheers and shouts from the other inmates from the cells became

drowned out as the sight before them began to captivate them. John turned and lifted the

semi-conscious man up slightly so they could get a good look at his face. John stared to see

the reaction to what he himself had just discovered. The face of the man was not familiar,

what John had discovered that the ‘prisoner’ was not Grey himself, but the duty warden.

West was shocked to see who it was. The warden reacted immediately, leaping to his feet,

he hit one of the touch strips lining the sides of the corridor. A beeping sound rang out

through the corridors, rooms and indeed the whole prison. Muffled shouts could be heard in

the background as the general escape alarm took effect. It seemed that West was right; Grey

did use the computer glitch to try an escape. That what the gas was, that’s what Grey was

fiddling with when West peered through the door the second time they spoke. It all became

so clear to West as he stared, fixated in an almost daydream like trance. How could the

prison service be so stupid?

John was waiting in a small office. Some time had passed since the discovery and the whole

complex were in a total lockdown, and rightly so. Jack had disappeared for the time being

reporting the incident to the governor gave him a chance to think things through. So many

things were running though his head, why did West disappear to make a phone call, what was

it about? Who was it to? And why did he disappear at the same time as the escape attempt

was alleged to have taken place? So many questions, so little answers,

“Jack couldn’t have had anything to do with this, could he?” He thought to himself. Surely

not, West? No, not him, he knew what side he was on and it wasn’t on the side of the

terrorist. Then again there were such things as rogue agents.

The troubling though did not last in the forefront in his mind; Jack appeared from behind

moving forward past him,

“The governor is happy with our report. He’s cleared us, we’re free to leave.”

John followed West toward the exit; he needed to ask the questions,

“Look what-“

West interrupted him without looking, “We are free to go, let’s move.”

Hudson had little choice. West was moving so far ahead it was if he was trying to escape

himself. Something wasn’t right here; yet again West’s actions brewed such suspicion in

Hudson’s mind that he almost felt like a spare part in this whole charade. The feelings of

animosity would continue beyond the prison walls.

Chapter 7:

Outside Hudson found West standing there by the visitor entrance, caught on camera again

no doubt. As he approaches his partner, Hudson, already seemingly angry as he was

perplexed wanted to have it out with Jack over what just happened inside. He could not

figure it out and he could not believe the timing of the escape in relation to their visit, seems

all too suspicious,

“What’s going on Jack?” he demanded,

“Come on.”

As West move off, Hudson followed in pursuit. Feeling a little disrespected he wasn’t going

to take that for an answer,

“I don’t know what just happened in there, but it sounds a bit funny to me! What the hell’s

going on?!!”

As the outburst came out, Jack said nothing, no response, no remorse about leaving his friend

in the lurch. But there appeared to be more to it,

“Where are you going?”

“Follow me, we have some other business.” Replied Jack.

John followed in a quiet silence, wondering what ‘other business’ there could be. Surely they

now had to investigate the other leads at Finchley and Lewisham. And there was still the

explanation that he wanted from West, he wasn’t going to let it go, he was going to get some

answers.

Moving away from the park and from the main cameras, West led Hudson in tow down the

side of the complex, on through the undergrowth in an obviously non-public area of the

surroundings. John wanted to know where Jack was leading him, and was about to ask when

his partner comment first in a pre-emptive strike,

“Here.” He said

“Where are we going?” Asked John having absolutely no idea at all what the logic behind

this move was. Lately it felt that he couldn’t be sure about anything. On they went round the

corner to a small length of path lined by undergrowth, it seemed like they were heading to

some sort of pre-arranged rendezvous site, but why? They continued walking, 20 yards, then

50 yards, then 75 yards, and 100 yards West obviously looking for something, but it was

Hudson the first to spot something unusual,

“Look.” He commented pointing straight ahead. A small figure popped up tentatively, not

easy to spot but just enough for one to see if they were close enough, and they were looking

for something. The person crawled out of the bushes to greet both men, Hudson tried to

make out who it was with each step taken, but he could not be sure for the second,

“It’s one of the wardens.” He said clearly observing the white short sleeved shirt, black tie

and trousers. West on the other hand appeared to know exactly who they were approaching,

whoever this person was, they were clearly connected to West and it was something Hudson

did not know about. To John the hair seemed familiar, the body, the face, until only a few

yards away the identity of the person snapped into Hudson’s mind hitting him like a mental

express train. It wasn’t a warden,

“Grey!!! It’s Maxwell Grey!!! How the hell?!!-“

“Careful John.” Interrupted West.

“What do you mean ‘be careful’? I’m going to warn the authorities!”

John half turned to sprint back to the prison when he felt a sharp tug on his jacket shoulder.

Looking round Jack’s clenched hand gripped him like a vice,

“What are you doing?!!” John shouted. He did not take kindly to being restrained. The two

men faced each other with Grey looking on. The tension between them quietly rising to near

breaking point,

“I warn you John, don’t bother.”

“What do you mean don’t bother? There’s a dangerous man standing there!!”

West looked on without comment. The eye contact between the two men seemed to echo far

louder than any words. Then suddenly, as before the pieces of the morning’s events struck

home,

“Why hasn’t he run?” Asked John pointing to the static Grey, “Why did he not stay hidden

when we arrived? Did he expect to see us here?”

West glanced at Grey and then back at John.

“Well?” He queried

Jack hesitated for a second before answering, “Don’t bother informing the authorities.”

Then it hit John, “He did didn’t he? He was expecting you. It was you all along!!”

West, now taken at a slight disadvantage decided the best thing given the situation was to

come clean,

“Yes he is. He’s here because I asked him to.”

“You helped him escape didn’t you? That’s what the sudden phone call was about!!”

Jack confirmed John’s allegation as truth,

“Yes, but it was for a reason.”

John just stood there stunned. Well aware that they in company with a dangerous criminal,

he could not believe that West was it seemed in league with a terrorist. A chilly wind blew

over all three as the revelations came out. But this reason, what exactly was it? Surely it

must be connected to previous events, most notably the Finnin murder and the King’s Cross

bomb plot,

“He’s a terrorist, he poses a threat to security, and you just let him out.”

Jack noticed his partner’s inability to accept the circumstance. But there were other factors to

this,

“Listen, I’m taking Grey to a safe house-“

“You what?!”

“I’m taking Grey to a safe house. I want you to carry on with investigations.”

John responded defensively,

“You can’t tell me what to do! Do you just expect me to walk away as if nothing has

happened and leave you with someone you helped to escape?”

“That’s exactly what I expect you to do. Look I’m well aware of whom and what he is, but

believe me there’s some things you best not know about. He needs to be out, but for now we

need to protect him.”

This time it was John’s turn to hesitate. The whole thing sounded very suspicious, and

against his better judgement. Faced with the delicate choice as to what to believe,

“I don’t like this.” He said

“I know. Trust me here; this is just the tip of a very large iceberg.”

He was prepared to give his friend the benefit of the doubt. Staking everything, his

professionalism, even his freedom on the trust and past knowledge of working with Jack he

could only hope his faith had not been misplaced. He gave Jack a word of caution,

“If this goes wrong….”

Cutting in, Jack tried to reassure his friend, “It won’t, we need to know who we are dealing

with here. I’ll get Grey off somewhere secure for the time being. For now he is a vital link

in all of this.”

“All of what?” Queried John,

“You’ll find out sooner rather than later. Can you carry on while I do this? I can meet up

with you later.”

John submitted to the request. He wasn’t too happy about it but that was the situation he

found himself in at the present time,

“I can go to Finchley to investigate that kid’s name, who was it?”

“David. OK good idea. I’ll join you when we have Grey secure.”

John moved away but turned back. Without saying a word West cut him off before he spoke,

“There is more to this trust me. I would like you in the picture but there are just some things

even you are not privileged to know about. All I ask is that you place your trust in me, you

do trust me don’t you?”

John looked for a second before turning away to walk back to the car. West turned back to

his ‘prisoner’ he had helped to liberate,

“Good that’s stalled him for now.” He thought to himself. Striding toward Grey he had to

get him as far from the prison compound as possible,

“Let’s get you out of here, this way.”

Leading Grey away a pre-designated route, he made his escape with the terrorist. The plan

had gone like clockwork, but was the price his career in the security service and his

friendship with John?

Chapter 8:

Finchley 3:00pm, West arrives in a quiet street, nothing out of the ordinary from the outset

really. Walking down the street he clearly was looking for a specific place as he strolled

down the tree lined pavement. The houses, all upper middle class Victorian, had the

distinctive architecture of the period, tall doors and large bay windows, all very well to do.

He only stopped outside one residence when he recognised the silver car that John had driven

away from the prison. Looking up at the property outside it was certainly intimidating,

matching the style of all the other buildings. The car door opened beside West as Hudson

who had been there for a few minutes stepped out to join his partner,

“You got Grey off safely?” He asked begrudgingly,

“Yes, he’s OK for now.”

John did not want to probe further. He knew the intelligence community was connected and

interconnected with everything else. He knew his place,

“What do you think? Shell we go and find out about this David?”

West hesitated for a second, he had yet another revelation,

“I’ve had word from HQ. They’ve done some digging in relation to David’s background.

Turns out that his second name is Finnin.”

“What?” Replied John,

West continued in his revelation, “David is Finnin’s nephew. That’s how he got the

internship in the Whitehall offices. Family ties and all that.”

“We need to see him fast then.”

“Yes.”

They proceeded to the front door. As usual for flats it had a panel beside the main entrance

where one could be buzzed into the correct apartment. They looked on eventually deciding to

press one button in the hope that they could catch the young man. Pressing button number 4

the intercom crackled and buzzed as a woman’s voice radioed over the speaker,

“Yes?”

West began his introduction, “We are here to see David Finnin, does he live here?”

The reply came through, “No he lives in flat number 7 upstairs. Who are you?”

“We can’t say who we really are.” Commented John quietly. Jack agreed,

“We are police officers. We need to speak to Mr Finnin urgently.” He hoped the deception

would be enough.

No answer came from the door as both men got out their security passes just in case of

security cameras. Hopefully the clarity would not be good enough to blow the lie. It didn’t,

the door clicked allowing the two men entry.

“Looks like it worked.” Remarked John quietly.

They proceeded through the door to find themselves in a small foyer. Shutting the door

behind them the moved on into an entrance hall. It seemed respectable enough, carpeted

floor, post boxes on the wall, nothing really out of the ordinary. Ahead of them lay a

staircase, Jack noticing its presence just as one of the flat doors on the right opened up. A

lady appeared, presumably the same one they had spoken to outside. She was young, around

28-ish blond hair,

“You want to speak to Mr Finnin?” She asked,

“Yes.” Replied Jack, “We need to speak to him urgently.”

“You’re the police?”

Jack continues with the deception, “Yes we are.” Both men produced their ID’s gambling on

the fact that the woman would not look past that. Hopefully she wouldn’t be able to tell the

difference and think that they really were police officers.

“Can you tell us which flat Finnin lives in?” Asked John,

“I told you, it’s flat 7 upstairs.” Replied the woman, confirming that she was indeed the lady

they had a conversation with outside,

“Right well, we’ll be on our way then. Thank you for your help.” Said Jack, he clearly

wanted to waste no more time here; he wanted to continue the investigation.

They both moved past the girl toward the staircase. It creaked slightly with each step as they

climbed further and further. Once climbed the first flight, they passed a large hallway

window through which, the communal garden at the rear could be seen. It wasn’t very well

kept, a sign that is wasn’t really used that often,

“Doesn’t look very tidy, I’m going to check it out after we have seen Finnin.” Declared

John.

Onwards they went, up the second flight of stairs and into a secondary corridor. The decor

exactly the same as the ground floor. The floor thudded as they made their way down

looking for the correct flat. Approaching a dark brown door it appeared to be the one they

were looking for, the white number ‘7’ on the door confirming it,

“Here we are, let’s see if our friend is home.” Said Jack as he knocked politely on the

carved wooden structure. Waiting patiently outside, Jack knocked again, this time a little

more loudly,

“Sounds like nobody is home” John commented.

Indeed there was no response, not even sounds of life from inside. Jack decided to make an

executive decision,

“John, try to break in.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, go on.”

Jack stepped back, looking around to make sure nobody was in the vicinity. The other doors

to neighbouring abodes all seemed tightly shut. Now was the time to go for it. John pulling

out of his wallet a credit card decided this was the best tool at hand for the job. The old tricks

are the best as he slid it between the lock and the frame, jiggling the handle as he did so.

Taking all but a few seconds, the latch loosened as the card did the job and the door opened

ajar. John stepped back as Jack moved forward to push the door open further still,

“Hello? Mr Finnin? David.” Was the cautious call out, no response.

“Hello?” Jack said once more, but still no response. Deciding to open the door fully to

reveal the fullest extent of the apartment, the room was cluttered to say the least. Books on a

bookcase not tidily arranged, the bed in one corner obviously been slept in but not made very

well. As the entered, John closed the door behind them to conceal from prying eyes their

investigations. Clothes strewn all over the floor, the place did not seem very well kept yet is

did not seem deliberate. Strangely the whole place seemed like a mess but there was a

curious randomness about it, almost as if the place had been ransacked. This fuelled the

curiosity of the two men as they strode around the room.

Everything seeming very suspicious, so out of place, yet there was nothing to indicate any

unusual activity. Hudson covered one area, West another, the side of the room closest to the

bay window. The light from outside saturating everything in natural illumination made it

easier to spot any clues, but the clues that were to reveal themselves did not need light to

indicate the presence. Jack wandering close to the window itself, looking across a table that

was covered in various objects and half read letters decided to take a closer look. Intending

to pick up some of the envelopes piled up on one side he stepped forward giving the

floorboard underneath his left foot to creak and give way slightly. It was only slight but

enough to arouse Jack’s suspicions,

“John, come here.” He said. John immediately came across the room find Jack rocking back

and forth on his left foot. Looking down even John could see the floor was uneven here, was

it a structural flaw? Or was it concealing something else,

“What do you think?” Asked Jack pressing down on the loose floorboards,

“It’s hollow.”

“Shall we take a look?” Jack continued “Go and get a knife from the kitchen. We’ll soon

see what’s underneath here.”

John proceeded to find a knife. Returning a few moments later with a medium size blade,

“Here.” He said while handing him the implement.

Both kneeling down, they peeled back the carpet to reveal the wood. The bare floor showed

a slight gap between the level of the floor and the wall,

“That’s not right.” Commented John.

West placed the knife into the gap between the floor and the wall. The thin blade adequately

suitable for the job, he proceeded to gently prise the gap, not wanting to stress and snap the

blade he worked carefully. Even so they looked on as it wasn’t the floor that was coming

loose, but part of the wall,

“There’s a panel here.” Remarked Jack, John wanted to give a suitable reply but before he

could speak a cracking sound signalled a breakthrough,

“Got it.” He said. The panel they had just removed revealed the existence of a secret

compartment behind the wall. Inside the gap lay a small strongbox,

“Another hidden safe, must run in the family.” Mused John.

They removed the silvery-white box from its hiding place and positioned it on the table at

the side. It looked like an expensive bit of kit given the lock on the lid, a numbered dial

protecting the contents from the outside world.

“From the look of this, no expense had been spared. Must be something important inside.”

West remarked,

“How are you going to crack the combination?” Replied John,

“What makes you think I want to look inside?”

“Oh come on, of course you are.”

“You’re right.”

“How the bloody hell are you going to crack that?” Asked John, it seemed like a cause to be

stumped,

Jack, running his hands over the lid and sides made an observation, “This is made of

aluminium.” He paused for a second, “There is one little trick I know, not sure if it will work

but here goes.”

He quickly turned round and made his way to the kitchen,

“Where are you going?” Asked his partner. He did not have to wait long, two seconds later

Jack emerged with a spring in his step. Carrying a fridge magnet he returned to the table and

the safe,

“See this body made of aluminium?”

“Yes?”

“I’m hoping the locking parts inside are made of metal. If this magnet is strong enough and

the body is thin enough, it may be possible to manipulate the parts inside.”

“You’re hoping.” John replied. In truthfulness, both were not sure it would work, but there

was no any other way of opening the safe short of removing it completely. And if David

came back, he would surely notice it missing.

“We’ll see.” Said Jack as he lightly swept the magnet around the dial. It was an old trick

but it had worked in the past.

“Look.” Said John, the dial began to move, only slightly, but it showed a fractional

clockwise direction that proved the parts inside were clicking. As West settled in the dial

spun in rhythm with the way the magnet caressed the surface. Quickly it began to work as

the dial clicked through a series of numbers, first 4, then 9, then again on 0. West continued

to work furiously trying to find the first number until, the dial struck 8 followed by an audible

clicking sound,

“First digit.” He remarked. Working on he tried to find the second one, the dial spun again,

0, then 0 again, then 1 before clicking on 4,

“Two down.”

Moving the magnet again, the dial spun, 7, then 7, then 9 before hitting 5,

“Third one, hope there’s not much more.”

The dial spun, 2, and 6, then 2 before settling on 8. The clicking sound, in tandem with the

halting of the magnet despite West’s interference made the door shudder slightly. The locks

slackened allowing access to the contents, but inside, they were in for a rude shock,

“It’s empty.” Said John looking at West,

“All that for nothing.” Replied West

But John was rather more optimistic, “Not necessarily this was fairly well hidden. It must

have contained something important, so whatever was in here must have been removed at

some point.”

“But what?”

“No idea, why don’t we have another look around.” John said while moving away from the

table. He was right; perhaps there were other clues around to answer some questions. The

rest of the flat lay before them to explore in the areas they had not done so already. With

John in one corner and Jack in the other, he noticed a small thin music stand with a sheet of

music on it. A clarinet still polished lay in the sunlight its silver keys gleaming brightly

perfectly against the black body. Walking over to it he picked it up with a certain familiarity

as John noticed

“What are you doing?” He asked,

“I used to play at school, takes me back.”

“Well don’t get too nostalgic will you?”

West put it back in its place on the stand. But something was not right here; harking back to

his school days he remembered enough to notice that this was not the complete set,

“Where’s the case?” He questioned,

“What?” Replied John,

“The case, every clarinet should have a case. Usually they are quite distinctive, light brown

or black about this big with two clasps at the top like a briefcase.”

John studied for a second before replying, “Maybe it’s somewhere else here.”

Jack was not satisfied with this, “No it’s definitely missing. It should be here, you see a

clarinet is a fragile instrument it needs to be kept in its case. If it’s not here, then it definitely

is missing.”

John accepted the argument, “Why would the case be missing? Unless-”

Jack cut him off, “The case was used to transport whatever was in that safe.”

“So obviously David is not here.” Remarked John while stating the obvious. This was a

positive step in the right direction but they were no nearer to the whereabouts of David, and

his disappearance,

“Have you noticed something John?”

“What’s that?”

“No technology, apart from the TV in the corner, the landline phone and in the kitchen,

nothing. No computer, no tablet, mobile phone…nothing at all.”

Looking round John could see that Jack was indeed correct; there were no searchable

technology for them to interact with. If they were to play detective, they were going to do it

the hard way,

“Has he used the phone recently?” He asked,

“Good idea,” Said Jack, “You keep searching; I’ll try and trace any calls made from here.”

Hudson set to work going through the drawers and cupboards. The thudding and clunking of

the doors going through the apartment as he systematically rifled through David’s

possessions. Jack, walking over to a small table where the phone was situated wondered if

there could be any clues here. Picking up the cream-white receiver, his first thought was to

try and trace any previous phone calls. It wasn’t exactly phone tapping, but they were legally

authorised to take such action in the course of a counter-terror investigation. Quickly

punching in the numbers 1-4-7-1 he heard the dial tone switch to a ring in his ear, he knew

exactly what would come next,

“Telephone number withheld, phoned today at 1:47pm.”

West put the phone down,

“So this phone was used until at least 1:47 this afternoon.”

John responded, “Who phoned?”

“Doesn’t say, but perhaps this little screen on the body will tell me.”

Pressing the little arrow keys, West scrolled through the list of dialled and received numbers,

sorting them out by date, until he came to the one he wanted,

“Dammit, number withheld, but again it says that the phone was used at 1:47pm.”

It was at that moment that Jack, in one of those incidents where as you are preoccupied with

one thing, you notice another immediately struck upon a brainwave,

“Wait a minute…”

Picking up a pencil, beside a notepad at the side, he began the very old trick of creating a

rubbing across the indentations of the previous scribbling. Luckily the pencil was soft

enough for such a task as West worked back and forth down the page, and it did seem to

make a difference. Pretty soon marks that looked like writing began to appear and the

writing was legible, clearly showing an address,

“Where is this?” He asked himself as he finished the rubbing. Turning round to hold the

piece of paper up to the light in the window the outline of the writing could be clearer in the

afternoon sunlight that filled the room. It read,

APF Industries Ltd.

Bond Street

Southampton

SO14 1PA

West did not know the south coast port very well, but he believed that he could find it. It

appeared to be the next piece of the puzzle,

“Somewhere in Southampton, Bond Street.” He said

“Southampton?” Replied John, “Could that be where David has gone to?”

“Perhaps.”

“But why?” Asked John,

“I don’t know, but we have to go there to find out.”

Throughout the revelation John was busy looking through a drawer on a side desk, rifling

through all envelopes and private papers. Lifting up one envelope though revealed something

a lot more sinister,

“Oh my.”

“What is it?” Replied Jack,

“Look at this.” He lifted out of the drawer a small box as West came over to join him.

Passing it over, Jack clearly saw the label on the side, feeling the weight he could tell it was

full,

“It’s ammunition.” He said while opening the box, the copper-bronze colour of the bullets in

their cartridges glistened in the sunlight,

“They’re pistol bullets.”

“So he’s armed.” Concluded John

“Providing the firearm is not here, he must have it on him. If he has, he poses a threat. I can

only assume this is spare ammunition.”

Remembering the missing clarinet case he could only come to one conclusion,

“He must be transporting the firearm in that clarinet case. We need to find him and fast, and

I’ll bet he’s gone off to Southampton.”

John had the same answer, “Then that’s where we need to go next, once we have investigated

the garden of course.”

“Of course.”

Gathered all the clues they could find here, they turned to exit the apartment. There had to be

a back door out into the rear of the property.

Entering the rear through a fire escape, both men found themselves in a communal garden

not kept that regularly. Long grass indicated that it didn’t receive many visitors, despite the

obvious benefits of it being a bit of a sun trap. It wasn’t large, perhaps that was the turn off,

but it was intimate, fenced off at all sides except for an old red brick wall bordering the

bottom end. West looked around to his left, assessing any line of sights and angles but in

doing so spotted that one of the fences was slightly odd,

“See that fence there.” He said to John while pointing it out. The old wooden construction

before them was a little rickety to say the least, the slats badly nailed to the spans and dark

brown in colour, a clear indication of weathering. One thing had caught the two men’s eyes;

there was a gap where one of the slats was slightly misaligned,

“Come with me John.”

John followed Jack to the fence; something was intriguing him about this. Pausing then

turning to look up to David’s first floor window that directly overlooked the garden, showed

that Jack had hit upon something,

“Help me climb over this fence will you.”

John heaved Jack over the fence. It wasn’t hard; the fence itself was not that high, about 4

feet tall which allowed Jack to easily reach the other side. John left Jack on the other side as

he turned toward the gap. Bending down so that the line of sight between the two odd planks

was in front of him he began to peer through. Being low enough so the John could not see

him, the obvious immediately struck West, the gap was in a direct line of sight into David’s

window,

“My God.” He said,

“What is it?” Replied John

West raised himself up so they were talking across the fence like a couple of neighbours,

“The gap down here is small but there’s something about it.”

“What’s that?” Asked John,

“If you kneel down here, you are concealed, but when you look through the gap, you see

only one place-“

“Straight through into David’s room.” Hudson finished,

West continued, “Now given David’s known relationship to Finnin, I think that whoever

murdered him came here first. Think about it, the perfect contact and the perfect way in.

And this is the perfect way to stake out a potential target.”

“A target that is armed and dangerous.” Replied John.

Jack agreed. If they were going to chase David they had to go prepared. Hazardous

situations like this called for a like for like response.

Thames House, 3:40pm, was as busy as it had been all day. But down in the bowels of the

building lay the more sensitive areas. Parts of the building requiring special access to see,

and both West and Hudson had clearance to proceed in these areas. Now back at

headquarters, West found himself in a lift proceeding to an underground section. The cream

coloured lift slowing down as it neared its destination. Upon halting the doors opened to a

department with an atmosphere as dark as the walls surrounding it. Walking out across the

dark floor tiles, the grey walls made for a sobering disposition as he approached a clerk at a

desk. With a CCTV above him he knew he was being watched as the clerk began the

introduction,

“Your partner not with you today?”

Indeed West was on his own, “No he’s upstairs in the office, I’m meeting him in the technical

department on the way. Do you have a present for me?”

The clerk knew what he meant,

“Depends if you have the correct documentation.”

Producing the two sets of documents, he handed them to the clerk. He checked them

thoroughly examining the stamps, signatures and dates,

“Yep, seems in order. You are legally licenced in forearms training, and your firearms

certificate is up to date.”

Handing them back to West he rose to his feet,

“Follow me.”

West followed the firearms officer through into another office. The room, filled with gun

racks and crates was obviously under heavy guard,

“Wait here please.” He instructed as West went no further. He returned a couple of seconds

later with a box, placing it on a desk as he opened it. West looked on as he revealed two

black pistols complete with ammunition,

“Two Walther P99 pistols, two cartridges, one primary one spare. And two sets of 9mm

hollow point ammunition. Sign this please.”

The clerk handed West a clipboard with a simple document on it. With a pen clearly attached

it was obvious what it was for,

“By signing this you are accepting legal responsibility for these firearms. Be aware you are

liable for prosecution if they are used outside the scope of the law, do you understand?”

The warning from the firearms officer was clear enough as West put his name to the

disclaimer form,

“I understand thanks.” He said, handing the clipboard back.

The clock struck 4:00pm as both West and Hudson emerged from the rear of Thames House

heading toward the car parked up,

“I hope these gadgets the tech boys equipped us with work. I don’t like all this James Bond

stuff.” Said John as they approached the vehicle,

“Don’t worry, it’ll work. You got your pistol?” Replied Jack,

“In my pocket.”

Getting in their car and putting the seatbelts on, West in the driving seat and Hudson in the

passenger’s, they settled down for the drive to Southampton. Getting out of London will be a

pain, but once out of the city, it should be no more than a couple of hours. Hudson switched

on the satellite navigation,

“What was it again, Bond Street was it?”

“Yes Bond Street, Southampton.” Assured West as he turned the ignition key,

“Got it.” Said John as the car fired up,

“Ready? Then let’s go to Southampton.” Said West. The two men settled back as the car

pulled out of the car park and into the afternoon rush hour traffic,

“So what’s this APF Industries got to do with David?”

“Well,” Said John as he had been doing some more digging up in the office, “It turns out

that the address is registered to a man called Alan Finnin, Peter Finnin’s brother, and father of

David.”

“So it’s family ties?”

“Yes, apparently David’s father is a wealthy businessman who owns a steelworks factory in

Southampton close to the river Itchen. Seems like there is a London branch of APF as well,

but it’s this one that was the original family firm.”

“Would explain why he went there.” Remarked West,

“If he is there.”

“We shall see won’t we?” West said rebuffing Hudson’s argument. They would soon find

out as they drove down the street beginning their long trail to find David Finnin.

Chapter 9:

Southampton was an interesting city, from what the two men saw as they entered it. The

satellite navigation very easily guided them toward their destination. Nestled in an industrial

area laying just west of the River Itchen the place was not designed with tourists in mind.

Arriving from the north, West turned left into Bond Street. The clicking of the indicator as

the car negotiated the turn provided a sound backdrop against the scene before both men in

the car,

“Pull up here.” Asked John as the navigational voice informed them they had arrived at their

destination. Jack pulled over to the left,

“Well, here we are.” He said applying the handbrake and switching off the ignition. By now

it was dark, although not completely, the dark royal blue tint of the sky heralded the very last

hints of daylight left. The street shrouded in darkness, only lit from the occasional yellow

street lights made direct observations difficult, immediately both men while still in the safety

of the car, scoured through the poor light for the target,

“Look over there.” Said John, immediately pointing to what seemed to be a large warehouse

type building to the left. The sign in the side bore the name of the business, APF Industries,

Southampton,

“That’s our place,” Remarked West, “What time is it?”

John looked at his watch, “Just after seven o’clock.” He confirmed,

“Right then, let’s go.”

West undid his seatbelt and got out of the car, Hudson followed suit. The coast was clear, so

the act of being seen was minimal. Locking the car so the contents were secure was the first

job as a cool breeze swept down the street filling the evening air. Once done, both moved

toward the warehouse in the hope of determining some kind of entry point. Walking round,

even in the dark, it did not take long for them to find a chink in the armour,

“Look, there.” Said Jack pointing to a stretch of fence. The flimsy wire mesh stood tall, at

over 6 foot high topped with rolls of barbed wire, but what stood out was that the connection

between two exposed fence panels was not all that tightly bound. West approached with John

in tow, a quick look around just to check the coast was clear was all the needed. Gripping the

ties, he tugged and twisted with some force. The burning on his hands sent searing pain

through his wrists, but the fence was coming loose. As John joined in the struggle, the

strength of two men was too much and the fence panel partially came away,

“Got it.” Remarked a visibly breathless West.

They slid through the self-made gap to find themselves in the shadows beside an outbuilding.

They were looking across a clearing strewn with industrial infrastructure, pipes, oil drums

and the like. Reaching inside his pocket West pulled out a pair of dark glasses; not

something one would normally wear at night, but this was no ordinary piece of eyewear. A

gift from the technical department they stopped off at back at Thames House before

embarking to Southampton, he slipped them over his eyes. Immediately the world before

him turned white, everything looked like a negative,

“Whoa!” He said to himself,

“Strange is it?” Asked John,

“Yes. They’re infrared glasses. Very sensitive, can pick minute traces of heat. Amazing

really.”

“Can you pick up a trail at all?” Asked John in a cautious way,

“Only just, takes a bit of getting used to though.”

West scanned the area looking for a pattern of infrared radiation somewhere. Looking across

the clearing toward other outbuildings he could pick out a little dot, only one in total on the

side of some building way off in the distance,

“There’s something over there?” He said. John lifting his arm up began to examine a large

black watch on his other wrist. The display on the device lit up, another present from the tech

department; it was a radar scanner,

“It’s a CCTV camera on the side of that building. We’ve got to be careful, there’ll be

more.”

“I’m guessing so.”

Scanning the ground, the glasses West wore picked up ground disturbances; the spacing

between them indicated a pattern.”

“There are footsteps there.” He said, “Come on.”

“Can we be sure these are David’s?” Asked John,

“No, but we won’t know unless we follow.”

They both broke cover, stealthily, and trying their upmost to make as little noise as humanly

possible, West took the lead, following the footsteps toward a platform running along the side

of a small shed. Following the platform seemed like the only logical choice for a route

further into the complex. Being ever mindful about the spotted CCTV, as well as others, they

route took them behind another hut. Now in the total dark West’s infrared glasses proved

their ultimate worth in the darkened shadows. Picking up the footstep patterns on the floor

proved that they were still on the right track. Probing further they made their way to the far

corner, peering round to make sure the coast was clear West clearly saw, albeit with one eye

exposed round the side of the wooden structure, a small footbridge,

“What can you see?” Asked John,

“A bridge, but its raised.”

Scanning round the only thing West could see was a small hut,

“The controls must be in there.” He said,

John peered out and looked at his watch, waiting anxiously for any blip on his screen,

“There’s nothing ahead, let’s go.”

Both running out, they arrowed toward the small hut. They couldn’t be sure what was inside,

but there seemed no other way round. Fortunately it wasn’t manned so access was easy. The

window on the left hand side provided clear view of the raised structure,

“John, go out to the bridge, tell me if it’s lowering or not.”

He complied without delay. West turned toward the controls in a bid to figure out the

mechanism,

“I hope this doesn’t make too much noise.” He thought to himself.

Trying every button and lever he could find made no real difference. Constantly looking

through the window at John sanding out beside the bridge gave him the best possible chance

to find out if the bridge was operating. John’s shaking head was all Jack needed to know that

whatever he was doing wasn’t working at all. Coming back to join Jack, John confirmed

what was already the obvious,

“It’s no good. There’s no power at all, it’s not moving an inch.”

Jack began to accept the inevitable, “Looks like our friend somehow cut the power.”

John tried to console his friend, “Look these types of bridges have power switches from

either side. It covers a small access road down there, he couldn’t have gotten over without

activating it and then cutting the power once across. There must be a power source here.”

They both began to search. Being confident there was nothing on the control panel itself,

West immediately knelt down to see if there was anything underneath. The poor light made

their task ever more difficult, and the risk of getting caught didn’t help either.

“Nothing here.” Said West,

“I’ll have a look around.” Said John. Leaving West in the hut, Hudson went searching

carefully around another building nearby. Even though it was pretty dark, orange floodlights

punctured the darkness like beacons. It wasn’t much but it did allow for some leeway in the

ability to search. Taking his time, John probed around the side of what appeared to be a

small storage shed looking for a way inside, if that is where the power controls were located.

Moving carefully round a corner to the rear of the building a white floodlight above some

kind of mechanical apparatus caught his eye,

“What’s that?” He asked himself.

Gingerly, but promptly he made his way over to the machinery. Ever mindful of CCTV

cameras and probable security guards the equipment became clear; it was a power transfer

box.

“Hmm, let’s see.” He thought to himself as he approached it. The lid on the front of the box

was tightly locked, as it should be,

“Looks like it’s a power source for this warehouse. If so, it might be connected to that

bridge.”

He certainly hoped so. Pulling out his set of keys in a flash of quick inspiration, he wedged

the thinnest one underneath the catch. A bit of brute force and gentle, twisting persuasion in

an attempt to prise open the lid took seconds that seemed like minutes. Eventually managing

to pull it open Hudson hesitated for a fraction just in case someone might have happened to

hear, but they did not. Relieved he continued to open the door,

“Fuses.” He said to himself.

He wasn’t a master of electrics but he had a go. Checking each one making sure they were of

the right amp all seemed in order. But at the top there was a series of breaker switches, the

master switch had been kicked into the off position,

“Alright, here goes.” He said as he flicked it upwards to the ‘ON’ position. A slight hum

filled the box as it fizzed into life; he wasted no time whatsoever, closing the box in a way

that it didn’t look disturbed he promptly made his way back to Jack.

Jack, standing in the hut suddenly saw the panel flicker with tentative lights,

“We’re in business.” He commented quietly.

The console now has a couple of red lights on it indicating that power was flowing to the

electronics. He began again setting off the buttons hoping to activate the bridge. It only took

him a few seconds to find as the bridge suddenly, but not loudly began to lower. As Hudson

joined him he could see the structure move, with them both looking on as the walkway

moved downwards, but it suddenly stopped. West, perplexed, wondered why that happened,

“What the-?” He said,

“That bridge is controlled by a fuse box, the breaker switch was the fault, but it must have

kicked back off again.”

Jack saw the bridge, partially lowered looking like a crane. A desperate thought entered his

mind,

“Think we can jump it?”

John looked on with some scepticism, the gap between the partially lowered bridge and the

other side could not have been more than two meters, but it was around a two metre drop

from the edge,

“Let’s do it.” He said.

Both men climbed the bridge running up the ramp to the edge. Leaping off the edge, both

men felt the adrenaline rush as they flew through the air, their collective heartbeats pounding

away. Landing on the other side was a bit heavy, Jack landed on his feet, almost, and John

hit his side, but they seemed to be no worse for wear,

“Ankles OK? Nothing broken?” Said West,

“No, you?”

“I’m fine. Come on lets follow this trail.”

By now West had taken off the glasses. He pulled them out of his jacket pocket and put them

on again. The footstep trail seemed as clear as ever,

“The trail goes to that building over there.” He said. Before them lay a brick structure with a

green wooden door before them. It certainly wasn’t new, probably pre-war given the look of

it. They move closer, no CCTV danger in the area,

“Bloody hell!!” West remarked sharply, “Hide!!”

He pushed Hudson into a side alcove shrouded in darkness,

“What on Earth-?“ He asked

“Wait.” Ordered West,

Lest than a second later the door opened, a security guard wandered out. The dark blue

uniform, jumper and trousers smelled of authority. He paused then began to patrol, taking a

route away from West and Hudson’s location,

“I saw his heat signature through the wall.” He explained, “Come on, that’s our chance.”

Acting on the spur of the moment, and risk was all part of the game in the intelligence

business; they silently slipped out of the alcove and made for the door. Their hearts pounding

once again, prying that they weren’t going to run straight into another guard. Fortunately the

door was quite heavy and took time to swing back closed, and this gave the two men those

vital seconds in which to slip through. Making it just in time John just about crossed the

threshold as the door clicked shut behind his back. Turning round they noticed that the door

was a safety mechanism,

“That’s a safety door. It looks like it’s locked from the outside.” Remarked West,

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that we probably can’t get out this way again. Not without help.”

“Onwards then.” Remarked John cynically.

As West removed his glasses, they found themselves in a maintenance workshop, a garage

for on-site vehicles. Scattered around were the various tools for jobs, toolboxes,

workbenches car jacks and the like. The garage space itself however was empty; no vehicle

needed servicing at this time. A large door dominated the frontage but thankfully the shutters

were fully shut, but this seemed like the only way out,

“We need to force that door open.” Said John

“I’ll try and find something to prise it open. It’s likely to be locked.” Jack responded.

He moved around some of the work benches, there had to be something here, a tool of some

kind to force the garage door ajar,

“Here we are,” He said walking over to the side and picking up a long dark object, “This

crowbar will do.”

They moved toward the door, fitting one end underneath a catch in the middle, Jack was all

set to lever the door open,

“Hang on.” Interrupted John while looking at his watch. In sensible foresight he thought

best to check through the radar built into the wrist device,

“There are contacts on the other side of that door.”

“How many?”

“Two.”

West hesitated slightly, in the silent gloom he could hear footsteps and general chatting

coming from outside. It was getting louder as the proximity between the security guards and

the two intruders became ever narrower. The heart beats of increased palpitations almost

deafened Jack as he waited, pressed up against the garage door, hoping and praying that this

was not their ultimate destination.

But is wasn’t, the sound of the guards receded as they passed, John’s watch radar keeping

tabs on them all the way,

“OK, now.” He said. West took the chance in the split second window. Prising the latch,

the door came ajar ever so slightly, just enough for the two men to slip through. Being

careful to cover their trail, John brought the garage door back to its shut position as they

surveyed their surroundings. Refitting the glasses on his face, West’s infrared spectrum

glasses picked up a trail once more,

“Come on, down here.” He said.

They followed the footsteps down a path that lead to an internal road. It appeared to be some

kind of transportation line bringing raw materials from one part of the site to another. There

didn’t appear to be any other vehicles in the vicinity so they followed it anyway. It led them

to a gate blocking access to a yet another bridge this time over a drainage outflow close to the

river’s edge. Unlike last time this bridge seemed to be a little more of a challenge,

“Now what?” Asked Hudson,

“Wait a second,” Replied West, “Let’s see if that gate is locked.”

Making his way up to it he had to try it just in case,

“Wait a minute!” Warned John, Jack stopping in his tracks turned to his partner,

“What?”

“Up there,” He said pointing to a high wall on the side of a pre-fabricated building, “CCTV

camera, it’s trained on the gate.”

West cautiously stepped back as it clearly it did not matter now if that gate was locked or not.

There had to be a way over there. Then the brainwave came; gingerly moving sideward he

examined the side of the bridge in poor light. It had a ledge; the way forward became clear,

“Looks like we’ll have to climb round the side.”

John looked anxious, “What? Oh now come on-“

“Do you see another way round?”

“Well no but-“

“Then that’s settled, come on follow me.”

West took a wide birth and crawled onto the side of the bridge. John followed suit, he wasn’t

happy about this, crawling along ledges in the dark. Very hazardous to say the least. Taking

their time they shuffled further and further along. Each step a tremendous risk, one foot out

of place, the slightest misjudgement could spell disaster. Fortunately the bridge and the

drainage ditch below was not very wide and they managed to reach the other side with no

problems at all,

“Thank God.” Though Hudson as he made it to the other side as well. West with his glasses

still on, and thankfully not in the gutter, made out the infrared trail clearer than ever. They

must be getting close so they could not stop now. The trail seemed to be leading to the main

factory building in the centre of the complex, a huge imposing structure dominating the river

edge.

As they approached the building, the closest point of entry looked like a fire exit, pushing

quickly on the roll bar spanning the door West quickly discovered that it failed to open,

“We need to find another way in fast.” Stated John,

“How?”

John hesitated for a second, “No idea.”

There had to be a way in, the trail could not have just gotten cold. But now there was no

time, sound could clearly be heard nearby, instantly triggering the instincts of the two men.

However before they could react, from the corner of both their eyes they could quite clearly

see the dark outline of two figures running toward closer, the sound of barking Alsatians rang

out at the same time, although not with them,

“We’ve been spotted!!” Said Jack as they both ran off, the two figures in hot pursuit,

“We must have been spotted by the CCTV!!” Shouted John as they ran further and further.

The chase, conducted at breakneck speeds, the blood circulation fed off the pure adrenaline of

the situation. Jack in all panic tried desperately and hopingly for a way into the building if

not to just get away from the impending security. They fled round the corner, and straight

toward some pallets. As they came closer they could see that they were stacked broadly in a

staggered pattern around 10 feet in height. Doing before thinking, West took the lead with

Hudson in tow as they hurled themselves at the wooden stack. The security guards were only

a couple of hundred yards behind, so every second counted as they climbed further upwards.

They reached the top as the security guards, now calling for backup, betrayed by the beeping

and cracking of their radios, began climbing the pallets themselves,

“Where to now?!” Asked John panicky. He took a quick peek over the edge and could now

see that the security were almost half way up. They were just as agile in their pursuit,

“There up this drainpipe, onto the roof!” Shouted West.

Both grabbing the large black plastic pipe, they scrambled up the wall as the security guards

reached the top of the pallets and were beginning to ascend the same thing themselves.

Reaching the roof, both West and Hudson climbed up onto it and were by now at the very

limit of their endurance. For a split second Jack did consider confronting the security and

explaining their presence, but time was of the essence. Moving across the roof, both looked

back to see where their followers were. All they could see was the top of the drainpipe

shaking, accompanied by tapping sounds, a sure sign that they were not very far behind.

Turning forward again, the only access point about 200 yards away was a small window

leading inside; who knows where it leads, but there was no other option, both men arrowed

for it,

“I hope it’s not locked.” Said John as West tried to force the latch. Looking back the

security was now on the roof and heading straight for them. West forced, and prayed at the

same time, it opened. Without thinking, first Hudson, the West clambered inside the thin

letterbox sized window. Once inside, before they could even do anything else, West turned

and secured the latch, locking the window behind them. It was close for as soon as his hand

left the frame, the two guards appeared, tapping on the glass, radioing for reinforcements

since they were now aware of the presence and appearance after being denied entry,

“We need to get moving before their friends turn up.” Said John

“My thoughts exactly.” Replied West.

As they moved away from the window they found themselves surrounded by desks laden

with stationary, filing cabinets amongst piles of paper stacked across the cream coloured but

dimly lit room,

“Looks like some kind of administrative office.” Said Jack,

“I suppose there would be no point in checking the radar for cameras anymore, not now that

they know we are here.”

Jack looked on at the exit door in the corner, moving toward it in the quest to locate and

corner David. Beyond lay a staircase, metallic and industrial in both style and construction.

