Prosper Snow Series

by Shaun Jeffrey

  “Some fuckin’ holiday.”

  Wolfe slammed the door shut and then walked across to Prosper who had moved away so as not to be overheard. “So spill.”

  “It’s the man who’s taken over those murder investigations.”

  Wolfe shook his head. “And how the hell did he know you’d go inside that unit and find the envelope?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

  “How?”

  “I’ve got no choice.” He gulped, his stomach turning itself in knots at the thought. “I’m going to have to accept his job offer.”

  CHAPTER 21

  “What do you mean; you’re going to see a man about a job?” Natasha said as she buttered some bread for Leon’s sandwiches for school.

  “I’ve been offered a promotion of sorts.”

  “A promotion? That’s excellent.” She smiled.

  “Daddy.”

  Prosper looked across the breakfast table at his son who was eating some Coco Pops. “What?”

  “Will you get more money?”

  “I don’t know, why?”

  “Because if you do, I can have those Pokémon cards I want.”

  Prosper chuckled, leaned forwards and tussled his son’s hair. “And I suppose your mum’s got something in mind too.”

  Natasha smiled coyly. “Well we could do with a new bed.”

  “Yes, it’s seen some action over the years.”

  “Prosper!” She nodded towards Leon, her eyebrows arched to show her discomfort at his insinuation.

  Prosper grinned, but his stomach was churning and he couldn’t maintain the expression so he picked up the newspaper, the headline of which read: Newborn baby abducted from hospital.

  “So when you say a promotion,” Natasha said, “is it for the same department?”

  The newspaper rustled as Prosper turned the page, skimming over the story of the abducted child. “Mmmm, no, it’ll be working for someone different.”

  “So you’re not getting a new rank?”

  “No, nothing like that. It’s … erm, a fresh start I guess you could say.”

  “Well what do you mean by a ‘sort of promotion’?”

  Prosper’s eyes glazed over as he stared at the newspaper. “Well it’s a different company. A new department.”

  “What do you mean different company?”

  Prosper put the paper down. “I don’t know much about it. That’s what the interview’s for.”

  “So you might not get it then.”

  “They’ve virtually already offered it to me.”

  “So you’ve been headhunted.”

  Prosper shivered. “You could say that.”

  Natasha spread some cream cheese onto the bread. “So how long have you known about it?”

  “A few days.”

  “And you didn’t think to talk to me about it?” The annoyance was evident in her voice.

  “Well I hadn’t decided until late last night that I was going to go for it.”

  She turned and looked at him, bracing herself on the counter so as not to put too much weight on her bad leg. “You don’t sound very keen.”

  Prosper cleared his throat. “I guess I’m just nervous, you know I hate interviews.”

  “You’ll be fine. Actually, I think it’ll be good for you to have a change.”

  If only you knew the truth. Prosper smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  Prosper parked in the car park and stared out across the recreational area. A dog walker was visible in the distance and a solitary overweight jogger passed by, head down, red face glistening with sweat.

  Prosper glanced at his watch. 8:43 a.m. He unwrapped a piece of chewing gum and popped it into his mouth, trying to work up some saliva. His pulse raced, breaths coming in quick bursts, making him feel a little light headed as he hyperventilated. He concentrated, trying to will his heart to slow its pace.

  The bandstand was visible in the distance, like a large spider crouching over the grass. Dark clouds gathered overhead, threatening rain. Prosper could almost feel the oppressive atmosphere pressing down on him and he straightened himself in his seat then exited the car.

  The wind whipped around him and he tugged the hood of his jacket up, hunched his shoulders and marched along the path that lead directly to the bandstand, each step seeming to get harder to take the closer he got.

  With its eight supporting columns, not much wider than his thigh, and with the surrounding area deserted, Prosper could see there was no one there. He glanced at his watch again. 8:49 a.m.

  Where are you?

  When he reached the bandstand, he stepped up onto the raised platform. The piece of chewing gum had already lost its flavour, and he spat it back into its wrapper and screwed it up, putting both hands in his jacket pockets. He started pacing, walking in circles like a caged animal, the bandstand a spider crouching above him.

  Ten minutes later, he saw a figure approaching and he stopped pacing, threw his hood back and waited. The man was dressed in a long black coat down to his knees, the collar pulled up. When he reached the bandstand, he hopped up onto the platform.

  “Prosper; glad to see you made it.” He held his hand out, making the front of his coat fall open to reveal the handle of a gun in a holster underneath his arm. Prosper kept his hands in his pockets and the man waited a beat, and then lowered his hand. “So I suppose you have lots of questions.”

  “You could say that.”

  “Come on, let’s walk.” Without waiting for Prosper to respond, the man started walking. “So first, I suppose I’d better tell you my name, Francis Lester.”

  A plane flew overhead. Prosper looked up but couldn’t see anything through the dark clouds.

  “You might have guessed. Although I work for MI5, I work for a section that, shall we say, is not on the radar.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “It means we aren’t accountable to anyone.”

  “No one’s above the law.”

