Once upon a Spook (The Spooks series Book 1)

by Gary Tulley

  “D’ye happen to have a light…Eastern?” The sudden realisation that the intimidating request spelt out a personal message swiftly brought him back down to earth, as the taller of the two alien figures confronted him.

  A ‘please’ would have been acceptable but he responded “Piss off” as a jerk reaction. It sounded good in Eastern’s head, he thought as his survival instinct checked into overdrive.

  On par, his evergreen brain was already issuing its own overall version of events by confirming that the whole scenario, and bearing in mind the aggressors’ method of approach, undoubtedly bore the hallmark of a professional organised ‘set up’. He just happened to be the fall guy. At this stage, a one on one physical situation with his tormentor, should it have transpired, was the least of his worries should his prowess be called into judgement. What he hadn’t considered, was the untimely role of the second assailant, who by now had just put himself in a position to attack from the rear. In retrospect, the situation now culminated in Eastern’s downfall as he attempted to remonstrate.

  His vain attempt to level the score was rendered useless, as a well directed cosh collided with virgin flesh and bone. The weapon then smashed into the back of his head with sickening force. The impact imploded inside Eastern’s skull creating an immediate paralysis, affecting his arms and legs. Millions of tiny lights ran rampant inside his head, glowing in unison before being swept up into a blanket of designer pain and nausea. Mercifully, his suffering ceased as a rush of darkness swept over his body like a Tsunami. He was unconscious long before the pavement beneath him bore the brunt of his useless body.

  Later, coming to terms with the unexplained altercation was one thing, attempting to analyse the reason behind it was proving difficult. Having been released from hospital following a check up, Eastern now sought refuge back in his flat, alongside a bottle of Scotch as a mediator. Finding the answer to a thousand and one unanswered questions, the most prominent being “Why me of all people?” was fast becoming a non plus. In return, the liquor that he freely managed to imbibe only reinforced his convictions by rubbishing any doubts he may have held regarding the origin of the attack.

  “I’m convinced that there’s a link between the Conway woman and the two ‘gorillas’ who leaned on me. Somebody out there obviously wants me to ease off the case…full stop. Whoever it was that set me up has got a hell of a lot to lose for one reason or another,” he told himself, and concluded, “One thing is for certain, they need to know that I am in this for the long haul. Whoever is pulling the shots has got an uninvited date with karma for what happened to me today.”

  Even solace liquid has got a cut off point, and Eastern had now reached the terminus. On reflection, his day had proved to be eventful if only for all the wrong reasons. All in all, just another day in the life of a maverick PI. In the end, struggling to play catch up with lead lined eyes was never going to win him any medals. Tiredness finally got the better of him, and he resorted to his make shift bed in the knowledge that sleep would be one aspect he wasn’t in a position to contest.

  CHAPTER II…An ‘Eastern’ promise.

  Eastern was beginning to feel like the external ‘cat on a hot tin roof’. The pensive look that shrouded his face could well be mistaken into fast becoming a permanent feature. Once again he studied his desk diary, drumming his fingers on the desk to release his agitation. “Nine days…it’s been nine days, and still no blasted contact from Mrs Conway,” he reminded himself. By now, he was beginning to think that his self anointed new image was somehow flawed. “Typical poxy money set, they think that they own you on the strength of one bleedin’ phone call. Giving it large one minute, and then hanging you out to dry the next. What she needs is a kosher hormone specialist to straighten her out!”

  As if by demand, a cynical smile began to take over his face as he continued to stalk his verbal assassination in a different direction. This time, toward her estranged husband. “I can just see you now Mr flaming DCI Conway, I reckon you’re getting more grief right now than I am, poor sucker.” Any other thoughts on the subject drifted as the sound of an unfamiliar voice coming from downstairs made itself known.

  “Mr Eastern, hello…anybody there?”

  “Who the hell wants to know?” Eastern fired back, as he opened the door.

  “Rapid Courier service Guv.” The voice went on, “I need a signature for a package, I take it you are Mr Eastern?”