They made their way down to the bottom, a total of four flights as ahead of them there lay a

series of corridors, all brick lined in the walls carrying on for meters. As they pounded along

the heavy concrete floor, the hum of machinery became their only guide since it seemed to be

coming from one very specific direction. The corridors, seemed like a maze to the

uneducated in the layout of the complex, and at times it seemed like they were both going

round in circles; but not always, there were signs that they were heading somewhere. One of

these signs came from a larger corridor which housed a large access ladder to the left hand

side. Looking up both West and Hudson could see around the upper levels there lay a

metallic gangway, the machine sounds seemed to come from there,

“The only way is up.” Said John quirkily,

“Yes.” Said Jack as they began to ascend.

The clunking of the metal with each footstep as they climbed up to the gangway only lasted a

few seconds. They found themselves at one end of the metal structure so the way forward

was obvious as they slowly moved toward the humming sound. The further they walked, the

louder and more profound the noise; wherever they were heading, they were getting closer to

the source of the noise. Turning round a corner and going through a doorway revealed the

edge of the gangway, to which another ladder was situated. Climbing down they found

themselves in an antechamber, small in size with dull grey plastered walls,

“Looks like we’ve just come through some kind of maintenance hatch.” Said Jack, John

agreed,

“The sounds are coming from that door.” He said while pointing straight ahead, a large

metallic green door that stood before them. By now the humming sound was more of a

profound throbbing, it was clear that the machinery was on the other side.

Opening the door, West and Hudson were faced with a large machine hall. They were on

the upper level where the gangways overlooked the normal operation of the facility.

Machinery, conveyor belts, and moving parts all obscured the view below as they advanced

further toward a staircase in front of them that led to a lower gangway. They only got ten

yards, beginning to descend about two steps when,

“Look!” Cried John, their movements altered the angle of sight and that allowed them to see

to the lower levels. Down and to the right there stood a figure, it was hard to see and the

noise made it distracting, but is clearly the figure of a man. Both West and Hudson moved

further down to get a better look,

“Is that David?” Asked John,

“Let’s have a look.” Was the reply, “It must be.”

They moved downwards toward the same level as the young man; in doing so they drew their

pistols given the volatile uncertainty of the situation. Moving along a slightly higher gangway

with the figure below them, they could see him more clearly now. Dressed in a brown jacket

over a jumper, brown trousers the man looked slightly dishevelled in appearance. His short

dark hair uncombed against his youthful early twenties features. As West observed he saw

beside him a case, dark brown in colour,

“That’s a clarinet case.” He thought to himself. Meanwhile the young man didn’t seem to

be performing any actions; he had to act now,

“DAVID!!” Shouted West as they moved along the gangway to a thinner staircase to the

ground level. Approaching this, David became increasingly frightened, his eyes wild,

sweating profusely and now, ever more agitated than before. Panicking, he drew a revolver

from the inside of his jacket pocket, obviously the contents of the clarinet case. Hudson, in

close proximity behind West drew his pistol in response,

“Drop the weapon NOW!!!” He shouted.

David, his firearm firmly pointed at West the two men stared at each other only meters apart.

David’s eyes wide dark and wild, piercing West like a spear; he was becoming increasingly

unstable and the gun in his hand began to shake,

“LEAVE ME ALONE!!!” He screamed. West gun in hand raised his hands very slowly,

even with Hudson behind him, pistol trained on David’s head, ready to take the shot West

was still in an extremely precarious situation. Tension now reaching boiling point, he tried

the diplomatic approach to diffuse the anxiety and talk David down to get some answers,

“OK, OK…..I’m not going to hurt you. I only want to talk to you…….My name is Jack.”

David paused for a split second before responding, “NO YOUR’E HERE TO GET ME, I’M

NOT GOING BACK!!!! I’M SAFE HERE!!!!!......GET AWAY!!!!!”

He reaffirmed his pistol stance, he was no longer shaking and West found himself staring

straight into the blackness of the barrel, knowing there was a live round in the chamber at the

other end. West backed off a step; Hudson tried to reassure his composure as the standoff

was a stalemate. Thinking what to do next, West thought the only way to neutralise David

was to shoot him in the leg but suddenly David deteriorated. It took all of Hudson’s training

not to react by pulling the trigger, as David snapped. Kneeling down then suddenly springing

back up, both men saw the rabid look on the young man’s face, only their disbelief stopped

them from taking the opportunity to bring him down. He eyes, once white and brown,

suddenly widened outwards in bloodshot frenzy, his skin, quite pale, now blushed red with

the veins in his forehead bulged in unbridled fury. His arms and body swung wildly around,

his revolver could go off at any moment. Grabbing his arms with his teeth, he gnarled at his

sleeves with such force, tearing the stitching of the fabric apart thus exposing his bare skin,

“AAGGRRHHHH!!!!!, UUUGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!” He cried out in a rabid bloodcurdling

episode. The two men looked on, wanting to intervene but feared for their own personal

safety in the ensuring violence as they watched David bite into his own flesh. Drawing blood

it steamed down his forearm causing huge pools on the floor, as he continued to devour huge

chunks of flesh out of himself. The madness was truly like something out of a live horror

movie.

Suddenly he stopped, his blood soaked mouth, as red as his eyes and wide open stared

straight at West. Raising his pistol again the distance between then had increased even

further,

“I WILL KILL YOU!!!!!!!!, WE ALL DIE!!!!!” He shouted in the grip of rabid madness.

The really was no reasoning with him now, Hudson decided to act, David was clearly a

threat, and he steadied himself to take the shot,

“THEY ARE COMING TO GET YOU!!!!!!” He shouted at the last moment,

“Who is coming to get me?” Asked West, “I don’t understand, who is coming to get me?”

“THEY WILL GET YOU, THEY WILL GET US ALL!!”

“What do you mean? Is there some sort of conspiracy going on? Tell me!!” West pleaded.

He didn’t get a response, with lightning speed he ran. Hudson wanted to shoot, but West got

in the way as he pursued. John followed in quick succession as David was heading for a

safety rail covering an edge. Over the other side working machinery was in full force, cogs

and rollers pounded on as David approached the barrier. West shouted in a vain attempt,

“David, wait!! John shoot him, take him down.” Hudson tried to raise the gun, but as he did

so, West once again blocked his way. Reacting he chased after his partner,

“Don’t be an idiot David!!!” He shouted as the disturbed man mounted the rails. West

lunged to grab him, and likewise John did the same to him. Flying through the air, Jack

could feel was a sharp tug on his coat, pulling him to the ground as John shouted to him,

“JACK NO!!!”

David jumped at the same time into the machinery. On the floor all they heard was the

prolonged scream, high pitched, permeating around the room and through the walls. Deep

red spay everywhere as blood, bones and flesh few across the vicinity as David was ripped

apart in a sickening suicide.

Jack and John got back to their feet and looked over the edge into the mechanical abyss. He

had thrown himself in some kind of gearbox device as the huge cogs, repainted red turned

with industrial speed. Such was the torque the impending intrusion of David’s body was not

enough to halt the churning,

“I had a chance to stop him, to reason with him.” Said West,

“No you didn’t. He went mad, looked like some kind of rabies. There was nothing anyone

could have done.”

“Do you think we have just witnessed the effect of Grey’s poison, the one that killed

Finnin?” West asked,

“Possibly.” Replied Hudson, “Look perhaps we need to inform the local police.”

“No, we go back to London and make a report out at headquarters. This is linked to both

Grey, and Finnin. Anyone asks, we say it was a tragic industrial accident.”

“We’d better get out of here then.” Concluded John; He wasn’t happy, but now was the time

to leave. There was nothing more for them here in Southampton.

Chapter 10:

Lewisham: 10:00 am the next day. West and Hudson driving down in their car and fresh

From Thames house tried to locate the University Hospital which was their next destination.

The trip from Southampton took only a couple of hours so there was plenty of time for rest

and the high street this morning was quite busy, but no more than usual. The rush hour in

this part of London was no different to any other borough. West, driving slowly and

cautiously in the flow of traffic found a spot to the right close to the hospital itself. Pulling

up, the two men got out to the sound of the capital’s vibrancy. All they could see was vast

building complex, the red brick frontage showing a hint of Victorian nostalgia,

“Did I tell you what they all said back at Thames House?” Asked John,

“No.”

“Well they’re pretty sure that what we witnessed was the effect of Grey’s poison. The

madness and the savagery are similar to the one that killed his uncle in Whitehall.”

West replied, “So we were correct then all along.”

“Looks like it. Wouldn’t want to go through that myself, still I suppose both Finnin’s

neither had any control when in that state.” Replied John.

They made their way over toward the medical institution. As they did so, the path they

walked took them across the line of sight of some building works across the road in

Lewisham Park. The entrance was pretty open as they walked in, light and airy with cream

walls and lino floors. A smattering of people mulled around, a mixture of medical students

and general public.

Obviously their top priority was to investigate the origin of the scalpel, but West wanted to

play it undercover. Mulling around the relatively busy entrance, they found a doctor between

patients nearby. If they could extract information out of him, no matter how small, they may

be able to approximate the origin of the found scalpel,

“Excuse me doctor.” Said West. The dark haired man, late thirties in features turned round

to face them,

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, we’re here to visit a deceased relative. He’s only just died; we had a call to come

quickly.”

The doctor looked inquisitive, “What’s his name?”

Jack looked on a hesitated for only the briefest of moments before responding,

“Brendan, that’s his name. He’s our uncle, we are both brothers.”

The doctor opened up in sympathy, “We’ll I’m sorry for your loss. Patients who pass away

are taken downstairs to the mortuary.”

“Downstairs you say?” Said West; this is what he wanted to hear, “OK thank you.”

The doctor was clearly a very busy man, “If you’ll excuse me, I really have to go.” He moved

off down the corridor to attend to his duties. It was no matter, West had the information he

needed to conduct a search,

“So now we find the mortuary to place this scalpel.” Said John

“No, not yet. Call it a hunch but you know those road works across the street?”

“What about them?” Asked John again,

“Remember the hessian wire and stone fragment we examined back at the lab? Well if they

are linked to the scalpel they may originate from there.”

John agreed, “It’s possible. Come on let’s go over there first, we may find something before

it is destroyed of backfilled.”

They quickly exited the hospital into the morning light. Crossing the busy road they found

themselves close to the lightly cordoned off works. The churned up earth surrounding the

trenches dug was not manned by any other workers, indeed the only one seemed to be

working was a solitary man a couple of hundred yards away pushing some kind of tarmac

laying machine,

“That’s odd.” Noticed John,

“What?”

“Look at that machine he is pushing. It’s for laying tarmac but it’s not. I mean it’s clearly

working, looking at the white smoke coming from that chimney.”

Jack quizzed further, “So what?”

“Then why is he wearing a dust mask?”

Jack looked closer, John was right he was wearing some kind of breathing apparatus, yet no

tarmac was being laid. In fact why would he be wearing a mask even if he was? Something

was not right there. Arousing Jack’s suspicions, he went off to look at the ditch; crossing the

cordon, he looked down into the soil. It wasn’t deep, about a foot in depth,

“What’s that?” He asked. Amongst all the pipes and cables forming some of the

underground infrastructure he could make out some foreign objects amongst the damp earth.

He bent down to gain some perspective, then it hit him,

“It’s hessian! Looks like the same type as we sampled back in the lab!”

John peered over to get a look for himself, “Looks familiar.” He said,

“Yes it is. It looks just like the sample we picked up in Finnin’s cabinet office and then

tested back at Thames House lab. The rope used to tie up our minister friend came from here,

I’m sure of it.”

“So there is a link with the Finnin murder to here. But is that, and Mr Grey, linked to the

Kings Cross bombing?” Asked John puzzlingly,

“Possibly.” Replied Jack in a coy fashion, “Here help me up.”

Reaching out, John helped Jack out of the ditch. Nobody seemed to notice what they were up

to as Jack reached the top of the loose pavement. Part of it gave way causing Jack to slip

ever so slightly,

“Careful.” Warned John. Jack looked down to see where he had lost his footing. Noticing

the broken bits of pavement underneath his shoes something struck him yet again,

“What’s this? Look at the stone. John the pavement-“

“I can see, that stone, looks like the same that you picked up on Finnin’s floor.”

Jack bent down to pick up a small piece in his hand. The thing felt familiar, the touch, the

weight, the texture. He had held this type of stone before,

“You know I think it is.” Was the reply.

Making their way back onto the pavement, Jack’s inner self was quietly glowing with

positivity at the correctness of his hunch. Now certain Finnin’s killer was here, his attention

turned yet again to the hospital,

“Now we turn to the scalpel. I remember what the lab technician said back at HQ about this

place. Need to determine this is the source of the instrument.”

“Come on then, let’s go.” Said John,

“No, round here somewhere. Monitor these works and let’s see if anyone else is hanging

around. And keep an eye on our friend over there with the machine, there’s more to him than

meets the eye…and I don’t like it.” Jack clearly wanted to be alone right now,

“OK, if that’s what you want. I’ll be over there by the trees.” John wasn’t happy about this.

He could see the practicality of splitting up, but why all the secrecy?

Jack crossed the road and re-entered the hospital yet again. It didn’t get any less busy, but

that was good, better cover for him for this was now an undercover operation. Remembering

what the doctor said, the mortuary was downstairs he casually walked down the nearest

corridor. Trying his best not to look as if he was lost, which was clearly a very easy thing to

do he avoided all eye contact with those who passed him for to do so might attract all sorts of

unwanted attention.

Five minutes had passed going through the various wings of the building, passing members

of the public and medical professionals alike, looking for signs indicating the location he was

looking for. There were signs overhead as one would expect in a functioning hospital, some

for radiotherapy, some for oncology, and others for the fracture clinic and the X-Ray

departments. He turned right around another corridor, none too different to the others,

patients in beds parked at the side waiting to be treated or transferred, complicated

instruments on trolleys waiting to be employed in any emergency. Then he saw it; a sign

overhead,

“Mortuary.” He said to himself, the right arrow indicating he was close. Following the sign

he turned right yet again, ahead of him beside some kind of staffroom door was a couple of

nurses chatting away, there was no going back now, doubling back may catch their unwanted

attention. He carried on walking toward them, refusing to make eye contact, looking as

inconspicuous as possible praying deep down that they wouldn’t stop him for entering some

kind of ‘private’ area. Almost drawing level with them he was now in earshot of their

conversation; being a spy he was trained to overhear even the most sensitive of comments,

“….Well Carey is out of control. They were thinking of suspending him…..” Said one

nurse,

“He’s always struck me as unfriendly. Glad he was in the mortuary; can you imagine

someone like him on the wards?”

West passed them in deep conversation, quickly turning left round the next corner and out of

sight,

“Carey? Working in the mortuary? Very interesting.”

Now he had a lead. The man called Carey was clearly affiliated with the mortuary, perhaps he

was one of the killers, perhaps he was the one who left the scalpel. It had to fit and he was

only going to get answers amongst downstairs. He carried on with slight renewed vigour

following the signs that were not more frequent. By now the décor of the walls had changed

from a pale cream to a more dour lime green, carrying on until he came to a lift and a flight of

stairs. The lift, the most direct route was only for the deceased during admittance. For now

he would take the staircase downwards to the basement level, a dark and grey maze of

corridors, lined with metal cages full of plastic waste bags awaiting incineration. The mood

was compounded by a cool breeze wafting through the level from generators and air

ventilation shafts humming in the background. This was clearly not a public area so he had

to be extra careful. Peering round corners making sure nobody was around he scanned the

local vicinity observing in front of him a pair of large black rubber type doors. Clearly it was

the mortuary entrance, the scalpel and information about this Carey character must be in

there. Gingerly he made his way forward but stopped suddenly, hearing the chit-chat of

people, he quickly and silently doubled back to the corner again. Just in time as a couple of

porters appeared down the corridor carrying blue bags, looking on as he saw them deposit

their cargo into a large yellow plastic container. Thankfully they turned round and

disappeared the way they came and this gave Jack his chance; a quick reassuring glance the

other way signalled his opportunity. Swiftly moving forward he made his way to the rubber

doors and squirmed through them silently.

He found himself in a deserted outer reception area. The décor was more medical than on

the outside, tiled walls, various cabinets and the like. A set of doors to the right led through

to the fridges, huge silver doors closed tightly to preserve the human remains stored within.

He didn’t want to go in there but an open set of doors to the left led through to the main

chamber, perhaps this would provide more fruitfulness in his investigations. Proceeding

though, the main area was an autopsy room, the main silver metallic table complete with

drainage apparatus dominated the centre. Surrounding it was tables, sinks, and cabinets, the

walls were covered with health and safety information and anatomical diagrams. A pungent

smell of disinfectant filled the air, stronger than the chlorine smell permeating through the

wards and corridors, obviously this place had just been used recently. Looking around he

carefully noted the layout of the room; in one corner was a coat rack. Upon lay three white

coats, overalls for workers in the morgue. West approached them, he had no intention of

stealing them but he just wanted to have a look around them. Shuffling them carefully as to

not make them fall, he looked up at the hooks to notice small labels above each one. The

middle one bore the name CAREY.

“Well, well,” He thought to himself, “Looks like Mr Carey’s lab coat.”

He carefully pulled it away slightly, just enough to see the name tag inside to confirm it was

the same coat. Checking to see that he really was alone he began to rifle through the pockets,

nothing in the two outer ones so he moved onto the inside. His fingers were working

overtime in desperate grasping to anything that may be stored. Suddenly he felt a piece of

paper, pulling it out he unfolded the cream piece to reveal a map of the Lewisham in the local

area. On it was both the hospital and the park opposite, marked here was a tiny red ink dot

which immediately caught West attention. Puzzled he knew this was something significant,

re-folding it to take with him. He put his hand back in again as he was sure there was

something else. Jackpot, there was something else, something small and metallic, pulling it

out he saw it was a key. Why was there a key with the map? The two had to be linked.

Taking that as well he turned his attention away from the coat and back to the real reason he

was here, the scalpel.

Recalling the furniture around the room he approached another brown wooden cabinet

where instruments were stored. Opening a drawer he was presented with an array of medical

instruments, clamps, large knifes, screws, rib cutters, all very Victorian, all authorised for

use, but looking like something out of a horror movie. He closed the drawer and moved over

to a smaller white chest. Opening it he saw a red interior, with scalpels embedded carefully

in a row. Each one, slightly different sizes and sorted left to right smallest first were

carefully logged with a unique reference number. East was present except for one

approximately one-third of the way across from the left. The missing slot bore the number

774459. West pulled the missing scalpel from his pocket; it fitted perfectly into the slot

confirming that this was where the murder instrument came from.

Knowing now what he came to find out, there was no other reason to be here. The priority

now was a possible link to these murders and the bombing a few days ago. The matter of

catching Finnin’s killers can be left to the police. Making his exfiltration he noticed the list

on a computer screen lit up on a nearby desk, pausing just briefly he could see it was an

inventory of admitted bodies. This list though, as West scrolled down the names caught his

eye with somewhat surprise. There was one name he did not expect to see,

“Stephen Carey…Carey?!” He said to himself. Looking upwards he suddenly realised what

this meant. The man who West was now looking into was dead. He carried on; beside each

name were two dates, date admitted into hospital and date of death. The date beside Carey’s

name was yesterday. Still bent over the computer screen, he glanced over to the refrigeration

units knowing that his man was in there. Suddenly the ominous sound of whirring came from

out in the corridor, someone was coming down the lift! West fled, through the rubber doors

and out into the corridor, the lift had stopped, the doors began to open, the West could see the

shadow of two, perhaps three individuals inside. They were about to step out as Jack made

for the corner near the stairs. Hoping, praying that nobody was coming down it. Just as hit

the wall and made it round passenger stepped out into the corridor. West had got away with

it, he wasn’t spotted. Hugging the wall, catching his breath he could hear two people make

their way to the morgue. He eavesdropped in,

“Got to get this body ready for this lecture he’s giving.” Said one porter,

“Is that the guy who used to work here?” Replied another

“Yeah, the one that was found dead. The police want a pathology report on the cause of

death.”

“What was his name?”

“Carey, I think. Come on let’s get him on that table, the prof and his students will be

arriving soon.”

This was very interesting. West though about this for a second,

“So Carey’s body will be used in an autopsy. Time to infiltrate and get involved.”

He decided he would just have enough time to go and see John. He had to give him the map

and the key to try and find whatever was at that location while he himself was here with

Carey. He made his way out, completing his exfiltration by backtracking the way he came in.

Outside John was loitering around some trees, just further down the street from the works

opposite the main entrance. Jack appeared and crossed the road to join his partner,

“Did you find anything?” John asked,

“Yes. Someone called Carey.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing, he’s dead. Apparently he worked in the mortuary here, his coat was hung up.

And yes the scalpel we found did come from here.”

John understood what Jack was saying, “So what now?”

“Now you need to take this key I found along with this map. Look for the red dot and try to

find it. It’s probably in those works we looked at. Ideal place if you want to hide

something.”

He handed John both objects, “What about you?” He asked,

“I’m going back in there. Carey is due to have an autopsy, so I’m going in undercover to

see if there’s anything else we have missed.”

Jack turned round to leave for the hospital yet again, “Rather you than me.” Quietly he said to

himself. Turning toward the park he unfolded the map to get his bearings, he was facing East

and by working out where he was in relation to the map he worked out the mark was due

north by only a few metres, right in the middle of the works they had been searching a few

minutes earlier. The worker on the tar laying machine with the dust mask had moved further

down the street now, if John acted fast he may have time to investigate further without

drawing his attention. Pulling out his mobile, he used the maps app to enter a location in an

attempt to triangulate the exact location of the dot marked on the map. Using both this and

the paper map given to him he made his way over to the ditch and started digging. The soil,

cold and damp go on his hands as he clawed at the earth beneath him. Fortunately he did not

have to dig deep, a few centimetres at best,

“What’s this?” He asked himself as he pulled out a hastily buried strongbox. Pulling the

key Jack had given him out of his pocket he inserted in the lock and started turning. Opening

it once the lid came loose; the contents shocked John because he did not expect this. Inside

was another key and hammer, nothing special, just an ordinary workman’s tool, but this one

was covered in blood. Not touching the hammer, he took the key only, leaving the hammer

in place. Shutting the lid and re-locking it he placed it back in situ and covered it up as best

he could. It was good timing as well, standing up and climbing out of the trench John noticed

a small gathering outside the entrance to the hospital. A car had pulled up and a small

gathering of media suddenly descended on it. John decided to investigate further; crossing

the road he approached the crowd in a place where he could just see the vehicle. Some suited

officials got out before the rear left passenger door opened, a figure emerged, dressed in

smart business suit, a tall slightly grey haired looking man, confident in stature walking up to

the entrance greeting some kind of manager from inside. He looked familiar, John had seen

him on TV before, it was a minister, the Health Secretary coming for a visit. Surrounded by

his advisors and media it wasn’t easy but it definitely was him. Looking on another figure,

acting rather autonomously was amongst the political procession, again another figure he

recognised. He had to adjust his position from the back and he didn’t really get a good luck

until they began to move inside, then he got a clear view, it was Inspector Waterson. John

kept in the background out of sight.

Jack meanwhile, back inside the hospital kept well back from the reception where by now

the minister surrounded by media and staff had gathered. He made his way down the

corridor he once came from, the layout now familiar to him from before. It only took a few

minutes and he was already at the locker room where he overheard the two nurses chatting

earlier, this time he paused, looked around to check that the coast was clear then gingerly,

almost fearfully opened the door. If there was anyone inside he prepared himself by making

an excuse that he was lost; peeking his head round the door, he was confronted by a deserted

room. Blue metallic lockers covered the walls with coat hooks as West slipped inside;

closing the door behind him he began to check the lockers tugging at all the handles to find

one that was hopefully open. There wasn’t, everyone seemed to be very security conscious.

Pausing he looked frustrated, but observing around the room and spotting a white coat on a

hook as he did so suddenly gave him a glimmer of hope. Grabbing it without a care for the

fit or owner he put it on. It looked like he could get away with it, so he made his way to the

exit. Now disguised as a medical professional he made his way down the stairs to the

basement corridor, he could hear people inside the mortuary as he approached the rubber

doors once more suddenly changing from muffled chatter to comprehensible conversation

once inside. There seemed to be a gathering of people in the autopsy room where he had

placed the scalpel, all dressed in their white coats West slipped in unnoticed behind them.

Closed in around the mortuary table West could clearly see a body laid out on the silver

metallic surface. Completely naked except for a modesty cloth covering the genitalia, he was

presented with a slightly overweight man, in his early forties, bald head and bulky in

appearance thanks largely to the weight the corpse was carrying. By now the corpse was

rather discoloured, the skin was a dead pinkish-white with the occasional maroon blotches

where blood had drained from the veins but not from the capillaries. Pallor Mortis was

accompanied by disturbing slight shades of green was beginning to show around the belly

button and gut area where the signs of initial decomposition phase of putrefaction had begun.

The students either encapsulated or simply used to this sight a stood in a line with West in the

back along the side of the table. At the other side was an autopsy assistant with another

dominant figure, obviously the senior pathologist, and the one conducting this autopsy,

“Good morning everyone,” Opened up the professor, “Today we shall be conducting an

internal investigation of the body. We shall be opening up the body cavity to determine the

primary cause of death. I want to concentrate on the trunk and torso before we open the skull

to remove the brain prior to closer scrutiny.” The pathologist checked to see if his students

understood before continuing,

“Now I must stress our body is a murder victim. He was found one day ago and as we can

see an external examination reveals skin traumas of various kinds. We see cuts here, here

and here. Note the obvious tear of skin tissue on the forearm, deep enough to expose

superficial muscle tissue.”

West immediately, if not quietly picked up. He knew Finnin’s attacker must have been

bitten in the violent death throes, was he the man? Was the skin tissue found in Finnin’s

mouth from this man? Seems like it, but his thoughts were interrupted by the continuing of

the professor’s lecture,

“When dealing with victims of murder it is not unusual to find foreign objects within the

body cavities or organs. The stomach is an obvious and common place to find anything, but

the lungs and the anus are other possible locations. Now we shall make an internal

examination. We shall make a deep Y-shaped incision across each collar bone at the base of

the neck; we then make a secondary incision from between the clavicle to the navel.”

West and the rest of the students observed as the pathologist took a large knife from a tray

pre-prepared and managed by his assistant. Without hesitation they looked on as the knife

went in at the left clavicle and cut through the skin with ease as the pathologist made the cut.

Drawing the knife though and across the upper chest he stopped at the right hand collar bone.

The knife came out,

“Now we shall incise down from the sternum to the navel.”

Again the knife went in and the pathologist cut down in a straight line, past the chest, past the

stomach and to the belly button before withdrawing it again. Handing back the knife, the

pathologist opened up the skin to expose the insides to West and the rest of the medical

students. The professor proceeded to continue as the assistant handed him what looked like a

pair of bolt cutters. He used them to grip the sternum and with help from the assistant,

cracked open the breastbone. The sharp distinct crack signalled the snapping of it, before

they did the same to each of the ribs. Once done both men lifted the bone structure to expose

the vital organs to the world,

“We now have access to the internal organs. First I would like to explore the lungs.”

West looked on as the pathologist took a small scalpel and cut into the side of the brown-grey

coloured lung tissue. It was easy to open as the blade penetrated it. However something

shocked them as they punctured the structure,

“We appear to be seeping liquid, pass me the pipette please.”

A yellowish liquid seemed to be coming out of the lungs, the pipette inserted and squeezing,

began drawing a significant amount,

“Looks like poison.” West thought to himself,

“Can we record that and get this sample off to the toxicological lab for tests please.” Said

the professor to his assistant. He turned to his students once more,

“This is a good example of a foreign substance in the body. Fluid in the lungs is rather

common in drowning victims or people who have drunk a large amount of liquid in either a

forced situation or panic.”

“Or madness.” West continued to himself. He knew a lot more than the professor did on

this matter.

“We are now going to explore the stomach cavity.” Said the professor, “It’s important to

analyse and record the stomach contents to determine a possible cause of death. After that

we shall move onto the heart to determine the amount of blood clotting before moving on the

brain.”

He was passed a fresh knife, and this time he made a larger incision into the surface of the

organ,

“Here I am cutting from the base of the Fundus to the body,” Suddenly as the cut opened the

contents of the stomach became visible, there appeared to be something else. Using a pair of

tweezers the pathologist sifted through the half-digested contents to retrieve the foreign body.

Gripping it he pulled it free and placed it into a kidney dish at the side,

“It’s a piece of paper!” He said while using a second pair of tweezers to unfold it. West was

in a position to see clearly enough that it bore writing on it. Red letters could clearly be seen

on the yellow coloured paper,

“Lion Inn Public House. Strange, looks like this was swallowed in a hurry. Judging from

the size of the ball it was rolled up into, it could very likely have gotten stuck in the mid-

oesophagus.”

The autopsy continued but West had seen enough,

“The Lion Inn. Why would he have swallowed a piece of paper with that written on it?

What’s so special about that place?” He decided to leave, the next piece of the puzzle was

clear, they had to go and investigate. Waiting for the opportune moment, he quietly observed

when all members present would be showing maximum concentration. He had to wait until

the heart was being removed before such a chance came along. Checking to see that they

were all engrossed in the cardiology of the cadaver he silently made his move. Slipping

outwards he made it back to the basement corridor; up the steps he threw off the white coat

just in case someone noticed him. Making it back to the changing room as before he knocked

on the door with his backup excuse at the ready just in case someone was inside, opening the

door once again and putting his head inside it was still deserted like before so West wasted no

more time. He rushed in and placed the white coat on the hook it came from, scurrying back

out almost as fast he managed to shut the door silently against his hand just in time. Turning

away from the door he only took a couple of steps when a pair of orderlies strode round the

corner. West genuinely did not know they were coming, another two seconds and they could

have caught him red-handed. He was startled, but his training taught him to not flinch.

Unchallenged he passed them without incident and made such a beeline for the exit. He had

been very lucky but he had the info he wanted.

John was still waiting outside when Jack appeared. He looked rather curious as his partner

came down the steps,

“Did you find anything marked on that map?” He asked, almost expecting an answer of yes,

“I did find a box over there, with that key you gave me.”

“And, what was in the box?”

“Well, I found another key and a hammer.”

Jack looked surprised, “A hammer?”

John continued, “A hammer. But this one was blood stained.”

West though about this, a blood stained hammer locked in a box and buried in road works,

somewhere where it could be concealed that is not suspicious. There had to be one

conclusion,

“I’ll bet John that the blood on the hammer is Finnin’s. I think it was used to smash his

hands as he was tied in his office.”

“By this Carey fellow?” Asked John

“Very likely.”

John agreed and decided to probe Jack about what he found in the hospital,

“I would have joined you but there was a commotion here. Apparently the Health Minister

has arrived, some kind of publicity stunt. He’s accompanied by our friend Inspector

Waterson.”

Jack agreed, “Yes I saw them, I quickly got out of the way. Did they spot you?”

“No. Look did you find anything out in there?”

“Yes. I’ve just watched Carey undergo an autopsy. Fluid was found in his lungs, it’s being

tested but I suspect its poison.”

“You mean like Arsine or Arsenic?” Asked John,

“Probably.

“So now we go to Thames House?”

“No, something else was found. The pathologist opened up his stomach and found a piece

of paper, probably something he swallowed in haste. It has some writing on it, the Lion Inn

pub. I want to check this place out. If there is some kind of poison plot going on, we may

find answers there. Leave the police to uncover the murder weapon and the identity of

Finnin’s killer. We need to trace the poison plot and link it to Grey.”

John agreed. Crossing the road, the worker with the dust mask still was working on the

street. There was something about him that registered, but neither Jack nor John could put

their fingers on it. It didn’t matter, they had to visit this pub and investigate the source of the

poison, if indeed it came from there. There was only one way to find out. John calls Thames

House to get and address check; taking only seconds speaking to someone on the other end

they got an ID address, Ladywell Road. The pub was only around the corner so they decided

to leave the car and investigate on foot and investigate the Lion Inn.

Chapter 11:

They arrived at the Lion Inn rather promptly. It was nothing out of the ordinary, looked like

any other London pub, large windows, brown brick in structure, slightly late Victorian in

architecture, a typical cockney watering hole. Entering the premises they were greeted with a

slightly unfriendly atmosphere, dark in décor and looking slightly intimidating they

immediately walked up to the bar and ordered two glasses of orange juice. Taking the time to

get served, Jack observed various objects behind the bar,

“Curious.” He thought to himself. Looking ahead and to the side he spotted a set of keys

hanging up on the wall, too far over to reach but still visible to the trained eye. Making his

way over to John once served both drinks he sat at a table where they had a good view around

the establishment. Even at this time of the day the place of lively, plenty of regulars some

half-drunk others less so all added to the ambience of the area.

They looked around trying to survey as discretely as possible. A seating area further down

led to a corridor to the toilets, observing this both West and Hudson could see a staircase and

a function room to the side that was marked ‘Function Room’. To the side was a small one

man table that was occupied by a burly character, obviously keeping guard on the room, and

this immediately attracted the attention of Jack. Looking further as they drank a side room

marked private could be made out but to get to it, as was the toilets, one had to pass the

function room and the guard. Finishing up their drinks, West casually got up on his own,

“Where are you going?” Asked John,

“For a walk, wait here.” Was the reply. He began making his way casually over to the

toilets, soon attracting the attention of the guard. Absolutely not making eye contact he

walked past him, feeling his gaze burn into the back to him. He went to the toilet only to

come out a minute later, pretending to flush the system for effect. Cautiously coming back

out Jack looked toward the guard, who by now had turned back away again and had clearly

not noticed him in the doorway. He moved forward and made his way to the ‘Private’ door,

gripping the handle he could see that it was not going to budge. Knowing it was locked he

dared not try the function room door, casually he made his way back to John’s table,

“Well?” Jack was asked,

“The private door is locked tight. You see that large man sitting beside the function room?

He’s guarding whatever or whoever is in there.”

“So how do we get in?”

Jack thought for a second, there had to be a way to distract that guard. Stumped there didn’t

seem to be anything obvious, looking around the tables next to him, half-drunk pint leftovers

littered the table tops,

“Pity there is no cigarettes around. Could mix it with the drinks to form some kind of

concoction.”

“You mean get someone to drink it and cause a distraction.” Confirmed John, “Yes, it

could have worked.”

“Time for plan B. I didn’t want to do this but here goes.” Jack stepped up again,

“What are you going to do?” Asked John. This time he walked in the opposite direction

mulling through the crowds. Casually closing in on where two men were standing and

chatting away while drinking; positioned next to a table they made ample targets. Himself

standing unnoticed by the same piece of furniture he waited for the perfect moment to strike.

Observing out of the corner of his eye he watched as one of them casually put their pint glass

down, and that formed the cue to strike. Putting his hand into his pocket, he pulled out in the

palm of his hand a small white pill, dropping it into the glass it quickly dissolved, as West

walked away. He returned to John,

“What the hell did you just do?” He asked,

“Just wait a second. Look over to the bar, see the set of keys on the wall?”

“Yes.”

Jack lowered his voice as much as he dared, “When the distraction happens, go over to the

bar and take the keys. Don’t think about it, just do it.”

John agreed, to be honest he had no clue as to what the distraction would be but he was sure

he would recognise it. Suddenly a commotion could be heard from the vicinity of where

West had been loitering, a wry smile on his face gave John the cue as it was clear enough for

other drinkers to be attracted. As the commotion got louder a small crowd gathered round the

drinker in distress, with both Jack and John waiting for the moment. Because of the severity

of the situation, some staff members also came over to assist and that was the chance,

“Go now.” Said Jack as they both got up. He walked over to the function rooms, the guard

was stifled by crowds of people so couldn’t see while John headed for the bar. A quick look

around, then a lean forward accompanied by a swipe and he got the keys. Quickly turning

round he blended into the crowds as the man who was in distress received treatment. Joining

Jack at the back presented the keys, picking one, as it was a small bunch, he inserted it into

the small brass lock to turn the key. The door loosened and they both slipped inside entering

into a small storeroom that was dimly lit. The closed the door behind them which muffled

the sounds of the commotion outside, John was quick to inquire,

“What the hell just happened?”

“I slipped him a pill.” Jack replied,

“A pill? What bloody pill?”

“I procured one from the hospital when I was inside investigating the mortuary. Took it

from a drugs cabinet.”

John was astonished, “What?!!”

“Oh it’s alright, it was only a laxative. Might give him the runs and a very relaxed bowel

but it won’t kill him that’s for sure.”

Sighing to himself, John didn’t say anything more. The distraction had worked even though

it was a little unorthodox. They were now more concerned with where they had found

themselves. Both looking around they appeared to be inside a small storage room with

various boxes lying around and on shelves, but there was something here not right. They

moved forward around the room, coming to small hatch to the adjoining room,

“Look at this, must lead to the function room next door.” Said Jack,

“I can hear voices.” Said John,

“So can I.”

They decided to try and peer through. It was a lattice structure probably used more for

ventilation than anything else so there was scope to make out the activity on the other side

without the risk of being seen. Looking into the room they could see a rather large space, a

balcony above and furnished with an array of tables and chairs. It was not full be any means,

just two figures occupied it, a burly and brutish as the guard outside they looked like a couple

of heavies from a criminal underworld. West and Hudson observed their descriptions as well

as their actions, one was blond haired, quite stocky, while the other one was shaven bald with

a beard. Both had tattoos on their forearms which were quite distinctive, and this led to Jack

seeing something that made him prick upwards,

“Look, on his left arm!!” He whispered,

“What?” Queried John,

“Look at his watch. Gold, quite expensive, just look at the way they are dressed. It doesn’t

look as if they could afford a watch like that.”

“Finnin was missing a watch when we found him.” John confirmed,

“Exactly, it’s a trophy perhaps. I don’t care what anyone says, these jokers were present

with Carey at Finnin’s murder. That watch proves it.”

Boosted by this they carried on observing, they weren’t idle by any means, they seemed

rather active, almost agitated while chatting, clearly they were drunk and that would be

enough until they saw what was on one of the tables,

“Cocaine! They’re high.” Commented Jack,

There were lines of white powder, cut up by cards into rows, some half snorted, others in

waiting,

“So they’re addicts.” Suggested Hudson, “Makes them very susceptible to suggestion. No

wonder there is someone guarding outside.”

“Yes, gives someone else power if they want a favour done. Just dangle the temptation in

their face there you are.”

“So Finnin’s murder was orchestrated?” Asked John

“Yes. Look that’s a matter for the police, all we want to know if this is linked in any way to

the King’s Cross bombing, or Grey at all.”

John turned away as Jack continued to monitor the conversation inside the function room.

Looking around the storeroom through the contents seemed academic but there was nothing

to rule out. Stepping over various boxes being careful not to create a noise he made his way

over to the corner of the room underneath a small frosted glass window,

“What’s this?” He asked while investigating further. There appeared to be small bags of

white powder accompanied by dishes,

“It’s a coke stash.”

Turning away from the latch, Jack joined his partner to analyse the clue,

“So this place is a front for narcotics trafficking.”

“Not really a security issue is it? More of a police matter.” Said John rather despondently,

“Yes but these men know something about the Finnin murder which must be in turn linked

to Grey. No…we need to those jokers in there and fast before they decide to leave.”

John agreed, “So how do we subdue them?”

The only obvious thing that occurred to them was the materials they had to hand,

“The drugs; it’s the only way. Get some of that powder and heat it up on that stove over

there.”

John pulled the small gas stove over and turned it on. Putting a tray on top of it he poured a

small amount of cocaine on top. The heat worked quickly as it bubbled and liquefied, turning

to the consistency of milk just two minutes later. Jack meanwhile was searching around the

room for a container; being a drugs den it wasn’t long before he found something very

suitable, a syringe,

“This will do. Pour in the drug will you.”

John took the plate off the stove and turned it off. Carefully they poured the drug potion into

the small thin casing of the needle almost filling it up,

“I just hope the concentration is enough.” He said,

“Enough for what?”

“Look to get to that room, we need to get up those stairs outside. I’m guessing that it must

lead to the balcony which is where I want to be. To get to it we must get past that gorilla

outside.”

John realised what the plan was, “So this is to knock him out.”

“That’s the plan.”

Getting up they approached the door. Opening it up very slightly they could just about see

that the earlier commotion had indeed died down slightly. The guard was still sitting at the

table and there was nobody coming this way, so with Jack in the lead they silently opened the

door and slipped back out amongst the ambient noise in the background. Watching the guard

all the time they both crept up to within a foot of him when West made his move. Piping up

he walked casually past catching the guard’s attention, and this immediately caused a reaction

from him as he did not see them pass him the first time. Looking threatening he stood up,

failing to notice that John was right behind him. The moment he got to his feet he felt a sharp

stabbing pain in the neck and a grip on his arm. Losing consciousness he slumped back down

as John, who was holding the drugged syringe withdrew it discretely. Making it look like he

had passed out drunk nobody battered an eyelid; they had taken him out quietly and

successfully. Jack re-joined him,

“Well done, now for those stairs.”

Without making eye contact with anyone they began climbing the wooden steps upwards

above the bar area. The daylight that flooded the downstairs briefly dropped as the climbed

up on to a dark landing. Reaching into their pockets they both pulled out the pistols they had

been carrying all the time as was standard issue and fitted silencers. It was standard

procedure when entering an uncertain situation where firearms could be present. Upon

reaching the top of the stairs they found themselves in a small room with a balcony in another

doorway ahead of them. Kneeling down as to tread as lightly as possible they made their way

onto the walkway overlooking the function room with the two men still present as West had

hoped. Pausing in a position of good view he proceeded to draw his weapon fully, causing a

quiet protest from John,

“What are you doing?!” He whispered desperately, “You can’t shoot him, you’re not

authorised! There is no kill order!!”

Ignoring him he pointed his weapon at the bearded man,

“Relax I’m not going to kill them, I’m just going to wound so that they can’t flee.”

John backed down given the situation, “Aim for his leg.” He said giving his partner some

friendly firearm advice. West like John was already an accomplished firearms user. Closing

one eye he lined up his vision with the barrel, correcting for bullet drop due to gravity he took

aim at the drugged man’s left mid-thigh. Sweat began to drip from him, as he slowed his

breathing, blocking everything out in a fog of focus and concentration. He placed his

forefinger on the trigger and began to squeeze feeling the tension as the gun hammer began to

pull back from the loaded cartridge. Just one more squeeze and the firearm would discharge

the round. Just at the very moment the door of the room suddenly burst open, completely

destroying West’s concentration. The smallest of split seconds later and he would have fired.

Both West and Hudson instinctively went back into the shadows once more as the intruders

rushed in, the whole room filled with police officers quickly apprehending the men with

some struggle. Tables and chairs went flying as they made a desperate bid to escape out into

the bar area but it was a futile attempt,

“It’s a bloody drugs raid.” Said John

“Yes, Scotland Yard must have been watching this place.”

“Well it would have been on their radar if it was a front for drugs trafficking as you said.”

Commented John, “Come on lets go.”

“Wait a second.” Said Jack as an inspector walked in to confront the now tamed criminals,

“Carl Smith, Jonathan Mays, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Peter Finnin.

You do not have to mention anything when questioned, but anything you do say may be used

in evidence against you to something which you may later rely on in court. Do you

understand?”

They nodded, the officer continued, “Good, take them outside. Sargent, see what you can

find about this place in terms of the cocaine dealing. I’ll report back to Waterson tell him

we’ve pulled these two in for questioning.”

Up in the balcony West and Hudson had seen enough, now was the time to leave. They

slipped into the shadows once more toward a rear entrance to escape the police raid, dropping

the keys he picked up earlier to get into the storeroom John made sure no fingerprints could

be found and traced by cleaning them on his sleeve first.

Exiting out of a rear window, into the outside drayman’s yard, they quickly decamped into a

side street just as a couple of uniformed police officers thundered down the pavement. Not

making eye contact again they rushed past West and Hudson with no idea where they had just

come from. The police turned into the drayman’s yard slightly too late as both men arrived

back in the high street just further down from the pub which by now was surrounded by

police cars and vans. A maze of flashing blue lights and uniformed officers leading out

people they wished to question. Now on the opposite side of the road they made their way

back to the hospital, and their car just as West’s phone began to ring,

“Jack, its Harvey. Look we’ve had some info we think will be useful to you. We’ve

analysed the symptoms exhibited by David last night in Southampton, and they are consistent

with delirium associated with scopolamine and also poisoning effects of arsine. So you were

right in your assumptions. I understand you’re in Lewisham at the moment,”

Jack confirmed the question posed by Harvey, “Yes we are.”