  Lester laughed. “You’d be surprised.”

  “So how did you know I’d want to look inside that building?”

  “The guard told us you’d been snooping around.”

  Prosper pursed his lips. Obviously Lester and his people had interviewed the guard for any information relating to the murder. He’d probably also requested the recordings from the cameras. But why would the guard have informed Lester that a police officer had been asking questions? That didn’t make sense, as the guard would presume that it was just part of the investigation.

  “You look puzzled, Prosper.”

  “I guess you could say certain things don’t add up.”

  “Such as?”

  “Why would the guard inform you that I had been around? A crime had been committed. It’s only natural that the police would be involved in some capacity.”

  Lester nodded. “What else?”

  “I still want to know how you knew I’d look inside the building. And what the hell is that place?”

  “Well before I can tell you anything, you have to be on the payroll. The job pays well, there are good health benefits and it’s secure employment. Once you’re in, you’re in.” He stopped walking, reached into his coat, pulled out a pen and a bundle of papers and handed them to Prosper. “Sign on the dotted line, and we can talk shop.”

  Prosper accepted the pen and papers and stared at them for a moment. There was an official government seal on the top, and it was signed off by the Prime Minister. He scanned down the first page, but the words all seemed to roll into one another, full of official jargon that didn’t make much sense. He flipped through the sheets, saw stuff about the official secrets act and disclosure of information pertaining to security of the Crown.

  “In a nutshell it sets out the terms of employment, and that you promise not to disclose anything about your job to anyone, and that you don’t talk about any of the work you do. Yada, yada, yada.”

  Prosper held the pen over the dotte
d line. Was he doing the right thing? Did Lester really know what he had done in the past? If so, why on earth would he want Prosper on his team?

  “I would say take your time, but I have another meeting soon, so if you’re going to sign, I’d suggest you do it now. If I walk away, that’s it, the offer’s gone.”

  Prosper briefly closed his eyes, then he signed and dated each sheet that required a signature. He handed them back and Lester accepted and put them back in his pocket without looking at them.

  “You’ll get a copy in due course. But for now, welcome to the team.” He held his hand out again. Prosper stared at it for a moment, and then shook. “Right, so let’s get down to business. I’ll need to bring you up to speed, but I’ll warn you now, some of the things we’re involved with are what most people would, how shall I say, call unsavoury.”

  “Unsavoury?”

  Lester nodded. “The world can be a bad place, Prosper, and you’re about to discover just how bad.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Prosper sat in the back of the large nondescript four by four vehicle, his fingers interlinked on his lap. Lester sat in the front with the driver. He had hardly spoken to Prosper since leaving the park, saying that in some circumstances, showing was easier than telling.

  They had driven across the city and were now in a derelict section where the red brick multi-storey buildings on either side of the road were in different stages of distress. Faded signs on some of the buildings revealed that they used to be warehouses or factories, but none of them looked as though they had been occupied for a number of years.

  The driver slowed the vehicle, turned left through an archway underneath one of the buildings and parked in a weed ridden, cracked forecourt about one hundred feet by forty, overshadowed on all sides by buildings six floors high. Prosper didn’t realise that his palms were sweating until he pulled his hands apart.

  “Right, here we are.” Lester opened his door and stepped out.

  Prosper followed. He stared up at the buildings, saw a couple of crows perched in one of the broken window frames high above. As he shut the door, the resultant echo startled the birds into flight.

  “Okay, so what are we doing here?”

  “Well, I know you’ve had an interest in the recent murders, as is only natural with your history.”

  “My history?”

  “With murder.”

  “OK, let’s stop beating around the bush and finish with all the sly insinuations. What are you implying?”

  The wind whipped around the courtyard. Lester’s coattails flapped around his legs. “I’m not implying anything. I know you were involved with the killing of Mack Taylor, otherwise known as Hatchet Man.”

  Prosper tried to swallow but his throat felt constricted.

  “Don’t look so worried, Prosper. Your secret’s quite safe with me.”

  “Just imagine for one minute that your accusation’s correct – and I’m not saying that it is – why would you want someone with a history like that on your team?”

  “Because it shows the kind of man you are, someone willing to do what it takes. That’s the sort of people I need on my team. People who are not afraid to push boundaries. People who will get the job done, whatever the cost.”

  Prosper felt the hairs tingle all over his body. How the fuck did Lester know what he’d done?

  “Now like I was saying about the murders. They’ve all been kept hushed up for reasons that will become apparent in a moment.” He started walking towards one of the doors.

  “Well you can start by telling me about that industrial unit. Why was it designed like a prison inside?”

  “Because that’s what it was.” He held his hand up as Prosper started to ask another question. “It’ll all become clear in a minute.”

  When he reached the front of the building, Lester stopped before the graffiti covered door and waved. Prosper frowned, then noticed a camera above the door. Without warning, the door opened automatically with a soft hiss and Lester walked inside.