  Smiling to himself, Eastern replied, “For two bleedin’ flights of stairs, I’d better be mate.” He proceeded to make his way down to join him. Having taken possession of the package, and thirty six stair treads later, he found himself eyeballing the package, now lying on his desk, with interest. “Uhmn, nice to be wanted,” he muttered to himself, “let’s hope that whatever it contains is worth the trouble.”

  In a second, his fragile existence reverted to being gilt-edged as he allowed the contents to spill out onto his desk. The personal letter heading became the first significant clue as to what he could expect to find. “Well I’ll be damned” he retorted. “Looks like her ladyship has come up trumps after all and here’s me thinking ain’t life a bitch!” Having read through the enclosed letter twice, for suitable clarification, it was time for Eastern to sit back and summarise the contents. The message itself, he noted, that held the key to Mrs Conway’s proposed contract, was clearly outlined and precise in its wording:

  Dear Mr Eastern,

  Due to unforeseen circumstances beyond my control, I apologise for the delay in contacting you once again. I am sure that by now, you can appreciate by the measures I hopefully intend to undertake, that this is not a decision I have arrived at without in depth consideration. Namely, my personal well being. Such is the importance of any binding contract we may possibly enter into. Furthermore, the trust I hope to place in you is paramount to any future developments, that I anticipate rising.

  I do not wish to digress at this point into the problems surrounding my dilemma, except to say that you come highly recommended. So it goes without saying, I can expect the bet of your service at all times. You will find enclosed certain information detailing directions, and a specific time for a joint meeting at a venue of my own choice. Should you wish to pursue this mater, please do not attempt to contact me beforehand. It is imperative that you respect my concern at this point.

  Please note that you have ten minutes beyond the specified time enclosed to sanction my proposed meeting. Should you choose to renege, I will presume that you have no desire to continue with my proposal. That being the case, then this letter and its contents, like myself, shall become null and void. I sincerely hope that this will not be the case, and therefore I look forward to seeing you again in the foreseeable future.

  I remain yours in anticipation

  Mrs J Conway (nee Travers)

  From the stalls one minute and the upper circle the next, resulted in a lot to take in, event by Mike Eastern’s standards. One thing he could be certain of would be his decision to accept Mrs Conway’s contract, which to his mind was etched in granite prior to any form of meeting being on the cards. Eastern nodded approvingly, once having reviewed the additional content. The idea of a nominated ‘safe house’ namely and out of town country club set in rural Sussex, seemed the ideal solution. Providing, of course, that his timing was right.

  Once again, he scanned the letter in the event he’d inadvertently missed anything. It soon became clear that something was amiss. It was as if Mrs Conway’s consideration to detail attached to her signature was telling him something.

  “Travers?” he mused. “The name certainly rings a bell, but why go to the trouble of including it alongside her married title. Unless of course…” He stopped briefly to allow a flicker of recognition to enter his thinking. “Unless of course she has done it for a reason, expecting me to pick up on it?”

  Almost immediately a cryptic smile enveloped his face. “Of course! I should have known better, Travers…retired Chief bloody Constabl
e Travers, she has to be his daughter. Talk about a family affair, this case just gets better by the minute.” Having established the location of their covert ‘meet’ it then became a case of tying up the loose ends on any outstanding business commitments. With so much shit flying around his head, and a 48 hour waiting endurance test in front of him, Eastern began to consider the thought that he may well be on a collision course with a runaway rollercoaster.

  His past experience alone should have told him the importance of first impressions, as he surveyed inside the minimalist wardrobe. A curtain strung across what was presumably a larder at one time.

  On reflection, it turned out to be a bad call. A look of disdain entered the equation, as he took stock of the situation. “There’s more blasted shirts on the floor than there are on hangers,” he ranted. “It’s about time I got my act together, and as for the suits…” Scratching his head, more out of frustration than despair, he convinced himself that the view of the nearby viaduct from his window had more appeal. Basically, his disinherited problem lay with a woman (Mrs Conway) who had inadvertently interrupted his predictable and selfish way of life.