Harvey continued, “Well you may run into some trouble. Apparently the police have

confirmed there was a murder there yesterday, a man called Stephen Carey,”

“Already done. He’s had an autopsy, found evidence of a liquid in his lungs, it’s possibly

poison something like amounts of Scopolamine.”

Harvey hesitated for a second sounding puzzled, “How did you come by Carey?”

“Investigating the scalpel, we traced it back to the local hospital mortuary. Found Carey’s

name on a list in there. Let’s just say I observed the results of his post mortem. John also

investigated some building works opposite and a box had been found buried with a hammer

inside. It was blood stained so we think it was used in the Finnin murder, most likely used to

smash his hands during the act. I think if the police compare blood samples taken from

Finnin and from the hammer, it would be a match.”

After listening with some interest Harvey continued, “So since you already know so much

about our friend I’ll not bore you with the details.”

“Oh we don’t know the circumstances of his death.”

Harvey then proceeded to reveal what he knew, “Well according to the police he was found

dead a day ago in his flat nearby. The place was smashed but he did keep two dogs, they

were mutilated,”

“Would explain the wounds on his torso.” West thought to himself as Harvey continued,

“The police also found military papers, seems like Carey was a former soldier who had be

dishonourably discharged from the army for continual insubordination. Initial examinations

indicate injuries to his body probably came from dog bites.”

“This sounds familiar to the state Finnin was found in.”

“Exactly. Do we thing there are poisoning similarities here?”

“I think so” Replied West,

“They also record saying that part of the flesh from his forearm was missing. It was

bandaged so the police think it was done earlier, prior to the time of death. Of course they

needed a pathologist to conform the findings, and I’m guessing that’s where you came across

him.”

This immediately struck a chord with West. He put something to his superior,

“I’ll bet that if the police test the tissue found in Finnin’s teeth, they would find a match.

We think we may have found the killers to Peter Finnin.”

Harvey continued some more, “One more thing, the police found some drug taking

paraphernalia in the property. Looks like your killer was a drug addict, they are testing it to

find out the substance.”

“I’m not surprised if they find Scopolamine or cocaine in his system.”

“Why do you say that Jack?”

“We’ll tell you in full when we get back. We’re on our way now.”

Harvey instructed them to do so, “Well make sure you get back as soon as possible. There’s

been a rather large development; I’ll explain when I see you. It definitely looks like this thing

is deeper than what we thought.

Hanging up the phone fed the curiosity of the two men. Urgently they made their way back

to the car to deal with this development, eager and dreading to discover just how complicated

and deep this thing is getting.

Chapter 12:

Back in Thames house the section office was even busier than usual, it was visibly clear that

something was afoot. Both West and Hudson strode in to find Harvey standing over a desk

occupied by a bearded computer operative. Accompanying him was a black haired youngish

looking individual in a white shirt and tie,

“What’s the news?” Asked Jack inquisitively,

Harvey stepped up in reply, “Jack, John meet Aazim Farooque.” He gestured toward the

young man in the collar and tie. Muslim in appearance he only looked around his early

twenties,

“He’s only just joined us from another section. Reason why you have not seen him before

was because he’s just come back from a deep cover assignment.”

“Linked to this?” Asked John,

“Yes.” Was the reply from the young man.

Harvey jumped in, “Remember in the wake of the Kings Cross bombing rumours flew about

the internet about the incompetence of the intelligence services. We traced the source back to

the London branch of an internet news service called BeeBee.org. They have been linked

with extremist views before so we already have them on our radar. Aazim here was deployed

as an undercover mole in their London offices for two days.”

Aazim continued to tell the story on his own,

“I was planted as a mole undercover. I posed as an IT assistant to gain access to their

servers. The cover story allowed me access to different parts of the offices, including the

editor’s desk.”

“Go on.” Asked West,

“I once took the opportunity to go through the editor’s coat for clues. He’d been watched

for quite some time that’s why I did it, it was just hanging up on a coat stand but I couldn’t

find anything incriminating.”

“Incriminating enough to link this BeeBee.org to King’s Cross?” Asked John,

“Yes.” Interrupts Harvey,

Aazim continued his report, “Personal possessions came up with a dead end, so I

concentrated on my legend as an IT worker. As soon as I could gain access to his computer I

was in. Once while he was out, I made an excuse that I needed to perform a backup on his

system. So as soon as I was alone I inserted a flash drive and tried to extract his hard drive

files but I got blocked by a firewall.”

“So what happened?” Asked Jack,

“I had to sneak into the servers to disable the correct firewall without causing a disturbance,

but as soon as I did so the editor who by this time came back, noticed a change on his system

settings. Thinking there was problems with the IT maintenance he came down to the servers,

but I managed to give him the slip. Making my way back to his office I tried the system

again, this time I could get access and just had enough time to extract and download a copy

of all of his files before he came back.”

John interrupted again, “So you got whatever was in this companies archives?”

“Yes, as soon as I obtained the information, I got out as quickly as possible.”

“And nobody suspected anything? Nothing collateral in terms of computer functionality?”

Asked Harvey,

“None at all.” Replied Aazim.

Harvey then instructs the technician to call up the computer records based on what the young

mole has procured. Sat at his desk, the bearded computer whizz danced his fingers at

lightning speed across the keyboard causing the screen to display documents and records. He

proceeded to brief on what he had found,

“Looking through the records, there’s nothing all that unusual, despite the known extremist

links. But if we look at a recent story draft, and this is the version posted on BeeBee’s

website a few days ago we see a reference to something called APF Industries based in

London.”

Immediately Jack and John perked up. Already associated with APF in Southampton, now

they discover there was a plant here in the capital. The technician continued further,

“So if we look at the story it basically just talks about the owners, the Finnin family going

into a silent partnership with an unknown person. But the deal was announced here, on the

same day as the King’s Cross bombing.”

“So there’s a link here.” Replied West,

“Sounds like it.” Said Harvey, “But that’s not all, tell them if you will.”

The technician began his revelation, “The real secret lies in the construction of the article, if

we do a quick word count the length on both the draft and the posted article is 1500 words. If

we run pattern recognising software and cross reference it with an online dictionary we see

something strange happening with the first letter of every third word. It spells out a phrase.”

“Do we know what this phrase is?” Asked West,

“Yes,” Said Harvey, “We’ve managed to decode it. It spells out one very specific phrase,

SCARLETT DAWN.”

“What the hell is ‘Scarlett Dawn’?” Asked John,

Harvey paused for a split second. With Jack and John looking on he had to reveal the truth

now,

“It’s a code used to initiate the commencement of an operation, usually including

explosives.”

“So we think this BeeBee.org is a front used to sanction the terrorist attack at Kings Cross?”

Asked West,

John also stepped in again, “Any idea by whom?”

Harvey took the plunge, “Yes we think we know. You see ‘Scarlett Dawn’ is used only by

one organisation in the world, the Central Intelligence Agency.”

Jack froze looking stunned, “The CIA?”

“Are you saying it was the United States who planted and detonated bombs in London?”

Asked John alarmingly, “Our allies?!”

Sensing the obvious tension, Harvey tried to diffuse the situation somewhat,

“I know it sounds like grounds for a massive diplomatic row, but perhaps not. We did a bit

of investigating on the silent partner against APF and we found something rather special.

The silent partner is a half-Mexican man called Victor Bruenstein, he’s on our radar because

of his links to extremist organisations in the past notably in Africa and parts of Eastern

Europe.”

“That would explain any potential terrorist connections, but what about the Americans?”

Commented West,

“Yes,” Replied Harvey, “But here’s the thing; Bruenstein was a known former CIA

operative. So that would tie in with the code word.”

“So he’s not directly working for the Americans?”

“No we don’t have reason to believe he is. He left some time ago.” Said Harvey as an air of

relief filled the atmosphere, “The rumours were that Bruenstein was involved in a large

paedophile ring involving children as young as five.”

“Sounds charming.” Replied West in a disgusted tone as the question of how all this fitted

together loomed. Hudson tried a basic hypothesis,

“If this Bruenstein was involved with the King’s Cross bombing, and given his known

extremist and intelligence links, could he also be behind the Finnin murder? Could he be

working in league with Maxwell Grey? Or even have recruited him?”

It certainly was a plausible theory. Given everything that had happened so far and the subtle

yet consistent ties between events, it was perfectly feasible that all of it was linked to some

kind of larger plot. Harvey wanted to find out,

“Given the nature of what has happened, and the poison leads we have uncovered in lesion

with the police, I want this Victor Bruenstein traced. West, Hudson, tap into CCTV around

known locations he is linked to, APF and places like that. Try and get some leads upon his

known whereabouts, anything at all you can dig up. I want this man found so we can put a

watch on him as soon as possible. Any delay could be fatal.”

By now the clock was ticking. Knowing they had to find him, it wasn’t going to be easy in

a city with millions of inhabitants. Starting in known frequenting places was the most logical

step, but Harvey still had a trick up his sleeve,

“Perhaps there will be someone who can tell me more about Victor Bruenstein.” He said

while pacing out of the office. Leaving West, and Hudson with the computer technician they

began the daunting task of trying to find their man. John occupied another desk as he wanted

to gain any background information while West and the technician made their way toward a

separate room. It was a dimly lit windowless facility with a console that looked more at

home in a recording studio, yet banks of TV screens lined the wall, each displaying both

colour and black and white images of busy streets in real time. As they sat down the first

thing they did was to check the CCTV records around APF industries in London. The streets

around the docklands both live and recorded images flashed up upon the screen but were just

too many images to detect any potential suspect by eye, besides they had no idea what he

actually looked like,

“This is useless.” Said West, “Can we get access to Bruenstein’s records?”

“Depends if we have on a shared intelligence file.” Said the engineer, “Hang on.” He began

a search through public and private records. The system working as fast as the processor

allowed until it found a name match,

“Here we are, Bruenstein, initial ‘V’ 56 years old born in Monclova, in Mexico. Mexican

mother, American father, joined the CIA twenty years ago, and is a former US Marine.

That’s all we have, apart from the links to extremist organisations which he has been

involved for the past ten years.”

“That’s quite a lot for a foreign citizen.” Said Jack,

“Not really.” Was the reply, “the basic info is nothing short of what one can find generally

on the internet if you looked hard enough.”

Jack probed further, “Do we have a profile picture?”

The engineers tried to search the matching file a bit further, “Checking…Yes, here we are.”

Clicking a key brought up a stark colour passport type photograph of their man. Staring at

the screen Jack looked deep into the eyes of Bruenstein’s picture. Before then lay an average

built chisel jawed man, mid-fifties, with short black-brown hair. His olive skin

complimenting his dark eyes radiated through the screen almost seemingly piercing through

anyone who looked at him,

“Apparently he was dismissed from the CIA when it was discovered of his links to terrorism

cells.” Continued the engineer,

“Sounds like quite a character.” Commented Jack

“Well at least we now know what he looks like. Still it won’t be easy spotting him on the

busy streets of London.”

Jack agreed but they weren’t finished yet, as the engineer tried something new. Inputting a

few commands he uploaded some software to try and narrow the search,

“I’m feeding the photograph into some facial recognition software. The computer will then

try to match the image to the footage.” They watched the camera pictures as the system

pointed out any individuals looking remotely like the profile picture. A few faces were

highlighted but nothing special, until they struck gold,

“There! What’s that?” Asked Jack bolting upright in his chair. The engineer zoomed in on

an image of a crowd moving along a busy high street. He enhanced it to make it clearer,

“That’s him! That’s Bruenstein! Where and when was that taken?”

The engineer scrambled to gain the information, “Three days ago. Look it’s found other

images as well, all over the past couple of days.”

At least four images of Bruenstein were captured all within the space of four days that they

had detected so far. But there was still not much clue to the whereabouts; so West decided to

employ the technician in determining so,

“Is there a way to determine the location of these captures? Can we say where these images

were taken?”

“I imagine so, it’ll take some time to determine the surrounding buildings but yes we should

be able to.”

Just as Jack was told this the door behind them opened as John entered to join them. He

seemed clearly excited,

“Just found out that Bruenstein had links to BeeBee.org, he used it to publicise his stake in

APF Industries. It’s clear that he used the internet site to discredit the police and security

services.”

“Looks like our friend has an ulterior motive to hide his acquaintance with this extremist

propaganda site.” Concluded Jack,

“I’d like to know what it is.” Replied John just as a computer screen that the technician at

the side had been working on flickered,

“Got it.” He said, turning away from a computer screen showing a bird’s eye map of the

local area. It was clear he had traced the origins of the image,

“I’ve located the area where the captured CCTV images come from. It’s Belgravia, all the

captures are recent. So if he’s still here, that’s where he’s likely to be.”

Both Jack and John moved closer to get a better look, “Well at least we now know the district

Bruenstein frequents.” Said Jack,

“Still, we don’t have the resources to cover the whole area.” Said John despondently,

“If only we could get a better fix on him to put a watch out there.”

Jack gazed on at the computer screen map, “Yes.” He mumbled quietly.

Blackfriars Bridge, central London, with the traffic and passers-by transversing the span and

crossing the river a solitary figure in a black suit and a similar coloured overcoat stands.

Looking westwards and leaning against the iron sides of the structure he cuts a strangely

lonely figure. Out of the crowds a similar looking man appears to approach. Also dressed in

a suit, this time blue topped with a dark grey overcoat he accompanies the lonely figure,

“Charlie, it good to see you again.” Said the approaching man in a distinct American accent.

“Richard, it’s nice to see you too, and I prefer Charles actually.” Was the reply as the two

men shook hands. The American continued the introduction,

“Sorry, Charles, I keep forgetting. So how’s life in British Intelligence? Still insist on your

guys calling you by your surname, Harvey?”

“I’m OK, and yes I prefer it that way. So Richard, how is the CIA treating you these days?”

“Oh fine. Listen you didn’t just ask me over here for a chat. How can I help?”

Harvey hesitated for a second, then spoke, “Do you know anything about ‘Scarlett Dawn’?”

Richard bolted upright from his position leaning against the iron structure. His expression

turning deadly serious, “What do you know about Scarlett Dawn?” He himself then hesitated,

“C’mon Charlie what do you know?...You think we had something to do with this? Are you

implying that what happened over at Kings Cross a few days ago was sanctioned by my

government?...Hay, look, I want to make it clear that my government would not authorise a

bombing on British soil!”

Harvey could see the point was getting sensitive. He turned to face his CIA counterpart,

“And I want to make it clear that my government would never imply the US instigating a

terrorist attack on an ally. Such an allegation would cause a diplomatic storm between

Washington and London.”

Richard backed down, “Exactly.”

“So you can help me in other ways.” Harvey continued, “What can you tell me about one of

your former operatives, a man called Victor Bruenstein.”

Richard thought for a second before remembering something in the back of his mind,

“Bruenstein…yeah I seem to remember something about this guy. Former CIA officer,

became a rogue agent around 10 years ago, seemed to have links to terrorist organisations.

You think this fella is linked to the Kings Cross bombing?”

“Yes, but I’ve reason to believe he’s involved with something else.” Replied Harvey,

“You think this guy’s trying another plot?”

“That would explain the Scarlett Dawn phrase. Given his knowledge of the intelligence

community, I wouldn’t put it past him. Look Richard, I need info; He was one of your men,

if you have anything on him you need to share it.”

The American cut in, “Charles you know that if it threatens US interests I could share

intelligence, you know that, I can’t get involved.”

Harvey in turn cut him off, “I know I appreciate that but I have reason to believe my

country’s interests are threatened here so that means I am involved weather I like it or not.

You know as well as I do it’s what we are in this business for. Please Richard…it’s

important.”

Richard was wavering. He knew full well the implications of missing or failing to gather

knowledge, the slightest mistake could cost lives,

“I can’t.” He said prompting Harvey to try something else,

“What if I told you we have intercepted certain ‘interesting’ communications regarding a

US government contract to ship chemicals to China.”

Richard took an indifferent stance on the matter, “So what, it’s just a harmless trade

agreement between the United States and China.” But Harvey had a trick up his sleeve,

“Using products that feasibly could be used in rocket technology.”

“There’s no indication the Chinese are using foreign aid to any secret rocket program.”

Argued the CIA chief. However Harvey played his blackmailing trump card,

“What would you say if we also intercepted intelligence indicating a deal between China

and North Korea.” Richard began to listen intensely as Harvey continued, “North Korea and

China are both ideologically linked, and the Chinese do provide their own aid to the North

Koreans. And unlike the Chinese, they do have their own secret rocket program. Would be

pretty embarrassing for the President, and for the CIA I imagine. The United States, the

world’s largest Federal country supplying military technology via a false flag to North Korea,

the world’s most isolationist hard-line Communist state. Now that would take some

explaining, and it wouldn’t look good.”

Richard knew what this meant, and what Harvey was trying to do. Feeling sympathy for his

MI5 counterpart, he decided to release as much as he dared,

“OK look, in the interest of ‘democratic relations’, I’ll tell you the location of a CIA safe

house used to conduct de-briefings and interrogations. It’s in Belgravia, you might want to

start there.”

That was good enough for Harvey, “I’m very grateful Richard. Thank you.”

Richard sent by email a location of the safe house from his phone to Harvey’s, “Alright, I

have to go. Good luck Charlie, you owe me one, you can start by sharing intelligence on the

Chinese and North Korean trade deal.”

Leaving Harvey with the location of the Belgravia safe house he immediately set about

forwarding it to West back at Thames House. Once sent he then phoned him immediately to

confirm receipt.

West, along with Hudson and the technician was pouring over the maps when his phone

buzzed. Picking it up and seeing it was a message from Harvey he immediately opened it,

“What on Earth?”

“What’s up?” Asked John, concerned,

“Harvey has given us an address of a suspected CIA safe house. Possibly used by

Bruenstein. 38 Eaton Square, where is that?”

“Belgravia.” Replied the technician. This was definitely the breakthrough they had been

waiting for. Having no time to react as the phone rang, Harvey was on the other end,

“Hello?...Yes we got it, don’t know how you did it but we’re grateful. Yes we’ll go there

right now, what?...right OK, I will…thanks.”

Putting the phone down Hudson could tell exactly what was going to happen,

“We off to Belgravia?”

West hesitated slightly before issuing his reply,

“Yes, but you go to the car, I’ve got to stop off somewhere first and pick something up.”

This unusual reply heightened John’s suspicions again,

“Why?”

“Don’t ask questions…just do it.”

John did as he was instructed, but he was not happy. The next move was clear but Jack

seemed to be becoming cagey again just like he was with Grey at Bellmarsh prison. Walking

toward the entrance only served to fuel his imagination, he knew the logical progression of

the investigation but he was also acutely aware there were vital missing pieces of the puzzle,

and he was being left out. It was starting to become annoying. Perhaps things would become

clearer at Belgravia but he doubted it.

Chapter 13:

Eaton Square, Belgravia: 1:15pm. The silver Lexus pulls up in an obviously well to do area,

one of the more fashionable areas of the city, complete contrast to the drug ridden slum of the

Lion Inn. Switching the engine off, both West and Hudson were faced with the grandeur of

the upper class parts of London town,

“Fashionable.” Said John as they stepped outside; before them they lay a large row of cream

coloured terraced houses, built in the Georgian style according to the architecture. Rows of

columns and large oversized windows lined the exterior of each clean looking property, it

was clear he land value here was in the millions. Instantly they tried to look for number 38,

each plot was separate but there was only one they were looking for. They didn’t have to

look very far,

“There it is; number 38.” Said John as he pointed to the end terrace. On the outside it

looked no different to the others,

“Right, let’s go and find a way in.” Replied West, as he picked up a small parcel from the

back seat of the car. Small and covered in brown paper John wanted to know whatever it

was. It bore a white address label so it obviously looked like something innocent that could

easily be delivered,

“What’s that?” He asked,

“Nothing.” Was the reply. Not satisfied he watched the body language of his partner who

was behaving rather cagey in nature. Trying to evade any more questioning West tried to

deflect the subject back to the assignment,

“We need to gain entry.” He said,

“What about the front door? Do you think we should be trying that first? John asked,

Dismissing this straight away he wanted to try and gain another more discreet way inside,

“No that’s too obvious. Come on, let’s check round the side, try and gain entry where we

cannot be seen.”

“Rather criminal don’t you think?” John thought to himself.

Moving around the side, they found a pathway through a black cast iron gate which was not

locked. A tall line of conifer trees in full growth provided the perfect cover against prying

eyes in the adjoining street. Moving further on against the whitewashed walls their vision

shifted around on the lookout for any cameras. Both were very aware of the dangers of

failing to spot CCTV, the lessons of Southampton still burned in their minds. Luckily there

was a window, closed and not as large and grand as the ones making up the frontage but it

will do. West approached and tried to open it, the frame being one of those old fashioned

ones that will slide upwards, but it did not budge,

“It’s locked.” Noted John, “Can we force it?”

“Perhaps. Need to try some alternative methods.”

With John looking on, Jack proceeded to grab the window frame for a few seconds while

tugging at it. Brute force was not going to work so Jack resorted to more primitive methods,

picking up a stone without hesitation he banged it against the glass, shattering it immediately.

The noise to the break in did not cause any alarm as he reached inside to undo the latch. The

shattered glass strewn all over the floor both inside and out pointed a clear way in for the

intruders as the latch came away easily in West’s hand. Sliding upwards smoothly once Jack

lifted it he followed by John crawled through. The glass crunching beneath their feet as the

hit the floor,

“Well, that was a novel way in. So much for discretion, someone could have heard.”

West rebuked the argument, “I don’t think so. If I’m right, I don’t think this place is used

anymore. Certainly not by the CIA or even by Bruenstein himself.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I’m not.”

A small kitchen was the area they found themselves in. It looked like it was used for

cooking, although it wasn’t the most hygienic of places. Immediately both men started to

look around; pot and pans strewn across the work surfaces and tables. Some used; others still

have the sheen on them but all out of place. Looking up, shelves spanned the dark yellow

walls filled with other kitchenware, utensils hung like limp unused items,

“Not a very well kept kitchen is it?” Jack commented,

“No not really. Wouldn’t want to eat any foot prepared in here.”

“I agree.”

Checking around the mess, they were reluctant to touch anything due to the grease and grime.

But something was out of place,

“What’s this?” Asked John, “Jack come here, take a look.”

“What have you found?”

“What do you make of that?”

Picking up from one of the work surfaces close to the sink, John held in his hand a shiny

golden object,

Jack looked closely, “That’s a key. But to what?”

“What’s it doing here?”

“Where did you find it?” Jack queried,

“Down here underneath this work surface. It was just placed on one of these shelves

amongst these pots and pans.” Explained John.

Jack thought for a second, “Obviously put here to conceal it. I wonder if there’s another key?

Makes sense since I don’t see why you would just put a single one in an unusual place like

this. Must be part of a set.”

“Where do you think the other one supposedly is? In there?” Replied John pointing to the

doorway in the corner of the room,

“Let’s find out.”

They moved through the doorway taking the key they found with them. With pistols tucked

away underneath their jackets just in case anything happened, they precariously moved

forward. Cautiously entering they found themselves in a living room that was as deserted as

the kitchen. It seemed normal enough, spacious and comfortable for a property of this value.

Light flooded in through the large Georgian windows to highlight the dark green flock

wallpaper, reddish carpet and the leather chairs surrounding the fireplace that dominated one

entire wall. Looking around again, a dark oak cabinet rested on a back wall opposite the

windows. Jack immediately made for it. The glass doors and the shelves inside revealed an

array to little objects, ornaments, pictures and the like. The drawers underneath unopened

possibly contained documents and letters, but he did not go for these. Through the glass,

sunlit and shinning from the reflection he could see some pictures, black and white

photographs of people. Moving in closer he could see a group photograph of what looked

like military personnel in dress uniform. Even though the picture had a distinct lack of colour

it was obvious to determine the contrast, and they were wearing what looked like dark

uniforms. Each man donned a white peaked cap with blue coloured trousers sporting stripes;

West knew immediately who these individuals were,

“These guys in the photograph, they’re marines; they’re US Marines, in dress uniform.”

John came over and joined him,

“Do you think this Bruenstein could be associated with them?”

“Possibly. It could be that Bruenstein was in the military before the CIA, very likely the US

Marines judging from this photograph, although I can’t see him here.”

“Can we determine if he was a US Marine? Asked John,

“Given time, but we don’t have that luxury. If we can find evidence, something to

definitely pin him to here.”

The cabinet was rather cluttered with various objects but everything couldn’t hide anything

incriminating from closer scrutiny. Opening the drawers to obtain the contents seemed the

next logical step after examining the upper part behind the glass, these wasn’t anything else

of interest there. There was only one drawer, about a foot long in width. West pulled at the

brass handle to expose the contents only to be greeted by various papers. As Jack set to

work, Hudson moved away to conduct the search around the room leaving West to scrutinise

the documents he found. There was nothing really that spectacular really, a few ordinary

letters out of date others more recent, it made no matter Jack quickly read them all. Fumbling

down underneath, he tried to reach other papers that might hold a clue as to Bruenstein’s

whereabouts. Pulling out a small bundle of other papers he was astonished to bring out an

old colour photograph,

“Got you! That’s him! That’s Victor Bruenstein!”

John walked over, “What?”

“Look, the photograph.” Replied Jack while showing the picture to John. Clearly it was a

group photo not in military uniform, but the tall dark haired figure near the right was the one

that caught the eye,

“That’s Bruenstein.” Said John,

“I know. Well at least we now know he was definitely here. What’s that you found?”

Noticing that John had come over with his hands full, West was intrigued,

“Found this on the mantelpiece, it’s another key, not like the one found in the kitchen, silver

in colour, not gold.”

“So could it be for something different?” Asked West,

“I think so.”

West also noticed that Hudson was carrying a small ceramic ornament, a white figurine of the

Statue of Liberty. Noticing that Jack was interested, John intervened,

“I also found this on the mantelpiece as well.”

“The Statue of Liberty.”

“Yes. But listen to that.” Noted John as he began to shake it. The metallic rattling noise

from within was impossible to ignore,

“It’s hollow, but there’s something in that.” Said West. Putting down the photo and

documents, he picked it out of John hand to examine it a bit further. Turning it on its head he

could see a hole in the bottom where the object was originally cast, peering inside there was

something inside,

“It’s a key.” He said.

“How do we get it out?”

Jack thought for a second; placing his fingers inside the hole he could feel the cold steel on

his fingertips but there was no grip,

“I can’t get it out.” He said

“Smash it.” John replied

Trying his best he still could not get the key out, breaking it may be the only option. Pulling

his hand out he paced over to the corner of the wooden cabinet, statue in hand and positioned

in over the joint. Lifting it up, he brought it down with force, shattering the statuette upon

impact. Pieces of ceramic flew everywhere dusting the floor with white fragments. The key

enclosed inside dropped with the remnants, landing on the floor with a louder clunk than the

higher pitched smash of the ornament. Putting the ruined base on the top of the cabinet West

bent down to pick up the key,

“It’s identical to the one we found in the kitchen.” He said, “Look, same in design and

colour.”

“You think they are a set to something?”

“Very likely, but to what?” West pondered,

“Perhaps this extra key has something to do with it.” Said John. Jack agreed there really

could be no other explanation. Standing up West looked round, they had to explore further,

“Let’s have a look around, see if we can’t place these keys.”

“Agreed.” Replied John,

Making their way out of the living room, they found themselves in the main hall. The large

black wooden door dominated on end of the hallway, across the black and white checked tiles

another door stood, closed. Obviously this fuelled the curiosity of the two men as they

walked up to it. Tentatively they gripped the brass knob handle but it would not turn, West

tried again and then again once more, each time the handle would not engage the door latch,

“It’s locked.” He said,

“Try the keys.” Replied John as he stepped forward. Putting each key in the lock seemed

futile as all fitted, but none would turn, ensuring the door staying tightly shut. Pausing, they

realised that they could not get in, the door was just too heavy to break down without some

kind of specialist equipment. Pausing as they looked round, the staircase at the opposite end

of the hallway looked the most promising,

“Try upstairs.” Remarked John, gesturing to the red carpeted staircase,

“I have a feeling that whatever we are looking for is up there. Something out of sight.” Said

West. They moved up the staircase, only two small flights and they were up in a first floor

corridor. A large window flooded it with daylight, structurally above the front door, one door

was on the right, but the left hand one was slightly ajar. Both men approached,

“Careful.” Warned John as Jack put his hand on the dark brown oak door. Pushing it open

slightly a deserted room greeted him. Feeling slightly more confident he opened it fully to be

greeted with a medium sized room dominated in the middle by a conference table and chairs,

“Looks like some kind of briefing room.” Said John as they both entered, instantly scanning

round trying to identify anything that the three keys could be associated with. The walls,

dark green wallpaper similar to the living room and adorned with pictures and bookcases

offered clues; one of these was staring right back at them,

“Look at this.” Said Jack, spotting one particular picture near the door. Upon closer

examination they could see it was a military photograph, Bruenstein wasn’t amongst them but

it was distinctive in appearance,

“Look at the uniforms, regimental in style. Recognise them?” Asked John,

“No.”

“They are uniforms of the US Marines.” Stated John, “I recognise the design, but look at the

flag in the background, see the design and colours?”

“Yes I see. So Bruenstein was likely to have been in the US Marines prior to joining the

CIA?” Asked Jack, it seemed only logical,

“I would bet he was.” John replied.

“That’s fine, but really I’m not interested in his history, only in where he is now. What

about that other door? I wonder if there are any other clues to Bruenstein’s whereabouts in

there?” Said Jack,

“Let’s try it.”

Exiting the room they paced down to the far end of the corridor approaching the second door.

Trying like the one below, it was certainly locked, so therefore would definitely not budge.

They tried the keys they procured downstairs, with two of them forming a matching set; the

odd third silver key found on the mantelpiece was the one they tried first. Handing it to Jack,

Hudson watched as he put it in the lock, it fitted perfectly, but would it turn? A quick glance

behind them reassured him that were still alone while hearing a click told him that the key

indeed fitted this lock. As the door slackened, both West and Hudson briefly hesitated,

wondering what awaited them on the other side. There was only one way to find out.

Chapter 14:

Opening the door to find themselves in a rather spacious room, the function was quite clear,

it was a study. Before venturing further both men surveyed what lay before them, the large

writing desk beside the window was one of the more dominating features. The leather bound

seat backed by flags situated in front of the large green curtained windows formed the focal

point of the room. Directly in front of them a large wooden bookshelf covered the entire span

of the far wall. The dark brown colour of the oak brought out the colours of the classic

leather bound volumes that populated the shelves.

West immediately made for the large desk. Taking out the small brown paper package he

was initially carrying out of his jacket pocket he carefully placed it on the table top. His

hands now free, he could have a look around the vicinity. Upon the desk there seemed at first

glance to be nothing out of the ordinary, blotting paper, writing pens, all ordinary stationary.

However placed just to the side was yet another key, gold in colour like the two they found

downstairs but this time somehow different. He picked it up,

“John, take a look at this.”

“What’s that? What another key?”

“Yes,” Jack replied, “But look, see the shape; it’s different, squarer than the others.”

John quipped somewhat frustratingly at the amount of key they seemed to be finding,

“So up to now we found a gold key in the kitchen, another gold key hidden in the ornament,

a silver key used to gain entry to this room and now we have another one for god knows

what. Are you sure we have found them all?”

“Hopefully.” Jack replied. John standing next to his partner at the desk noticed the small

brown package Jack placed there,

“What’s that?” He asked tentatively. Jack immediately deflected the subject professionally

like a politician by moving the investigation on further,

“Let’s try and find what these keys are for, must be something hidden that is linked to

Bruenstein.” He said while picking up the extra key. They split up; Jack looked toward the

bookcase while John moved toward a drinks cabinet accompanied by some plant pots on the

near side wall. Again like in the opposite meeting room, pictures adorned the wall, this time

not military in nature but more academic. Peering closer to ascertain the detail, he could see

they were referring to a particular university in America,

“University of Chicago.” He said to himself, noting the buildings in some off the photos,

some were of groups, others of just college campuses, all were of Chicago. Backing off, John

resumed his search, the cabinets all situated next to the walls as he walked round toward the

wall opposite the desk. There was a freestanding bookcase, quite empty, certainly nowhere

near as full as the one spanning the wall where West was going through. Walking round it

though seemed odd, something just did not feel right here; something that needed to be

investigated. Putting his hand on the sides, John could feel the structure was slightly more

unsteady that the other furniture, as if it was freestanding. Peering round the left hand side

revealed a distinct if not thin gap between the back and the wall,

“Take a look at this.” He called over to Jack,

“What is it?”

“Take a look, this cabinet is slightly away, do you see?” Replied John, West moved closer,

there definitely something not right about it,

“Come on, let’s pull it away, see if there’s anything behind.”

The two men gripped the wooden bookcase and heaved it away. The lesser amount of books

meant that it was lighter to shift. Pulling it out by one side, it revealed a small door with

something attached to it,

“Well,” Said John, “A secret room, but what’s that on the door?”

“Looks like some kind of electronic lock.” Replied West. On the heavy silver door was an

electronic panel; Jack noticed its complexity,

“Quite sophisticated.” He said. Both men noted that there were three key lock’s on the

lower side of the panel, but the centre one was of interest,

“Look at that one,” Said West, “It’s square.”

“That key from the desk over there…”

“Exactly.” West took the chunky key from the table behind them and inserted it in the lock.

The shape fitted perfectly, and it turned. The electronic lock suddenly came to life, two

screens lit up along with a coloured numerical keypad of some sorts,

“Here take one of these keys.” Said West as he handed one of the matching gold keys they

found downstairs to his partner. John took it promptly in his hand,

“Is it a simultaneous lock? You put one key in and I’ll put the other one and we turn it the

same time.”

West agreed, “Let’s do it.” Inserting the keys in at the same time both were poised to activate

the mechanism,

“Ready? 3…2…1…now!” He shouted as Jack and John turned the keys a quarter of a turn

clockwise at the same time. It worked, both keys activated, signalled by the flickering of the

screens and he quiet hum of the electronics inside, the keypad beeped in activation,

“What now?” Asked John,

“The keypad has to be the next step. But why is it in colours?”

John thought back for a second, remembering the photos downstairs and in the other room,

something triggered his memory,

“The Marines!” He blurted out,

“What?”

“The photos downstairs! The Marines! What are their colours?”

Jack thought for a second, “Dark blue and white.”

John was not satisfied with that; lateral thinking got him suspecting it was something else,

“No, no not the uniform colour, the regimental colours! The colours associated with the US

Marines on that photograph downstairs…the flag on the photo of Bruenstein!”

“Scarlett and gold.” West replied. Then it dawned on them, no more words were spoken as

Jack immediately punched in the scarlet and golden keys on the keypad, it had to be these

two. The pad beeped as he keyed in each colour, only beeping a total of three times once the

second colour had been inputted,

“What now?” West asked himself. There wasn’t time for Hudson to answer, the screens

burst into life. One displayed a figure, four zeros; the other showed the number 30 on it. It

was obvious the four zeros were where a four digit code had to be inserted, but what was it?

“Oh crap!!” Said John, “It’s a countdown!! 30 seconds.”

Panic began to set in as a beeping started, “How the hell are we supposed to find a code in 30

seconds?!!” Said West,

“Don’t know, but this thing is probably alarmed or booby trapped if we don’t!!” The figure

started to count down, 28 seconds left now,

“Think! A four figure number.” Said West,

“Oh that narrows it down!!” Replied Hudson, 25 seconds left, “Wait!! The US Marines!!”

“What about the Marines?”

“The photos on the walls!! Must relate to the US Marines somehow!! Think, err…oh God

come on!! Think…history!! What year was they founded?”

Jack couldn’t answer, 20 seconds left,

“How the bloody hell do I know?”

Instinctively John got his phone out and rapidly dialled Thames House,

“It’s me…I need assistance, run a check on the US Marines, tell me the year they were

founded…thanks.”

West observed the timer, “15 seconds John.”

John himself still on the phone, was still waiting for the answer as Jack became increasingly

frustrated,

“John I’m going to do it. I’m going to key in an American date; something significant…I

know their independence, 1776.”

“WAIT!!!” Shouted John putting his arm across Jack to stop him. The phone still glued to

his ear…Yes OK coming through now!!”

Jack looked up again, “5 seconds!! John, do it now!!!”

“1775!! OK Cheers!!! Jack key in 1…7…7…5!!!!”

Already on the case Jack’s finders raced across the key pad, 1…7…7…5. Suddenly stopping

bleeping, with John still on the phone and looking up they could see the timer had frozen on 2

seconds,

“Thanks.” Said John as he hung up. Both breathing a sigh of relief as they realised the lock

had been broken,

“A good job you know your history.” Commented a relieved West as the door which had by

now become noticeably slackened. Cautiously they opened the door, not too wide, just

enough to enter. Peering through, they were faced with a small box room lined with shelves

and filled with papers, documents and files. Opening the door fully showed off the extent of

the collection; Hudson entered first pausing in the middle of the room. West kept himself in

the doorway, almost afraid to enter, his eyes darting round the room almost as if he was

looking for something specific. John himself, also scanning around noticed something very

peculiar, all the files, some encased in folders, others clipped together and of various sizes all

had something in common,

“All these dossiers, Jack they look familiar.” He said while reaching over to browse through

a few random, ones, “Jack all these files seem to relate to MI5 movements past cases,

personality traits, methodology, the lot.” He turned round to face his partner who was

standing on the threshold motionless. The lack of body language he displayed was

disturbing, but John probed further,

“Why the hell are there classified intelligence files here?...Do you know something?...Come

on Jack what’s the bloody connection?”

Jack just stood there looking, but John was not going to budge, picking up more files he

quickly began to see another pattern emerge,

“Not only do these files track security agency movements but they…yes they…they’re

relating to you!!”

West still said nothing. Now he was beginning to act like a guilty party caught red-handed.

With his suspicion fuelled, John had enough; he had been kept in the dark for too long.

Slamming the file down he wanted answers,

“Why all the bloody secrets Jack!!! What the hell is that package over there?!! What’s the

deal with breaking Grey out of the prison?!!” Then is struck him, “You knew didn’t you?

You bloody knew there were files here! What, is this some kind of setup or are you involved

in something else we don’t know about?!!”

West was still tight lipped. The guilt seemed to ooze from him but he wasn’t giving anything

away

“I’m struggling to get my head around this.” Said John as he turned away, noticing a small

strongbox placed in the corner in doing so,

“What’s this?.” He growled while bending down, he could see it wasn’t locked so he flung it

open without angrily without any sort of hesitation. Inside was another, thicker file with

bundles of paper inside a brown cover, standing up John opened it. What he saw struck him

instantly,

“These are personnel files, dossiers on all MI5 section staff, you, me, Harvey, everyone

within the section.” He could see they were clearly marked CIA and had Bruenstein’s name

all over them. Turning round to face Jack the accusation was clear,

“This is it isn’t it? This is what you really came here for, not to find Bruenstein, just to

secure this! What’s going on Jack? Why is this so important that you want to steal it?!!”

Not raising the tone to match Hudson’s, West replied in a calm but firm manner,

“You don’t understand…”

“Too right I don’t understand!! What the hell is going on!!”

“We have to leave now…”

John wasn’t going to take this lightly, “What do you mean leave? Now that I’ve found

something out you want to sweep it under the carpet? Oh no, you aren’t getting away with

that!! We are not leaving!!”

Jack knew that the standoff wasn’t going to be solved by dialogue. He knew the clock was

ticking, even if John didn’t. He decided to take action into his own hands,

“Fine, stay here then, but I have to go.” He said as he turned away. He paced out of the

room showing no hesitation at all, leaving Hudson in his wake,

“Jack, come back here!!!” He shouted, but to no avail.

The shining sun provided a refreshing atmosphere with the cool breeze that permeated

through the air. West who by now had climbed back out of the kitchen window and had

made his way onto the street; Pacing only a few yards before he heard footsteps behind him,

“Jack what the hell is going on? I still want answers!! Jack!!”

West did not stop to turn round. He knew it was John behind him, but that did not prevent

him from putting as much distance between themselves and the building as possible. No

matter how much John tried to catch up, Jack was still far ahead, it was almost as if he was

leading away,

“Jack!!....” He shouted, however he did not even get a chance to finish his sentence as he

was cut off by a blinding flash. Momentarily flinching, John turned round to see what the

hell it was just in time to come face to face with a huge explosion. A violent rush filled the

vicinity as masonry and mortar flew through the air like shrapnel out of a fireball. A huge

bang and the destructive sound of smashing glass accompanied the flying debris. West

crouched in a reactionary movement; Hudson flung himself to the ground. As the larger bits

settled leaving only the smaller, lighter crumbles flowing through the air like snow, did both

men look upwards. Getting to their feet, the scene was clouded by the dirty white smoke of

dust and explosives; the smell of burning was everywhere. Initially the scene was hazy, but

was clearing slowly, the ringing in the ears of John disguised the true extent of the explosion,

but things were becoming clearer. The entire first floor of the building they had only just

been in had exploded, the front wall along with the large Georgian windows were gone,

scattered all over the road, flames innocently licked out of the huge hole left over. As the

muffling and ringing began to subside somewhat, John saw what was left on the street, car

alarms blared out in synchronous unison as masonry and other hit and smashed the

windscreens. Innocent people were caught in the blast, unacceptable collateral damage, John

surveying the scene tried to make sense of what just occurred,

“Oh my god!! Jack, what the hell just happened? The room, just…everything gone, the

files, that package…” Then he realised what caused it,

“It wasn’t booby trapped, it was that package!! That package you brought along, it was an

explosive device!! You planted it to get rid of the files, and any other evidence!!”

Again West just stood there motionless, if it wasn’t for the screaming of innocent people

caught up, John might end up losing all sense of self control,

“OK look we’ll deal with this later. Right now we’ve got to see if there’s anything we can

do!! COME ON!!!”

Hudson began to run into the smoke, managing only a few paces before realising he wasn’t

being followed. Turning round all he could see was the ever faint outline of his partner,

“Look there’s people hurt over there!! Hurry up!!!”

West’s demeanour did not change. However his did owe his friend an explanation of sorts,

“I can’t help. I have to go.”

“Go? What do you mean go? Go where?!!”

West did not answer as he turned round and began walking. Amongst the sounds of car

alarms, people and faint approach of the emergency services, Hudson watched, torn between

hid duty to the public and to his partner as Jack walked away, slowly disappearing through

the white smoke,

“JACK!!! COME BACK…JACK!!!!” He pleaded, but to no avail, by now all he could see

was smoke and dust, which began now to choke him. Putting his hand over his mouth as he

coughed, he felt helpless and no nearer to the truth as Jack West totally disappeared from the

scene of the bombing he had just perpetrated,

“I’ll find you Jack. And when I do, God help me!” He vowed.

Chapter 15:

Hudson found himself in a corridor, dark in colour, in fact totally black. However there

were rounded lampshades in a line on the ceiling, a good job too, for the corridor was so

black due to the poor light that the lampshades were the only guide as to the direction of

where to go. Flanked by doors either side every few feet, it seemed to go on forever, yet John

had a strange compulsion to walk forward. He did so, cautiously at first, then pacing upon

gaining a little confidence. Walking onward, passing doors either side, somehow he knew

not to try any of them but to just keep walking forward. Passing under each lamp, ensuring

he was continuously shrouded in both faint light and total darkness in equal measure.