  Prosper followed; the door swung shut behind him. He stood for a moment, staring along a white corridor lit by overhead fluorescent tubes, then followed Lester towards the door at the other end. When he reached it, Lester held his hand against a panel on the wall and a light scanned across his palm. The door slid open.

  “This is all very James Bond. So where are we?”

  Lester walked through. Prosper followed. “It’s a research facility.”

  “So did they run out of money when it came to decorating the outside?”

  Lester laughed. “It’s much easier to hide places in plain sight. People take much less notice of rundown buildings than shiny new properties with big signs advertising themselves.”

  “So is there any reason why you wouldn’t want to advertise yourselves?”

  “In this case, yes. The industrial unit was a hub station to this, the main complex.” He swept his arm out. “The hub has now been shut down.”

  They were standing in a large reception area. Prosper recognised the burly guard with a peaked cap sitting behind a semicircular desk. It was the man that had been stationed outside the building he had made Rivers break into. The man nodded at Lester and then stared suspiciously at Prosper. There were two doors behind the guard. Lester approached the one on the left and pushed it open, then walked through.

  Prosper followed. He heard a scream in the distance that froze the blood in his veins. “What the hell was that?”

  Lester turned and looked at Prosper. “What you’re about to see is classified, and you’re not allowed to talk about it to anyone. Understand?”

  Prosper licked his lips, then nodded.

  They were standing in an area about forty feet square. Directly in front was a barred gate, beyond which Prosper could see a corridor. There were also three wooden doors in the room, all closed.

  Another scream rang out and Prosper saw movement along the corridor beyond the bars and a man in a khaki shirt and dark trousers wearing sunglasses walked towards the gate and then turned right and disappeared. The man’s style of dress was the same as that of the first victim who had been found on the grass outside the industrial unit.

  “This way.” Lester headed towards one of the wooden doors. He led Prosper through into a small annex, and then knocked on a door leading off.

  “Come in.”

  Lester opened the door, and swept his arm forwards to indicate Prosper should enter first.

  Prosper walked through to find himself in a spacious office. The wall to his left was hidden behind a bookshelf crammed with books. There were no windows in the room. A man seated behind the L shaped desk opposite looked up and nodded as Lester stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

  The man was in his late thirties, early forties, his short dark hair peppered with splashes of grey. He was tanned, with thick lips, and was wearing the same khaki coloured, buttoned collar top as the man Prosper had seen beyond the bars.

  “Doctor Klement.”

  “Good to see you again. So how can I help you now?” Klement asked.

  “Well I’ve got a new recruit. Prosper Snow, this is Doctor Otto Klement.” He turned back to the doctor. “I want to bring Prosper up to speed on the situation.”

  Klement nodded and cupped his hands together on the desk.

  Prosper noticed a baton on the desk, along with a can of pepper spray. There was also a photograph frame, angled towards Klement so that Prosper couldn’t see who or what it was of. A few files were spread out across the desk, and to the side was a computer, the screensaver of which was cycling through its routine.

  “So Mr. Snow, what do you know of the project so far?” Klement asked.

  “Absolutely nothing.”

  “I see.” Klement pursed his lips and stared at Prosper as though he were studying him. “Well basically what we’re doing here is investigating the theory of nature or nurture.”

  Prosper cocked his head slightly and frowned.

 
“Please, sit down.” Klement indicated the chair opposite.

  Prosper sat and crossed his legs. He took out his notebook and tapped the cover with his pen.

  Klement leaned back in his chair, the leather squeaking slightly. “For years now people have been questioning what makes us what we are. Is it nature, based in the genetic material in an organism, including chromosomes, genes and DNA, things that manipulate our biology at the level of the genome? Or is it nurture, which refers to environmental influences, the way in which we’re brought up?”

  Prosper arched his eyebrows. “You lost me at ‘for years’.”

  Klement narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips.

  “He’s just joking,” Lester said from behind Prosper. “Please, continue.”

  Klement nodded. “Well, is a child’s development influenced primarily by genetics and biological predisposition, or does their development arise from their environment? It’s now commonly accepted that we’re a product of both nature and nurture, but the question is in what ways, and to what extent. Have you ever wondered why some people are placid while others thrive on confrontation? Why some people run away from a fight, while others kill?”

  Prosper shrugged. “Not really. I just think we are what we are, I guess.” He scribbled a few notes.

  Klement shook his head. “So answer me this. Is a child raised in an abusive household going to become abusive themselves?”

  “I guess that depends on the individual.”

  “Does it? That’s what we’re trying to discover. Are monsters born or created?”

  Prosper suddenly shivered. “So how do you find the answer?”

  “Have you ever heard of the Stanford Prison Experiment?”

  Prosper shook his head.

  “Basically, it was a psychological study conducted in 1971 that set out to test inherent personality traits. The study was conducted by a team of researchers led by psychology professor, Philip Zimbardo, at Stanford University. Twenty-four undergraduates were selected to play either guards or prisoners in a mock prison. The participants were selected for their lack of psychological issues, crime history and medical conditions. Roles were then assigned based on the toss of a coin.