  He now realised that the time had come to face facts. With three failed marriages behind him, what knowledge he held about the female gender could be found written on the back of a postage stamp. “I can’t afford to mess up, there’s too much riding on this deal” he convinced himself. “Besides,” he went on, “The woman reeks of class, working with her on board would be tantamount to a passport being thrown in for entry to a world of normality.

  In no time at all his extended hiatus became a reality, as Saturday loomed large. With the prospect of a 40 minute drive facing him, timing was off the essence. It was just after 7 o clock that evening when Eastern finally left the bright lights and stress torn atmosphere of his concrete jungle. Leaving Brighton in his wake, he headed for the depths of the countryside, full of conjecture as a would be companion. Half an hour or so later, even the M23 seemed like history as he linked up with a minor road taking him to his destination.

  “In a few minutes’ time,” he diligently reminded himself, “I’ll be face to face with Mrs Conway at last. Assuming of course, everything goes to plan.”

  Glancing around the periphery of the grounds, in which the club restaurant was situation confirmed Eastern’s feelings that the latter had doe her homework regarding a covert ‘meet’. The ‘HUNTER’S RETREAT & COUNTRY CLUB’ was only a name, but the half a dozen rollers parked amongst a bevy of other designer cars told him different. “I can just imagine the bollocks that goes on inside here on the quiet. I’d love to be a fly on the wall for 24 hours looking on. I reckon I could afford to retire in six months,” was his immediate reaction.

  Having secured his car, he made a beeline for the entrance and entered the foyer. Almost at once, Eastern found himself confronted by a stocky built security guard, intent on making a name for himself.

  “I’m sorry sir this is a members’ only facility. I will…” A sardonic look came over Eastern’s face as he clinically cut him short, the guard wasn’t even allowed the benefit of an extended breath before he found himself forced into a verbal altercation as Eastern hit back:

  “Relax sunshine, I did what you do now for a living when Crystal Palace was only a goldfish bowl!”

  His inquisitor wasn’t going to give up that easily.

  “I insist that you show me…” Once again his plea for information fell on deaf ears as a third party voice made itself heard.

  “It’s okay Roberts, I’ll deal with this. Is there a problem sir?” The manager enquired. Eastern averted his eyes towards the jobs worth guard before replying:

  “Yeah, there could be as it happens, tell this arsehole to get off my case, otherwise I will. For the record, I’m here for an arranged meeting with a certain Mrs Conway, and I wouldn’t like to keep the good lady waiting…right?”

  “Absolutely sir,” the manager replied in a patronising manner. “If you would like to follow me, I have been informed that Mrs Conway has been expecting you, please, step this way.” Eastern found himself ushered through into what appeared to be a small, but intimate room, leading off the main bar. The manager attempted to put Eastern at ease. “Please treat the space as your own sir, should you require a drink, feel free to use the hospitality bell. In the meantime, I will inform Mrs Conway that you have arrived.” He then made a swift departure.

  Eastern nodded approvingly, and grunted a token ‘Thank you.” He made himself comfortable. All he had to do now would be to sit back and relax. Needless to say, he wasn’t given that opportunity.

  “Mr Eastern, I presume?” Full of mixed emotions, he glanced around and found himself confronted by a striking red haired woman, in her early forties he guessed. Ready, and dressed to kill, wearing a hugging navy blue two piece outfit, complimented by an expensive looking jewelled necklace. Her long and shapely legs he noted, started life exuding from a pair of designer white stiletto shoes, and terminated somewhere around her sylph like neck.

  Momentarily his mind wandered into a world of extreme sexual fantasy. “Suppose I’m looking at this from the wrong angle and she turns out to be some sort of nymphomaniac who gets off on mixing with the likes of me?” His wishful thinking plummeted to zero as the steward made a hurried return. “Your order madam…sir” Eastern lost no time in topping up his glass with the desired water and went for broke:

  “So, what would you like to drink to Mrs Conway?” he enquired. She deliberated before replying in a firm and astute manner.