Around 200 yards from his original position, and he really had no idea how he got here

some clue offered itself to John. Cries and screams, echoing eerily around him filled the air,

faint at first but getting louder under each step. It was confusing, almost disorientating, John

could hear the cries, but somehow he could not determine where they were coming from, just

that he wanted to keep walking forward,

“Jack?!!” He called out in response to the screams, “You there?!!...Jack!!”

No reply. This was now getting silly, why was he here? What were the screams? They

sounded awfully like the ones he heard in Belgravia once the bomb had gone off, when West

had disappeared. It didn’t matter as a door suddenly appeared out of the darkness ahead,

larger and different in design to the other doors either side of him he had been passing all the

way down. The others ware plain, smooth, but this one was large, dark brown and wood

panelled. This door seemed grander than the others, and it was here John wanted to go

through.

Pausing outside he steadied himself against whatever he might be faced with on the other

side. Gripping the brass doorknob, he found it would not turn, like it was locked; it was all

very strange,

“Jack West!!!” He shouted as he banged on the door with his fist. Goodness knows why he

was doing this but he was; he had to get to the other side of this door, no matter what,

although it still was a mystery. Gripping the brass handle yet again, this time he felt it loose

in his hands, it definitely wasn’t locked anymore. Turning it, the latch clicked in time as the

door loosened; he opened it.

Not realising what he was about to face, he swing open the door to its fullest extent. Behind

the door confronting him stood West,

“Jack! What happened? Why? Why the hell did you bomb the CIA safe house? Why did

you walk away? Where have you been?”

Jack did not react, preferring to stare at his partner. The intense eye contact fuelled the kind

of uncomfortable powerful emotion felt between individuals but John needed answers; it was

a strange compulsion but he wanted to do it,

“Why?” He asked.

Still saying nothing, Jack was beginning to act totally out of character. This wasn’t the Jack

West that John knew, but he wanted to persist with the line of questioning. Suddenly Jack

raising his hand and holding a pistol suddenly, coldly and without words pointed it at his

friends head. Finding himself staring into the blackness down a gun barrel, John knew full

well a bullet could be waiting at the other end,

“Oh now wait!! Hang on I only wanted to know where you have been!!! Come on Jack put

it down!!”

Jack didn’t,

“Don’t be stupid, let’s just talk yeah?” Said John as Jack suddenly walked forward with

conviction the couple of paces to face John. The pistol still raised he only stopped once the

barrel pressed against John’s forehead, causing John to kneel down in front of his master,

“You don’t’ have to kill me!!! You don’t have to kill me!!!!” Pleaded John, his hands raised

in surrender,

“You don’t have to kill me!!!!”

The pleading continued as Jack looked on, eyes fixed on the now pathetic figure John

presented,

“No don’t!!!...please….you don’t have to kill me!!! ” He said.

Jack pressed the trigger, jolting the gun slightly in his hand as the firearm discharged a bullet,

shooting John through the brain. The bullet entering his forehead and exiting out the back,

blood spraying everywhere all over Jack as smoke from the forearm residue wafted upwards.

Then everything went black,

“UUGGGHHHH!!!” Shouted John as he sat up violently. His breath short almost to the

point of hyperventilation and covered with cold sweat he found himself sat up in a bed.

Realising the experience he had just put himself through was nothing more than a harmless

nightmare,

“Just a bad dream.” He thought to himself as he got his breath back. He looked toward the

curtains covering the window of his bedroom, the slightly orange glow from the street lamps

outside indicate dawn was not yet near. It reassured him to think he was in a place of

familiarity, safety and comfort, yet he still wondered about the previous day’s events, and

what has happened to Jack. Turning to look at the bedside clock it read 03:21am,

“Get some sleep John.” He said to himself as he resettled back into bed to continue his rest.

The following morning, 08:55am, Hudson walked into the office amongst an air of

resignation and shock. He didn’t care, they weren’t in Belgravia yesterday, they do not know

what really happened, but to be brutally honest, neither did he. Opening the door to the

private office shared between himself and Jack there was a part of him that almost expected

his partner to be sitting there at his desk, but alas it was vacant. Shutting the door behind him

he took his seat at his desk in the now vacant office; sitting there just staring out of the

window, his mind was as far from being focused on his work as it possibly could be. There

was so many questions, so many missing answers, what prompted West to do what he did?

What were the dossiers in the CIA house? And why was there a specific file on West? All

these he could not explain. Excuses and scenarios raced through his mind trying to make

sense of everything, but no amount of logic could provide an answer no matter how hard he

tried,

“I wonder what happened to Grey?” John quietly asked himself. Mentally he wanted to

deny it but there was just a little part of his mind, right at the back that could not hide the

tiniest of inklings that perhaps West and Grey were in collaboration with each other.

Feverishly trying to make sense of the events over the past few days his mind wandered onto

the events at the Lion Inn back in Lewisham,

“Would Jack have really shot Finnin’s killers in that room is the police hadn’t arrived?” He

thought. Last week he would have known he answer, but now he definitely wasn’t sure at all.

Going into a daydream trance everything flashed in front of him, the King’s Cross bombing,

Peter Finnin’s body, David Finnin’s madness and suicide. No, no, no!! This was all too much

for John; he could not be stressing himself out like this against something that he clearly

could not figure out, when he didn’t have all the facts. Getting up to walk off some of the

anxiety, the office wasn’t the largest but anything was better than keeping still and letting his

mind wander. He walked around the back to Jack’s desk, around his large desk seat beside

the window, the morning light lit up the room in a kind of haze reminiscent of an early

evening causing everything to be cast in a gentle yellow light. Carrying on, John continued

round the desk to the other wall where some cabinets lay. Casually looking as he walked past

there seemed to be nothing unusual on these, why would there be? Files and papers amongst

the office stationary littered the furniture as Hudson suddenly saw something that wasn’t

there before, a small brown paper parcel. It looked ominous enough but it wasn’t there

before, John would have noticed it,

“What’s this?” He said while picking it up. Being no bigger than the size of a box one

would put a necklace in, it intrigued him, it certainly felt light. In fact it felt as if there was

nothing in it. He shook the contents but to no avail, so he decided to open it, ripping the

paper wrapping off the small white box he opened it to confirm his suspicions, it was empty.

Puzzlingly he picked up the paper to see where it had come from turning it round expecting

to see an address or postage mark but instead he saw something quite different, a small blue

sticky label. Examining it closer he made out the writing upon it,

“The Old Fisheries, Luton.” He read to himself. This was definitely familiar, he heard of

this place before, but where? Thinking for a second John searched through his memory

hoping that he wouldn’t get one of those awful mental blocks. Luckily though he didn’t, the

place flashed into his mind, an old bed and breakfast hotel in Luton, just on the outskirts of

the town. Both West and himself had used it once for a stakeout when tracking an individual

on a previous case, it had to be there. The reason why it was here was beginning to become

increasingly clear, West had to have left it here at some point, perhaps when he told him to go

and wait in the car before Belgravia. Who knows, but there could be no other reason why

this label had been left in such a place where John could find it,

“He’s got to be there, why else would he leave this here as a clue? No one else would leave

something like that here, not something relating to a job we did a couple of years ago…No,

Jack’s not disappeared he’s letting me know exactly where he is!” He thought to himself as

he suddenly got a funny feeling. A slight tingle when you know when someone is behind

you, or watching from a distance began to surge through John’s body. Getting up he was still

in the deserted office but something drew him to the closed door, reminiscent of his bad

dream last night, he cautiously, but quietly approached it, stopping only a few feet from the

handle. Putting his hand out to grab it he paused halfway, hesitant in his nature,

“Jack?” He asked out loud, in a kind of weird deja-vu sensation recalling the dream’s

events. Not wanting to wait he decided to take the bull by the horns, grabbing the handle full

force and pulling the door open quickly. Correct in his assumption he was surprised by the

figure standing before him,

“Inspector Waterson!!” He said rather surprised. Indeed this was the last person Hudson

expected to see. A suitable reply was about to be given when from behind Harvey appeared

with a sullen look upon his face, accompanying was three other suited officers all people

Hudson had never met before and all looking deadly serious,

“John,” Said Harvey, “you need to come out of that office now.”

John was puzzled, “Why?” He asked, as one of the other three men spoke up,

“You are Jack West’s partner aren’t you? John Hudson?”

“Yes I am. You are?”

“Never mind who I am, we need to search your office, come on, out.”

The two other unrecognisable men proceeded past him as John stepped out of the doorway.

Looking back he could see them setting to work, one accessing Jack’s computer the other

going through files and paperwork but John himself was ushered away by Harvey. He

wanted answers,

“What the hell is going on?” He asked,

“These men are from a special division, investigating corrupt activity within MI5.”

“Corrupt activity?!! What corrupt activity?”

“We have reason to believe Jack West has gone rogue.”

The revelation stunned John; no way could he believe that, “Rogue? He can’t.”

“That’s what we intend to investigate. If he is, we can make life very difficult for him, and

you.” Said the officer. John wanted to reply but could not find the words,

“Look John you need to go with these people, Inspector Waterson and Mr Peterson here

would like to question you.” Said Harvey, trying to put things into perspective,

“Anything we did was on your orders Harvey!! We didn’t exceed any authority!” He

protested,

“Still, you need to go.”

“Fine.” John agreed,

“You do not have to mention anything when questioned but anything you do say may harm

your defence to something which you may later rely on in court. Do you understand the

caution Mr Hudson?” Waterson warned. Looking him straight in the eye John agreed, he

wasn’t in a position to argue as both the inspector and Peterson grabbed each of his arms

leading him away to one of the sealed interrogation rooms. Humiliating as it was confusing

the whole office looked on as one of their own was led away and the office sealed in a

frightening crackdown against a compromise of security.

A couple of hours later, the offices were still reeling from the morning’s events. West and

Hudson’s office was still sealed off and buzzing with officers trying to disseminate what had

happened. Hudson walked in, drained and emotional from the interrogation he had just

endured. It was strange, why have they let him go? Attracting the attention of the office he

sat at a vacant desk and keyed in the computer. The logon screen flicked up prompting him

to input his details, but they did not work, ‘ACCESS DENIED’ was the red error message

that flashed before him,

“What the?” He said to himself. Trying again ended with the same result; realising he had

been frozen of the system he didn’t know what to do when Harvey approached him,

“You’re back.” He said,

“Yes, look why did they let me go?” John replied,

“What did they ask you about? Can you say?”

“Just about my relationship with West, this case, my relationship to you, things like that…”

“Have they taken anything?” Asked Harvey,

“Just my ID documentation and I’ve been ordered to surrender my passport.”

Considering the situation it looked like John had got off lightly. Although he didn’t say it, he

hadn’t divulged the Old Fisheries link at all, but he knew that if the investigators found the

label and traced it back, he would be in even deeper trouble and this time truth drugs may be

used,

“They have told me I’m still under investigation.” He added. But Harvey had some more

bad news,

“Your clearance level has also been reduced. I’m sorry but I can’t allow you access white

you are still under investigation.”

“Oh so I’m on supervised light duties only then? Look West has been acting a bit strange

lately, at Bellmarsh Prison I have reason to believe that helped our subject, Maxwell Grey to

escape, saying he was going to take him to some kind of safe house. And I know it was him

who planted a bomb at the CIA building you directed us to in Belgravia. There were dossiers

on him, and us.”

“Really?” Harvey replied in a slightly knowledgeable tone,

“Has he really turned? Is he really trying to damage international relations? And to what

end?”

However he didn’t mention the Old Fisheries to Harvey either, secretly he knew he had to

find West, and the link was the only clue. If he could keep it to himself, there was a chance

he could stay one step ahead of the MI5 investigators,

“I can’t access this computer.” He said

Harvey momentarily hesitated, “I know, you are being suspended pending investigation with

immediate effect.”

“What?!!”

“Your presence in this building is illegal, so I’m ordering you to leave. Go home John, I’d

advise you off the record to stay there, for your sake. I would warn you, don’t try to abscond

during this investigation it relates to a potential breech of the Official Secrets Act, the one

you were bound to sign when you first came to us.”

“I won’t. Thanks.” Said John as he turned to leave. Still keeping the Old Fisheries link to

himself his next move was absolutely clear. He had to go and investigate himself, knowing

his actions could be construed as highly illegal he still had to try. It could land him in prison

if it went wrong, but the risk was acceptable. As he entered the busy street, the ordinary

pedestrians racing around him made no difference at all. In fact it became increasingly clear

to him that the next port of call was the nearest train station. Pacing off down the street and

knowing full well that he would probably be tailed and watched he himself had done it before

enough times but he absolutely didn’t care. The next stop was Luton.

Chapter 16:

Arriving in by train Luton that afternoon seemed effortlessly easy. Despite the restrictions

placed upon him as a consequence of the investigation into Jack’s activities he had to press

on. Getting into one of the fleet of taxis waiting outside the station’s main entrance he

instructed the driver to the address of the Old Fisheries arriving around twenty minutes

afterwards. Upon completion of the journey, John asked the driver not to approach the site

itself but instead to park just outside the perimeter, which he did. Getting out after paying the

fee he was faced with a tingling feeling of the past, this place held rather happier memories

for him, now it was just another part of a very disturbing puzzle.

Now left on his own, he started walking up to the property, following the path, the stone

crunching beneath his shoes with each step, his eyes fixed on the house. A small red brick

cottage quaint in appearance and nestled in the countryside close to a small lake and

woodlands stood before him but there seemed to be nobody moving about inside the building

from what he could tell. The windows, white framed but with no blinds of curtains offered

direct observations into the interior. Walking up to the same coloured wooden door, he tried

the black handle but it was firmly locked; he expected as much. Peering through the

windows he really didn’t pay much attention to the contents, just on the lookout for any sign,

any potential movements that could be Jack.

No such luck, the place was utterly deserted, yet it looked like it was occupied, there were

little signs inside like items of possessions on a central table. It looked promising, but it

didn’t link Jack to this place at this time, he had to find out for definite. Adjacent to the Old

Fisheries was a secondary cottage, the residence of the landlord. Deciding to inquire he

casually walked over to it, wondering if it was the same man as before. Knocking on the

door, it took only a couple of seconds for the door latch to click as it opened. Before John

stood an elderly gentleman, about 68 years old in appearance, thin with white hair combed

with a side parting; John could tell it was indeed the same landlord in charge of the estate,

“Excuse me, can you tell me if your cottage, the Old Fisheries is occupied?” He asked,

“I’m afraid it is. You’re too late. Someone already checked in last night, a short notice

booking. If you want I can pencil you in, when are you looking to stay?”

Ironically this is exactly the information John wanted to hear, “I’m not looking for a

booking…”

“You’re a friend of the guest them?” Asked the landlord,

“Yes…sort of.”

The landlord, staring at his visitor, knew John from somewhere, but couldn’t place him. He

had spoken to this man previously,

“Have you been before?” He asked,

“Yes a couple of years ago.”

“I thought so. You were here with the other man weren’t you? The other one who checked

in yesterday, I remember you, a couple of salesmen from Birmingham. Well back again are

we? I suppose your job takes you all over.”

John could tell the cover both him and Jack used the last time they were here was still

believed. He decided to play along,

“That’s correct. Look he’s expecting me, I was delayed until today, so is there a chance you

could let me in? My friend appears to be out at the moment.”

“Well your friend only made a booking for one person. I’m afraid it’s against policy to

allow anyone in without a confirmation. Sorry.”

Thwarted, but only briefly, he knew he had to make up another story to get past the

landlord. Deciding to pull rank he tried something in a highly confident tone,

“OK Look I need access to that property.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not a travelling salesman, I never have been. I’m actually a police officer,”

John pulled out his ID and flashed it in front of the landlord’s face. Only briefly, just enough

to give an air of authority about the bluff, but not too much so that he can read it,

“That man you have been letting in, he’s not what he appears to be…he’s actually a killer.”

The landlord looked shocked, “What?!!” He gasped,

“I’m afraid it’s true. He murdered his wife and her lover, plus his kid. We’ve been tracking

him deep cover back to this area, so I need access to this property.”

The landlord looked shocked, it was definitely clear to John that he had swallowed the

whole story,

“Look either you let me in, or I come back with a warrant. Which do you want?”

It was enough; promptly the landlord left the doorway going inside slightly to pick something

up. Coming out with a spare set of keys he led John over to the Old Fisheries cottage,

opening up the front door easily,

“I’ll leave you to it.” He said as he left John alone in the entrance. Shutting the door behind

him he was glad the ruse worked, as he wasn’t even sure the lie would be believable.

Observing the surroundings John was faced with a rather benign scene, a large country style

living room, a stone fireplace, wooden beams spanning the ceiling, it was all very homely. A

round table lay just off to the left hand side, which was busy with objects and covered by a

table cloth, it instantly attracted attention. Walking over he picked up an empty glass placed

beside a potted plant that formed the centrepiece of the table arrangement. Cut crystal, it

certainly looked expensive but it wasn’t the design that interested John, it was the bottom.

Upon examination a residue of a trace of a liquid could just be made out. Plunging his nose

deep inside the glass the aroma of the golden brown substance could be instantly recognised,

“Brandy.” He thought to himself. He knew from experience that Jack liked the occasional

brandy now and then. It wasn’t proof but it was an indication of West’s possible presence.

Deciding to explore the rest of the room, John moved away from the table slowly.

Everything seemed in place despite the fact if was occupied, no real sings of disturbance as

he walked across the living room and into the kitchen area. It wasn’t big, small and basic, a

typical county kitchen in all aspects. However the sink was full, attracting the attention of

John who moved in for closer examination. Two thirds of the way up was full of dirty water,

sitting still and contrasting against the brilliant white of the ceramic,

“That’s odd.” He thought.

Making a mental note he explored the rest of the small area, again like the living room there

was nothing else out of the ordinary, just tantalising clues to Jack’s presence. Pots and pans,

ceramic jugs and other kitchen paraphernalia lined the shelves and cupboards,

“Let’s try the bedrooms.” He thought; the Old Fisheries was a bungalow so everything was

on the same floor, and being here before triggered his memory to the layout. Walking back

through the living area to the opposite sides into a hallway he tried the largest bedroom first.

Pushing open the old wooden door to reveal the same brightly lit room furnished with a

double bed and sunlight clear windows. Given the size if Jack was here, this would most

likely be his room. Again as in the other parts of the building he began searching, and again

there seemed like nothing out of the ordinary,

“If Jack is here, he’s going out of his way to hide it.” He said to himself. The bed itself was

neatly made, the duvet was crisp and the pillows unruffled, the cupboards and drawers were

devoid of clothes or luggage as John curiously examined inside,

“Let’s look under the bed.” He said quietly as he got on his hands and knees on the

laminated floor, lifting the sheets to reveal to daylight the underneath of the mattress, then he

saw it,

“Good god.” He said astonished. Reaching underneath, he stretched to grab hold. It was

just about attainable as he pulled the box like structure out,

“It’s a suitcase.” He said. It certainly wasn’t one that he recognised and this made him sow

those slight seeds of doubt as to if Jack really was here or not. He examined the light grey

leather case, running his hands over its smooth finish.

“It’s got a combination lock.” He said as he noted the light silvery panel keeping the

mechanism in place to deter any would be thieves,

“I hate these things.” He said as he sat on the bed suitcase in hand trying desperately to

think as to what the three digit number might be. If this was Jack’s, surely there was a

number that John would have come across in the past. He knew he had to guess it if he

wanted to procure the contents inside. Racking his brains he tried to think, but nothing ever

came to mind. It seemed that the harder he thought the more frustrating it became; eventually

he gave up,

“There’s got to be a better way than this.” He said to himself in a frustrated tone. Now the

only option was to break in somehow, but to do this he clearly needed a tool, something to

manipulate the lock from the inside. Putting the case on the bed he began searching round

the room, nothing immediately sprang to mind, until he casually came across a paperclip.

Pausing slightly he thought just for a second, before picking it up, holding in his hands he

could see that it was just thin enough for his purpose. Partially unfolding it out to make a

straight piece of length he hurried back to the case to insert the wire into the lock. It took

some fiddling, but he could feel the tension in his hands, until finally it cracked. Now the

mechanism was loose so something must have clicked inside enabling John to flick open the

lock, radiating a heavy clunking noise which confirmed the breakthrough. Quickly he flicked

the case open to reveal the contents but all that were inside were a pair of black trousers and a

white shirt. Looking familiar they were slightly damp, as if they had not long since been

washed,

“These are the clothes Jack was wearing yesterday. Still damp, and that sink is full of dirty

water. Doesn’t take an Einstein to figure out how they all fit together. Jack must be here; he

must have removed these clothes and washed them to get rid of any forensic residue to link

him to the bombing of the CIA house.”

Standing up and leaving the suitcase on the bed John quickly paced back into the living

room with renewed vigour. Now that he knew that West definitely was here he could now

concentrate all his efforts solely into determining the whereabouts of his partner; upon

entering the room, the first place he went to was back to the table he had been to before,

“Perhaps there’s something on this table.” He said to himself. Surely there must have been

something that he may have missed first time round. Upon the initial glance nothing else had

been touched, yet there was something still not right about the arrangement. Looking closer,

and the more he observed the more something seemed ever more out of place,

“That potted plant!! It isn’t straight! I thought it wasn’t right the first time round, the centres

been disturbed. I knew it!”

Acting purely upon a hunch he rolled his sleeves up and plunged his hand into the soil. Its

earthy dampness permeated through his hand in a cold, tingly feeling as his fingers thrust

deeper into the pot. Then he felt something,

“What’s this?” As he pulled out a small cylindrical metallic object,

“A key, yet another one.” He said holding it up in his hands in front of his eyes. This one

however was slightly different to the ones he had come across before; it was smaller, like it

was for something other than a safe,

“This is a key to a strongbox.” He deduced. Immediately he went on the hunt. Looking

everywhere, he turned the place upside down in a kind of feverish frenzy, first in the living

room, then the kitchen area once again. Nothing was safe, everything in cupboards, on work

tops and shelves were moved and examined in the hunt for this missing strongbox. Looking

upon a high shelf in the corner of the room was one of the last places he looked; upon the

shelf were two silver cooking pots which to the suspicious mind looked like the ideal place to

hide something impromptu so John removed them to see if there was anything behind there.

There wasn’t anything else he found in other places and this was one of the last few corners

he still had to examine. Bingo, as soon as he pushed aside the first pot a green metallic box

could be seen. John removed it and brought it to the worktop beside the sink,

“Right let’s see what you have been hiding.” He said to himself as he pulled the recently

discovered key into the little keyhole at the front. It was a perfect fit as he turned it a quarter

of a turn clockwise. Eager to see the contents he opened the lit to be faced with a solitary

item, a piece of paper with writing and prices typed on it,

“A train ticket?” He said as he picked it up. It bore the name of the destination,

“Birmingham. A single fare ticket from Luton to Birmingham. So that’s where he is

heading. But why?”

“So you found it then.” Said a voice from behind. Reactively John spun round to see who it

was,

“Jack!” He said, as he stared. It was indeed West, standing in the kitchen doorway in front

of him. The two men faced each other off for a second or two before John broke the silence,

“So, this is where you got to. Good job I found you before you headed off to the midlands.”

“You don’t understand…” Replied West,

“Oh I understand perfectly Jack. I understand that you are a rogue agent; I understand that I

have been de-classified and questioned as a suspect because you are going off on your own!!

So come one Jack, why the secrets? Why the bloody hell did you plant a bomb in the CIA

safe house? Been taking advice from your old friend Maxwell Grey have you?”

As much as he didn’t want to, West could only afford a moot response,

“Look…I cannot say anything yet.”

The response didn’t cut a lot of ice with John, “You know me just being here is illegal. I’m

breaking the law just being over here to find you!!”

“So you found the clue I left for you…The Old Fisheries label. I knew you would

remember.”

John knew exactly what he was getting at, “Yes I thought as much. Somehow I had a feeling

you wanted me to find you, and no I didn’t tell MI5 this lead. If I did you wouldn’t be

talking to me right now.”

John now a little calmer wanted more answers, “So, what’s with the train ticket to

Birmingham then Jack? You planning to outrun the security services then?

Jack smiled slightly, “On the contrary, I did anticipate the authorities investigating and then

tailing you, so I intend to send them in the wrong direction.”

“What?” Asked John confused,

“That ticket is a decoy to make MI5 think I have travelled to Birmingham. In fact I have no

intention of going there at all, however I do need to go somewhere else, and I just wanted to

divert any unwanted attention.”

“Where are you going Jack?” Asked John tentatively. At this point he realised he wasn’t

armed, and given the erratic behaviour of his friend recently, he very well could have a

weapon,

“Colchester, or at least the outskirts.”

“Colchester? Why the bloody hell do you need to go to Colchester for?”

“I just need to go,” Jack replied, “But I have to leave immediately.”

John straight away stepped in, “Oh no, I lost you once and nearly went for the high jump, so

I’m not letting you go again. I don’t know what the hell is going on anymore, but wherever

you go, I’m following from now on. No arguments!!”

Smiling, this was exactly the response he expected from his partner,

“Somehow I knew you would. That’s fine, you can come along, but I have to warn you, the

lead I’m following is going to put us in a pretty dangerous situation. There’s no guarantee of

survival, I’m not exaggerating that John. Do you understand what I am saying to you?”

Looking his partner in the eyes he knew he was telling the truth this time,

“I understand.”

“Good. Now I have a train ticked bound for Colchester today, I suggest we move swiftly if

we are to make good time.”

They began to vacate the cottage. As they left for the train station John felt that now the

enemy was becoming unclear, was it Jack? Was it Grey or Bruenstein? Or was it all three?

But now MI5 were also in the equation. Just by being here he knew he had made enemy of

the security services, and that made him feel like a fugitive himself. But he was in this too

deep, if he turned back now all he could expect was a prison sentence. Onwards and his

dubious trust in Jack West seemed to be John Hudson’s only option.

Chapter 17:

Both men arrived in Colchester in good time, the trains certainly seemed efficient today, as

were the local bus services. Stopping off as close to the objective as the route allowed, Jack

still did not divulge where they were going as both men walked down an industrial looking

street close to the River Colne,

“Where the hell are we going Jack?” Asked John,

“You will see, not far now.”

They were heading down toward the river’s edge past some industrial sheds; it was becoming

increasingly clear to John that Jack was leading him down toward some kind of industrial

installation,

“Is this the dockyards?” He asked while following West,

“Yes, but our business is over there.”

They stopped beside a shed in front of a large distinctive red bricked two story building. It

stood out amongst some of them more fabricated semi-modern buildings in both colour and

style at the water’s edge,

“Is that where we are heading?” Asked John,

“Yes, but here, take this, we’ll need them.” Said Jack as he handed his partner one of the

Walther P99 pistols they had previously used in Southampton,

“You did not take these back?” Asked John,

“No.” Was the reply. It only served to fuel John’s suspicions even further, “I never gave

them back, now take this one it’s fully loaded, I’ll have the other.”

They approached the brick warehouse in casual manner, the dockyards themselves seemed

rather deserted for the time of day as they went down to it,

“We definitely need to split up at this point.” Whispered Jack quietly. John did not fully

understand why but he was prepared to accept the strategy,

“OK fine, how do you want to work it?” He said suspiciously,

“You take the ground floor; I’ll take the attic upstairs. I suggest you get your pistol ready.”

“Right” Said John as he drew the Walther. In truth he already knew this, but he did not

make an argument. As Jack moved off up toward a metallic fire escape round the corner,

John slowly approached the door, pistol raised, primed for anything or anyone who may be

inside.

He opened the plastic door very slowly, the barrel of his gun forming the vanguard of his

approach. He was met with a large open plan space, a mainly barren interior except for two

individuals sitting at a wooden table close to the centre of the floor. Wearing scruffy looking

clothes, at least one of them was bandaged around the head and shoulders. It seemed like a

rather nasty injury. A small winching crane lurked in the background.

Still unnoticed John looked around the room; various crates and containers were placed

around the walls of the room but nothing immediately out of place. A small brown chest like

container butted up against the wall to the right that looked different to the others that

interested John but the immediate priority was the two figures at the table. Keeping his

weapon drawn he slowly encroached upon them; it was only a matter of time before they

spotted him and they did so after only a couple of steps. Looking up, they both flinched

startlingly as they saw John pistol pointed at them, attempting to get up triggered the

warning,

“Sit down!! Alright who are you?” He said sternly with the gun barrel fixed upon his line of

sight. The two men just froze for a split second, until the one who was not injured flinched

again,

“Careful!” Warned John, “Stay seated, now tell me, who are you?”

“We say nothing!!” Said a voice from a darkened corner near come packing crates. Still

with weapons raised, John peered to his right to see where the words came from. A third

man, as scruffy as the others lightly walked towards him, his own pistol raised straight at

John, a standoff ensured,

“You should leave while you still can.” He said, but John wasn’t going to go anywhere,

“You don’t sound English. Russians?” John replied as he turned his gun to the new arrival,

“Yes.” The guns were still pointed at each other, nervous fingers on the trigger, both men’s

eyes never leaving each other, waiting for the first one to crack.

Upstairs the attic was completely deserted as Jack opened the fire escape at the top of the

emergency staircase. It wasn’t very well lit apart from the main source of light, a decent

sized window at the front end. It was enough to see around as Jack climbed inside. Closing

the door behind him he could hear the muffled sounds from below, he knew John had made

contact. The diversion below gave Jack the chance to look around the dusty, cobwebbed

swept room filled with empty boxes and odd bits of equipment; one such was the operation to

some kind of winch or crane. The large green mechanism lay dormant at one side of the attic

compartment, but didn’t look like it would be starting anytime soon. Continuing his look,

Jack made his way down to another side,

“What’s that?” He said as he stumbled. Picking the object up he held in his hands a length

of rubber belt, obviously made for industrial purposes,

“Probably belongs on that winch back there.) He thought to himself. He set it back down

carefully in a place where he knew he could pick it back up again, for he was certain he

would require it. Continuing his investigation there was another box in the corner, cardboard

and partially open which caught Jack’s attention which somehow, almost sub consciously let

himself to be drawn to it. Opening the box all he found was clothing, three pairs of light blue

overalls complete with black collars. The breast pockets and backs bore in the same black a

familiar name,

“APF Industries.” He thought to himself; this was a major link to past events. Packing the

clothes away his attention began to turn toward the rubber belt he laid down, but something

told him to investigate further. Picking up the rubber belt he could see where it attached to

the machine, but fitting it, seemed harder than at first thought; it was just too slack. He

needed something else to take up the tension,

“There’s something still not right here.” He thought. Experience taught him to thoroughly

investigate all areas before moving on, a small doorway leading outside to the rear of the

property,

“I wonder if there’s something out there? A spare part or something?”

Jack rushed over to the door and opened it to reveal another fire escape leading down to a

small closed off yard with a storage shed on the end. Making his way down he had to try

while John was busy distracting the occupants downstairs,

“That’s odd,” He thought to himself while feeling the wall the staircase was bolted up

against,

“It’s plasterboard on the outside too, smoother than the rest of the brickwork. Just like on

the inside.”

It seemed to West like some kind of very crude repair job, but there was no time to dwell on

it just yet, he had to try and get that winch started,

Reaching the floor he could see through the dirty window John in a standoff with the three

men. Time was off the essence now,

“If I can get that machine started,” He thought, “Hopefully that would provide a distraction

for John to use to his advantage down there.” He thought. Slipping past unnoticed he reached

the maintenance shed, and began forcing the old wooden door. Thankfully it was so old and

neglected that it didn’t take too much time and effort to get it open. Inside he was faced with

shelves with various yet unhelpful tools, except on the floor where there lay a silver crowbar,

“I could use you.” He said as he picked it up. If there was any tool strong enough for

forcing machinery then it was this one. Coming back through the fire escape and entering the

attic once more, crowbar in hand he made his way over toward the machine. Walking a

slightly different route to the one he took before however proved fateful for around halfway

between the doorway and the winch, the floor suddenly seemed markedly more unstable than

before,

“What?!!” He said as the floorboards began to creak and bend ever so slightly. The change

was only subtle but noticeable underfoot. West stopped in his tracks and stared at the floor

before getting down on his hands and knees. Running his hands across the smooth floor there

could only really be one conclusion,

“These floorboards are loose.”

Immediately wedging the crowbar in the gap between the planks, he carefully tried to prise

the floorboards out doing his best not to snap them in the process. Doing so might create the

wrong distraction and play into the terrorists hands. The first plank came away revealing a

tantalising glimpse of what was underneath. There was something there embedded in straw

packing, so West immediately prised the second board out. As soon as it came away he

recognised the contents, it was a weapons cache. Everything was here, automatic rifles,

semi-automatic weapons, pistols, complete with ammunition, and all of a calibre too high for

any kind of legalised restricted use. Accompanying the firearms were small bricks of putty

like substance which Jack instantly recognised,

“Plastic explosives.” He said to himself, “God knows what they are trying, or what they

have access to.”

The muffling of the conversation downstairs snapped West out of his train of thought,

“The belt.” He said as he quickly got up and strode over to the machine with the rubber belt

still in situ. Utilising the crowbar, he placed the flat chisel end underneath to take the slack

and increase the tension of the belt. Once wedged and holding it steady with one hand, West

reached for the stop start button, the control lay just about in reach,

“Hope this thing still works.” He said as he pressed the green start button, instantly kicking

the machine into life. The belt whirred round, enough for him to remove the crowbar as the

machine roared and shuddered into life, its vibration proving the thrust to keep it going.

“Good.” Thought Jack as he smiled, “Now we’re up and running.”

Downstairs John was still deadlocked with the three Russians, his pistol still pointing at his

opposite number. Each man’s gun barrels in line with each other and ready to discharge but

the overall result was stalemate,

“You should not be here my friend.” Said the Russian in a dangerously cautious tone, yet he

stopped short of pulling the trigger. Even if he did he would still have no time for it, the

tense atmosphere and the battle of wills was suddenly and rudely broken by the whirring

sound of machines. Still freezing, all men looked around to see what was going on, not

daring to lower their weapons. John used the distraction to try and break the situation,

“LOWER YOUR WEAPON!!!” He shouted, but the Russian did not,

“I SAID LOWER YOUR WEAPON NOW!!!” He repeated,

“You fool!!! You think I will surrender to you?!! I gave you chance…now you die!!” The

Russian’s chilling reply came as he tensed his finger on his trigger. John, on the split second

verge of firing in a pre-emptive move, could see the a hook on the end of a chain which was

part of the winch crane in the background swing forward rapidly toward his rival,

“DROP IT!!” He shouted just as the other pistol came into line with his eye,

“AARRGGGHH!!” Grunted the Russian as the impact from the hook and chain hit him with

full force on the back of the head, knocking him forward and the gun out of his hands. John

himself fell back as the chain swung violently past him, swirling in circular motions, powered

by centrifugal forces. Momentarily losing his bearings as he slid back across the concrete

floor, John finally came to a halt about a foot and a half from where he stood. His Walther

lading beside him, the instinct was to grab it,

“Don’t!!! You will not pick it up!!” Ordered the Russian, now with a bloodied cheek from

the blow he been the first on his knees. His pistol now back in his hand and trained on John,

obviously he had been just that bit quicker. The other two Russians had by now raised to

their feet and ready and poised to strike; now John really was in trouble,

“Where the hell is Jack?” He thought to himself as he lay helpless on the floor in the gun

sight of a pistol held by a desperate terrorist with no hesitation to kill.

“Now I finally get rid of you for good!!” He warned as he pulled the trigger to shoot John.

Instinctively he flinched as the firearm should have discharged. But instead of a bullet

coming out of the end, it was just a harmless clicking sound. Initially the Russian did not

know what to do, so he fired again, just another clicking sound; again he tried but just another

click. With each attempt the terrorists, all of them were becoming increasingly alarmed, their

trump card had just failed them. John deep inside thanked the heavens he was not shot

realised the gun was jammed, but this small fact seemed to elude his would be killer. He took

his chance, watching the eyes of his adversary; he waited for the opportune moment. John

saw as the Russian broke eye contact just for a second to examine the jammed breech of his

weapon, it was the time to strike. Making for the terrorist he picked up his Walther and

immediately swung his right leg upwards,

“Look out!!!” Shouted one of the other two terrorists as he looked up. The full force of

John’s right shoe impacted against the pistol knocking the gun out of the Russian’s hand and

across the floor. Stumbling back in stun he and the other two could not do a thing, not even

rush John as he was the one with the loaded gun. He immediately pointed it at them before

they could react,

“FREEZE!!!!” He shouted. They did.

“Now, that’s better.” Said John in a slightly triumphant tone, “We’ll start again shall we?

Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“We are not saying anything.” Said one of the other Russians defiantly,

“No we are not, so you fire if you want. You are getting nothing.” Was the reply from the

injured one,

“You will tell me if you want that injury treated.” Replied John, his pistol still pointed at

them, never lowered. The third one piped up again,

“So go ahead and shoot. You may kick weapon out of my hand, you would shoot three

unarmed men, yes?”

John knew the three men were taunting him,

“No, not yet. What about that over there?” He said gesturing to the chest behind him he

noticed when he first entered the room. The Russians absolutely knew what John was

referring to,

“We do not know about chest. Why don’t you take a look?” Taunted the terrorists, clearly

trying to call the bluff, he was having none of it,

“OK, you can either tell me the code, or…”

“Or…what?”

“Or, I kill your friend here who had the gun. Yeah? How about it? Fancy being a martyr

today?”

The Russians were still not budging in their stance. They knew that the burden of proof was

on John; if he could not open the chest, what could he prove?

“Go ahead,” Taunted the Russian, “You shoot me, you will not get the code.”

John tried something different, “And what about your friend? How is he going to get medical

attention?”

“We shall cope.” Was the reply. It was now clear that even though it was John who held the

gun, the terrorists were not giving up. Trying a different approach, he walked over to the

chest and the small keypad on top of it. The chain and hook had come to rest nearby and in

doing so had generated a lot of dust that was now resting across the floor and the chest itself.

Looking he could see the key on the combination lock was also peppered with the light beige

stuff. Taking a breath, he let loose a short sharp blow across the keys, generating a cough

inducing cloud of dust in the air. John looked on as it cleared to see that three keys were

noticeably less dusty that the others, as if they had been used before as a person’s hands had

left their mark. The numbers were 5, 7 and 2,

“Well, what do we have here? Three numbers.” He said while pressing them; to be honest

he had no idea of the combination at all, so he had to try as many as possible. Not easy as he

was still keeping one eye on the three Russians and his Walther still trained on them.

Trying initially 5, 7 & 2, unsurprisingly the lock would not release, so he tried 7, 2 & 5.

Again no joy, so he tried yet another combination, 7, 5 & 2. The lock clicked as soon as John

hit the ‘2’ button releasing it, luckily he hit the correct numbers so decided to take the chance

of opening it. Subconsciously he thought perhaps there was more to this than meets the eye

while pointing his gun at the three men. Almost without thinking, he flashed open the lid

with lightening ferocity, almost expecting an explosion from some kind of booby trap.

Thankfully it didn’t.

Glancing inside, the only thing he say were clocks, brass alarm clocks, crude and of the old

fashioned type. The little bells and the stumpy legs showed their classic simplicity and

crudeness, but it was the amount that stood out. There were tens of them, all packed into the

box. It made John wonder,

“These look familiar.” He thought to himself. There was something about these clocks, one

part of them that he had seen before, but for the life of him he could not think what,

“These clocks, what are they doing here?” He asked,

“We are watchmakers by trade.” Was the reply, John did not believe them for a second,

“I don’t think you are hiding clocks here just to repair them in this warehouse. Do you think

I was born yesterday?”

The conversation was rudely interrupted by the injured terrorist. Blood from his head began

pouring profusely from his forehead worse than before which cause increasing concern for

the other two,

“You say you can help him?” Asked the third Russian

John saw it as a chance to gain info, “That depends, why is he injured?”

“He was tortured, by the American.”

“The American?” He asked, “This American, his mane wouldn’t be Bruenstein would it?”

All three Terrorists looked on in surprise, even the injured one in his agony,

“You know of Bruenstein? You work for him, yes?” The asked rather concerned. John put

them into perspective,

“No I don’t. Tell me how did he do it?”

“You make sure he gets medical attention?” They asked, John reassured them,

“Tell me what I want to know and I’ll make sure he receives proper medical treatment.”

The Russians were out of options; with a gum pointing straight at them and one of their own

becoming increasingly injured, they had to divulge as much as they dared,

“Bruenstein was here, yes. He was mad, he killed worker here by snapping of neck. He

disposed of body somewhere. He orders us to keep clocks safe but has many more, now we

tell you everything, now you help yes? Do it now.”

In the attic Jack had felt the shudder and thud of the crane as it swung wildly below. He

himself was standing at the far opposite end at the winch system was in operation, but the

vibration from the impact had cause part of the plaster covered wall to come away ever so

slightly. It was the same wall that West had noticed whole he was going down the stairs

earlier but this time the interior had come away. Arousing his suspicions he picked up the

crowbar out of the mechanism and approached the plasterboard. There was clearly a gap on

the near side just enough to slide a tool into, which was perfect for the crowbar. Inserting it

meant that it didn’t take much leverage to break the crudely applied crusty material as a large

chunk broke off. West continued on, each time taking away larger and larger chunks to

reveal an obviously hollowed out wall interior. Continuing on, the building structure could

be seen, the steel girders, a reinforced steel joint, bits of wiring and copper pipes as part of

the plumbing…then he saw a decomposing head. The shock took him back slightly, but he

regained his composure. Carefully hacking away the body was not badly decomposed; in

fact it was still relatively fresh,

“So that’s why there’s plasterboard here, to cover up a body.” He thought

As he exposed more of the corpse clues to the man’s identity could be derived, early forties,

male, dark brown hair, the head was also limp. The skin almost white from pallor and rigor

mortis, but still fully clothed which appeared to be overalls not civilian clothing,

“Appears to have had his neck broken, that would explain why I saw his head first. Judging

from his clothes he looks like a dock yard worker. I wonder why he’s here?” He asked

himself.

“What is that smell?” Asked one of the Russians downstairs, indeed all of them could detect

it. John who still had not helped the injured man tried to determine the soil and cheese like

odour that was actually starting to become quite pungent,

“Smells like rotting flesh.” John said, “It’s coming from the attic.” He knew exactly where it

was coming from; West had to be responsible for it. Walking over from his position slightly

to determine the cause,

“Jack?!! What’s that smell?” He shouted. The three Russians looked surprised; John had

just given away the existence of a second man upstairs,

“Jack!!” He continued, as his attention was firmly fixed on the ceiling. Still no reply from

his partner as John took another breath to shout again, this time that little bit louder. But the

large sharp sound of a crack rang out; splinters flew out of the part of some wooden crates at

the side, causing John to duck.

“John, what was that? Who’s firing?” Asked West through the floor as John spun round to

see the three Russians fleeing out of the door. Realising they were taking the opportunity to

flee, the lead terrorist picked up his gun and fired straight at John. Only the rapid motion of

his getaway prevented him from getting a clear shot, thus saving John’s life,

“STOP!!!” he shouted as he turned his weapon, but too late. Not even getting a chance to

fire as they three were out of the door; the only thing he could hear were the blaring sound of

sirens, getting louder and louder as they someone arrived on the scene,

“John, you alright?” Asked West through the attic floor,

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He reassured as he lowered his weapon, “But our Marxist friends have

bolted.”

“Let them go.” Said Jack.

“Why?” Puzzled John.

He didn’t get an answer, at that moment the door burst open as swarms of police forced their

way in like a tidal wave. Standing up, John saw the officers, there must have been about

forty, including the ones outside, no doubt having the entire warehouse surrounded,

“I’m an intelligence officer.” Said John, not wanting to be arrested,

“I know you are.” Replied a voice, instantly John recognised the sound,

“Inspector Waterson!!” He said as he appeared in the doorway,

“I figured you would try and find Jack. You probably already knew you were being

watched. Tracking you was the perfect way to lead me all the way to West while your

friends in MI5 are off on a wild goose chase. I’m disappointed in you, you must have tracked

suspects in your line of work and you couldn’t tell that you were a victim yourself? Oh

dear…so, where is he? I presume he’s here.”