  “A successful conclusion will do for a start, wouldn’t you say?”

  “And then?”

  “Now it is your turn Mr Eastern, I suspect you have a few ideas of your own you may like to share?”

  “More than you will ever know lady, but I’ll keep them to myself.” He wistfully muttered under his breath.

  “You were saying?”

  “Sorry, I was just thinking out loud, although on a serious note, maybe you can explain to me, why you have gone to so much trouble to make this meeting possible?” Her reply, when it came, side stepped into full business mode.

  “Basically Mr Eastern, on the assumption that you decide to take the case, any future dealings on a personal level, will have to be on the same footing as this one.”

  “I’m not about to argue with that,” he assured her, and went on. “Keep talking, I’m a good listener.” For reasons of her own, she began to toy with her glass. It became obvious to him that her next approach, when it came, would hold the key to ‘Pandora’s box’. His intuition, fair to say, couldn’t be faulted once she had opened up to him.

  “You are obviously aware of who I am by now. The fact that you have met my husband in a professional capacity in the past, and I daresay myself made life easy for me to arrive at my decision.”

  “Which is?”

  “For you to represent me of course.”

  A quizzical look clouded Eastern’s face as he analysed her solid reply. It occurred to him that it included reviewing a hidden question that he needed to qualify.

  “Right! So let’s get your conclusion in perspective. Are you saying in effect that your husband has got no knowledge of your presence here?” Her stoic demeanour didn’t falter in reply.

  “I’m saying exactly that Mr Eastern. I am forced to keep my social movements close to my chest, any untoward disclosures would undoubtedly provoke dire consequences.”

  In one sense her reply, albeit a third party threat, now added a reverse effect as to his thinking and, in doing so, left him slightly relieved. I can guess what this conversation is leading up to, he assured himself. All the signs point to one conclusion. Why the hell doesn’t the damn woman come right out with it and say, my husband appears to be screwing around, end of story? That way, we can all go home…bloody drama queen. There and then, Eastern decided to jump the verbal queue by levelling with her. “I presume you want Mr Conway placed under surveillance, with the usual dirty washi
ng thrown in? So, how long has the situation been going on for, and how far do you want me to run with it?”

  The designer look that appeared on her face told him what she thought of his impromptu suggestions. The realisation on his part (had he been aware) that his hasty assumption had fallen way short and in the process almost landed him in the proverbial shit. Luckily for him, there was a get out clause, and she was quick to remind him of it.

  “I just wish it was that easy Mr Eastern. I can forgive you for thinking otherwise knowing that there is a fifteen year gap in age between my husband and myself. However,” she stressed, “You can rule out any theories in that direction.”

  Lost in translation one minute, to dealing with reality the next, left Eastern having to think on his feet. “I see, your problem obviously goes deeper than I suspected,” he ventured, and let her continue.

  “To be perfectly frank, my life at this moment in time is in one holy mess, and I…” She faltered, leaving her voice to waver momentarily. The opportunity arose and Eastern took full advantage by invading her space.

  “Please, take your time. Think carefully and stick to the facts that matter. Oh, and by the way, your drink is getting cold.” He quipped. It was always going to be a throwaway line, but his gesture seemed to have the desired effect. She soon regained her composure by smiling thankfully, before speaking again.

  “God! Where do I start?”

  “At the beginning seems to be a good enough place for me,” Eastern responded encouragingly. His phoney invitation to her drink then came home to roost as she swiftly emptied her glass of gin. Seconds later, after fumbling around in her handbag, she eventually produced an envelope, and handed it to him.

  “Here, I would like you to read the contents, and then we can discuss your views. What I can tell you now, is that it hasn’t been sent to me by someone who is interested in my welfare. On the contrary.” It wasn’t going to be the first of its type that Eastern had encountered. In his experience, he deduced that the content needed to be taken seriously from the offset. Gorging on apprehension, Mrs Conway looked on as Eastern proceeded to read the letter.