John complied, “He’s upstairs, you can get there round the side.”

“Thank you.” He said as he walked back outside, “Officer, remain with this man, he can

come outside, but don’t let him go.”

Waterson made his way around to the fire escape leading upwards where Jack lay, opening

the door to enter the attic as John freely walked outside with an accompanying officer,

“Look you just missed three Russian terrorists, they’re armed, one of them is injured quite

badly.”

The officer replied in kind, “We heard some kind of gunshot as we approached.”

“Yes, they fired at me, but I’m unhurt. You see I’m an intelligence officer, it’s vital you

find those men so I can interrogate them.”

The officer decided to challenge John on this point, “Do you have proof of this?”

“Yes I do. Inside that building there is a chest, it’s full of clocks. I’ve reason to believe that

they may be used for something.”

“Like what?” Replied the officer sceptically,

John continued, “I can’t say too much but they are linked, as are the three men as terror

suspects to something big.”

The officer was not totally convinced, but was open to hearing more. John could see this

clearly,

“If you don’t believe me, talk to Inspector Waterson, he’ll confirm my story.“

The officer believed part of the tale, “Oh Inspector Waterson came to us from New Scotland

Yard, said something about tracing two intelligence officers. So I guess you’re one of

them?”

“Yes, I am. But I need to find those Russians.”

“Don’t worry, they couldn’t have got far. We’ll find them.”

Suddenly a large sharp bang rang out causing everyone to turn around to see what it was. It

sounded like a gunshot, but there was no time for deliberation, a huge crashing sound of

smashing glass, louder than the shot filled the air as huge shards of broken glass flew out

causing everyone to flee he immediate area. Sharp jagged pieces fell to the floor like

daggers, each on with the potential to maim or kill. Looking upwards the source was a large

attic window, yet throughout this deadly shower fell a body, backwards, hitting the ground

with a bone crunching thud a couple of seconds later.

Once the dust and glass had settled, John and the other police officers rushed over to the

fallen person. Bending down each officer knew who it was even as they rushed over; to John

the face was instantly recognisable,

“Inspector Waterson!!” He said, shockingly. Covered in shattered glass, his face and hands

covered in blood from the cuts, nobody checked to see if he was alright, there was no point,

he had a clear gunshot to the forehead. He was dead instantly. Looking upwards, all he saw

was the shattered window frame but with no sign of Jack, he did not know what to think at

all, he just stared upwards, not even noticing if there was any commotion from the police or

not. Only a commotion from the side broke his trance as officers dragged the three Russians

back to waiting vans. John immediately got up and confronted them,

“Wait, I…I need to talk to them, I’m in counter intelligence.” He asked the arresting officers

as they bundled the suspects in the back of their vehicles,

“Sorry, you’ll have to ask someone else. These are coming back to the station; you’ll have

to talk to them there.” Was the reply he received. He was too stunned to argue, at least they

were caught and in custody,

“Can you smell smoke?” He then asked rather curiously. Turning round he heard even more

commotion as the officers were busy moving away from the building. White smoke rapidly

turning to black billowed out of the attic, the hint of orange flame flickered out of the upper

floors. John knew what Jack had done,

“Oh no you don’t Jack! Not this, first you kill a police officer, then you try to destroy the

evidence!! You’re not getting away again, I swear!!”

He couldn’t let Jack go again, not a second time. Knowing he was here to stay for the time

being, wherever Jack went, no matter out of character, he had to follow. If he didn’t, he

could be implicated in the death of Inspector Waterson. Knowing there really could be no

sign of Jack at the moment, he committed himself to discovering the truth to all this.

Chapter 18:

The next morning, the banks of the River Colne, 09:15am. Standing over the burnt out

remains of the now ruined warehouse, John stood looking over the sight. The black charred

shell of the structure still stood tall in the abundance of white smoke which protruded from

every orifice. From the distance he was observing from, John could see the site was still busy

with activity, fire crews who had arrived earlier were now in the process of damping down in

a prevention of another ignition. Looking over the sight in the clam still morning gave him

the time to think things over quite definitively, the seagulls over head the only interruption to

his train of thought,

“I’ve been such an idiot. Jack was playing everyone all along, me, the security services,

everyone. And now he had killed a serving police officer, deliberately, without authorisation

or a kill order. He foiled everyone, for whatever ends only he knows. Now he has dragged

me into this mess, destroyed his own career and possibly ruined mine. He will be seen as a

traitor…and so may I.”

He began walking along the river bank, the long grass brushing past his trousers as he

shuffled past deep in philosophical thought. Such was the profoundness of his thinking that

he failed to notice just how far he had walked. Only once he raised his head did he notice the

surroundings he found himself in. Making his way to a more rural part south of the docks he

was in pretty unfamiliar territory but it didn’t matter,

“I’m trying the think what could have gone wrong. Where and when the hell did West turn?

What could have persuaded him to betray the very thing he swore to protect?”

Determined to find out, locating Jack would be a good start, but where? The rustling noise

of the long grass in the breeze continued as he walked, but the noise of the shoots wafting in

the wind were only now beginning to irritate him, it was as if something other than nature

were disturbing them. Pausing, John turned toward the field to his right. His back to the

river, the grass expanse before him showed no visible signs of life, yet he suddenly had the

feeling that there was something there. Coming off the track he ventures into the field; the

grass now taller bent and crushed as he made his way across the land in near knee high

foliage,

“Jack?” He shouts while pausing. It was an extreme long shot, and it would most likely be

met with complete silence,

“John. I’m here.” A voice responded; John just stood there in silence, stunned. It was

indeed West’s voice. Frantically John looked around to try and find the source of the sound,

but all he could see was a grassy field, apart from that nothing. Although it was clear that the

sound was coming from approximately ahead,

“Come closer.” Jack continued teasingly,

“Where the hell are you?!! What the hell happened yesterday? You’re a killer; you

murdered Waterson and set fire to the warehouse to destroy the evidence!!”

“No you are wrong….”

“Wrong?!! I’m not wrong, you’re the traitor!! You played me, the security services…the

only reason why you wanted me along here was to cover your back with those Russians!!”

“I’m sorry John.” Said Jack apologetically,

Overwhelmed by anger, John marched further into the field with more vigour than before,

“I’ll find you, even if it’s the last thing I’ll do I’ll find you Jack West. You want to throw

your career away than that’s fine!! But don’t drag me down with you!!!!”

Jack responded in a tone completely opposite to John’s, almost as if he was controlling the

situation,

“You can do whatever you like.”

Pulling out his Walther, he made his way toward the point where his best guess said was the

source of West’s voice, but in an open field, where was he? He only got around two hundred

yards before he got his wish as the breeze which was whipping up swayed the grass, around

his legs seemed more disturbed ahead of him. In what seemed like a slow motion action,

Jack rose out of the grass to face his accuser. John raised his pistol at the almost

instantaneously same moment as Jack, who has raised his Walther in response; clearly the

two former partners had lost all trust for one another. With the barrels of each pistol side by

side and almost touching, like crossed swords John and Jack stared each other out across a

distance apart of only a few feet. John’s more intense, fuelled by the anger and resentment

for the mug and fool Jack had taken him for, Jack’s more distant, as if he had lost all hope

and did not care anymore,

“You have to fire.” He said to John,

“Believe me-“

“You know what you have to do. You must fire.”

John was at near breaking point by now, but his head was still in control, but only just,

“I want answers.” He demanded,

“You will get your answers in time. Now if you do not shoot me, I will fire back. You must

fire.”

“No, only you can explain answers!!!” Shouted John,

“You are weak and pathetic John. I always knew you were not cut out for anything.” Said

Jack in a cool manner. He really did not care anymore,

“You are weak John…weak…weak”

“SHUT UP!!!” Snapped John,

“Weak….”

In a fit of red mist John squeezed the trigger. Blinking and snapping out of his rage as he did

so, he was surprised to find West still standing there. He started to feel slightly ashamed,

ashamed that he let his emotions cloud his judgement, was West right, was he weak? There

was no time for that, almost instantly he was just as surprised to find the gun light,

“This gun, it’s empty! You took the ammunition out of the clip!! It’s useless!!”

“Yes, I removed the bullets before I gave it to you. In knew it was empty all along.”

Revealed West,

“And you put me in that position with those Russians…You bastard.”

Choosing not to respond, Jack slowly and deliberately pulled back the weapon, diffusing the

standoff somewhat. In the background he could see other figures entering the field some two

hundred yards away and closing fast. With each step they were becoming ever clearer,

Harvey, the investigating officer and three other officials from MI5 were approaching the

scene. Clearly MI5 had caught up with them,

“Game’s over Jack.” Said John as the officials were getting ever closer,

“The game has only just begun.” Was the response as he suddenly pointed the firearm

directly into his chest; alarmingly John tried to save his former friend,

“JACK NO!!!”

He fired the Walther, jerking back as the full force of the bullet smashed through his chest,

causing an explosion of blood to stain John’s face in a deadly shower. He fell back, body

soaked in a red stain emanating from a coin sized hole in the chest that was rapidly

haemorrhaging. The three MI5 officers reactively pulled out their weapons while Harvey and

the investigating officer approached. Bending down, he could see that Jack West, in a pool

of blood was dead, killed by his own hand and by the tormenting demons of conscience

inside his mind. Falling back in shock, no emotions showed as the event has yet to hit him,

“John.” Said Harvey as they approached, the investigating officer checked over the corpse

before indicating to Harvey that Jack was indeed dead by a simple look and shake of the

head,

“John listen to me,” He reassured, carefully removing the Walther from John’s shocked

hand, “Come on, let’s go.”

Carefully standing up, John could not keep his eyes off his former partner, the shock

overtaking the grief for the moment, as he was led carefully and tentatively away from the

scene.

One week later, a quiet graveyard in a small London suburb church. A small gathering of

people, dressed in respectful black surrounded a hole in the ground. Inside a dark brown

wooden coffin rested in the dug-out clay bottom. Fresh, it bore silver plaque with the name

JACK WEST. The morning mist shrouded the gravestones perfectly in an eerie atmosphere,

the hazy morning sunshine coupled with a shrieking of crows, the only things to shatter the

peacefulness of this resting place. Beside the open grave stood Hudson, staring into the hole

at where his friend lay, thought running through his mind, so many questions, so much

unanswered. Being the end of the funeral service, the congregation could not stand there

forever, although they were given as much time as they needed, slowly dispersing one by

one. John was the last one to leave, perhaps fittingly, not moving, just staring, until Harvey

came up to him, both dressed identically in their black suits, white shirts and black ties,

“John, the investigation into West’s activities is now complete. I thought you should

know.”

John responded vaguely, “What?”

“It means you are now in the clear. I’ve reinstated your clearance in the department; you

can come back to work. It’s what Jack would have wanted you know, for you to come back

in from the cold.”

John understood what his boss was telling him, yet there seemed almost no point,

“It’s difficult…I will, thanks.” He said quietly. Harvey retreated to join the rest of the group

who were by now making their way from the grave to the cars parked at the top of hill at the

graveyard entrance. John was left on his own, wondering if it was all still worth it.

Chapter 19:

It had been two days since Jack West’s funeral. John, sat in the office opposite the now

cleared out desk formally occupied by his deceased partner, stared out over to the empty

space that was still so raw. Everything seemed so still, so calm now that Jack wasn’t here. It

certainly a large void, one that John never appreciated, when West was alive. The silence

and reflection was only shattered by the ringing of the phone, almost jumping out of his

frame of mind he quickly picked up the receiver to answer,

“Hello?” A familiar voice came over from the other side,

“John, its Harvey. Have you got five minutes?”

“Sure.” He said, wondering what it could be.

“Come and see me in my office.”

“On my way.” He said putting the receiver down. Could it be something linked to the case

they were dealing with? Or was John to get a new partner? Leaving the office he made his

way to find out.

Knocking on the pine wooden door to Harvey’s office he waited for the permission to enter,

“Come in.” Said the Section chief as John popped his head round the door,

“Close the door will you, take a seat.” He said gesturing to one of the charcoal leather seats

in from of Harvey’s oversized modern glass desk. Doing so he took his place without saying

a word, but Harvey had some news of interest,

“We’ve received more intelligence on Victor Bruenstein, specifically his whereabouts. I

want you to lead on it.”

“OK,” Said John in a rather unsure tone, “Will I be acting alone?”

“Yes, since you know most about this, I want you to follow up any leads.” Harvey’s tone

softened slightly. He knew the death of Jack West still run raw with the whole section,

“Look I know it’s only been 10 days since Jack’s death, it still touches us all. He was a very

great asset to the team and a good friend, to you more than anyone. But your feelings cannot

cloud your professional judgement, I’m asking you to pick up where Jack left off, can you do

that?”

John didn’t need to hesitate in answering, “Yes, I can.”

Pleased at the answer, Harvey continued with his brief, “Good, I’m glad to hear it. Follow

me; let’s go to the briefing room.”

Getting up, John followed his superior into the large conference room just down the hall.

Once there, and with the doors firmly shut, Harvey activated the large plasma screen at the

leading end. Both men occupied either side of the table, both standing as the screen lit up

with a map of a village,

“Now we’ve had reliable sources tracing Bruenstein’s last known location to this area,

North Weald in Essex.”

John interrupted, “Any CCTV confirmation?”

“No point John,” Replied Harvey, “We’ve picked up mobile phone traces and radio chatter

amongst other…undisclosed sources shall we say.”

“Yes but surely-“

“The sources come from underground.”

“Underground!?” Asked John perplexed. Why would signals come from there? Harvey

knew and decided to put him in the picture,

“North Weald is a now disused underground rail station, an old part of the Central Line.

The signals come from the tube station below.”

“So that is why there is no CCTV trace.” Replied John,

“Yes. So I want you to go to the site of this station it’s close to Epping Forest. Infiltrate the

underground line and follow up on any leads.”

“Fine.”

North Weald station, an hour later, and the silver Lexus pulled up in the car park of a red

bricked railway. Not getting out immediately, he could see the whole station complex was

quite busy in the sunshine,

“Harvey said this would be a heritage railway.” He commented to himself. The nice

weather had brought the crowds out to enjoy the old steam locomotives that were running this

day, but John didn’t intend to join them. Getting out and locking the car, he made his way off

round the back and through a small gate marked private, away from the crowds. Making his

way down the short but leafy track he was presented with an old Victorian style red bricked

building, dirty and shabby it was an old pumping station now abandoned. Reaching the door

and making sure nobody had seen him, he pulled out an old iron key from his jacket pocket,

one that Harvey had given him to gain access. Opening the door to the dark and neglected

interior, John proceeded to switch on a small packet torch; the white light brightened the

room better than any amount of natural light.

“There we are.” He said as he spotted what he was looking for, a small ladder leading

straight down. Climbing down the dark ladder with the torch attached to his jacket, the light

completely blocked from his path, and with each step downwards on the ladder rungs he

almost expected to land in water or mud. He didn’t, reaching the bottom, he found himself in

some kind of maintenance room. Various air conditioning pumps, rusted from under-use and

now seized, but the metal door seemed OK. Pushing, it was obviously also a bit rusty around

the frame which required a bit of effort to open, but at least it wasn’t locked.

Creaking in a tortured metallic style as it opened, John found himself in a darkened

underground station. From underneath his jacket he pulled out a Walther P99 he had been

issued for this, making doubly sure it was loaded and capable of firing. The coldness of the

tomb-like atmosphere permeated through the skin as he made his way past the old ticket

counters and waiting rooms. Old style tiled bricks lined the walls and ceiling, typical of a

1940’s style as he made his way down the stairs toward the trains tracks. Old advertising

posters lining the walls which served as a testament to a forgotten age as he entered the

platform. The tubular style of the underground acted like a wind tunnel as the breeze

whistled through with profound ferocity. Lonely on the platforms, John shined his torch to

his right down into the blackness of the old rail tunnel expecting not to see anything. He was

correct, nothing could be found, but the other way to his left didn’t seem to offer much in that

way either. Deciding to take to the right, he made his way to the edge of the platform and

eased himself down onto the old railway. Gingerly he forged ahead into the old rail tunnel.

Dark and cold were the overwhelming feelings John experienced as he probed further into

the blackness. It seemed that the further he walked, the louder of the breeze got, but perhaps

it was his imagination; it was easy to get carried away down here. With his torch in full

shine, he followed the structure round a left hand tunnel, the silence was almost deafening

has the old floor crunched beneath his shoes. Suddenly, far in the torchlight, right on the

edge of the light beam, something stood out. It wasn’t something immediately obvious as he

paced up to whatever it was; picking it up he examined it in the torchlight,

“A rope.” He thought to himself, “I’ll keep this, could come in handy.”

Slinging the rope across his shoulder like a bag, he walked further still, the torchlight beam

wide enough to encompass both the radius of the circular tunnel and the ground in front of

him. However something else caught his eye on the ground not long after; it was if it had

been disturbed,

“Footsteps, and quite recent ones by the look of these.” He thought. Looking straight ahead,

because that seemed the direction they were pointed, John knew something must be further

on and with his pistol ready, for there was no way of telling whatever lay up ahead, he steeled

himself for any possibility. Another corner could be seen further on, about fifty yards ahead

which he made for quickly, reaching it in only a few seconds. Once round, the tunnel

continued to stretch further as far as he could see with his torch, and he would have seen

where it leaded to if it were not for something lying still on the tracks. Pacing over to it he

could see exactly what it was,

“It’s a person.” He thought. Cautiously and with the pistol trained, he made his way over to

it, clearly still, the figure which was smartly dressed but showing absolutely no signs of

obvious movements or sounds definitely fuelled John’s curiosity. He carefully turned it over

with one hand with the gun pointed at his head with the other, it over only confirmed his

initial suspicions,

“Dead.” He thought. The deceased person was a youngish man, mid to late twenties, but

with obvious trauma to the neck,

“Looks like compression, a strangulation of something similar. And he’s still warm, so it

was done not too long ago,” He looked around, now he had to investigate the reasoning for

this murder and who did it. He cocked his gun in readiness to fire; the clicking sound

appeared deafening in the silence.

There was no more time, as he got back to his feet again. Leaving the body where he found

it he continued on. By now he had lost all sense of his bearing in relation to the real world

outside, the tunnels seemed to go on forever as he continues walking, on and on, yard after

yard. The walls lined with old rusty metallic panels structurally reinforced by iron ribs every

half meter or so. It wasn’t long before John spots a change in the structure, there seemed to

be an alcove off to the left just up ahead, he made for it, gun still drawn. Seeing it was a

small maintenance unit, it bore a small access hatch that had clearly not been opened for

some time,

“It’s rusted tight.” He thought. Pausing, it momentarily looked like he was stuck. Perhaps

he would have to go on further, was this even the right way to go? Experience taught him to

go on hunches, and he was getting that tingling feeling in the pit of his stomach, something to

say, ‘yes’. Suddenly having a brainwave, he wondered if he could use the rope he had been

carrying here. With an idea in his had he removed it from his shoulders, unravelling it to its

full length. Taking one end, he moved to the opposite side to examine on of the iron

structures ribs,; the torch light highlighted holes, a part of the simple design when the thing

had been originally casted,

“That will do.” He said to himself as he fed on end through the hole and round. Making

sure he had enough length fed, he them took the opposite end in an attempt to attach the door.

Luckily the simple but utterly rusted handle provided an adequate fixing point as he ties the

other end in a knot. The heavy brown rust, scraping across his hand as he did so, a signal to

the amount of time passed since human interaction with the door,

“This had better work.” He thought to himself as he finished the knot. Making his way back

to the other side again, he wrapped the fed through open end around his waist while putting

his right leg up against the wall. Making sure he was stable, John proceeded to use the

combination of his own body weight and the leverage provided by the iron rib to force the

door open. It wasn’t a full proof plan, but there was nothing else better.

Applying pressure, he heaved and tugged, it wasn’t budging. He tried again, straining as he

did so, still no give. Pausing to catch his breath he tried once more, focusing to gather all his

strength in a concerted effort to force it open. He pulled again, heavier and harder than ever

before, feeling it move ever so slightly he continued the pressure, even though the effort felt

like it was killing him, he took encouragement from it. Suddenly, almost smoothly the rope

slackened more and more, peering backwards through the darkness he could see the hatch

opening. It was heavy, but it had worked.

Reaching down he grabbed a few stoned and bricks just lying around to place on top of the

rope’s end to stop if from slamming shut once he let go. Once secure, he made his way to the

hatch. Looking inside it was pitch black, but suddenly he could hear sounds, like extremely

muffled voices. Turning his torch off and now in almost complete darkness, John totally

relied on the sounds to guide him; there was no turning back as he pulled his pistol out yet

again. Gingerly he proceeded to crawl through the hatch and into the void.

A darkened room lay at the other end of where the hatch led though to. A small windowless

space, grotty apart from a few pipes lining the walls accompanied by air conditioning that

was unreliable at best. Despite the small size, there was enough room for a small table in the

centre, strapped to it was a man, tied and heavily restrained. Conscious, he struggled in silent

vain to release himself from his capture. Sporting a bag over his head he had no idea of how

to escape, but even so he wasn’t alone, a heavily built bald man stood over him obviously

keeping watch over his captive. Discretely appearing in the shadows, John attentively looked

on at the scene before him, as he saw the thug hold something in his right hand. It was hard

to tell exactly what it was, perhaps a tool of some sort. Suddenly, raising it while totally

unprovoked by the restrained man it became evidently clear what the object was, a hammer.

High pitched cries of agony screeched across the room as the thug violently smashed it down

onto the captive’s stomach, then face, like something out of a violent gangster movie, the

bald mad continue to torture his prisoner without a shred of mercy. John has seen enough,

pulling out his pistol with and no way of knowing if there were any others in the vicinity he

was extremely restricted in his options.

With no silencer accompanying his firearm he had to take the stealthy approach and do it

now. Silently and slowly John revealed himself, taking each step as lightly as he dared as he

got closer to the criminal. Pausing, his eyes checked the walls for any shadows cast, a sure

betrayal to his presence. Taking a few seconds while the thug was busy hitting the restrained

man yet again, the screams ironically offered a mask to the sound of his approach as he

positioned himself squarely behind him,

“Hello.” Said John quietly, causing the thug to spin round. Hudson hit him full force with

the butt of his pistol in the face. The metal of the gun causing more damage than any

physical punch, knocking the massive thug to the ground with a shuddering thud and out

cold, giving John ample opportunity to free the trapped man. Having absolutely no idea who

he was freeing, if he wanted info he had to find out. He began loosening the ropes,

“These are the same as the ones in the tunnel.” He thought to himself as his hands worked to

unto the knots that made up the restraint. Now free the man sat up slowly, his clothes,

distressed to the point where they could be considered rags hung of his body, but the bag was

still on his head,

“Here, let me help you.” John said as he grabbed the bag. He pulled it off revealing the

identity of the man he had just freed,

“Jack?!!” He whispered. Jack West, the man who had committed suicide before him, was

staring him straight in the eyes. His face, bruised from the torture, but John was looking at

something which should not be here,

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Asked Jack weakly,

“I’m looking at one.” Said John as he desperately tried to prevent stumbling back. Almost

fainting from the shock, he recovered by moving closer to his friend. As the two briefly

embraced in the sort of comradeship only seen in situations of mutual danger, questions raced

through John’s mind. Unusually disoriented given the situation, he had no idea where to

start,

“How the hell?...I mean why are you here?”

Jack knew exactly what his friend meant, “I came down here to find Bruenstein. But he

found me.” The agony was beginning to get to him, but he carried on, “Him and his thugs,

caught me and tied me to this table…I wasn’t careful enough.”

John still struggled to understand the context of this, “But you…I mean…you shot yourself.”

Jack continued, “I know this makes no sense, but believe me. Once Bruenstein had me here,

he ordered one of his men to torture me, but he couldn’t go through with it. He went

mad…he snapped his neck in rage, no hesitation, just did it. He ordered someone else to

dump his body outside in the tunnel.”

“Yes I found the body.” Said John.

“Help me will you.” Jack asked as he tried to stand up. John, put his arm around his

shoulder in support as Jack put his weight on his legs. Limping outwards toward the door, he

turned to his partner,

“Let’s get out of here, back to Thames House.”

“Sounds good, just don’t ask me where I’ve parked the car.”

As they made their escape, there was one thing Jack needed to say,

“I think you have been through enough. I think now it’s about time for the truth.”

Looking into Jack’s eyes, John could tell it was not a lie. Suddenly his partner had changed,

for this was the old Jack West that John knew, perhaps now at long last the facts would come

out and some very big questions would finally be answered.

Chapter 20:

Thames House, the next day. The door to Harvey’s office opened as he walked in with both

West and Hudson in tow. Jack, still bearing the scars of his injuries, but physically fit and

now cleaned up with fresh clothes took up one of the leather seats in front of the desk. John

sat down in the other one to his right while Harvey himself placed himself in his own seat; a

lot needed to be explained,

“OK let’s begin. First off Jack, are you OK to resume?” Asked Harvey, opening the

briefing,

“I’m fine, a little worse for wear, but I’m OK. I’ve been cleared by the medical officer to

resume full duties.” West reassured his superior.

It was what Harvey wanted to hear, “Good, then I think it is time the real truth comes out.”

“Before we go any further I would like to apologise for the deceit. I know a lot of people

were kept in the dark, but it was necessary.” Said West, aimed mainly to John. “We can now

definitely say that Victor Bruenstein was ultimately responsible for orchestrating Peter

Finnin’s murder.”

“How do we know this?” Asked John,

“Eavesdropping on conversations.” Replied Harvey. “Everything you have been through so

far has actually been part of an operation codenamed ‘Sunshine’. Highly classified, maximum

security.”

“Sunshine?” Asked John,

“Yes.”

Jack continued further, “Remember in Finnin’s Whitehall office, there was a safe?”

“Well yes, you said there wasn’t much of interest in it.” Recalled John,

“Well I lied. There was something of interest in that safe, a government file on Bruenstein

himself. I procured it while you were out chasing that secretary.”

Suddenly one piece of the puzzle became clear to John, “Yes…I remember.”

“We received intelligence on David Finnin via the police.” Said Harvey, “Both he and

Maxwell Grey were acquainted. I understand he was known for being somewhat volatile

before his internship at Whitehall.”

Jack then continued the story to the best of his knowledge, “From what we know, David got

wind of a plan by Bruenstein in wake of the King’s Cross bombing. Whatever was being

planned, Bruenstein didn’t want any disruptions…so he had him watched in his lodgings in

Finchley.”

“The gap in the fence in the back garden.” Recalled John,

“Exactly.” Confirmed West, “At some point he must have been approached by Bruenstein’s

men, tortured in some way and made to ingest some kind of poisonous concoction to cause

madness.”

“And divulge access to Peter Finnin at the same time.” Concluded Hudson. Now bits were

becoming a little clearer, and a logical conclusion was divulged,

“So that would explain why David went mad in Southampton and committed suicide.” He

said. Harvey then butted in again and picked up the story,

“David’s torturers, including a deceased man called Carey were also Peter Finnin’s killers.”

“How do we know this?” Asked John,

“From police confessional files. Obtained during interview after their arrest in the pub over

in Lewisham.”

“Yes and there is a connection here between Whitehall and Lewisham.” Remarked Jack

tantalisingly, “In Finnin’s safe the government Bruenstein file was not the only thing I found.

There was also evidence linking another individual to a plot, a senior government minister,

the Secretary of State for Health.”

“He was outside the hospital in Lewisham.” Said John,

“I know, I was inside and spotted them remember.”

Harvey then cut in again, “So this new Bruenstein plot uncovers corruption in the very

highest levels of government.”

This was all quite shocking, but it seemed to explain many things. But to John there were

still aspects that were very much unclear,

“Why on earth is a government minister involved with Bruenstein in the first place?”

“Information from other sources suggest, quite credibly that Bruenstein may be planning

some kind of audacious overthrow of the government.” Said Harvey

Jack, intrigued wanted to know further, “How could this be achieved?”

“By poisoning large swathes of the population via a concoction of the potions you

discovered.”

“Scopolamine, Arsine and Chlorine?” Said Jack,

“Yes.”

Suddenly the story enlightened West as much as it did Hudson, “So that’s the poison

connection. The drugs we associated with Maxwell Grey in Bellmarsh and the Finnin

connection.”

Harvey carried on, “The lab confirms that such a mixture ingested, or more commonly

inhaled since it can be airborne would first induce delirium, thanks to the Scopolamine, then

violent madness concluding with eventual death.”

“My god.” Said John,

“If something like this gets airborne into the capital’s population, the hysteria that ensues

would cause mass damage and violent riots, most likely against the establishments and the

very infrastructure of our society.”

John proceeded to cut Harvey off, “And David Finnin was the perfect guinea pig to test the

virility of such a poison.”

The implications of such a reality were beginning to surface in all terrifying ferocity,

“So we’re looking at a chemical attack on London?” Asked West,

“A certain possibility.” Replied Harvey, “There must be a way to deliver that poison, the

airborne route is clearly the most effective.”

John tried to put the whole plan into some kind of context. He could see implications of such

a plan but how did it fit into the bigger picture?

“OK so Bruenstein looks likely to try another attack soon, fine. But how does that relate to

Jack’s so-called death and disappearance, how does he fit into all this?”

Before Jack could respond, Harvey explained, “Bruenstein is a former CIA operative so he

knows all the methods inside out. The only way to get close and track him was to make him

think the case officers were out of the picture.”

“Our man used his stake in the internet news company, BeeBee.org to influence its news

output; by discrediting the security services and creating fear and panic in the process.”

Added Jack,

“The backbone of terrorism - fear.” Concluded Harvey.

To John that made sense. He turned to Jack, “But how did you manage to keep a track on

Bruenstein?”

“Through Maxwell Grey. That is why I had to help him escape from Bellmarsh Prison; it

was the only way, via a false recruitment.”

“I knew when you visited Bellmarsh.” Said Harvey, “There was a computer glitch that day

that affected the computer systems wasn’t there John?”

“Well yes but…that was us?!!”

Harvey continued, “Yes, MI5 planted a short lived computer virus to freeze out certain

security systems, allowing Grey to escape.”

“But why break him out? Why not just interrogate him on the inside and get the

information you want?”

“Because we knew we couldn’t trust Grey one inch. We had to put him in a position where

he could lead us directly to our man.”

John, thinking about this for a second turned toward Jack as he came to a natural conclusion,

“So that is why Grey was waiting outside after we were cleared to leave. You knew he

would be there all along.”

West responded, “Yes and that is why I told you to go to Finchley straight after. I took Grey

to a safe house knowing full well he would escape, and this allowed our colleagues to keep a

track on him.”

The fiasco at the prison was now becoming clear, “But what about the police? What was

Scotland Yard’s role in all of this.” John asked. He got his answer from Harvey,

“Inspector Waterson originally arrested Maxwell Grey 18 months ago. That’s how he came

into contact with this whole plot.”

Suddenly a frightening though hit John, “So if Waterson came into contact-“

“Inspector Waterson was also one involved with Victor Bruenstein and his plot.” Said Jack,

stating the obvious. This was a truly shocking revelation, the chief investigating officer, one

of them?

“It’s now clear that this thing has corrupted the highest levels of the police as well as

government. When we found out even I was not sure who I could and could not trust.”

Remarked Harvey,

“But you didn’t let us know.” Asked John, but he was mistaken,

“But I did John.” Suddenly it hit him,

“The phone call you took in Bellmarsh Jack! That was Harvey! That was you were being

told of, Waterson’s corruption!”

Jack nodded, “Yes it was.”

Harvey then proceeded to reveal the full extent to the cover up, “Waterson used his position

to forge police documents to cover his own tracks. It was also him who planted the obviously

fake Cullinan Brooch, the one he showed you in Scotland Yard after the robbery on the day

of the King’s Cross bombing.”

“Yes I remember, the Duke of Westminster’s apartment, the glass cabinet and so forth.”

“Well it was Waterson himself who had carried out the robbery, and it was the bombing that

was used as a police distraction for the theft.”

“If you remember, I agonised about the timings of both the bombing and the robbery.” Said

Jack, “There was a ten minute difference between the two.”

John remembered as Harvey resumed again, “What Waterson stole and then showed you was

an obvious fake. The real one is far too valuable, it forms part of the crown jewels. The

whole robbery was a setup.”

“But why? Why steal something you knew to be fake? What the hell was the motivation

for this?”

“To pull off resources of the security services. Hence that is why you and West were sent

there. It was a total fake throughout and only made us look like idiots.”

That piece of the puzzle was solved in John’s mind, but due to the complexity, there was

still more to be revealed,

“What about the CIA connection in all of this? Apart from Bruenstein being a former CIA

operative, where do they fit in, if at all?”

“He was a CIA operative. We were not the only ones working on this case, another section,

Chemical Counter Intelligence was also tailing Bruenstein and Grey-“

Suddenly a knock at the door, opening slightly a thin looking man in his late forties

appeared,

“Ah just in time, come in.” Gestured Harvey. The man entered accompanied by a female

colleague. Both took a couple of extra seats as they sat, both were smartly dressed in suits,

very business-like. The man, black haired, but balding, the lady, younger, in her mid-thirties

with blond hair listened in attentively to the briefing, waiting politely to be introduced,

“Jack, John this is Clive and Samantha, acting lesions from Chemical Counter Intelligence.

I was just bringing my two operatives up to speed, so you have timed it perfectly.”

He continued, “As I was saying, our targets were being tailed, eventually tracing them to the

CIA safe house we already knew about, but the Americans don’t know that, which was in

Belgravia. That day when we found out about Scarlett Dawn, I went to meet my CIA

counterpart. He provided me with the address of that safe house, I knew it, I just wanted

proof of its location. That is when I forwarded it to you Jack.”

“To prevent any corruption permeating into the CIA.” Concluded John

“The Americans were the only ones we could gain any reliable information from purely

because they were American. They had no interest in the establishment so therefore had

nothing to gain.”

“But what about the explosion at the CIA safe house?” Asked John, again Harvey had an

answer,

“I ordered West to stop off and pick up a package just before you left for Belgravia. It was

an explosive device.”

“I placed it on that desk in the study upstairs if you remember.” Interrupted Jack, “The real

reason we needed to sweep the safe house was to check and find those files and dossiers in

the reinforced room at the back.”

Harvey then resumed the tale, “We knew from government files, confirmed by email and

phone taps by GCHQ that Bruenstein was assuming intelligence on West, myself and many

MI5 personnel in order to outwit us. The more you know your enemy, the easier it is to trick

them. To prevent our friend uncovering things we didn’t want him to know about our

operations I ordered West to plant a bomb in the building and destroy those files for good.

The police acing on direction from us told the media it was just a gas explosion and nothing

else. We however, know different.”

“But why did West disappear?” Asked John,

“It was at this point I instructed Jack to vanish without trace to throw Bruenstein and Grey

off the trail so he could tack them ‘under the radar’.”

“But I assume you always knew the full extent of Waterson’s treachery.” Asked John as

Harvey reassured him,

“We manipulated him, that’s why he appeared when you were removed for questioning.

We engineered the disappearance in order to lure Waterson away.”

“So I was just a pawn in all of this? Asked John concerned,

“We’re all pawns Hudson.” Harvey replied.

“So his appearance at the warehouse in Colchester, was that also manipulation?” Probed

Hudson, for which Jack answered promptly,

“Yes, we needed to get him out of the picture since he was the link between Bruenstein and

the intelligence services, a kind of mole actually. Harvey did issue a kill order on Waterson

to completely remove him. Given the known extent of his treachery, the course of action was

clear, Harvey authorised me to kill him once I could get him on his own.”

“So you shot him?”

West gave John a long stare before his reply, “Wouldn’t you?”

Thinking about it for a second, John knew he actually would. Jack continued again,

“The next day, I had to fake my own death, and I needed a witness, you, so that Bruenstein

and Grey would not be suspicious if they found out they were being tracked.”

“West’s pistol was altered so that it could not fire bullets above a certain calibre, otherwise

it really would have killed him. Jack was actually wearing a bullet-proof vest and blood

packs underneath his clothes to simulate a real gunshot wound. “Said Harvey, obviously in on

the plot.

“What about the funeral?” Asked John,

“Faked.” Replied Harvey, “The coffin in the grave you saw, we all saw, was in fact packed

full of bricks to simulate body weight.”

John, by this stage not surprised felt confident enough to finish off the tale on his own,

“So with Bruenstein and Grey thinking MI5 had stalled in its investigation, and with West

dead as far as they would know it would be easier for us to investigate. But to them, they just

thought they had bought themselves some extra time.”

“That’s right.” Confirmed Harvey as Jack spoke again,

“I investigated them after tracking their movements to an old London Underground statin

called North Weald-“

“The station you sent me to.” Said John as he cut in, turning to Harvey, “You knew he

would be there!”

“That’s right. When West did not call in, I sent you to go after him.” Jack picked up the

story again,

“I was caught unfortunately in the tunnels themselves. Not careful enough, I’m afraid. I

was taken to a small room at the side, tied to a table and beaten by Bruenstein’s men. He was

there, looks rather intimidating. He was mad; psychopathic in nature…I’m pretty sure he

would have killed me if it wasn’t for him needing to go. He left me with only one of his

henchmen.” He turned to John, “That’s when you turned up.”

“And rescued you.” He replied. To him the timeline of events was clear, but he wanted to

return to the poison aspect of the plot once again,

“Just to go back to the poison, David Finnin, we now know was the guinea pig, but what

about the larger scale of things? I mean are we looking at something big here in regards to

Bruenstein, Grey and the poison?” He suspected they was,

“I’m glad you asked that.” Said Harvey, “I have reason to believe that given the time that

has passed since King’s Cross and referring to intelligence we have received, we now feel

more confident that Victor Bruenstein is definitely going to try a chemical attack on London.

That is why our colleagues from the other department are here.”

“We have been tracking the shipments and delivery times. Regular cargo has been coming

in from the ports and registered under false names at customs.” Said Clive. This sort of thing

was his department’s speciality, “We have traced the chemical shipments being directed to

just one place. APF Industries in London.”

“Whereabouts is this?” Asked Jack,

“The docklands.” Replied Samantha. “We think it’s the ideal place for shipments, both

inbound or as an outbound distribution. If a chemical is manufactured and released, from that

location, or from any other, let’s say multiple locations, the area of coverage is estimated to

be approximately six square miles in the first two hours.”

“Depending on the concentration and how much compound they release dictates the degree

of contamination. So that is what we believe is the strategy they will be employing.

Releasing chemicals from different locations placed strategically around the city. What we

don’t know yet is how they are planning to do that, and where.” Concluded Clive.

Jack wanted to know one more bit of crucial information, “When do we think an attack is due

to take place?”

“We think they would be ready to go within the next 24 hours.” Said Clive “Based on what

we have been hearing.”

Harvey, interrupting the proceedings made an official announcement, “So from this point

onwards, the ‘Sunshine’ part of the operation, uncovering the plot has now officially ended.

The next phase is now underway, the plan to prevent it. I’m giving it the codename

‘Moonlight’. Gentlemen, and lady, Moonlight has to succeed; 8 million people living in this

city, I need not tell you the consequences if we fail.”

Harvey’s words rang like a prophet of doom into everyone’s ears. Suddenly the game

became very serious,

“West, Hudson, I want you to liaise with Chemical Counter Intelligence. I want you to

follow this one up. Don’t worry, you’ll have backup, police, armed response, possibly even

special services ready to go in, but this thing I have to say now rests on your shoulders. This

bomb threat has to be stopped, we cannot fail.”

“So just to summarise.” Asked John, “The King’s Cross bombing was a feint, a practice run

for this new plot. The Cullinan Diamond robbery at the Duke of Westminster’s was a setup,

chemicals were procured to form a mixture that would cause slow madness, then eventual

death to thousands causing anarchy. Victor Bruenstein is the mastermind; Maxwell Grey is

the poison specialist, that’s why he shipped chemicals in from China through that invoice we

found in his locker at Bellmarsh.” Jack remembered vividly the situation John was

describing, “But those three Russians we found in Colchester? What’s their role in this?”

“According to the police, those Russians were actually Chechen rebels. That is how they

knew Grey, with his Georgian background. It’s all very complicated, similar regional

differences in southern Russia, they and the Georgians have never got on. And Chechnya is a

potential breakaway region so it is a hotbed for radicals and terrorists. Their names are

Nikolai, Sergey and Evgeny. Sergey apparently was the one with the firearm you confronted

in Colchester, Evgeny was the one injured by Bruenstein.”” Confirmed Harvey, “Because of

their background, they were the explosives experts, and we now know they were the ones

who planted bombs on the trains, causing the King’s Cross bombing.”

Suddenly everything became clear, not just to John, but to all of them. It seemed very much

like a huge dark weight had been lifted of everyone’s shoulders. For John, it was the first

time in weeks that he finally had a sense of direction,

“OK, if that’s all. Let’s get to it.” Said Harvey as he stood up, prompting the others to

follow suit,

“I’m due to personally brief the Home Secretary of the situation. My boss is briefing the

Prime Minister on the on-going situation and his advisors are keeping the Palace up to date.

Even so, Plan Teresa is being put on standby.”

“What is Plan Teresa?” Asked Jack,

“The contingency plan to evacuate both the government and the royal family out of the

capital, to Scotland if an actual attack is underway.” Said Harvey, “All departments are now

on high alert; 24 hours gentlemen, the clock is ticking.”

Turning out of the door Clive and Samantha both left, but John hesitated as he turned

toward his partner,

“You know Jack, after all this I find you quite a complicated little character. You have three

acts; your official act as an MI5 officer, your clandestine act under instruction by Harvey and

your unofficial act, while you were ‘dead’. I could have shot you in that field and I would

have. You’re not just two faced Jack, you’re three faced. The three faces of West.”

He turned to leave, with Jack and Harvey just standing there, a knock at the door interrupted

John’s rather melodramatic exit. A secretary popped her head round the door before entering

fully to hand Harvey a piece of paper,

“This has just been picked up. A transcript of a text message sent urgent.” She said.

Her entrance stalled John’s exit as he stopped to hear what the massage might contain as she

swiftly turned and exited as quick as she entered. Her haste seemed to convey a sense of

urgency without the message. Harvey’s eyes widened as he read the words that were picked

up, passing it onto Jack without saying a word. Upon reading it, the meaning became

immediately clear,

“Scarlet Dawn.” He read aloud,

“You know what this means.” Warned Harvey as John came close again to see for himself,

“An attack is imminent.” Said West,

“Yes, they are ready…tonight.” Harvey’s words signalled the start of the operation.

‘Moonlight’ was on.

Chapter 21:

APF Industries, London Docklands, 10:00pm. All seemed quiet and peaceful in the still

evening air, on the inside of the compound. Beyond the perimeter, on the high streets subtle

activity was taking place. Police surrounded the neighbouring streets, throwing cordons

around the local area out of sight of the riverside factory. Within the cordon, quiet but frantic

preparations were well underway for the final assault and ultimate foiling of this latest very

real threat.

An unofficial exclusion zone had been set up around the boundaries of the industrial

complex, a kind of unofficial no-man’s land, two streets wide which only authorised persons

could enter. West and Hudson, clad in black polyester outfits, armed with their Walther

P99’s tucked firmly in their gun holster vests complete with silencers and ammunition fitted

tightly across their bodies. Boots and black gloves to reduce their visibility completed the

set, making them look more like Special Forces than intelligence agents. Candidly they

approached the perimeter wall, being careful to stay in the shadows as best they could to keep

out of the sharp orange glow of the street lights. Staying well out of sight, they finally found

a place to deploy before making the crucial infiltration.

Tension and anxiety was not only on the ground, Thames House also buzzed with the

nervous uncertainty as the operation codenames ‘Moonlight’ was about to begin. Harvey,

along with every member of the section was keeping a very close watch on proceedings from

their position. Coordinating the setup and the attack had to go according to plan, for there

was too much at stake as the price of failure. Knowing there was two operatives active on the

ground, Harvey decided to do one final radio check,

“Alpha 1, report.” Was the voice that crackled over the radio and into the personal earpiece

in Jack’s right ear,

“Alpha 1, check.” Jack replied subtly,

“Alpha 2 report.” Said Harvey,

“Alpha 2, check.” Replied John equally as quiet into his own earpiece,

“What is your status?” Asked Harvey. Jack responded,

“Outside the main perimeter fence. Ready to infiltrate.”

“Standby, Alpha 1 and 2. Armed police snipers on nearby rooftops, special services are also

deploying around you.” Reassured that both West and Hudson were responding Harvey gave

the order, “You’re clear to commence Alphas 1 and 2.”

With the whole dockside complex becoming surrounded, West and Hudson began to make

their way in. A small wire mesh fence provided the only barrier between the street and the

outer areas, which John made short work of. Pulling out from one of the many pouches that

both their suits were furnished with, a small wire cutter was used to cut a medium but

unnoticeable in the dark sized hole in the fence. The top of the fence was adorned with rolls

of sharp razor wire to deter any would be intruders, but nothing had really been done about

the fence itself. Each squeeze on the cutters from John’s hands forced the rather flimsy wire,

snipping it in a sharp click. The sounds signalled one step closer to getting through. It took

only a few seconds for the gap to be created as both men crawled through,

“We’re in.” Said Jack as both men crouched just on the inside,

“Standby Alpha 1.” Replied Harvey over the radio.

Both Jack and John, while still in the shadows pulled their Walther pistols from their

holsters, “Acknowledged.” Jack said as they both screwed on their silencers while surveying

their surroundings. In the dark it wasn’t easy, then again it wouldn’t be easy in the day, the

layout was unfamiliar to those on the ground. Apart from moving blind, their only hope was

a fix on a location as instructed from Thames House. There the activity became more frantic,

now after conformation that their operatives had penetrated the complex, they had to

prioritise and locate their targets. Staff worked furiously at their computers, pouring over

maps and intelligence, Harvey needed directions as much as his men on site. By now West

and Hudson both stealthily moved against the wall of a small shed just off to the right, having

no idea of the strength of resistance inside or where the deployment of the special services

would be, any figure in the darkness should be treated with extreme caution. Both men’s

eyes scoured through the pitch darkness, looking for any signs of movement, but none came,

just a maze of buildings,

“Alpha 1, Alpha 2 do you copy?”

“Alpha 2 here, copy over.” Replied John to Harvey over his earpiece,

“Get over to a building, 600 yards left of your position. There’s activity picked up there,

investigate.”

Without delay, both men moved toward the source of the activity. All part of the APF site,

they seemed to be heading into the dockside loading area, close to the water’s edge. The few

hundred yards travelled passed without sight or incident,

“It’s straight ahead of you.” Said a voice in both agents’ earpieces. It was different, not

Harvey’s, but another operative back at HQ, guiding them in remotely from his desk,

monitoring all the info coming in via his computer. It was reassuring to know they were with

them every step of the way,

“You should see it now.” Said the voice,

“Confirmed, we have a visual.” Said Jack as both he and John stopped and crouched in

cover beside some packing crates. Before them a large brick warehouse dominated the

water’s edge,

“Looks like some kind of loading and storage facility.” Said John,

“But what is stored?” Replied Jack.

“We need to get over there Jack.”

“What about that swing bridge? Can we move it?” Between them and the building lay a

canal used for docking barges, spanned by a swing bridge, pivoted in the middle of the water

but positioned the wrong way, as if to let ships through,

“There’s got to be a way to get bridge moving back so we can cross it.” Said John as they

moved toward it in the direction of a large cabin as it honed into view out of the darkness. It

was vacant as they entered, large control panels, obviously for the bridge sat before them. It

was similar in principle but larger to the one used at APF in Southampton, and like the one

they encountered previously, it was dead of all power,

“We need to get this bridge working.” Stated John,

“It must be powered from a source.” Replied Jack as Thames House crackled over the

earpieces once again,

“Alphas 1 and 2, the power source for that bridge is located in a generator house on the

other side of the complex to your left.”

Moving quietly they made their way under the instruction from their support guiding them

toward where they wanted to go. Immediately they made their way off in the instructed

direction toward what turned out to be one of the entrances to the docklands. The muffled

sounds and hints of movement indicated there were people up ahead; reactively Jack and

John paused and took cover awaiting instructions. Their movements tracked by computer

back in Thames House gave Harvey and the team the best possible view to the overall

situation. Their present location was being monitored avidly by one of the operatives as both

men almost ran into trouble,

“Alphas 1 and 2 stop there! You’ve got movement up ahead, cannot confirm if they are

friendly, possible hostiles I repeat possible hostiles. Do not engage!”

Harvey then stepped in, “Alphas 1 and 2 back off!! Do not engage! Make your way to the

generator house, your priority is that bridge.”

Sensibly and without argument, West and Hudson retreated back the way they came, utterly

unnoticed.

A few minutes later they arrived at what they perceived to be the generator house. Its

concrete build and symmetrical shape evidently more distinctive than the others prompted the

close attention of both men. With both guns primed and ready, they gingerly opened the steel

door which thankfully was not locked to make their way inside. The slight hum of the

generators instantly hit them, providing power to the rest of the operation as they shut the

door behind them to deter any prowlers outside. The machinery, old but perfectly serviceable

ticked over as Jack and John tried to find the correct one for the bridge,

“These are the generators, but where are the power switches?” Asked John,

“There may be a basement, see if there are trip switches you can activate. Careful, we have

no way of telling if there is anyone about.” Said a voice from Thames House,

“Careful.” Ordered Harvey, getting his opinion in.

They looked around the darkened facility, the half-lights inhibiting something that may be

easily observable,

“Over there.” Whispered John, clearly spotting something,

“I see it.” Replied Jack, “It’s a staircase.”

They moved toward it, at one side, the steep metallic steps flanked by railings for support,

both men went down, firearms fixed, adrenaline running high as ever.

As they entered the lover compartment, there seemed to be nobody immediately around.

With hearts pounding they looked on at the line of 6 foot high metal fuse boxes each locked

and containing trip switches along the opposite wall,

“They’re identical. How the hell are we supposed to find the right one?” Said Jack.

“Are they marked?”

“Yes. Look you keep watch at the staircase. I’ll try to locate the correct one.”

John moved to the foot of the metal stairs, looking up almost in trepidation for any signs of

others,

“They should be marked. Look for one that refers to the bridge, it may either be writing or a

symbol.” Radioed Thames House. West began looking for something, anything that referred

to the bridge,

“Why don’t we just shut off the power to the whole complex, then that will stop the plan

dead in its tracks?” Asked John,

“Negative, you’re only authorised to get power to that bridge. The SAS are deploying

around you, we can’t afford any mistakes.”

Jack looked, up and down the panels on the wall,

“Bridge.” He said, “It has to be this one.”

“Try it.” Said John as Jack pulled out of his pocket a set of lock picks. Carefully he inserted

it into the relatively simple barrel lock and applied pressure through turning. As John kept

watch anxiously, Jack turned and twisted inside the mechanism until he felt it suddenly click

loose,

“Got it.” He said to himself as he opened the door. A large electrical panel presented before

him, full of lights and switches; only a larger black lever in the ‘up’ position was different.

Pressing it down, the panel clicked and hummed against the backdrop of the higher pitched

whine of the generators above,

“Get back to that bridge.” Said Harvey over the radio,

“Come on.” Said John as they proceeded with as much caution out of the facility, following

their orders. In Thames House, the tension was reaching breaking point as everyone,

including Harvey could only watch and wait for the drama to unfold.

A few minutes later West and Hudson both arrived back at the control cab. Their hopes

were that the switch they had just operated was indeed the correct one for their purpose,

“Look, the controls are lit up.” Said John as they entered it, “Alpha 2 to control, we have

power.”

“Proceed.” Said Harvey, but Jack interrupted,

“Wait, what about the stockpiles of existing poison?”

John looked puzzled, “They should be in the in that building.”

“What if they are not? What if they are stockpiled somewhere else. Alpha 1 to control

permission to investigate the existing compound to secure existing stockpiles.”

The team at Thames House could hear everything that was said. Weighing up the options,

Harvey knew that his next decision could be crucial,

“Standby Alpha 1.” He stalled, “Can we detect any activity coming from any other

building?”

“There’s some activity on the far side of the compound…some kind of storage buildings,

out houses mainly.” Confirmed one of the operatives. Reasonable suspicion was enough,

“Alpha 1, affirmative, you are cleared to search the outbuildings 500 yards behind your

present position. Alpha 2 proceed with the bridge and investigate the original building.”

Hearing his orders, Jack nodded to John before leaving him. John was now faced with the

investigation on his own,

“Right, let’s see if we can get this bridge moving.” Deep down he prayed that it wasn’t

noisy enough to attract unwanted attention. Pressing the lit up buttons, the bridge began to

shudder into life. Softly humming, it began to rotate slowly toward him, its iron frame

gliding through the night air,

“There are no ships around here. Whoever shut the power off to this bridge wanted to keep

whatever is on the other side private.” He thought to himself. Finally it came to rest in

position meaning the way was clear to get to the warehouse,

“Thank god nobody heard that.” John thought as he began to move across head crouched,

gun still in hand,

“Alpha 2, proceeding now.” He whispered along the way. He reached the other side fairly

quickly, his alertness on high as he had no idea if there were others around him,

“Alpha 2 be careful, there is multiple activity in your location.” A voice from Thames

House warned. The landscape on this side was different; the ground sloped more steeply to

the dockside edge. And this led to John to look around for access points,

“There’s a silo on the roof of the warehouse.” He said looking at his target,

“A silo? Must be some kind of apparatus to store something.” Said Harvey, “Alpha 2,

proceed to the roof.”

Looking around there wasn’t a direct way onto the top of the building that he could see, but a

small gantry slightly raised off the ground and connected to an adjacent roof provided a

decent way in. Checking to see if the coast was clear, he climbed onto it, running across in

the night air. By now he was in full view of the police sniper scopes, which by now were

deployed in position on top of adjacent buildings, tracking him all the way across the rooftops

and onto the warehouse.

In the middle, the large steel silo dominated the area. It certainly could hold a large quantity

of something which fuelled John’s curiosity to investigate further. A small maintenance

ladder ran up the side to a small access hatch, presumably to check fluid levels. He grabbed

the first rung and started climbing; it wasn’t very far to the hatch, about five feet or so.

Luckily it wasn’t locked, and was easy to open, telling John that it wasn’t full; opening it

immediately gave off an overwhelmingly pungent smell,

“There’s definitely been something in here.” He said,

“Alpha 2, what is the smell?” Asked Harvey,

“Smells like…garlic.”

“Garlic?” Asked Harvey to himself. His first thoughts could not connect something like that

to the poison plot. However Clive, now entered to monitor things picked up on this straight

away,

“Is it strong?” He asked John over the radio,

“No not really. Just enough to make it noticeable.”

That was what Clive wanted to hear, looking back to Samantha, who was also present, the

both nodded to each other before turning back,

“John, that garlic smell indicates the presence of Arsine.”

“Arsine? The poison?”

“Yes. Arsine gives off a slight garlic smell when it is oxidised.”

“All the pieces of the puzzle are fitting into place.” Said Harvey to himself quietly, and

worryingly.

By now John had climbed back down onto the rooftop swiftly and quietly, he could hear the

sounds of manufacture inside and the activity of voices within. He had to find out more,

“I’m moving down the back. Going to try and get a better view of what is going on inside.”

Harvey thought this was a good enough idea, “Proceed with caution Alpha 2.”

John had spotted a fire escape at the rear as he was approaching the rooftop. Now he was

climbing down it one staircase at a time. Once on the ground at the back and sheltered in

complete darkness, he made his way to nearby corner; the sound of voices attracted him to

investigate. Peering round ever so slightly, his restricted view showed him people only 25

yards from where he stood, beside white vans waiting to leave. The heart thundering as fast

as a freight train in response to the perilous situation he was now in.

Turning back the yellowish light from a window shone out causing John to creep over to

take a look. It was dirty, obviously neglected over its lifetime, but this was an industrial

building, cleaning was not a priority. Carefully and trying his upmost to expose as little of

himself as possible, he tried to see as much as he could. Inside was nothing all that special at

first glance a typical industrial production line was in full flow. Populated with workers, all

bust processing the materials inside, closer inspection revealed something more sinister,

“Control, inside is an industrial production facility.”

“Can you make out details Alpha 2?” Asked Harvey,

“Stand by.” John replied as he looked further. Crates filled with bottles, some empty and

discarded lying around looking somewhat familiar,

“Control, there are bottles laying around…it looks like arsenic!!”

“Do you have a visual?” Asked Harvey,

“Yes.”

This was a revelation at Thames House. Clive tried to step in again but Samantha beat him to

it,

“Arsenic is a slow acting poison. If added to a compound mixture, it would finish it off.”

“Just perfect for a substance exposed to people, just enough time to make them go mad

before dying of poisoning.” Concluded Harvey like a prophet of doom. The reality was that

he wasn’t far off the truth,

“Alpha 2, what else can you see?” He asked returning to the radio link. Watching through

the window, he could see the whole operation, the mixing of chemicals, and the loading of

them onto some kind of contraptions. Then it hit him,

“Whatever they are mixing they are loading it onto carts…wait!!”

“What?...what is it Alpha 2?...come in Alpha 2 report!!” Said Harvey,

“I’m OK. Those carts, they are for laying tar. They are the ones we saw in Lewisham!!”

“Can you confirm this?” Asked one of the operators at Thames House,

“Yes they are the ones, presumably used for distribution of this poison. Although whatever

they are putting in them is definitely hazardous. The workers are wearing masks, so not to

get it in the air.”

The team at Thames House wanted to know more, “Can you find out what Alpha 2?” Said

Clive. John tried to look around; the silos and containers made it difficult to see, his presence

was still unknown as he looked on at all the individuals, all wearing overalls and other

suitable industrial equipment. As he looked, he suddenly saw a familiar sight,

“Three men inside, amongst the workers. They’re the Russians!!”

“What?!”

“Those three Russians picked up in Colchester! They are here overseeing the bombs in the

carts. What the hell are they doing here?”

Harvey thought for a second, “Waterson must have corrupted evidence to facilitate their

release if they were ever caught. Some kind of evil legacy in case he died.”

“Well they are here, and doing everything they can.” He said as he could hear shouting

from the inside, evidently they were rushing to meet a deadline. The arguments continued on

and on, unwittingly providing John with precious intelligence. It seemed to be nothing

special, just a conflict of views and general orders, but during the heated exchange of views,

there arose a series of alarming words,

“Alpha 2 to control, they are mentioning various chemicals stored on site.”

“What chemicals?” Asked Harvey as Clive and Samantha came closer,

“Chlorine, scopolamine, arsine.evid Control, these are they ingredients used in this mixture,

along with the arsenic. If I’m right, they plan to detonate these carts somewhere releasing the

poison across London.”

The plan was now exposed. The carts, filled with poison, were to be set out across the

capital, causing catastrophe. Clive advised a stark reality check,

“If that’s the case then if this is distributed, it’s going to cause mass delirium and

widespread death.”

Harvey, as well as anyone knew of the consequences of the events happening over at the

docklands,

“I’m well aware of that.” He said,

“Well you need to do something about it.” Rebuffed Clive. Harvey, standing his ground,

just looked at is college straight in the face without rising to the tension. Eventually he

turned away,

“I know.” He said quietly. Privately he had good reason to fear the worst.

Chapter 22:

Everyone at Thames House was now fixated on the developing situation over at the

docklands. The plan and the setup had been totally exposed, although the terrorists didn’t

want it that way, still unaware their plan had been utterly compromised, they carried on with

the preparations to deploy the carts and their lethally poisonous cargo. Just like the personnel

on the ground, the team at the headquarters were nothing short of total concentration,

“Harvey, the SAS are finished deploying.” Said one of the operatives in a heightened tone,

“The armed police want to storm the compound alongside the Special Forces, shall I tell them

to proceed?”

“Negative, tell them to standby.” Clearly he was stalling, knowing that timing was

everything, too soon, and some key members such as Bruenstein and Grey may get away.

Too late didn’t bear thinking about,

“Where’s Jack?” He asked coming back into range of the radio mike, “Alpha 1 report.”

“Alpha 1 here. Entering the compound now.” Jack responded as he climbed over another

small wire fence into the storage area of the docks. There didn’t seem to be anyone around at

the moment as he moved forward with his silenced pistol ready in what seemed to be a total

maze of small building and sheds typical of this part of the site. Carefully walking forward as

silently as he could, he made his way over to the nearest of the structures as his eyes

continuously flitted from point to point almost half-expecting someone to confront him, but

nobody came. By now he had arrived at a medium sized wooden building which appeared to

be unlocked, but Jack could not be sure. Pressing on the door, it came slowly ajar telling him

it was not at all secure,

“Careless.” He said to himself.

Inside, various boxes stored away in piles greeted him, nothing too suspicious on the face of

it but Jack investigated further just to be sure. He opened one of the boxes that were, like the

door, not locked either,

“Careless again.” He said as he looked inside to examine the contents,

“Alpha 1 to control, we appear to have stumbled upon a weapons cache, semi-automatic

rifles and ammunition.”

“Can you ascertain why they are there Alpha 1?” Asked Harvey,

“No, it’s probably surplus supplies but there’s no way of telling from here. The only thing

we can be sure of is that these terrorists are extremely well armed.”

The tension in Thames House was now beginning to rise even further. With the discovery of

the heavy weapons, the stakes had by now risen considerably,

“Proceed with extreme caution Alpha 1.” Warned Harvey.

West knew to be careful in such a precarious situation, but for now he had to explore other

outbuildings. Perhaps there was more to be discovered,

“Alpha 1, you have a contact!! Approaching your position fast!!” Said a voice over Jack’s

radio earpiece in a rapid, alarming tone. Instantly, without replying, he turned and shut the

door. Crouching below a dirty, window, Jack froze in the darkness as he heard the pounding

of footsteps. Louder with each one confirmed that whoever they were, they were heading in

this direction. Suddenly he flinched in the shadows as a beam of light from a torch shone

through the frosted glass, illuminating some of the boxes. This, of all points, was when he

realised that he did not fit the lid of the box he had been examining correctly. He knew that if

it was spotted, it would arouse suspicion. However, luckily the torchlight faded as whoever

was outside moved away from the window, causing West to dare to breathe a slight sigh of

relief which only lasted for an instant. Daring not to move his body, instead Jack moved he

head slightly just to get a better view or to position himself for better hearing. The door

began to rattle, West froze as the door latch began to shake, whoever they were, they were

trying to get in, had they seen the disturbed box? Had he been discovered? He was about to

find out to be sure, but it never came. The rattling stopped as suddenly as it started because

the door had locked behind him thus denying the intruder access. Relief flooded Jack’s

periodically shattered nerves as he heard the footsteps gradually move away and get fainter

with each second,

“Alpha 1, report.” Asked Thames House,

“Control, Alpha 1 here. I’m still in the same position. Approaching contact has moved on,

attempting to move now.”

“Acknowledged Alpha 1.”

Gingerly, almost frighteningly Jack gripped the handle of the door and turned it slowly.

Tensing up as it clicked he unlocked it from the inside as he opened the door only slightly

ajar. Pausing for a second, his hearing in overdrive, ever listening for the sounds of other

footsteps. None could be heard so he proceeded, by peering out and looking left and right to

check the coast was clear. Once satisfied, he moved out, carefully closing the door behind

him to eliminate any signs of presence as he moved quietly to probe further on.

Coming to the corner he paused once again. He could see a guard, most likely the one who

had almost stumbled across him, patrolling further down, he could only see him from the

back, but it was clear he was not one of them,

“Contact,” He whispered quietly into the radio,

“What do you see?” Asked Harvey,

“A guard,”

“How many?”

“Just one. Looks like he’s patrolling.”

“Is he armed?” Asked one of the other operatives monitoring events via his computer,

“Yes. Looks like he’s carrying an AK-47 assault rifle.”

This was the confirmation that Harvey and the team needed that the personnel they were up

against were personally armed and dangerous,

“Thousands of those things are shipped all around the world, wouldn’t take much to procure

a few without too much trouble. Notify the police marksmen, and tell the special services to

take it into consideration as they are deploying. Instruct them not to engage until they are

notified.” Harvey warned, “Alpha 1 proceed as you see fit.”

Another building lay in front of him, just off to the left. Carefully monitoring the patrol

movements of the guard, he slipped past him to the rear end of the longer structure. Noticing

a door, Jack approached it, gun raised, to find out what was inside,

“Entering now.” He whispered into his earpiece as he opened the door slowly with one

hand, his pistol raised level with the other. It was deserted,

“Seems like storage compartments, I’m clearing them out now.” He said as he examined all

of the areas. The building was quite long, with all the areas lined in a row, flanked by a long

corridor area which Jack slowly made his way down stopping at each area one by one,

“What can you see?” Asked Harvey,

“Nothing, they are all empty so far. Checking the last one.” Was Jack’s reply as he

approached the last compartment. Suddenly something did not feel quite right; Pausing next

to the door, Jack had an overwhelming uncomfortable feeling but he could not determine

what it was. With his pistol raised his eyes fixated on the door, looking for any sign, the

slightest inkling of a shadow…but there was no such giveaway,

“Your imagination is getting the better of you Jack.” He thought to himself. Calculating the

risk, he took the decision to proceed. Moving into the doorway the compartment was empty

like all the rest in front of Jack with his gun raised. He proceeded some more, advancing

another yard before he was startled. With lightning speed he came face to face with a guard

positioned inside the last area, obviously hearing movement he must have hidden once West

had entered the building. Instantly without saying a word he swung his automatic rifle

around, clearly with the intention of shooting Jack. Reactively with his Walther poised he

pulled the trigger before a word or movement could be made, firing a bullet into the guard’s

head, killing him outright. The suppressor on the gun barrel muffling the bang as it fires

ensuring the killing has gone unnoticed apart from the splattering of blood from the exit

wound as the man thudded to the ground.

“Alpha 1, are you alright?” Said Harvey,

“Yes, contact taken out in the next building.” Confirmed Jack as he dragged the quite heavy

body further into the compartment to better hide it, hoping that it lay undiscovered.

Outside the still air was calm with the backdrop of normal city life far away but was

disturbed ever so slightly by the faint thud from inside the long building. It attracted the

attention of the guard who almost stumbled across West earlier, who by now had begun to

come back on his patrol route. Alerted, but still suspicious he approached the source of the

sound which he determined to originate in the structure beside him. Coming round the corner

slowly and with his own rifle primed and ready to fire, he cautiously made his way to the

back where the rear door was. Unbeknown to him he had stumbled directly into the sights of

a police marksman positioned on the roof of a building across the street,

“Contact, hostile inbound. Permission to take out target.” Radioed the sniper as he tracked

the movement of the guard,

“Harvey, the police say there’s a hostile inbound, they are asking permission to take out the

target.” Said Aazim who by now was sat at a computer on the opposite side of the desk to

join in the monitoring,

“Alpha 1, you have a hostile inbound on your position!” Warned Harvey to Jack. Sensing

the danger, he made his way to the door, but it opened just as Jack got to within two feet

away from it,

“Harvey the guard is going through the door now!” Said Aazim,

“Are the police authorised to fire?”

“No idea!”

While the confusion reigned at Thames House, Jack, seeing the door open instantly knelt

down. His left knee resting on the wooden floorboards, waiting for the figure to appear as he

pointed his gun yet again finder pulsed on the trigger. The guard appeared turning left, then

to the right in the direction of where West lay in wait. The eye contact between the two men

lasted perhaps half a second, as he was already in a marksman’s crosshairs when a shot was

taken. In through the right temple and out of the left, the terrorist guard did not stand a

chance,

“Target down.” Said the police marksman as the man he just shot fell to the floor. Thames

House listened intently to the drama as it continued to unfold,

“Wait, there’s another in my sights.” Said the sniper, as another figure appeared,

“Is he a friendly?” Asked another officer. Harvey alarmed tried to clarify,

“Inform the police there is a friendly officer in that location, do not fire, repeat, do not

fire!!”

The sniper held his nerve as he watched the figure grab the dead guard and pull it inside to

hide it,

“Hold your fire, that is a friendly, I say again that is a friendly.” The police officer heard

over his own earpiece. He kept off the trigger. Jack headed out again now that he had

dumped the body with the other one together,

“Hope nobody discovers them.” Jack thought to himself as he made toward another building

to search. Another one was further down but due to the orientation, the snipers would not be

able to cover him all the way round,

“I’ve lost him.” Said another police sniper as Jack reached the bottom end and out of sight,

“Control to Alpha 1, you are out of sight of the police snipers, use caution.” Warned Aazim,

Jack replied, “Understood.”

He made his way round other buildings; the whole place was a maze, aggravated by the

darkness. The restricted lighting in this part of the compound only served to make matters

worse as Jack moved between walls and round corners. Knowing full well that there may be

other guards around in this clearly important part of the site, he took his time moving from

point to point but the close proximity of each building frustrated the police snipers and

special services moving in and tracking him,

“Where is he?” Asked one of the police marksmen looking through a sniper scope, it was

hard tracking somebody when they had disappeared from view,

“Do we have a visual?” He asked. Concerned, Thames House decided to find out,

“Alpha 1, report your position. Confirm we have a fix on your location.” Asked Harvey.

“No response, come in Alpha 1 report.” Replied Aazim

“Come in Alpha 1…Jack?”

There was absolutely no reply whatsoever from West. Hearing the words perfectly through

his earpiece there was nothing at all he could do about it, freezing in his tracks with his hands

raised, he was held at gunpoint by another guard. Caught red-handed, the situation seemed

like a checkmate as the short cold sawn off barrel dug into the back of his head. Without

moving his prisoner, the masked guard slammed his shotgun barrel under Jack’s arms

forcibly gesturing his to place his hands upon his head. All he could do was stand there as he

was fleeced on the spot, holding the forearm to his head with one hand; Jack felt the woollen

gloved hand pat him down, until he came across his Walther. Removing it in brusque fashion

the terrorist captor pushed and shoved West in such a violent way, forcing him toward a

concrete structure on the other end of the compound,

“Wait,” Said one of the snipers as he looked into one of his sights, “Contact. Two people,

one of them are being led by the other. He’s armed.”

“Do we have a positive ID?” Asked Harvey,

“Negative. It may be your man on the ground. He may have been compromised.”

Monitoring the situation, one of the operatives turned to Harvey, “If that’s West and he is

caught, if he talks.”

Harvey cut him off, “He won’t talk.”

“Then do we send in the special services?” He was asked,

“No, not yet. One man cannot jeopardise the whole operation. Keep monitoring the

situation; I want to know the second something happens. Any sign of increased activity, we

go in.”

With his hands raised above his head, Jack was bundled into the large concrete building

with its dingy interior. Dimly lit inside at least Jack could see where he was going now, it

was some kind of dog kennels, an impounding facility for the guard dogs accompanying

security on the site. Having only a few seconds to survey his surroundings, he heard the door

slam behind as the guard turned violent toward him within the privacy of the four walls,

“WHO ARE YOU?!!! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!!!!”

Realising he was on his own now, West had to quickly think on his feet as the guard began to

rough him up. The barrel end of the sawn off pressing into his right cheek, the coldness of it

stinging like a bee,

“I’m just a burglar!! I didn’t realise what this place is!! Please don’t hurt me!! I’m just

looking to see what I could take that’s all!!! You don’t have to shoot mate, please don’t hurt

me!!!” He pleaded. Obviously trying desperately to sound like a harmless petty criminal,

“YOU THINK I’M STUPID? WHAT YOU LOOKING FOR?!!!!” Continued the guard,

“No, No mate-“

“I’M NOT YOUR FUCKING MATE!!!”

“OK, OK, look, I saw this place was a dock, so I only came looking for something, you

know, anything like cargo or something to take. Anything I can steal and sell off. I swear I

don’t know anything!!! Are you going to call the police?” Jack continued,

“WHAT ABOUT THE GUN?!! WHERE’S THE FUCKING GUN COME FROM?!!!”

Pinned down on a nearby table, his face pressed into the wood and the gun still digging into

his flash, West continued with the charade,

“I just got it from a mate. I wasn’t going to use it!!! I don’t even know how to fire it!!! It’s

just for show, to scare people you know.”

By pure chance the table was in front of the window, West had seen it and subtly positioned

himself so if the guard did grapple with him, he would be pinned down on the table,

maximising his chances of being seen. Aware that police marksmen was tracking him, he

prayed that he was now visible to the men on the rooftops.

His prayers were indeed answered, by now he was visible, and had been since he was being

led to the building. The window and the full exchange was being seen directly through the

scope of a police sniper,

“Control, Alpha 1 is being pinned down by a hostile. Do we take the shot?”

Harvey paused, “Have you got a clear line of sight?”

“Negative, your man is pinned down, it’s too risky”

Frustrated, there was little Harvey could do,

“If you get a clear shot, eliminate the target.”

In the concrete building, the Guard by now had let West go, sitting him on a chair next to the

table. Either he didn’t believe his story or he just had no time for it,

“Sit down!!! I’m watching you!!!” He said sternly as he went to pick up a telephone that

was connected on the other wall. Not keeping his eyes off his captive he picked up the

receiver in preparation to dial through to others, as Jack looked on. He needed to do

something before such a phone call was made, or he could alert others. With one hand busy

dialling a number on the keypad, and the other raising, shotgun in hand, West had almost run

out of time as the guard just noticed something small and black stood out on the floor,

“What’s that?” He asked as he stopped dialling. The gun still pointed at Jack, he dropped

the receiver to bend down and examine what it was. Looking down himself, Jack instantly

recognised the object as his earpiece, it must have come out when the guard bundled him on

the table, but he dare not move, he was still staring into the blackness of a twin gun barrel.

The guard bent quickly bent down just at the crucial moment; the glass shattered as a large

chunk of plaster flew out of the far wall near the telephone. It was a split second action, but it

was clear it was a sniper bullet, a bullet that had just missed its intended target,

“Shit!!! Control, target missed.” Said the sniper who had just taken the shot, a victim of

cruel mistiming. That did not matter inside the building; the guard reacted by ducking to

avoid the line of fire as he looked up to the window to see the bullet hole of shattered glass in

the window pane. What he did not see instantly was West taking his chance. Getting out of

his chair he lunged for the guard with the intent if disarming him. Immediately he backed up

to give himself some space as both they faced off before the guard finally attacked. Swinging

his shotgun violently like a club straight at Jack’s head, it caused him to duck for his life as

the wooden shoulder butt smashed into the plaster wall with a sickening thud. Using the

opportunity of the exposed body, West hit back full force with his fists into the stomach of

the guard forcing him back and then again, a full punch to the face. Stunned but not out, the

guard throws himself at West, pinning him against the wall. Furniture, bumped into and

thrown during the struggle continues to be disturbed as both men fight for control turning the

area into a wreck. Using the sawn off, the guard slams it against the throat of Jack in a

serious attempt to strangulate him, the whole scene visible but only just through the scope of

the snipers,

“Control, your man appears to be fighting with the guard.”

“Can you shoot him?” Asked Harvey,

“Negative, too risky, the bullet may pass through the guard’s body and into the other. We

may have two dead men instead of one.”

West, now totally paralysed gasped for each painful breath as the barrel of the gun pressed

against his throat, compressing it to a point where he was about to lose consciousness. He

had to do something, he kicked out, his heavy duty boots contacting directly into the shin

bond of the left leg of the guard. It was enough, in releasing the gun sufficiently in the grip

of sharp pain just as West grabbed the phone receiver and swung it at his head. Blowing at

full force, the hard plastic smashed against the skull of his attacker causing him to drop to the

floor, knocked out. Pausing briefly to catch his breath, the moved fast while he had the upper

hand. Taking off the guard’s jacket, he searched the pockets to swiftly retrieve his Walther

complete with silencer. Knotting it up, he quickly improvised an impromptu restraint, as he

proceeded to use it to tie us the arms of the guard behind his back severely impairing his

movements. Picking up his earpiece he refitted it to re-establish contact with his support,

“Alpha 1 to control, reporting, over.”

Relieved Harvey speaks, “Alpha 1 report on your situation.”

“I’m fine, had a bit of trouble, but I’m OK. Proceeding as planned, over” He said as he

dragged the body into the dog kennels. Once done so he pulled out his Walther and refitted

the silencer on it,

“Now that you know of my presence, I cannot let you go.” He said as he moved back out

again. In the corner was a small sink with some paper towels beside it; grabbing a few he

quickly rang them under the tap, drenching them in cold water,

“You see I cannot run the risk of you blowing the operation. I need to work uninterrupted.”

He said as he approached the semi-conscious guard, stuffing the towels into his mouth,

“Who I work for are not petty criminals. We do not steal unless we need to.” He stood up

and pointed his weapon at the guard’s leg. Firing it, the guard flinched in searing pain as the

fleshy part of his leg trickled blood from the small wound. Looking his attacker straight in

the eye after he had done the deed, he sought to reassure in a rather cynical way,

“You should be lucky. I have authorisation to kill. You may very well be dead.”

The guard, now fully awake, eyes bloodshot and moist with in intense pain understood what

he was being told. Unable to move and not daring to either, he lay in the caged kennel, now

locked as West walked out. Kicking the dropped sawn off under the table, Jack made for the

door without looking back. He had an assignment to complete.

Chapter 23:

Opening the door, West crept out of the dog kennels, making his way toward the main

compound,

“Alpha 1, conform your status, are you alright?” Asked Harvey,

“Control, Yes I’m fine. Nothing more here, I’m making my way to join Alpha 2”

“Agreed Alpha 1. Proceed.”

He made his way to the nearest fence which luckily was not too far away. There seemed to

be no other guards around, but Jack was taking absolutely no chances. Climbing over the

fence into the main docklands compound he paused once more, this time crouched ready to

get his bearings. However this pausing was short lived, quietly he heard a noise, a rustling

that sounded very close chilled him, sending him into a panic freeze. Jack listened intently,

the sounds were not loud at all, but defiantly there, and getting closer. Only the thumping of

his heartbeat echoing, pulsating his eardrums got louder and louder, drowning out even the

sounds of the breeze of the night air. He turned his gun, ready this time for anything that

might approach, and it did; a figure, out of the shadows,

“Jack?” Whispered a familiar voice,

“John.” Replied West in a relieved tone,

“You OK?”

“I’m fine.” West reassured his partner, “What did you find?”

“The warehouse over there, it’s a poison factory, definitely the real thing. What they are

doing is mixing all the ingredients that we discovered to manufacture the poison.”

“Is everything there?” Asked West,

“Everything, the Scopolamine, Arsine, Chlorine, even the quantities of arsenic shipped in

from China. Jack that’s the hub of this whole operation.”

“And I presume they have the facilities for mixing the whole lot.”

“Yes.” Said Hudson, “They must have converted it somehow, at some point in the past;

right under everyone’s noses. They are producing quantities of the stuff on an almost

industrial scale.”

“And those carts, the same as the ones in Lewisham…” Jack finished off much to John’s

surprise,

“You knew about that?”

“I heard it over the radio, when you reported.”

Everything was now falling into place, the poisons, the shipment from China found in

Bellmarsh Prison, and the tar laying carts,

“So the poisons mixed here are then loaded onto those carts ready for distribution. I’m

guessing the places chosen would be rather strategic to maximise the effect.”

“And they have vans round the back to deploy them as soon as possible.” Added John,

“Naturally.” Replied Jack, “Sabotaging those vehicles is an option, but that could warn them

too early.”

“And there’s something else too.”

“What?”

John had been anxious to tell his partner, but he had to know, “Remember our three Russian

friends back in Colchester?”

“The Chechyens…yes I remember.”

“Well they’re here.” John revealed. Jack looked surprised but was not stunned,

“Here, at the docks? So they were released?”

“Yes, probably engineered by Waterson somehow in case they were caught at some stage

before he met us back in Colchester.”

With the Russians now in the equation, it was clear what they needed to do,

“They need to be taken care of John.”

“I agree. What about the poison factory though? Clearly that should be the priority.”

“What do you propose?” Asked Jack,

“That much poison cannot be seized straight away, for all we know they may have more

stockpiled somewhere else…no, that needs to be destroyed. An explosion might do it.”

“An explosion it is.” Replied Jack as Harvey as the team from Thames House listened in.

The destruction option seemed attractive to those back at headquarters, although they were

not sure if it was the prudent way forward,

“Is that the only option?” Asked Harvey concerned, as he turned toward Clive, who was

pensive,

“It depends. A mixture of the concentration that we are talking about for an operation this

size would require a pretty big explosion. The explosive yield would need to vaporize any

trace of the poison that is released before it can disperse into the atmosphere. It’s hard to say

precisely without knowing just how much is on site. I have to admit its high risk.”

The warning was dire to Harvey, and he was right, it was a high risk strategy, but where

would the explosion come from? And would such a one be powerful enough to destroy the

stockpile once the assault started,

“Who’s to say they won’t release it anyway once they know they are under attack.” Harvey

said grimly.

In the compound, both Jack and John, fully aware of the situation around them were

thinking the exact same thing,

“If we were to take the whole operation down by an explosion, it would have to be

something pretty spectacular.” Said Jack,

“Well let’s try and search for some explosives. I haven’t seen any yet.” Replied John,

Jack thought for a second, before hitting a quite obvious snag, “But to destroy that we’d need

a powerful device.”

“Then we’ll just have to hope there is something somewhere.”

Moving forward, both frantically tried to determine where any potential explosives could be

found. Jack had searched most of the outbuildings in the compound, but not all of them,

“I found a weapons cache over there, but I have not found any explosives devices. Then

again I have not searched every building, so we might be in luck.” Noted Jack. They

searched, now with added stress knowing the clock was definitely ticking. Surely there was

not much time left before the deployment would begin,

“Alpha 1 and 2, report.” Their earpiece radios cackled; the airwaves filled with Harvey’s

voice.

“Control, we are searching for an explosive device to take out the stockpile of poison. It

looks like the only way to neutralise this operation.” Replied Jack,

“Agreed, but the problem is it has to be enough to completely vaporise the mixture. If only

a small amount gets into the atmosphere…”

“I understand.” Said Jack cutting him off, “What about collateral damage?”

“We’ll deal with that later. Right now the priority is to cease the production of that

concoction now.”

The instructions from Thames House were very clear, and the plan of action seemed like a

go-ahead when suddenly there was an urgent call,

“Sir there’s a signal.” Said a junior officer while excitedly bursting into the room. Harvey

approached him, “What kind of signal?”

“We’ve been monitoring communications traffic, text messages, phone calls, email taps-“

“Yes, I’m aware. What have you got?”

The junior was definitely exited, “There are definitive communications coming, from the

area, not within the docks themselves but just outside.”

“Can you determine the location?”

“We’ve pinpointed it to a tower block development next to the docklands.”

One of the other operatives at one of the computers who had been listening in had managed

to pinpoint the source, “Got it, a tower block still under construction called River View,

things seem to be happening from there.”

Now Harvey, faced with a choice, had to instruct accordingly. Turning to Aazim he tried to

get the facts,

“Aazim, is there any indication that there’s increased activity at the poison factory site?”

“No, none, just what we have picked up already.” He replied.

Harvey, pausing for just a split second, his mind constantly thinking about the bigger picture,

then turned to the radio to issue his orders to his men on the ground,

“Alphas 1 and 2, look around, you should see a construction site close to the docks.”

Both Jack and John searched frantically, if not slightly confused, around for a development,

spotting one back further down the river, only a few hundred yards away,

“There, look.” Said John as they saw a series of half completed structures,

“Control, there’s a few buildings.” Said Jack into his earpiece,

“Can you see a tower?” Radioed Harvey,

“Yes.”

“There’s intense communication traffic coming from that tower. It’s called River View, get

over there and investigate. It may be possible that Bruenstein and Grey are there; if so, you

have permission to neutralise both of them, by any means.”

“But what about the poison? Surely that must be the priority!” Asked John, Harvey

answered in typical strategic fashion,

“Bu if we assault the poison factory first, then both targets may get away once alerted. If we

know where they are, the special forces can close them down.”

“Understood.” Replied John.

It made sense as both men made their way down the river bank as stealthily as possible

toward the development, guided all the way by the team in Thames House who were working

frantically behind the scenes as an integral part of the mass coordinated operation,

“Sir,” Said one of the operatives to Harvey, “I’ve managed to hack into River View’s

communication mainframe.”

“It has a computer mainframe installed?”

“Yes.”

“But the thing is only half built.”

The operative continued to explain, “Something must have been installed previously. I’ve

managed to perform the hack via a Wi-Fi network. I’m attempting to gain access to the

computer files.” His fingers rapidly working the keyboard bringing up files across his screen.

It prompted Harvey to act,

“Alphas 1 and 2, standby.”

Both Jack and John paused still some yards away from the tower. By now they were on the

building site, apart from the dirty and dusty ground, the whole development was a maze of

steel girders, concrete columns and metallic building frames, surrounding the two men.

Impatience set in very quickly in these tense times, so much so that Jack was eager to get

started one way or the other. Waiting ion a pause from headquarters was never his strong

point, he always preferred to act on impulse. He decided on a course of action,

“Listen, I’m going back to the docks.” Said Jack,

“What about this tower?” Asked John,

“Time is of the essence. Thames House should know what they’re doing but I’m not

waiting around while they play at computer nerds. OK yes our targets may or may not be in

that tower, but the poison phase of the operation needs to be checked. And if those things are

distributed in the meantime-“

“I know, I know.” Said John, “OK, so we turn back, but if this goes wrong I want it on the

record that this was your decision not mine.”

“Fine.”

Moving silently back through the compound, quietly dodging guards as they went, cautiously

avoiding confrontation if they could help it. Looking for a potential stash of explosives was

not easy as they moved from building to building,

“This is useless.” Said Jack,

“Wait, get down!!!!” Said John pulling both them both down into the shadows close to a

small cabin. It seemed occupied but the warning came suddenly,

“Do you hear that?” Said John,

“What?”

“Voices.”

Jack listened in; indeed he could hear voices, three of them,

“Hang on, they don’t sound English.” He noted,

“No, they sound Russian.” Said John.

From the darkness they could see three men approach, speaking in their native tongue, clearly

it was the three Russians originally encountered in Colchester. Here they were, free and

actively part of this whole operation, observed all the way as they entered into a nearby

parked trailer,

“Come on, let go.” Said Jack was they sneaked past, being doubly careful not to make

noises. To the guards here, they were ordinary intruders, but they had dealt with the Russians

before, it they knew they were on site it may very well blow the entire operation.

Getting about 30 yards past, their earpieces cackled into life once more,

“Alphas 1 and 2, the police say they have a positive ID on someone entering the tower

block, definitely into River View.” Said Harvey,

“Do we know who it is?” Asked Jack,

“Checking…It’s the Health Secretary!”

Both West and Hudson looked at each other in astonishment. Another piece of the puzzle

had just been revealed,

“So he’s here.” Said Jack,

“He must be in on this.” Replied John, “Think about it, who and how someone else could

get a hold of one of the ingredients used in this poison plot.”

An idea flashed into West’s mind, “The scopolamine! Remember back in the lab a while ago,

when we first came across it? From the Datura Plant! You said it was a medical drug, used to

treat motion sickness!”

“Yes, and that it also a deliriant! A vital part of the concoction!”

“And who else would be in a powerful and perfect enough position to procure and deliver

such quantities without arousing too much suspicion?” Asked West, already knowing the

answer,

“The Health Secretary.” Said West, “Corruption, power and greed would be the personal

motivation.”

“And he’s here to watch the fireworks.”

“Precisely. Although not quite the fireworks he was expecting.”

Talking into his microphone, John then tried to clarify their objective,

“Control this is Alpha 2, what do you want us to do, infiltrate the tower or deploy at the

poison factory?”

Harvey was faced with a tough choice. There seemed to be no uptake in activity at the

moment, so he was rather inclined to send them toward River View, until John waded in

again,

“Control, this is Alpha 2, I think we should go after the poison production. That is the

priority.”

“Hold, Alpha 2.” Said Harvey, “You and Alpha 1 split up again. Alpha 2 is to search for

explosives to assault the poison factory; Alpha 1 is to proceed with the tower block. I want

the Health Secretary neutralised.”

“Acknowledged control.” Said West.

It only took Jack a few minutes to proceed to the base of River View. Looking up it was a

very imposing development, one of those buildings that would dominate the skyline in a

triumph of engineering and investment. The exterior, largely made of glass, and surrounded

by medium sized cranes stretched across the structure. The base, apart from the attractive

glassy entrance foyer at the front sported concrete garage complexes at the rear; it was here

that Jack decided to attempt an infiltration,

“Control, Alpha 1 here. I have two contacts guarding the rear entrance of the tower. Need

to eliminate them.” Said Jack into his earpiece,

“Proceed Alpha 1.” Was the reply,

Crouched behind a pile of sandbags, he had an excellent view of the garages while keeping

concealed. Watching, waiting he carefully studied the patterns of the guards, the way they

walked, the points when they turned their backs to each other and so on. Carefully pointing

the silenced barrel of his pistol he trained it on the right guard first, waiting for his moment

like and eagle waiting to strike its prey. Carefully and with one eye closed he lined up the

sight with the head of the guard…still waiting…still waiting...just as the other guard turned

away. West pulled the trigger, causing the Walther to shudder in a muffled spasm as it

discharged the bullet. Instantly striking home, taking out the head of the guard, instantly

causing a small pool of brain matter accompanied by dark red blood to splash over the clean

concrete wall from the exit wound. Reactively West trained his gun left onto the other guard

who was just beginning to turn back. Spinning round the guard saw the body and went into a

state of emergency shock. But there was no time at all to react, West’s second bullet struck

him like an express train, piercing and blowing out vital organs. The second guard, not

standing a chance, fell to the ground, losing his grip on life before his body hit the floor,

“Control, hostiles taken down. Making way toward the garage entrance, over.”

“Proceed Alpha 1. Remember your target is a government minister; he is to be taken down

in a non-lethal way. I repeat a non-lethal way. You have no authorisation to kill him,

understood Alpha 1?”

West, running over to the garage entrances, and making his way down some ramps to the

doors, heeded the warning from Thames house. The guards were now just corpses lying

motionless in large pools of blood,

“Understood.” He said, “Entering now.”

The garage doors themselves were locked tight, but a fire exit that the guards used was still

open. Inside was a large underground car park, which was dark, but not pitch black but

empty except for some barriers and construction works used for internal refurbishments,

“Control, I’m inside a car park, no sign of life.” He reported,

“Try and gain access to the upper levels Alpha 1.” Harvey said,

Looking around he could see the silver doors indicating a set of lifts. Hesitating at first he

proceeded toward it,

“Alpha 1, we have a positive ID on the health secretary in that building. Wait, he’s not

alone…I’m reading multiple heat signatures alongside.” Said Aazim from Thames House,

“How many signatures?”

“Two.”

West paused, in the darkness, “Can you say which floor?”

“The second floor, but we can’t get a definite fix.”

It was all West had to go on, “I’m in front of a lift, how to I get up to second?”

“Hold on…you’re in the basement…the lifts there only go up to the main entrance, but there

are express lifts from the foyer up to the top floor. You can access second from there.”

He entered the lift, travelling up to the foyer. Things were in such a rush he forgot about one

vital thing until the doors closed and he was on his way,

“What if the foyer is guarded?” He thought. It was too late now, he was there. Poising his

gun once more the doors opened slowly to the main entrance. Peering out, he couldn’t hide

the relief of it being empty; it was tastefully decorated, marble floors, clicking quietly as Jack

made his way out across it. Modern paintings and murals adorned the walls, finished off with

potted plants and modern sofas surrounding him, but it was of no distraction when he spotted

another series of lifts on the opposite side,

“Here we go, express lifts.” He said as he pressed the button to call it. The light whirring

sound told him it was on the way as he readied himself by standing back and pointed his gun

just in case there was an unexpected occupant. The doors opened to reveal a slightly

different lift with a lighter, mirrored interior; it was empty. West stepped in and examined

the keypad, pressing ‘2’ to signal his desired destination. By now his alertness was

heightened, he must now be close. His orders resonating through his mind as his whole body

felt the light upward motion of the lift.

The doors opened to reveal some kind of conference facilities, still half decorated, but

perfect for a vantage point. The corridors he emerged in seemed empty, but there were clear

muffled voices coming from behind him. It seemed to be coming from a large space to the

rear, the side overlooking the docklands. Jack silently made his way toward the sound, his

finder itching on the trigger in a state of high tension, the carpet, and he was thankful it was,

covering the sounds of his approach perfectly.

He arrived at the entrance to a conference hall as the voices became ever clearer; it was

obvious someone was inside. Peering round with his gun raised, he could see a black suited

man, in his late forties flanked at each side by two equally sharp dressed minders. They

certainly seemed taller and more bulky than the man they were protecting as the three were in

a discussion about something. It didn’t last, West watched on as the three swiftly moved off

to leave…this was his chance. Either he tried to catch his target now, or the opportunity

would be lost. Gun pointing forward to step out quick, catching the three men completely off

guard. All this did was trigger a reaction from both guards who tried to produce weapons

from within their jacket pockets, but Jack was too fast. Pointing and pulling the trigger, he

shot one first then the other guard both in the chest knocking them back to the ground as

blood squirted out of their wounds, splashing through the air on the way down. They both

crashed to the floor leaving the third man frozen and stunned in front of West and his

smoking gun,

“Who are you?!” Asked the man,

“Who I am is not important Health Secretary. Who I work for, is.”

“How dare you!!! I’m a government minister!!!”

“I also work for the government!”

“Oh do you? What as? Oh wait, of course!! Yes you aren’t you...you’re security services?”

Jack let on some more, “You don’t need to know. We’ve been watching you for some time

now Health Secretary. We know all about you. Tell me what was it? Greed? Corruption?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Oh really? So being here is just one big coincidence is it? Since when did docklands and

development come under health in the government?”

Sensing that Jack knew all about what was happening here, he wasn’t stupid, he tried to

weight up his options rather than try to outwit him,

“I suppose if I try to run you will shoot me yes?”

“I’ve been asked not to eliminate you.”

This put the minister at some ease, “So you’re not some kind of assassin? Then you cannot

shoot me, I’m alright.”

Without replying, but with a slight smile he pointed the Walther down and shot the politician

in the foot, sending him to the floor in complete agony. Blood trickled onto the floor, but did

not pool as Jack knew exactly where to hit in a non-lethal location. Jack, spinning his gun

around, rang over to the slumped minister shouting in agony and hit him over the head with

force. Not too much, just enough to render him unconscious in order to quieten him,

“That’s shut you up. You’re a bit out of your depth getting mixed up in all this. Should

have stuck to sleaze and spin, that’s what you lot are best at.” He thought as he picked him

up. Struggling at first as he had not adjusted to the weight as he hauled his body over his

shoulder he carried him out of the conference centre leaving just the two dead men lying in

the centre of the floor space,

“Control this is Alpha 1, target taken down but not eliminated. I’m depositing him out of

the way for later apprehension.”

“Understood Alpha 1, well done.” Said Harvey.

Back in the underground car park, nothing had changed. The place was still empty; nobody

had discovered the two dead guards lying outside nobody was lying in wait as the lift to the

foyer whirred louder once more. The doors opened slightly, then fully as Jack walked slowly

out; the pain in his shoulders now getting irritating from carrying the still unconscious rogue

politician away and down into a dark, secluded corner of the complex. Finding a space

behind one of the structural columns he laid his man down on the floor gently, checking to

see if he has regained semi consciousness,

“Still out cold, all you’ll get is a bruise and a headache. If it was up to me you’d get a

bullet.”

Satisfied his target was safe for now he stood up leaving him there,

“Alpha 1 to control, Target secured in the underground car park of River View.”

Thames House was quick to respond, “Acknowledged Alpha 1, standby for further orders,

we’re checking in on Alpha 2.”

Jack had done his bit, now it was up to John.

Chapter 24:

Outside John approached the caravan where the Three Russians had entered. From the

outside the sings of occupation were faint but there; it looked like they hadn’t left just yet,

“Alpha 2, report.” Said Harvey,

“Control, I’m outside, on the edge of the docks close to the trailer caravans. Monitoring

present activity, no suspicious levels just yet.”

“Standby Alpha 2, SAS men deploying now, approaching your position.”

John understood as Harvey signed off. By now John had made his way silently next to the

caravan exterior, the cool metallic wall pressing hard against his shoulder. Crouching down

he could distinctly hear the three Russian accents bringing back vivid memories of the mill

back in Colchester. It took him back in memory only broken by the sounds of approach from

others; so fast that John didn’t have to react as three heavily armoured men approached.

Their black masks shrouding their identity, their semi-automatic weapons visible and primed

as the lead man crouched beside John with the other two staying slightly behind on the

lookout. Without speaking, Hudson pointed upwards in a type of sign language, indicating

the presence of hostiles. The masked man nodded and gestured how many, pitting one finger

up, then two, John answered by shaking his head and raising three fingers. The SAS man

nodded, he knew how many there were inside. Pointing away from the caravan, he instructed

John to move away while they took up position there. John nodded and did as instructed as

he silently moved forward once more, giving the Special Forces room to work. Silently they

locked the caravan door silently imprisoning the occupants inside.

“Alpha 2, some new information. We think explosive devices were brought in by river.

Proceed to the dockside, there may be a vessel moored up.” Said Harvey.

He made his way toward the river, there were two more guards patrolling, but they were

only light. Being careful to stay in the shadows, he watched the patrols carefully; as they did

not seem too bothered, more just general chatter, it was clear they weren’t paying attention to

anything in particular. Biding his time he slipped behind both onto the concrete dockside,

“Control, I’m on the water’s edge, there is a small fishing vessel moored up.”

“Acknowledged Alpha 2. Are there any other vessels in the vicinity?” Asked Harvey,

“No this is the only one.”

John, taking cover behind a pile of sandbags looked on at the small boat. It looked

completely inconspicuous, if not a little old, tied up on the bank which was lined by huge

mechanical cranes normally used for lifting heavy cargo off freighters. However the boat did

look a little out of place docked here,

“Control, there’s someone on the boat, another guard standing on top of the bridge cabin.”

“Must be there for a reason.” Said Harvey, “Alpha 2, can you see anyone else?”

“Negative.”

“Standby.” John wondered what Harvey meant by that, but he was prepared to wait.

Watching, waiting the boat and the guard on top of the structure. He could see that he was

armed, like the others, but his weapon was different, somehow more long and slender like

some sort of long range rifle. Turning away from John’s direction, and out of the blue,

suddenly the guard dropped before his eyes, shot by the bullet from a police sniper,

“Alpha 2 you are clear to proceed.” John heard over his earpiece.

He slowly broke cover and made the hazardous journey to the boat side. For a few fleeting

seconds he was totally exposed, but he managed to reach it safely. He climbed on board the

light blue hull, treading on its metallic decking,

“Alpha 2, counter intelligence suggests that there is high confidence of explosives on board.

They were shipped in via the river.” Said one of the operatives back at Thames House, “It’s

possible that the ones used at King’s Cross came in via this route.” Harvey added.

John made his way below deck, using extreme caution as he did so, finding his way into the

still empty cargo hold,

“Control, the boat is empty.” Said John, “Seems that this could have been the way that the

terrorists entered the site. It’s much more discreet than entering by road where they could be

seen, especially the convoy of white vans ready for distribution of the poisons.”

“Agreed. What can you see?” Said Harvey,

“Packing crates, wooden and mostly empty.”

“Do you think the bombs on site could have arrived in them?”

“It’s likely.” Was John’s reply.

There were many crates packed and stacked high all around the small cargo hold, some were

inaccessible, but other less so,

“Alpha 2, have all the devices delivered been used?” Asked Harvey,

“I’ve no idea. I can look around but there’s no guarantee of finding anything.”

He proceeded to search through the maze of wooden crates and plastic boxes, all seemed to

have similar batch numbers except for those down at the far end. Going over to them, John

observed something about one of them,

“Looks like this set are different to the others.” He said, “Looks like a different batch, I’m

going to open one of the boxes.”

Trying to open the tightly shut boxes seemed near impossible; they were all impeccably

sealed,

“It’s no good I can’t open any of these.” He said frustratingly as he shifted each box aside,

trying them as he did so. However moving one box stacked up against one of the main

bulkheads also revealed something more than the boats frame, it was enough to stun him for a

brief second,

“Alpha 2 to control, I’ve found something.”

“What have you found Alpha 2?” asked Harvey. John did not respond,

“Alpha 2 come in…what have you found?...Report.”

John finally came to his senses,

“Control, there’s something attached to the bulkhead.”

“What’s attached to the bulkhead? Alpha 2 what have you found?” Asked Harvey,

“…It’s a bomb.”

Everyone at Thames House stood there in silence. For a second they really had no idea what

to do next, what if there were other devices around the complex?

“Is it live?” Harvey asked,

“…Yes it’s primed.”

With the tension mounting Harvey made a reassuring decision, “I have requested the police

to deploy bomb squads on standby.”

“Yes but what do I do in the meantime?!” Said John, the hint of anxiety obvious in his

voice. The honest answer was that Harvey was not sure himself, until one of the other

members of his team stepped in,

“Alpha 2, what type of device is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it dynamite?”

John looked, “No it’s plastic explosive.”

This got the operative thinking, “OK…you should see things attached to it. Can you see a

timer?”

Observing the mechanism, John just looked on without touching it, “Yes I can see a

timer…It’s a clock…the same as the consignment we found in that warehouse in Colchester.”

The operative back at headquarters thought on, “OK…it sounds like it’s activated by a timer

only, not by moving or tilting it. That’s good…OK Alpha 2 what else can you see?”

“There’s a battery-“

“The battery is used to power the timer.” The operative mentioned to Harvey, “OK Alpha 2,

anything else? Keep looking, you should see some kind of metallic or brass tube.”

John looked on, “…Yes there’s a brass tube between the timer and the battery.”

“Good…now, you should see two wires coming out of the tube…”

“Yes I can.”

“What colours are they? One should be red and the other one should be either blue

or…green.”

John looked, “They’re red and green.”

Harvey, like all there was by now extremely concerned. Wanting to put some of this into

context he asked his operative for clarification,

“What does that mean?”

Turning to his superior, the operative was harnessing all his knowledge to keep everyone in

the loop and his colleague alive, “The brass tube is the detonator, the wires going into it

connect the timer and the battery.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” Harvey asked. With the tension rising still further

he turned back to the radio,

“Alpha 2, I’m going to tell you how to make that device safe. I’m going to take you through

it, and I want you to follow my exact instructions…I need you to trust me, OK?...You do trust

me don’t you?”

“…Yes.” John replied softly.

This was all that the operative wanted to hear, “Good man. OK, you’re going to disconnect

the timer from the detonator. That’ll prevent it from setting off the main charge, OK?”

“Fine, what wires do I need to touch?”

“Don’t touch anything yet!” Warned the operative. Harvey, the whole team listened on in

complete silence. West, still in River View, found himself a quiet spot out of the way,

listened intently to the drama playing out in his earpiece. Frustrated and captivated with that

fact that this was purely a two man drama and there was no way he could help.

“OK John.” Continued the operative, “I want you to position yourself so that you are

comfortable, and when I say so I want you to touch one of the wires.”

“OK. I’m ready…which wire?”

The operative hesitated for a split second. If he got this wrong, “The green wire OK John?

When I say so, I want you to touch the green wire. I want you to feel how loose it is in its

connection. Can you do that for me John?”

Tentatively John reached out to the wires in the bomb device. Trembling with absolute fear

under the stark realisation that he could be staring at instant death, it required all of his

personal and professional stamina to steady his hands. Beads of sweat running down his

forehead, his eyebrows felt heavy under the collection of sweat he was perspiring under the

intolerable situation. His eyes stinging from the sweat that had managed to drop, impairing

his close eyesight prompting him to mop himself with his other free hand. He touched it, his

forefinger slowly tugging at it in a bid to gauge how secure the wire was in its fitting,

“It’s tight but I can move it.” He said.

“OK John, you are going to disconnect it from the detonator now. That will break the

circuit and stop the timer from setting it off. When I tell you to, I want you to pull on the

green wire and slowly remove it.”

Frozen stiff, John understood his instruction perfectly. Harvey though was just as nervous,

“Is that the correct way to diffuse that device?”

The operative turned again, “Providing it doesn’t have a failsafe-“

“You mean booby trapped?” Harvey cut in,

“It will be the correct wire.” He reassured, but Harvey could not be sure,

“What happens if it isn’t?” He asked,

“Then it will explode in his face.”

“Oh my god.” Said Clive in the background. Samantha at his side just stood there in silence

as did the others, her hand covering her mouth. Suddenly the immediate reality hit home.

Everything, not just John’s life, but the whole operation, the wider implications and the

reputation of everybody relied on this next decision,

“It had better be the right one.” Said Harvey reflecting the thoughts of everyone around as

the operative turned back to the task in hand,

“John can you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“OK, take your time, when you are ready pull on the green wire and disconnect it slowly.”

John gripped the wire, his heart thudding through his chest, ears, and neck. The sounds of his

surroundings completely drowned out by now in the tenseness of the situation. He began to

tug,

“Pulling it out now.” He said as everyone stood in silence. Jack, still in hiding could only

hear through the quietness of his earpiece. At Thames House nobody dared say a word for

fear of breaking John’s intense concentration at this critical time. Tugging at the green wire

very slowly, John applied a very minute amount of pressure, only as much as his hands dared

as he suddenly heard a click. The wire pulled out but only halfway, causing a noise to be

heard stopping John dead in his tracks holding the wire steady in a half connection to the

detonator,

“It’s beeping!! It’s making a noise!!” He said over the radio. Everyone at Thames House

panicked, but tried utterly not to show it. Jack, hearing the pleas of his friend over the radio

wanted to break cover, held his hands over his eyes waiting for the sound of an explosion,

“OK, OK, keep calm John!” Said the operative desperately trying to control the emotions of

the situation, “Pull the green wire out now. Nice and steady, remember, you trust me.”

“Don’t you dare leave me like this!” Was the reply,

“Nobody is going to leave you John, We are here. Don’t think about the beeping; just

continue to pull out the wire nice and steady.”

Everybody listened on…silence…had he done it? Again everybody, even Jack listened

intently for any signs of radio chatter, but nothing. Nobody dared utter a word,

“Control I’ve done it, the wire is out. The beeping has stopped.”

The sense of relief almost overwhelmed everyone, in the huge sighs let out by those present.

As they came down from their high emotional state from what they had just gone though, the

operative sought to reassure Hudson as to what he had just done,

“OK well done, you’ve made the bomb safe. Now you can remove it, carry it around,

whatever. Just make sure the green wire doesn’t go back in for now.”

Removing it from the wall, it seemed to come away pretty easy. Looking at it now, John

could see it was a fairly simple manufactured device. Was not complicated at all, but

something struck him, even in the throes of relief that he was still alive,

“Control, there’s something else about the timer…the hands on the clocks, it bugged me in

Colchester, but it’s only just hit me now. The design of the hands, they’re identical to ones

retrieved from King’s Cross. Inspector Waterson showed them both to me and Jack in

Scotland Yard in the aftermath of the bombing!”

Still relieved, Harvey responded, “So are you looking at a device used in that terrorist

attack?”

“Possibly, or at least the timers were used.”

Jack still listening in from his hiding spot knew exactly what his friend was talking about. He

realised the link straight away.

“Control,” Asked John, “I have an idea. If I re-arm this bomb and reset the timer, we have a

ready-made device to put out of action that stockpile of poison before those trollies and vans

get out there to distribute it.”

Harvey turned to Clive, “Will plastic explosive be enough?”

“Yes, plastic explosive does have a greater yield than ordinary dynamite, so it should be

enough to evaporate any released poison before it gets into the atmosphere.”

Harvey didn’t have much alternative, “OK Alpha 2, go ahead.”

He reset the timer, setting it for ten minutes by rotating the hands to the correct time. He

inserted the green wire back into the detonator causing it to tick,

“Control we have a live device again, now it’s just one mighty big grenade. I’ve set it for

ten minutes.”

“Then that is how much time we have got.” Replied Harvey.

Back at the bridge leading toward the factory warehouse, all was quiet. There was certainly

no external evidence to the drama that had just occurred at the dockside. A crouching figure

swiftly but quietly attempted to make his way across, getting only two thirds of the way

before being disturbed by activity,

“Control, this is Alpha 2. I have the bomb on me; I’m attempting to plant it at the

warehouse now. But there seems to be activity coming from the building.”

“What kind of activity Alpha 2?” Asked Harvey, still coming down from the excitement,

“People moving out of the side.”

Harvey thought for a second, “Sounds like they are getting ready to move.”

The whole team were now monitoring the wider events, watching and waiting all the

screens and computer monitors to see what the terrorists would do. Harvey wanted to time it

right, to catch them in the act with all the evidence, it was all both exciting and terrifying at

both the same time. After the knife-edge incident with John and the bomb, it was hard to say

how much more they could take. Such was the intensity unfolding before them, nobody saw

four suited men enter the office behind them,

“Charles, what’s going on? Where are we up to?” Said one of them in an authoritative tone

causing Harvey to spin round with a few others,

“Home Secretary, this is a pleasant surprise. Well it definitely looks a potential biological

attack on the capital. We have pinpointed the terrorists and the ring leaders, and traced then

to APF Industries in the docklands.”

“I know, I remember you briefing me earlier. So what are we doing about it?”

“The full works, the police are on standby, rooftop snipers covering the area, specialist

police forces and bomb squads are on site. Even the SAS are deploying and waiting for our

signal to go. I even have some of my own personnel on the ground.”

“How many?” Asked the Home Secretary

“Two. One going after the poison on site and the other going after the ring leaders if he can

find them.”

“And how are they going to distribute this poison?”

“They are deploying them in tarmac laying machines under the cover of road works. We

think they are going to get them out via white vans observed on site.” Explained Harvey.

There was nothing else he could say.

“OK.” Said the Home Secretary, “The Prime Minister is aware of the on-going situation and

wants to be updated regularly. So do you recommend the implementation of evacuation Plant

Theresa?”

Harvey stalled for a second, “No I don’t think so yet. I still believe we have a chance to stop

it Home Secretary.”

“You had better hope so; otherwise this country will hang you by the balls.” Warned the

politician, but Harvey had no time to respond, one of the other operatives cut in,

“The SAS and the police are deployed. They’re ready to assault on our word. What do we

do, shall I tell them to go in?”

Hesitating for a few seconds, everyone wondered if this was it,

“What are your orders?” Asked Aazim as the Home Secretary stepped forward,

“Charles, the Prime Minister is in no mood to wait, and neither is the Palace. What are you

going to do?”

Turning toward his staff Harvey wanted as much info as possible,

“Alpha 2, report what you see please.”

John, still on the bridge still had a good view from his hiding place behind one of the

structural pillars,

“I see workers outside the warehouse where the poison is being manufactured. There

definitely seems to be an increase in activity, it looks like they are getting ready to

move….wait…..the trollies, they are gathering a number of them outside. Harvey, it looks

like they are already filled with poison, they could be getting ready to move.”

“But where?”

John was as much in the dark as anyone, “I’ve no idea. It’s possible they could be distributed

around the city or concentrated in one place. Who knows.”

In the deep shadows of River View, Jack, now satisfied that everything was OK tried to

make his way toward the exit. There was a sense of hesitancy about his actions; could he be

sure this tower block was completely clear? He did not have to wait to find out,

“Alpha 1, are you still in River View?” Said one of the other operatives,

“Yes.”

“Alpha 1, there’s activity in your area; multiple contacts have been spotted entering the

front of the building.”

“Do we know who they are?” Asked Jack, there was a pause,

“…We think its Victor Bruenstein.”

Now Jack perked up suddenly, perhaps this was he chance to get him,

“Can you locate the contacts in the building?” He asked,

“Negative, but the lifts have been activated and there are visible contacts in the foyer.

Recommend you avoid these Alpha 1.”

Looking around the dark car park, he saw a large green door off to the side. It bore a sign

next to it,

“A stairwell!!” He said to himself as he made his way over to it. Carefully opening the door

there were no figures immediately upwards as he entered the shaft and begun his ascent up

each flight of concrete stairs. It seemed to take forever, but his movement was hampered by

cautious progress, slowing up every few yards as he passed the exit door to each floor,

“Control can you give me any more info?” He whispered as he moved higher. If Bruenstein

was here he had no idea where to find him,

“Alpha 1, there are multiple heat sources in that structure, it’s impossible to determine who

is who, but I’m reading 3 signatures on the top floor, level 20.” Replied the operative as West

proceeded to follow.

Climbing about four storeys, he paused in on the staircase, his hands gripping the metal

handrail. Hearing a noise from above, Jack looking up to see a figure approaching his

location fast and there was nowhere to hide. Having no choice, he raised his gun and walked

slowly forward as the two men approached each other. They met on opposite sides of a

particular flight between the 13th and 14

th floors, the guard on the top and thankfully not

paying much attention as West looked upwards to him on the bottom. Instantly Jack fired,

three times, in rapid succession, the bullets hammering into the guard’s torso, blasting out of

the back. Slumped against the wall, the guard, slid down toward the floor, a streak of dark

red blood on the recently painted walls followed him down indicating the exit wounds. He

was dead. Jack carefully walked up the stairs, removing he ammunition clip from the barrel

smoking gun, quickly replacing it with a fresh one full of live rounds. Satisfied he was dead

by giving him the once over, he continued upwards.

Finally after many flights and one long empty stairwell, Jack reached door marked for the

20th

floor. It was shut tightly but it was a designated fire escape so he knew it couldn’t be

locked. Pausing briefly Jack listened intently for any signs of movement beyond the door.

He wasn’t totally satisfied but he had to probe onwards; gripping the handle, he turned it

slowly, loosening the latch until the door became loose. He opened it slowly, his silenced

gun rose as he stuck his head out into what seemed to be a corridor outside upper level

apartments. The corridor was lit but the electricity supply was poor at best, by now Jack was

used to dimly lit locations, he had been in enough of them in the past. Still working

cautiously, he moved forward, the charcoal coloured doors and carpet contrasting against the

cream painted walls perfectly muffled the sounds of his footsteps as he made his way forward

with his gun,

“If someone can’t hear me, then I won’t be able to hear them.” He thought to himself in an

alert state. Another green door lay at the end of the corridor; clearly it was further stairwell

as he made his way toward it. The signage confirmed where it led,

“Penthouse Level.” He said. If Bruenstein was in the building, that had to be his location.

It wasn’t very high, only a couple of flights at most which brought Jack out into another

corridor, more lavish than the previous ones. He didn’t have time to scout, instantly he heard

voices, around three of them coming from a penthouse flat at the front. Silently he raised his

gun and moved into the darkness as the voices became a little louder and clearer. He headed

through a large door into a dark and spacious, but not yet furnished area. Looking more like

a large concrete tomb than a future penthouse apartment, the basic shell with its large window

spanning one wall provided the perfect viewing point amongst the construction works.

Still in the shadows, Jack silently placed himself behind one pillar. Wide enough for him to

remain hidden, he looked on toward the window toward a figure standing solitary and

looking out. The tall, dark haired man with a large light brown leather jacket stood there

motionless, totally unaware of the situation unfolding in the docklands and of Jack hidden

about 12 feet away,

“Bruenstein!” He thought to himself, recognising the man instantly. Looking on with

contempt, after all it was he who had caught Jack and beaten him up in the old underground

tunnels before John turned up. His next move was clear, however as luck would have it, two

others turned up entering the space through a side door. Shifting back slightly and trying his

absolute best to minimise his breathing as there was very little ambient noise to cover it up,

he looked on while shrouded in darkness. He watched as the two quickly approached

Bruenstein to speak,

“We’re ready to go.” Said one of them,

“Tell them to load the vans. Tell them to leave as soon as it is done.”

Jack thought on, “Leave? For where? Where are the targets? And where is Maxwell Grey?”

“Where shall I tell the vans to deploy?” Asked the other guard loudly, making no attempt to

cover it up,

“As planned, we deploy outside to where the bombs are in four waves, three poison trollies

in each one. First to Trafalgar Square, the second placed around Whitehall, make sure you

leave one near Downing Street. The third wave deployed outside the Houses of Parliament

and the final wave around Piccadilly Circus.”

Alarmed Jack listened on as Bruenstein continued, “Are the explosives already in place in

these areas?”

“Yes, they’ve been deployed.”

“Are they scheduled to go off in time?”

“They’re set to go off in half an hour. The carts should be in place beside them by then.”

“Good, tell the guys to start getting them out on the road. C’mon we only have an hour.”

Given his orders, one of the guards turned to walk away and Jack knew he needed to do

something. Leaving Bruenstein with the second henchman he watched as the other left the

penthouse. Taking his chance, he withdrew slightly trying his best to stay within the

shadows, exiting out into the corridor. Suddenly he heard footsteps, rapidly getting closer

with each soft thud on the carpet. Diving around a corner was his only hope, as he hugged

the wall as the footsteps came ever closer. Clearly they were coming from behind closing the

gap; Jack watched in the darkness as he could see soft, diffuse shadows fluctuating on the

opposite wall in front of him. Fixated, Jack steeled himself as the figure rapidly passed him

unnoticed, tasked with carrying the message to deploy. He had to be stopped. Jack rapidly

moved out, crouching slightly and checking with a flinching glance backward he moved up to

the guard. Raising his arm, his pistol now turned upward like a club, he pulled it down with

full force, striking the guard a heavy blow to the head. The guard instantly fell and Jack

grabbed him quickly; he was unconscious as he looked around to make sure he had not been

seen. Gripping his armpits, he dragged the knocked out terrorist into a nearby cleaning

cupboard, laying him out of sight and safe for the time being. Locking the door behind him,

Jack was satisfied he had just bought a little time for himself.

Now he wanted to get Bruenstein, his belligerence was all too obvious, he knew he

absolutely had to be taken out, but the info he had just discovered was too important.

Secretly he whispered into his earpiece,

“Control this is Alpha 1. I’m on the upper floors of River View, Bruenstein is here.

Harvey, he is planning to detonate the poison carts all over London.”

“How is he going to detonate them?” Asked Harvey,

“Using bombs, probably like the one John found. He’s had the devices planted across the

city earlier, from what I understand we’ve only got 30 minutes before they go off.”

“Do we know where the bombs are?”

“Yes, Trafalgar Square, Whitehall and Downing Street, Buckingham Palace, Piccadilly

Circus and the Houses of Parliament.”

Harvey knew the course of action to take, “I’ll authorise those areas to be sealed off. We’ll

make sure to have police and army bomb disposal squads dispatched urgent priority.”

“What shall I do about Bruenstein?” Asked Jack,

“Standby Alpha 1.” Harvey replied,

“Standby? What the hell does ‘standby’ mean?....I’m going back in there.”

He made his way back into the penthouse area, silent and moving toward his last position,

ever aware that the slightest noise could alert to his presence. Bruenstein was still at the

window, standing like a giant silhouetted against the glow of the urban night. The other

guard, still by his side at this time. Jack approached the column where he was before,

creeping into the shadows as something caught the corner of his right eye. He looked to see

the second guard move off quickly; had he seen him at the side? Jack froze, half in the

shadows, as the guard took the same exit as his colleague before. It was OK, Jack had not

been spotted. Silently relieved, he positioned himself behind the column where has was last

time in a more comfortable fashion; from here he had a good and uninterrupted view of

Victor Bruenstein.

His back turned, he was busy overlooking the AFP complex in the docklands to monitor

progress; it was the one chance Jack West had been waiting for. From out of the shadows,

his silencer peered out into the half-light; the Walther it attached to loaded and ready to fire.

Jack, looked straight down the barrel, aiming for the back of his head,

“Now I’ve got you.” He thought. His gun aimed steady, the target in his sights and

Bruenstein standing at the window, it was now or never. With no authorisation to kill from

Thames House, in the darkness of the shadows, Jack closed one eye to get a straight aim and

began to press his finger on the trigger.

Chapter 25:

Still positioned on the bridge, John looked on at the activity ahead, unaware of the full

extent of the plan. By now everything that was happening and the lack of action was starting

to get to him,

“Control, I’m still on the bridge. What do you want me to do?” He asked rather impatiently,

“Alpha 2 that bomb you’re holding. It’s just one of many.” Said Harvey,

“One of many?”

“We’ve received information that there is a credible bomb threat across the city. The one

you procured was just a single device.”

“Bloody hell!” John whispered.

The activity in Thames House rose considerably. The bomb threat had been credibly

compromised, and now the time was as big an enemy as Bruenstein and his terrorist

organisation. Everyone had a job to do, rushing about in panic, trying to get a hold on the

increasingly deteriorating situation,

“The police have been notified, bomb squads on route to the locations.” Said one operative,

“Will they get there in time?” Harvey asked himself,

“You had better hope so.” Replied the home secretary, overhearing the comment. Privately

Harvey hoped so too. If the notoriously heavy traffic could not be beaten and the police

could not seal off, evacuate the areas and diffuse those bombs in time, the damage alone

would be catastrophic. He had the APF compound sealed, and men on the ground but the

locations of the other bombs were now in the hands of others. He prayed that they would be

successful,

“Harvey you want to take a look at this!” Another operative called out alarmingly,

“What?”

“There’s activity all over the internet!”

For Harvey, for everyone, this was just another headache, “Dammit!”

The computer screens told the story for themselves, “The word’s out.” Said an operative,

“Someone must of have seen the police cordons in the surrounding areas. Rumours are

beginning to spread around the social media.”

Harvey took a pensive attitude, “And if the public thinks something’s wrong, pretty soon the

terrorists are going to know something actually is.”

Everyone agreed as another lady approached with a message, “It’s all over the internet.

People are gathering in the streets.”

“We know!” Snapped Harvey,

“That’s not all.”

“What do you mean, that’s not all?!”

“Reports of local television crews close to the police cordon.”

This was the last thing Harvey wanted to hear, “Oh that’s just great!! Aazim can we patch

into the television news feeds?”

“Yep, give me a second….there.”

They looked up at a television screen on the wall. Instantly it showed a news anchor

reporting on activity going on at APF,

“And next tonight before we head off to the sport, some breaking news reaching us in the

last few minutes. We’re hearing reports of police activity in the docklands area tonight.

Eyewitnesses say that a significant amount of police has sealed off adjacent streets

surrounding the APF Industries site. We hope to get a report on the ground soon, more on

this as we get it.”

Broadcasting to a wide audience, everyone at Thames House looked on at the public

unfolding of the stealthy operation,

“Can we shut them down?” Asked Harvey to any of his staff,

“No,” Replied one of the staff, “It’s all over the internet, there’s no point in suppression.

The television report is local news, nothing on the national outlets yet.”

“You can bet they will be carrying the story.” Harvey said, prompting him to think further,

“If the terrorists get wind of this, they could get spooked and go all out and release the

poison anyway.”

It was a terrifying proposition.

On the site, John was still situated on the bridge. With no direct instruction coming through

he thought it unwise to move, instead just choosing to observe. Still the white vans parked

outside the warehouse were waiting but their tail lights flickering a deep red glow betrayed

the fact that they were preparing to depart. John wanted to warn his superiors as it looked as

if they were moving imminently,

“Control, this is Alpha 2. The vans are-“

“….Alpha 2, what is it?”

“Standby control.” John replied as he looked at the warehouse below. Crouching ever more

behind one of the structural pillars, he looked on as more figures emerged from the building.

They seemed to be in a hurry organising themselves into some kind of assembly line as they

brought out equipment,

“Control, there’s activity outside the warehouse. It looks as if they are getting ready to

move…They seem to loading something onto the trucks…the trollies!! Control they are

loading the trollies laden with poison onto the trucks, it looks as if they are getting ready to

move!”

Harvey listened to the situation relayed to him via the radio, and the Home Secretary wanted

something done,

“Charles, you need to act now.”

“I know.” He replied turning toward one of his team, “Where are the locations of Alphas 1

and 2?”

“Charles, you are running out of time!”

“I’m well aware Home Secretary.”

A further message came over the radio,

“Control this is Alpha 2, they have loaded the trollies onto the vans, they are leaving!! What

do you want me to do?”

This is serious Charles!” Said the Home Secretary, “You have no options left, you need to

send in the Special Forces now!”

He was right, there were no options left. He had to make a decision immediately, knowing

full well of the implications riding on his next move,

“Home Secretary, can you get senior government ministers and officials to the government

shelter.”

“What?” Said the minister slightly confused,

“The Downing Street Nuclear Command Bunker. That 1960’s concrete underground

complex built in case the Cold War escalated into World War III. I trust it’s still there.”

Slightly taken aback by the comment, the politician responded, “Charles that is classified

information, a need to know basis only!”

“And I need to know now; as a backup plan! Just in case we can’t get you out in time!”

Snapped Harvey,

“Yes it’s still operational but the plan here is to evacuate! Look this is on your shoulders

Harvey, either you send in the SAS now, or otherwise I’ll put Plan Theresa into operation.

And I’ll hold you responsible for the consequences!!”

It appeared checkmate as far as any other options were concerned,

“I’m risking my men being caught in crossfire.” Said Harvey, leaning over a chair head

down,

“You have no choice.” Said the minister as one of the operatives spoke out,

“They’re waiting for the final order to depart. Harvey we’re out of time!!!”

Raising his head, it was time for Harvey to make the decision,

“God help us….send in the SAS.”

Crowds gathering in the adjacent streets began to swell. Rumours had fuelled the curiosity

as to what was going on, but nobody could get past the cordons, manned by a heavy police

presence. Further down the streets vans and cars carrying armed response teams and other

officers swarmed around like bees in a hive. Something was definitely happening,

intensifying in the last few minutes. The outskirts of the area, where all seemed quiet, only

the superficial activity of the local police was obvious; still nobody had any real idea what

was really happening. Everything was tense in the cold night; the orange glow of the street

lights interrupted intermittently by the electric blue flash of the police vehicles was the only

visual clue to something abnormal.

The sounds were quiet, only the rustling of the wind howling the loudest, until the next

second. Suddenly and without warning the SAS struck. Placing plastic explosives

strategically around the site, they blew their way into the compound at three points. The

small charges, smashing perimeter fences and gates into small showers of sharp splintered

debris,

“MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!!!” were the instructions as specially trained personnel followed

and covered by armed police stormed APF Industries with lightening efficiency. SAS squads

clad in black armour and body suits stormed the compound from multiple angles stunning the

terrorists in the first moments of the attack. The rattling of gunfire began to ring out amongst

the night air as the terrorists responded like for like in attack. Coming out in force from the

initial shock, they fired without mercy on the Special Forces and their police escort. Bullets

spraying everywhere ricochet of surfaces and walls, pinging and zapping dangerously close

as the SAS men forced their way into the compound.

River View provided an excellent grandstand to watch as Bruenstein observed the drama

below. With Jack hidden behind him, he watched as his target became rather uneasy at what

was going on. Bruenstein was not too concerned he had already given the order to deploy,

not knowing that Jack had already struck. Looking on to the ground, he saw dark figures

moving in and being fired upon by his aides, yet the trucks filled with the trollies still had not

moved. The warehouse where the poison was being manufactured seemed to be the focal

point for the operation. Jack meanwhile had Brusenstein in his sights, slightly distracted by

the timing of the start of the action but he had by now composed himself. All he had to do

was pull the trigger.

Beside the warehouse was the area of greatest resistance. SAS squads moved in to seize the

haul of trucks, blocking their way out of the compound. Taking cover behind stacked pallets

and drums, they seemed to be pinned down as a small group of henchmen laid down covering

fire as others tried to get inside the vehicles in a vain attempt to get them away,

“Watch your fire!!! Don’t hit the trucks!!!” Shouted one of the officers as the SAS group

responded. Bullets hit the pallets, smashing splinters out of them as each one carved a hole in

the wood, mercifully not a high enough calibre to penetrate completely through. Such was

the intensity of the fire that the group was effectively held back by the terrorists; however

their presence effectively stopped the trollies from getting out of the compound.

By now the streets were filled with people as the police presence increased dramatically to

control the flow of the crowds, as caught on camera by a local television crew. A reporter on

site tried to capture the night’s events,

“Activity has increased dramatically in the last few minutes. I can tell you that in the past

few seconds we have heard three large explosions coming from just down the street behind

me followed by gunshots….The police are….yes….I think we are being told to get back now

by the police…”

Numbers of police officers manned the blue tape marking the cordon gradually moving

forward in a line, gently but firmly gesturing the public into cooperating with their

instructions,

“Get back!!, can you get back please!!!” One officer shouted as he forced everyone away for

their own safety, the reporter tried to get a scoop,

“Can you tell us what exactly is happening in the compound? Is it another terrorist incident

in the wake of the King’s Cross bombing? Are they related in any way?”

The officer stood his ground in his indifference,

“Can you get back please?” He instructed, coming as a vibrating noise permeated overhead.

Looking upwards, a police helicopter flew overhead, its infrared cameras ready to monitor

the rapidly fluid situation from its unique vantage point. It was the police’s and the SAS eyes

in the sky.

On the bridge, John, still taking cover behind the structure had by now removed his silencer

from this pistol. There seemed no point as he observed the commotion that engulfed him.

He could see the warehouse in front of him only few hundred yards away but getting there

was easier said than done. By now the entire roof was occupied by terrorists and firing down

onto the compound, causing John to cower as live rounds struck the metal around him,

“Bloody hell!!” He shouted loudly to himself as the rattling noise seemed to come from all

directions. He never noticed some SAS squads approach the bridge from behind him,

carefully as they did so, reaching a position where they could communicate with him,

“Can you get across?” Shouted one squad member,

“No, they have fire coming from that roof. That’s where the poison mixture a being made.”

“We’ve got teams down there trying to seize the vans, but they are pinned down. Who the

hell are they?” Replied the SAS man,

“God knows!! Look I need to get across; can you lay down covering fire?”

The squad leader tried to comply, “Rabbit 1, Rabbit 2, covering fire on the roof, now,

now!!!”

The three special service personnel emerged briefly as much as they ever dared, firing their

MP5 sub machine guns in deadly unison. The hail of bullets, only partially effective,

succeeded in pinning down one or two on the roof as far as John cold make out, but it only

alerted some of them to divert in supporting the ones helping out near the vans and turn

toward the bridge,

“Shit, get down, get down!!!” shouted the SAS squad leader as bullets rained down on them.

Hunkered down behind a girder, John knew he would be shot as soon as he emerged,

“Alpha 2 to control, Alpha 2 to control, can you hear me?!!”

“We read you Alpha 2 go ahead.” Replied Harvey; the background noise almost drowned

out any understanding of speech,

“It must be chaos there.” He said to himself,

“Control I still have the primed bomb, I’m trapped on the bridge, but I can’t get anywhere

near it!! They are firing from the roof!!! We’re pinned down” Said John,

“The police snipers can’t get clear shots.” Aazim interrupted.

“I’m unable to sabotage the poison stockpile, what do you want me to do?”

In River View, Jack was still held up behind Bruenstein, his pistol still primed and ready to

fire as he watched his nemesis flinch at the proceedings below. Still distracted by the

conversations in his earpiece, he was fully aware of the situation his friend was in, yet here he

was, the target in his sights still, all he had to do was fire,

“Alpha 1 listen carefully. “ Harvey snapped over the radio, causing Jack to freeze,

“Alpha 2 is in trouble. He’s pinned down by fire on a bridge, and can’t get to the

warehouse. Get over there and link up with him, see what you can do. I don’t care what you

are doing, that poison warehouse is the priority.”

West hated to admit it but he was right. If the assault had started, then there would be every

risk that the terrorists could release the deadly mixture instantly, they had to be stopped.

Silently he pulled his pistol down. Bruenstein has not attempted to flee, obviously thinking

that his original order to his henchman had got through and was just waiting to see it through

to the end. Obviously he had no idea that Jack had already got to him,

“He isn’t going anywhere.” He thought to himself as he slowly backed off into the darkness.

Now that the operation had started, the trailer that John had come across was still locked by

the three SAS squad members who were still in position where they had been earlier. Inside,

the situation was very different, the warm cosy atmosphere quickly became shattered as the

three Russians picked up on the gunfire almost instantly. Sergey, the obvious belligerent of

the three took a dominating role,

“Come on!! Out!!!” He shouted as the three got up picking up their pistols as they did so.

Nikolai rattled the door handle expecting it to open, completely unaware that it had already

been locked before,

“Sergey, it is locked!!! The door not open!!!”

The aggressive man pushed past Nikolai to try his hand on the handle. Even he could not

budge its locked fast position. As the rattling and shouting raged outside accompanied by the

hum of the helicopter overhead only served to fuel the anger of the three trapped inside.

Their frustration witnessed by one of the SAS men waiting all the time outside, observing

through the small window at the side. The ragged net curtain provided some visual obstacle

but not much; it didn’t do much to protect the presence of the observer either. Soon the

inevitable happened when Evgeny turned innocently to his right, directly at the window,

“Sergey, Nikolai!!!! Look!!!!”

As all three turned to the window, it only took a split second for them to spot the man looking

through the window. Instinctively they reacted, even though they each possessed a pistol, it

was the volatile nature of Sergey who took the action,

“Swine!!!!” He shouted as he raised his weapon. The silver Colt .45 glistened in the

artificial light of the yellow bulb above. Without hesitation he fired, three times, the

snapping crack sounding as each bullet discharged. Through the smoke from the gun residue,

the SAS commando screamed as each bullet hit him, thick red blood and dark lumps of flesh

blew out the back of his head resulting from him being shot in the face. The glass with the

three shattered holes and the net curtain inside stained indiscriminately as he slumped to the

ground dead. One was killed, but the Russians fate was now sealed by the other two

colleagues outside as the second one took his place at the window. Without hesitation he

fired his MP5 straight into the trailer, the red covered glass shattering into a thousand pieces

as the second SAS man unloaded his entire magazine into the Russian terrorists inside. The

recoil of his weapon shuddering as he never released the pressure on the trigger as round after

round slammed into the three trapped men. Their cries drowned out in the noise, anger and

adrenalin of the moment. Only once the magazine was empty did he let up and moved down

and away, only to be replaced by the third man who was busy priming a grenade. As the

shooting stopped, it provided the cue for the explosive to be tossed in to make sure of the

Russians,

“GET DOWN!!!” He shouted as soon as it left his hand from the throw. A second elapsed

before the blast struck. The remains of the window, blown to disintegration outwards as the

interior of the trailer smashed and splintered causing the debris to fly out, scattering all over

the ground as the entire trailer shook. The flash from the explosion plunged the interior in

darkness as the bulb blew, destroying all power inside, leaving the three killed Russians in a

black metallic tomb. Through the smashed remains, the two surviving squad members made

sure to carry their deceased member away; they did not leave one of their own behind.

On the bridge John was still taking cover but the shootout had still persisted as more SAS

men arrived reinforced by armed police in tow. In the maelstrom figures could be made out

approaching the bridge, carefully making their way through around each part of the structure

dodging the bullets as they continued to zip past. Jack suddenly leaped round a near girder to

land behind his partner, both relieved to see that each other had survived so far,

“Where are we up to with the poison factory?” Asked Jack, shouting above the noise,

“Well they’ve barricaded themselves into the warehouse. The SAS are trying to stop the

trucks from leaving, but they it looks as if they are stretched.”

“You still have that bomb?”

“Yes.” He said as he pulled it out of his pocket. The timer revealed the urgency of the

situation,

“Oh God, the timer!”

“What is it?” Jack asked concerned

John looked Jack in the eyes, “We’ve only got two minutes!”

Almost out of time Jack needed to relay the intelligence he had procured from River View,

“Alpha 1 to Control.”

“Go ahead Alpha 1; make it quick, you only have a couple of minutes to plant that bomb in

the warehouse!!” Shouted Harvey,

“Bruenstein has bombs planted all over London; he plans to deploy the poison carts at the

sites in time for detonation, and to release the poison.”

“Where?”

“The targets are Parliament, Downing Street & Whitehall, Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar

Square and Piccadilly Circus.”

Harvey calmed down slightly, “

“Alright I’ll have the police evacuate those areas and army bomb disposal squads

dispatched.”

“Make it quick Harvey; they’re scheduled to go off in less than 30 minutes!”

“Just make sure you destroy that stockpile. Bruenstein can wait; hopefully he won’t release

it anyway.”

As Harvey came off communications, John turned to Jack once more,

“Jack we only have one minute before this thing explodes!!!”

Almost out of time, they had to act now. Still under cover from fire coming from the rooftop

Jack tried to signal the SAS men,

“We need covering fire on that roof!!”

“What?”

“Just fire!!!”

With no options left, both men threw caution to the wind and started moving forward. Both

firing their pistols, by now without their silencers, straight onto the roof, as withering fire

pinned them down at the near side edge. It spurred the SAS and the armed police on,

“MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!!!” Were the shouts as the Special Forces stormed the bridge

under a cover of fire. One, then two men on the rooftop immediately flung backwards as

they were shot multiple times, others laid down fire onto the bridge hitting one the of the

police officers in the right shoulder causing him to collapse in a pool of blood,

“Man down!!!” Shouted a college over the gunfire,

“John, throw the bomb onto the roof!!” Urged Jack,

“I can’t get close!!”

“Just chuck it!!”

Under the covering fire, John raised up to position himself for the throw. He could feel the

air blow past his ears as live rounds flew past at dangerously close quarters but he had get rid

of the bomb. Arcing his arm back he tensed up ready to hurl it away, a large spark with a

loud ping caused him to flinch, crouch and abandon his attempt,

“Shit!”

“You alright?” Asked Jack,

“Yeah. It was just a bullet ricocheting that’s all. I’m not hit.”

He picked the bomb up a second time from the floor, only to notice the timer once more,

“30 seconds left!” He said

Getting up he attempted to try again. With time almost up this was the last chance; from here

it was either risk getting shot or a certainty of being blown up. Deciding to take the risk he

rose again for a second try, until he saw something that stopped him in his tracks. He

crouched down again partially,

“What’s wrong?” Asked Jack,

“Up on the roof, it’s Grey!”

“Grey? Maxwell Grey?!!”

John directed his partner to him, “He’s up there, look!!”

Both peered upwards to see a familiar figure amongst some of the terrorists on the rooftop,

indeed it was Grey, even in the chaos it was clear it was him. Fixated, it was the first time

they had seen him for a long time, and his presence only confirmed his implication in the plot

and his allegiance to Victor Bruenstein. Their position gave away their own presence to him

and it was only a matter of a few seconds before they were spotted. Taking cover, Grey

could clearly see over to the bridge where the firepower was concentrated, instantly almost

sub-consciously, he saw Jack only a few hundred yards from him. This was the man who

busted him out of jail, but he wasn’t a friend. Drawing up a pistol he began firing

indiscriminately in their direction as Jack ducked for his life. Vital seconds were now ticking

away as more SAS officers joined in the fight, shooting a hail of bullets into the stonework

around the rooftop. Three more terrorists fell, hit in the chest, crying out agonizingly as they

dropped. The situation now desperate, caused Grey and the remaining henchmen, of which

their numbers were dwindling to fall back from the edge slightly as chunks of masonry flew

everywhere from the bullet impacts,

“Get those vans away!!” He shouted as he stumbled. The entire criminal operation now

hinged on the ability to flee the area to the detonation points as back on the bridge, John saw

his chance. Stumbling forward and with all his might, he hurled the bomb as far as he could.

It hurtled through the air, spinning in flight, upwards and onwards, but would it reach the

roof? Grey tried to regain his position once more on the rubble strewn surface as a heavy

object landed approximately five feet away from him. Hitting the asphalt with a heavy thud

it was enough to notice for the criminal. Looking on he could see it was one of the bombs,

the plastic explosive lying on the floor, its timer flashing. Grey’s eyes widened as the timer

counted down, 10 seconds left. It was a split second decision; does he throw it back out, or

run? His instincts dictated his action, heading straight for the fire escape at the rear of the

building, the same one John had used earlier in the operation. He ran. Seeing what was

coming, Jack pulled John back as the others followed suit,

“RUN!!! GET OUT OF HERE, GET OUT!!!!” He shouted as they all ran back across the

bridge, the bullets seemingly meaningless in the impending event.

One of the terrorists tried vainly in an attempt to throw it back, striving to get to it on the

ground. The last thing he saw was the timer strike zero.

A white flash flooded the surroundings as the bomb exploded. The detonation blew the roof

off, disintegrating it and taking out all the remaining terrorists there, their screams only being

heard for a fraction of a second as they were engulfed. Collapsing inwards, the whole

shattered remains began to fall through into the interior, ripping into the whole setup, setting

off more fires. Within a second the whole poison stockpile and the manufacturing equipment

inside ignited. A huge fireball accompanied by a horrendous roar burst into the air, blowing

out all the windows, scattering white hot debris around and instantly sending everyone in the

vicinity to take immediate shelter or hit the ground. A backdraft of wind followed by the

intense, scorching heat enveloped everyone, friend of foe. West and Hudson turned round

from their lying place on the ground to witness the scene; the warehouse, now a raging

inferno was only recognisable as a burning, brick shell. The explosion showed the violence

of the explosion and the total destruction of the now collapsed building, in the flickering

yellow and orange light in the night sky.

At the side, everyone at the vans had a grandstand view of the fireworks. The heat and wind

from the proximity stunned everyone, but it was a chance for the poison trucks to yet still

make good their escape. One driver decided the risk was worth it, getting into his van and

starting it up immediately attracting the attention of the SAS once more,

“STOP!!!” Shouted one of the officers as the van roared into life. Opening up the throttle,

the terrorist sped forward causing the officer to point his weapon, but jumping out of the way

in quick time to avoid being run down. Such was the haste, there was only one way to stop

him,

“Flash bangs!! Flash bangs!!!” Another squad member shouted as he pulled out a stun

grenade. Seeing the immediate danger, the terrorist going for broke, wound the driver’s

window down and fired at the SAS man, hitting his shoulder and breaking it as he did so.

Stumbling back from the shot, the professional quickly switched hands and tossed it

successfully, exploding near the speeding van. The flash quickly blinded the desperate

criminal causing the van to swerve to a halt. Taking no chances, three more SAS moved up

to the van firing without orders. A further load of ammunition slammed through the

windscreen and into the driver, killing him outright. The shattered glass, painted red with

blood spewed out from entry wounds of the corpse inside.

Spurring the rest of the SAS on, the wounded man was helped to his feet as blood protruded

from his destroyed shoulder and was quickly removed from the immediate area. The rest of

his squad by now had enough and finished this standoff by seizing the rest of the vehicles

from the remaining and still dazed gang members. Shouting and more stun grenade flashes

hit out as the special services pushed to flush the remaining criminals out as armed police

began swarming the part of the compound. Victor Bruenstein’s plot had failed.

The tenterhooks were out, and had been for a long time at Thames House. Everything had

been monitored throughout as each member of the office teams sat or stood around in silence,

gripped to the action. Stress levels Even though the action had been directly in the

compound; the internet had been abuzz since the start,

“Harvey the news channels are picking this up.” Aazim commented as they moved toward

one of the television screens monitoring coverage of the events,

“It’s on all the national rolling news channels.”

Harvey observed the many screens, each showing different media outlets with their own,

unique take on the night’s events. Choosing to focus on just one, he heard the male/female

newsreader duo comment,

“Just some more breaking news on the events at the docklands tonight. We’ve been telling

you all evening of what the police are calling an ‘on-going incident’ well a quick update

that’s just come in to us here, literally it has just reached us in the last few seconds….there

are reports of more gunfire….this is from our reporter on the ground….eyewitnesses report

hearing sustained gunfire around the compound followed by a second larger explosion, you’ll

recall that earlier explosions were heard, possibly grenades but this second explosion clearly

more significant.”

Harvey watched on as the news anchor spoke, “We’ll just tell the police to issue a statement.

Just make out it was a gas explosion or something like that, the usual nonsense we give the

media nowadays.”

“Just some more coming in on this now.” The newsman added, he was echoing what was

beginning to be carried on all the other news outlets,

“We’re now hearing reports that multiple areas of the capital are being sealed off tonight.

According to the metropolitan police, the areas of Whitehall, particularly around Downing

Street, Trafalgar Square, the Houses of Parliament, Piccadilly Circus and Buckingham Palace

are all being evacuated at the moment. Information is coming in all the time and….We’re

now hearing it is in relation to an unspecified threat. That’s all the police are telling us so far.

So just to repeat, areas of central London are being evacuated tonight in relation to what the

police are saying is an unspecified threat.”

The events inevitably became the dominant story on all the news channels,

“Just want to show you this; it’s some mobile phone footage that’s also come in to us,

apparently taken from an eyewitness at the scene.”

The television screen showed a shaking, pixelated, grainy footage of a large explosion. The

audio, garbled and second rate at best still managed to capture the drama of the scene as the

film flashed white and yellow marking the moment the poison stockpile went up. The super

imposed strapline at the bottom of the screen providing rolling text commentary on the

known facts so far,

“Well that would have destroyed everything.” Remarked Harvey, “Thank god the police

have started evacuating people from those sites,

“Some more breaking news tonight.” Added the newsreaders again, “We’re getting

information, unconfirmed reports I should add, relating to possible bomb threats at the

evacuated areas. You’ll remember, very dramatic scenes tonight, especially in the wake of

the bombing at King’s Cross recently. There are also unsubstantiated reports, of army bomb

squads attending those scenes….We’ll try and get some pictures for you….more on this

rapidly moving and quite dramatic story developing tonight as we get it. Info coming in all

the time, so we’ll be back to this very soon.”

Harvey, turning away from the television went into a lighter tone. The burden of stress had

lifted somewhat, but the operation was not over yet,

“Well at least we can be confident that the army will do the job. Those planted bombs

should be diffused, making those areas safe. Hopefully.”

“But what about Bruenstein?” He was asked by the Home Secretary. Clearly it was the

burning question, where was Bruenstein at this very moment?

“I don’t care what the television channels are saying.” Snapped a thoughtful Harvey,

“Get me conformation Alphas 1 and 2 are OK.”

“But what about this Bruenstein?” Pressed the Home Secretary. But Harvey was having

none of it,

“Harvey, Alpha 1 calling in.” One of the officials interrupted, while monitoring radio

contact on the ground. Everyone immediately made for him, fuelled by the intrigue. What

did happen on the site?

“Alpha 1 report!”

“Control, it’s over.”

Harvey took this as an end to the operation phase, “Do you have it?” He asked in relation to

the poison stockpile,

“We have it, we have it all!!” Replied West. Sitting on the bridge with John, they had a

grandstand view of the burning inferno of the former stockpile,

“The stockpile has been destroyed, the explosion was enough.” He confirmed, looking on to

where the vans were perked. Both men looked on as swarms of armed police officers

surrounded the demoralised men with guns raised. Taking no chances, they ordered them

away in single file, hands raised and backs turned straight into police custody.

“All the vans have been seized.” John confirmed,

“Alpha 1, is Bruenstein definitely there?”

“Control, yes Harvey, he’s here. So is Grey but he was on the roof of the building before it

went up. I assume he’s dead.”

Knowing that the operation has been a success, Harvey thought for a moment. The objective

had been achieved, the primary threat removed, but if Bruenstein was still at large, then the

threat would never really go away. Knowing how dangerous he was, could he afford to risk

more lives going after him. Weighing up the possibilities, the decision was made,

“Alpha 1, Alpha 2, take the SAS and storm Bruenstein’s location. When you find him, if

you find him, kill him….by any means.”

Looking at each other West and Hudson silently knew this was the only course of action,

“Acknowledged.” Confirmed Jack. Rising to their feet, they looked toward River View,

“You know if he had any sense, he’d have fled.” Said John,

“Yes, but I’ve a feeling he’s still there. Come on you know what to do.”

“If he is, he’ll be held up with is his most fanatic followers. They’ll be desperate.”

Jack knew the bloodbath was still not over, “I know.”

With the compound of APF Industries now secured in the docklands, the SAS regrouped,

ready to storm the tower complex in a bid to put an end to this plot for good, and intent to

take out their final target.

Chapter 26:

Everything was quiet, too quiet as the special force teams approached River View from the

building site. The operation at the docklands, which was now controlled by the police, had to

be noticed by whoever was inside. Like before, the whole building was shrouded in darkness

apart from a few nightlights as teams of SAS squads stormed the front of the structure.

Others surrounded the building, attempting to attack from multiple angles at the same time

and to prevent escape.

Figures dressed in all black, swarmed around the rear car parking areas, their machine guns

primed in anticipation which was reflected in the pace of the deployment as it was

somewhere between rapid and cautious probing. At this moment there was no way of

ascertaining just how many terrorists were barricaded inside the tower, if indeed they hadn’t

fled. Accompanying the teams at the rear, West and Hudson led at the front as they

approached the garages,

“Hold it. Wait!” Ordered one of the SAS men, “Contact.”

There was something on the ground at the entrances as they all crouched, “Multiple targets on

the ground.”

West approached, he knew what they were, “Targets already neutralised, they’re dead.”

“Can you confirm?” The SAS asked,

“I was the one who shot them.”

A slight pause ensued as they all entered the underground car park. The familiar

surroundings triggering Jack’s mind,

“Over there, behind that column. You’ll find a man still alive; we need to extract him

intact.”

“Who is he?” Asked an SAS squad member,

“A senior government figure. And someone who has a lot of questions to answer.”

The conversation would have continued if it wasn’t for the interruption of a group of hard-

line terrorists infiltrating the car park,

“CONTACT!!!” The words rang out as gunfire broke out a second time. The SAS struck

along multiple directions, smashing their way through the main front entrance and into the

foyer. The sound of shattering glass was almost as loud as the gunfire as Special Forces

stormed into the building using grenades as fast as possible. Below, the fight in the car park

had intensified extremely quickly; the terrorists, firing on the squad members took shelter

behind structural columns and the few parked vehicles already there. Both in sound and

ferocity, everything seemed heightened in the enclosed space,

“Get to the Health Secretary over there!!!” Shouted West, bullets whistling over his and

John’s head,

“Covering fire!!!” One of the squad leaders followed up, his order barking out over the

noise. Large chunks of concrete blew everywhere as bullets slammed into the walls, scarring

it with holes as fragments and white dust pinged everywhere at random over the infiltrators.

West, Hudson and the SAS squad returned fire, with the forces moving forward as they went

in an attempt to push the terrorists back. Windscreens and side windows smashed as cars

were inevitably caught up in the crossfire; prompting two more SAS members to locate and

carry out the still unconscious body of the politician to relative safety,

“OVER THERE, GO, GO!!!” The assault teams shouted out as they forced themselves

forward. One of the terrorists fell in a hail of gunfire, as a second one instantly took three

shots to the chest through the window of one car, succumbing to the same fate as the potency

of the attack became clear. Running over shattered glass, crunching beneath their feet, the

remaining ones were not in a mood to give up and were ready for a desperate fight as they

pinned down the assault squads. Both John and Jack followed in close together, firing as they

went down a side wall. Ducking from vehicle to vehicle as volleys of shots flew around; the

risk of a rogue shot hitting them was high,

“Move, move, move!!!” Rang out loudly as the attack continued. Out of the smoke, Jack

could see a black figure throw something small in the general direction of the assault as

another word was heard,

“Grenade!!!”

Reacting instantly to the warning, West and Hudson acted. Hitting the floor, their faces

slamming against the coldness of the concrete as the fragmentation grenade exploded. The

air rushing par in a short, sharp gust whipped through the air from the shockwave of the blast

covered everybody. The loud but sharp bang from the explosion flashed through the room as

cries rang out. The car nearest the blast, the one that the terrorists had taken shelter behind,

shifted position due to the force, the windows completely blown out. Rapidly and with

ringing in their ears, SAS squads stormed the position firing into the bodies of the terrorists.

Advancing slightly behind and close to the wall, both Jack and John looked for a way

forward,

“CLEAR!!!” The assault members shouted indicating the car park was finally secure. Spent

cartridges, chunks of masonry and vehicle debris swam in the blood soaked floor. One of the

SAS men radioed their progress,

“Car park cleared, moving though now!!” Jack was keen to move upward,

“We need to move on fast.”

The SAS squad leader agreed, “We’ll assault the stairwells, and clear each floor room by

room. Second and third squads are going in now. We’ll take this one over here. I’m

assigning two men to go with you.”

“No wait,” Jack interrupted, “Use your squads to draw off resistance in the building. Our

job is to go after Bruenstein, if you can make things easier…”

“Alright….be careful.”

“Thanks. It looks like there are two stairwells along with the lifts up to the foyer area .

We’ll ascend one, you take the other.”

Both teams split up. With John in tow and their weapons drawn they quickly reloaded their

guns as they gingerly opened the door just enough to peer upwards,

“It’s not very well lit.” Said Jack,

“Good we’ll use it.” John replied. The sounds of gunfire and naturally disturbing sound of

glass smashing echoed from above as the special services rushed the occupants in their own

violent style. Cautiously they climbed the flights of stairs.

Level 10 was halfway up and still they encountered no resistance, but the sounds of conflict

still rung out,

“Sounds like they are still clearing the floors below us.” John remarked.

Jack agreed, “Sounds like this tower is still occupied by the last of Bruenstein’s men.”

They continued to climb each flight swiftly, looking up in the gap between to see any signs

of potential movement upwards but also downwards. They had climbed a long way so far as

they reached the access door to the 12th

floor. The sounds of explosions permeated though

the air as the use of fragmentation grenades could be heard around two or perhaps three floors

below. The SAS were doing a fine job in drawing resistance off away from them as they

reached the 13th

floor. However their luck invariably could only hold out only so far as the

access door flew open, two terrorists burst through it into the stairwell, and directly into the

path of West and Hudson,

“GET DOWN!!!” West shouted violently as they doubled back as fast as possible. Jumping

down, within a second they were both under fire. Bullets ricochet off the metallic handrails,

inches from John’s hands, the air rushing past them as them as they jumped down the stairs

for their lives. Smoke and dust whipped up as each bullet from the terrorists machine guns

slammed into the floor and walls, smashing a light bulb in the process. Now in the dark, the

whistling and clanging noise form the firing ceased rather suddenly by the time Jack and John

has been forced back to the 11th

floor. Apart from the background noise of the assault, there

was nothing from the upper stairwell, had they retreated? Had they run out of ammunition?

Using extreme caution, they began their ascent once more; the adrenalin fuelled by the

heightened awareness in a game of cat and mouse. Up one flight of stairs, John tapped Jack

in the shoulder in complete silence as he spotted the both men two flights above them at the

moment. The clicking sound indicated that they were out of ammunition and were in the

process of changing magazines, this was their chance. Clearly their intent was to be the cat in

the hunt, and Jack was not in the mood to be the mouse, both in agreement they advanced

swiftly, Walther pistols pointed forward until they came into view. Both West and Hudson

fired without hesitation, pulling their triggers, discharging rounds into the two criminals.

Their bodies shuddered backwards as they hit the far wall; one rogue bullet hit one of the

terrorists in the face, blowing the back of his skull out, flesh and brain matter spraying over

the light blue-grey wall. Standing on the thirteenth floor, both men looked on at the two dead

bodies,

“I knew thirteen was an unlucky number.” John whimsically commentated.

Throughout the building the assault teams were making slow but steady progress. The

resistance from the numerous terrorists embedded on each floor proved frustratingly

stubborn. Pushing forward, each member of each assault squad moved through the interior

layout clearing room by room. Most areas were empty as they moved up the stairwells, fire

exits and lift shafts, red dot sights and lights fixed to the barrels of their machine guns. Any

desperate criminals holed up in individual offices or rooms, caused teams to shoot through

glass and wood to take out any such targets once fired upon. The clearing operation, swift

and methodical was a classic example of training adopted by the assault teams, but even so,

they still could not be entirely confident that there were hostages in the building. Rapidly

they moved up the floors, first the 13th

, then the 14th

, then the 15th

; armed police squads

followed up in pursuit a couple of floors below.

The 20th

floor was by now no longer in darkness, but only in relatively poor light. A mobile

phone lay on a bench as a figure picked it up. The large hands gripping the device, pulling it

closer to the chest as if the user was preparing to use it. Victor Bruenstein saw his plan go up

in flames, now the phone was the last trick up his sleeve, not really the ace, more like the

joker. Knowing that he was trapped he retreated into the shadows, ready for his final, radical

act.

The night’s operation, now in the latter stages was continuingly being monitored by Thames

House. Harvey and everyone else looked and listened intently as reports were being fed by

the minute on the latest update of the situation. But something still flashed up on one of the

computers,

“That’s funny.” Commented one of the technicians,

“What is it?” Harvey asked,

“I’m getting a mobile signal but it’s encrypted.”

“Encrypted? Why?”

“Not sure. It’s coming from the top of River View.”

Harvey wanted more than that, “Can you pinpoint the source of the signal?”

“Hang on….got it….it’s on the 20th

floor!”

“What is it?” Asked Harvey. He did not have long to find out,

“I’m picking up a code embedded in the signal. Usually mobile phone signals are measured

by the power ratio in decibels from a cellular network.”

“Yes, yes OK spare me the technical details.” Harvey interrupted as the technician carried

on,

“Well this signal strength is particularly strong, that’s how we could pick it up. Now

usually signals are pretty simple, texts, phone calls, internet downloads bandwidths and so

on, but this one isn’t hence the encryption. Now that’s suspicious and to my mind there’s

only one thing a coded signal of such strength could mean. Think IRA back in the 1980’s.”

Harvey thought on, “A coded warning?”

“Or more precisely a coded signal, perhaps not a warning but a definitely a signal.”

The awful truth suddenly dawned,

“If it’s not a warning then….a bomb?…in that building!”

“Could be.”

“If whoever is emitting that signal detonates with everyone inside….my god the whole

structure could be rigged to blow!!”

“Using the phone to detonate remotely; it’s a common tactic for many terrorist cells

especially in places like Africa and the Middle East.”

Instantly Harvey radioed his two men in the middle of it,

“Alphas 1 and 2 come in, this is control respond over.”

“Control this is Alpha 1, go ahead over.”

“What’s your status? What’s your location?”

“Top of River View, on the 19th

floor, heading up to the 20th

.” Replied Jack puzzlingly,

“We have a problem.” Said Harvey, “We think there may be more explosives in the

building, it could be demolition stuff. If that’s true the whole building could come down!!”

West and Hudson froze, “Could be Bruenstein.” Said John,

“So he’s still here then.” Replied Jack, “Control is there any way to diffuse these bombs?”

“We think they are hidden but are set to remotely detonate from a mobile phone signal.

Such a signal is coming from the floor directly above you.”

The way forward was clear to the two men, “We need to get to Bruenstein before he sends

that signal.”

“Use extreme caution Alphas, he could set it off any time. An animal is most dangerous

when it is cornered.”

“Acknowledged.” Replied John as they made their way cautiously upwards to the penthouse

suites.

The conference floor on the 20th

was all quiet as they entered. Only the sounds below them

rang out, muffled but getting louder all the time. Only the sounds of police sirens on the

ground and the humming drone of the helicopter above seemed to provide any form of

distraction.

Silently and without pause both entered the conference room where West had eavesdropped

on Bruenstein before, nothing had changed except for the lighting. No longer in the dark, a

dim glow from the semi charged lighting flowed around the space, giving it a spooky

atmosphere. Light underfoot, they probed forward, their bodies tense and weapons drawn

waiting, almost expecting the anticipated resistance at any moment,

“That’s far enough.” Growled a voice from a somewhere, Jack and John paused on the spot,

their eyes flinching all around the room, the American accent seemed familiar,

“Bruenstein.” Said Jack,

“That’s right Jack. Here I am.” He replied as he emerged from the shadows, his long dark

coat flowing with his steady movement as he came into the light. His pistol pointed directly

at the two men. With West and Hudson doing the same, a standoff emerged and neither side

was going to back down,

“I’ve got you now, you bastard.” Said Jack,

“Oh you think? Why don’t you come get me?” Revealing a mobile phone in his left hand

both men looked onwards as Bruenstein’s thumb touched the screen,

“This is my insurance policy. You got to everything else, you must have found out, but this

is one thing you can’t stop.” He said chillingly. Shouting and shuffling sounds grew ever

louder as the SAS teams were approaching fast,

“Give it up Bruenstein, you’ve no way out now.” Said Jack trying vainly to appeal to

reason,

“We need to talk to you. We have the Health Secretary, we have everything, just put the

gun down.” John added but the criminal was having none of it,

“This whole building is rigged to blow. Demolition explosives planted in the structure, one

step closer and I press this to detonate!! Then we all go up in smoke!!!”

They froze, knowing that the threat was very real. Thames house was listening in,

“I want that signal shut down!” Said Harvey

“What, nothing to say?” Goaded Bruenstein, he knew he had both West and Hudson

cornered,

“You knew we were onto you all along didn’t you?” Asked West, “I still bear the injuries of

what you did to me, look at my face!!!”

“Yes, but you still ruined everything!! I stood here and watched as my stockpile of poison

went up, those trucks seized!! I should have had you killed properly back in that tunnel. Now

this time I really am going to make you pay!!! This is one assignment you won’t be returning

from.”

With his gun raised, he tensed up as he squeezed the trigger. Jack in his sights first with John

the next target, his forefinger applied pressure. Freezing, Jack looked on as he stared into the

blackness of the gun barrel, expecting a flash any second but instead a deep male voice softly

spoke out,

“Bruenstein.”

Looking furtively toward the shadows where he had himself emerged from, this was just the

type of distraction needed. But West and Hudson themselves did the same thing; the moment

was lost in the situation. A figure appeared shuffling slowly out of the shadows sporting

clothes that looked nothing more than rags such was the extent of rips and burning. Even

with his utterly distressed look all three men in the standoff recognised who he was,

“Maxwell Grey!” Said Jack,

“Oh yes Mr West. Nice job you made of it out there. Pleased with yourself?” He raised his

pistol to equal the odds as the sounds of the SAS drew ever nearer,

“You’re out of time assholes.” Bruenstein warned, but John saw something odd about Grey,

he looked rather dazed, Jack noticed it too,

“It looks like you’re suffering the effects of poisoning.”

“Shut up!!”

Knowing he was right, Jack held his tongue,

“Tell your guys to back off, the helicopter as well. You are going to arrange my escape

otherwise….you know what’ll happen.” Holding the mobile phone up, Bruenstein held a

joker up his sleeve; and there was nothing anyone could do,

“Max, keep them covered at least I can trust you. Now then Jack, tell your bosses to hold

off….now!”

“Are you sure?” Replied Grey. Turning round, Bruenstein suddenly found himself staring

at his partner who for no reason at all, turned his weapon onto him,

“What the hell?!...You’re one of them!!”

“No I’m not. I’m not one of MI5.”

The event puzzled West and Hudson as much as it did Bruenstein. With the commotion in

the background, the penthouse suite and conference space was about to be infiltrated at any

moment, but the situation was more confusing as ever,

“Who the hell are you then?” Demanded Jack,

“Bruenstein knows.” He replied, but the terrorist was in the dark. Vigorously pointing his

gun, first at West, then at Grey he wanted answers,

“Know what?”

“Did you really think we would just give up on you? Even with this plot going on? We

always pursue rogue agents in the National Clandestine Service.”

Suddenly the penny dropped, and it hit Bruenstein like a train,

“The National-….You’re CIA!....you’re a CIA agent!!!”

“Specialising in covert operations. Both the CIA and the FBI want to interrogate you if

captured alive. This was the only way to trap you sir, now lover your weapon.”

“What the hell is going on!!” Asked John,

“I assure you I knew nothing of this.” Said Jack, “Look I don’t know what’s going on here,

but if he’s interrogated, then he’s in our custody.”

Without taking his eyes off his target, Grey responded,

“I appreciate that, but we have been tracking him for a lot longer, I’m authorised to take

down the target by any means sir.”

But Victor Bruenstein was not going to have any of it,

“What you think I’m just going to give up like that?” He raised the mobile, immediately

frightening Jack,

“PUT THE PHONE DOWN!” He shouted,

“See you in hell.”

The computers were working overtime in Thames House as Harvey presided over the

operation,

“Come on we’re out of time!!” He shouted to the operatives,

“I’ve hacked into the network. I’m sending a remote text, ‘8878’, that’ll block the app

functions.”

“Do it.”

“Sending now.” A few well timed clicks on the keyboard sent the text to the device that

Bruenstein was holding. Now all they could do was wait.

Chapter 27:

With all four men on the top floor of River View pointing guns at each other, the plan had

lost all clarity. Only one thing was clear, Bruenstein had control over the impending

destruction of the building,

“Wait!!” Jack said trying to buy some time, a few desperate moments as he wondered where

the SAS were. With Grey looking on, Bruenstein was not going to give up; he pressed the

button on the phone. It beeped but did nothing, the code signal to detonation blocked from an

outside source; Victor Bruenstein’s last gamble had failed,

“You’ve got nothing left.” Said Jack,

“Fuck you!!” Bruenstein raised his gun to fire as John lunged to his side in a split second

reaction. Grabbing his partner, his arms wrapping around his chest, he pulled Jack to the

ground with every inch of strength assisted by gravity. The high calibre pistol shot out an

almighty bang as the terrorist fired, the bullet missing the two intelligence men by just

centimetres to spare.

Hearing the shot at Thames House froze everyone. Had West or Hudson been hit? Harvey

wanted to ascertain for sure,

“Alphas 1 and 2, report! Alphas come in!! If you can hear me, get rid of Bruenstein, take

him out! Kill him!!”

Grey reacted himself, not by firing; his orders did not permit that. Forcing himself forward

he lunged at the big man grabbing his arm vainly trying to wrench the pistol out of his hand.

Recovering from their heap, both West and Hudson looked on as Grey and Bruenstein fought

hand to hand in a vicious struggle, they both wanted to do something but what? The sounds

of the SAS storming upwards to their location was now louder than ever, they must be on the

same floor by now,

“Alphas 1 and 2, status?” Harvey barked across the airwaves desperate to find out what was

going on. Attempting a response West tried to shout a reply,

“Control, Alpha 1 here, we-“

He didn’t have time to finish, the SAS burst in, guns pointing at everyone,

“DON’T SHOOT!!!!” John shouted, putting his hands high in the air as the men stormed in

guns pointed, itching to fire. Only the crucial training prevented the reflex from pulling the

trigger.

With Grey on top of him, Bruenstein pointed his pistol at the SAS men as they came into the

room instantly attracting a response. It was clear he was trying to fire as Grey grabbed his

arm in a vain attempt to deter him from firing but the risk was too great, was his firearm still

loaded? Nobody wanted to find out,

“CONTACT!!!!” One of the squad members shouted as at least three of them fired at close

range into the two men. Bullets rattled out and spent cartridges clinked on the cold hard floor

one after the other as the shooting persisted, both bodies flinching and shuddered under the

impact of each entry wound. Blood spattered out and flew like spray in the massacre, only

ceasing once the SAS had emptied their magazines.

The silence deafened everyone and for a second nobody dared flinch until John slowly got

up to make the first move. Steadily walking over to the two men, each covered in blood, it

was clear both Maxwell Grey and Victor Bruenstein were dead. The criminal’s eyes, still

open stared out in a hypnotic lifeless gaze off to the left hand side, no longer a threat to

anyone. Grey beside him, lay face down soaked in large pooling of blood and completely

motionless,

“Alphas report, we’ve heard gunfire. What’s your status?” Asked Harvey

“Control this is Alpha 2. We’re fine; Bruenstein and Grey are both dead.”

Listening on in relief, Harvey and everyone else knew that thankfully the threat was now at

last, finally over,

“Acknowledged Alpha 2. We’ve just had word the police and army are diffusing the

remaining bombs now. Congratulations, and well done everybody.” Turning to the Home

Secretary who had been here throughout the drama, he issued his final instruction,

“You can tell the Prime Minister to instruct the Palace. Evacuation Plan Teresa no longer

needs to be implemented. Instruct them to stand down.”

Back in River View, John was still knelt over the two dead bodies. Turning partially to the

lead SAS squad member, and no longer caring about confidentiality he revealed the truth,

“Congratulations, Grey wasn’t who he said he was. We’ve just killed an American agent.”

Victoria Park, Central London 19:00pm the next day seemed quiet on the small grassy hill

overlooking the capital. Standing still in the orange glow of the evening light, Jack was the

most immobile object there. Looking south the skyscrapers of the city, the financial hub of

London stood tall, reflecting the last rays of a glimmering, but defiant sunset bursting low

through the clouds on the horizon. He watched as they lit up, ready to define the night

skyline as beacons of a capitalist Western world; at least that was how it seemed to him. He

wasn’t concentrating, just staring into the middle distance as he soaked up the peacefulness; a

welcome turnaround from the events of the last few days. Failing to notice a black car

approaching, pulling up gently approximately one hundred yards away, Jack never turned

round to see the black coated figure get out and walk toward him finally stopping side by side

to admire the view,

“It’s always quiet up here.” He said, causing Jack to turn his head,

“Yes Harvey.”

“You OK?”

Jack wasn’t sure, “I was wondering. Why do we do this job?”

Harvey thought on philosophically, “It’s a thankless task I’m afraid. The public don’t know

we exist, yet we save their lives more often than we care to mention.”

Jack agreed as Harvey continued, “The government have issued a statement acknowledging

an incident, but they’re not going into details as well as refusing to link it to the Kings Cross

bombing. They are saying they don’t comment on security matters.”

“A typical politician’s response.” Jack replied, Harvey continued,

“Look regarding Maxwell Grey-“

“I thought you’d get to that.”

“Well….on Maxwell Grey, I want to assure you that I knew nothing of his true identity.

Although I must admit I found out he was the source of most of the intelligence we received

regarding this case. Part of our relationship with the Americans you see.”

“Grey? He was the source of everything?” West asked confusingly,

“Well most of it, apart from a few well-placed bugs and phone taps here and there….but

essentially yes. Things we discussed in that meeting with John did come from Grey.”

Jack suddenly felt like it all made sense at last, although it was hard to be believed,

“I can’t believe Grey was one of us….Maxwell Grey, a CIA agent!! But how the hell did he

come to be in Bellmarsh?”

“Apparently he was a penetration agent.”

“What?!”

“Deep cover planted into a situation and then takes on the role as if they were living it.”

“But that’s all Cold War stuff.” Replied Jack,

“Doesn’t mean to say it still doesn’t happen. Do you think we don’t have a home or foreign

network either?”

Jack saw it made sense, “What will the Americans do next now that we have killed one of

their own?”

“Nothing. What can they do? Acknowledging his existence means compromising their own

network. I don’t think even the Americans will risk doing that.”

Jack then tried to probe further, “There’s something I don’t still understand.”

“What?”

“Who were Bruenstein’s men? Who was it that I tracked in the underground tunnels and

who we fought in the docklands?”

“We’re still verifying that.” Replied Harvey, “We think they were home grown terrorists,

recruited from the criminal underworld gangs that permeate this city. Operation Moonlight

and Sunshine before it will be closed and declared a success.”

Staring out across the city landscape, the street lights began to glow, the buildings twinkling

in the evening twilight,

“Can anyone ever really be trusted? I know now how John felt in the earlier stages of the

investigation.”

“Look that is the intelligence community all over. Everything is connected to everything

else; it’s not safe, nor necessary to know who our contacts or handlers are. Just do the job,

follow your instructions, that’s all.”

Jack shrugged. He understood, but Harvey could clearly see that he didn’t agree. A slight

pause ensued before Harvey came closer to reveal one last piece of information,

“Jack, I’m going to share something with you. What I’m about to say is classified, bound

by the Official Secrets Act do you understand?”

Looking his superior in the eye, he nodded, Harvey carried on,

“You mentioned Cold War stuff. Well back in the 1970’s the USA and the Soviet Union

signed a number of treaties named SALT, there were two, SALT I and SALT II, the second

one signed between President Carter and Leonid Brezhnev in 1979.”

“Yes I’ve heard of them.” Replied Jack, Harvey continued on,

“By 1987, the two nations established a further treaty, the INF or Intermediate-Range

Nuclear Forces Treaty signed between President Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev in

December of that year, ratified the following May. It was designed to control and reduce

each other’s nuclear arms stockpiles, prevent any potential escalation to World War III. The

last thing anyone wanted at that time was the Warsaw Pact and NATO hurling nuclear bombs

at each other.”

“Yes I remember the INF treaty. What’s this got to do with anything?” West replied as

Harvey continued straight to the point,

“When the USSR collapsed in December 1991 following on from the failure of the Soviet

Coup in August that year, the entire Russian stockpile of nuclear weapons was placed under

strict control by the International Atomic Energy Agency, the IAEA. They registered and

oversaw the decommissioning of the Soviet arsenal, which was still substantially bigger even

after all the treaties. All of these nuclear warheads were taken out….except four.”

Jack turned fully toward Harvey, he knew what he was about to say,

“What?!!”

“That’s right. The IAEA are aware of the whereabouts of all but four. These were not

registered, and subsequently disappeared. Three of them plutonium and one uranium; each

with an explosive yield of around 150,000 tonnes of TNT, about the same as the atomic bomb

the Americans dropped on Nagasaki in 1945. So somewhere in the world there are four old

nuclear warheads, and to this day nobody knows where. Call it bad management if you like-“

“That’s an understatement.” Jack cut in again,

“Can you imagine what would happen if one of those things ever got in the wrong hands?

Any legitimate target could be taken out, thousands, even millions wiped out in an instant,

thousands more infected with radiation burns and poisoning. Just because the Cold War

never descended into the Third World War it doesn’t mean it could never happen.”

The revelation was stark to Jack, he could see now that the threats never really had gone

away. Harvey spoke on,

“You see that’s why we are so vital in this business. We are the thin line between those who

want to kill us and those who we swore to protect. As I said it really is a thankless task,

nobody knows we are here, yet the public absolutely relies on us. We vow to protect the

innocent and it is a mandate we have to stick through whatever the cost, even if it is our

lives.”

Jack looked at Harvey and smiled,

“Look Jack, The conversation we’ve just had, everything I’ve just told you is secret. You

are never to repeat it understand?”

“Yes, perfectly. What conversation?”

“Good, then I’ll leave you. I trust you are still fit for active service, so I’ll see you in

Thames House tomorrow.”

“You will.” Assured Jack as Harvey walked away to his car leaving Jack to return to his

thoughts. The city lit up causing a faint glow throughout the skyline,

“What was that all about?” He heard a voice behind him say. Turning round just as John

arrived to join him, “Anything I should know about?”

“Nothing important, just a few words of encouragement.”

The two men spent a few moments looking out over the capital,

“Close run thing at one point.” Remarked John,

“Yes. But we got there in the end.” Said Jack,

“King’s Cross will be refurbished and reopened in a few weeks. I think they were looking

for an excuse to renovate.”

Jack smiled, “Yes I suppose so.”

“How about a drink? I know a fabulous little all-night bar.” Asked John,

“We have work in the morning.”

“Oh come on. I’ll buy you a brandy.”

Jack was tempted, “Actually I’ll have a beer or two. I think the people are safe for a few

hours don’t you think John?”

They began walking down the hill toward the main road, “Yes…I think they’ll be alright.”

For now everything was safe and secure once more. It was a great relief.