Once upon a Spook (The Spooks series Book 1)

by Gary Tulley

  “I hear what you say Mike, and I guess you’re right…I was wondering…”

  “Go on.”

  “What would his take be, on this latest disclosure?”

  “And him being?”

  “Why Mr X of course, or rather Dowling?”

  “That’s an interesting question Joan, and one that we need to consider. I would like to think that if I was Dowling at the moment, I’d feel happy in knowing that I had an unexpected ally, namely our covert friend the whistleblower. As far as I’m concerned, he has saved me a lot of grief, purely on the strength of a phone call. At the moment, your husband isn’t aware of our business ‘arrangement’ so ideally it needs to stay that way. To me, it’s vital that he believes that you’ve been playing the loving housewife and that you know absolutely nothing about his dirty racket. Our biggest concern would be if Dowling decides to contact your husband directly. And by that I mean threaten him. If he does, you do realise that it will be game over between you and him? Plus of course, your convenient cover could be blown apart.”

  Staring back at him, Joan toyed with her drink glass before allowing a moment of hidden truth to surface. “In one respect, you could say that Dowling has done me a service without knowing it. Purely by chance, he has given me the opportunity to break free from a marriage that was going nowhere. Fast.” It was a bold statement, and directly off the cuff, which Eastern readily took note of.

  “I think I can live with that as an advantage,” he was quick to assess. His thoughts then returned to the business at hand. “Before I forget Joan, you happened to mention a letter earlier on. Is it relative to our case?” Slowly she shook her head.

  “I’m not totally sure what to make of it. Hang on a second.” Reaching inside a nearby folder that lay on the table, she produced an unopened envelope. “Ah, here we are. I certainly don’t recognise the handwriting…here…see what you make of it.” Eastern scrutinised it for a few seconds before passing judgement.

  “Obviously it has been posted locally or thereabouts. It has a Gatwick registration…cheap stationary…not a good sign…shall I?” He gestured as if to open it.

  “By all means,” Joan concurred. “I’m done with worrying.” It wasn’t so much what he said, or what was about to follow, or indeed the way that he said it, that really mattered. Without hesitation, he surgically ripped the envelope open and elected to let his face say it for him. In his haste to confirm the contents, he inadvertently allowed a secreted photograph to slip out from beneath his fingers.

  “Damn it! I’m sorry Joan, but this arsehole just doesn’t know when to stop. He’s seriously beginning to piss me off again.”

  “There’s no point in stating the obvious Mike. Let’s see what the deranged creep has got to say for himself this time.” The message itself was brief in content, but at the same time ensured that the reader would be left under no illusions as to its importance should they decide not to conform.

  Mrs Conway

  Just to remind you that I’m still on your case (thought the photo came out well). I shall expect you to contact me at precisely 8pm Wednesday night on the new number (enclosed). I’m sure that you won’t let me down.

  Yours, WINNER

  “Going by the date, he’s obviously sent this before the story broke in the paper. Blast! I can’t even surmise what his reaction will be, once he does know.”

  “And the phone call, how do we deal with that one?”

  “It’s priority Joan, we have to reciprocate I’m afraid, we can’t just ignore the guy. Right now, he’s holding a gun of convenience at your head…think about it. The enclosed photo, and I presume it’s kosher, says it all . The fact that he’s obviously followed you at some stage to get a result, is damning enough.”

  “I’m confused, how could he have known my movements? Security wise, I’ve done everything by the book…you know that.”

  “And that, if you should choose to, is the problem. What I’m saying is, that you’re a creature of habit Joan, and routine tends to rule your life. I strongly suspect that Dowling has picked up on that. And for that reason alone, he probably knows you better than you know yourself. This game that he’s been playing, for want of a better word, isn’t something that’s happened overnight. This has been going on for weeks. The creep had had you under a microscope. By the way, is there anything you can tell me about the photo itself?”

  “I presume you mean possible background…location, that sort of thing?”

  “Yeah, you’re catching on fast Joan…now think hard.”

  “I don’t have to, the building behind me,” she stopped and indicated with her finger. “That shop behind me next to the boutique, that’s where I have my hair done.”

  “And the location?”

  “It’s in the Lanes. And that would have been taken over two weeks ago, just before I received the very first letter from him. God! It makes me shudder to think that he could have got that close to me. Saying that, I wouldn’t have known what the creep looks like anyway.”

  “Unfortunately for us, that’s the advantage he’s able to work with.” Eastern confirmed. “But not for long, I promise you. I intend on visiting the daily ‘Argus’ office, dig through their records and see what I can come up with. There’s a chance I might come across a photo of Dowling, taken before and after his father’s trial. My ‘snout’ tells me that he was a front stage activist, when the old man was sent down. So yeah, it could pay off.”

  “Please God” Joan replied emphatically, and went on. “Which leads me to another question.”

  “Which is?” Eastern enquired dubiously.

  “I’m thinking supposition for a minute. To me, this whole rotten business centres around the fact that Dowling, amongst other things, is telling us that he’s terminal. How can we be so sure he’s telling the truth?”

  “And your point being?”

  “We honestly don’t know. We have only got his word for it, who’s to say he’s only using the claim as a ploy. If so, it would put pressure on me by aiding him to obtain a quicker and efficient result. And then there’s the question of compensation of course, you can’t just rule that out. I’m slowly beginning to think, that our mutual friend Mr Dowling, is fast becoming one healthy but devious bastard.”

  Eastern was forced to chuckle, if not to take the strain out of their conversation. “You’re nobody’s fool Joan, I’m impressed. In fact, the possibility had crossed my mind on more than one occasion. And it certainly needs consideration.”

  With that thought in mind, and a genuine access to the bottle of Scotch, it became well after midnight, before an arranged cab arrived to take Eastern home. Needless to say, he slept like a baby.

  CHAPTER VI…A snap decision

  The abhorrent chemical fumes exuding from the nearby laundrette, complimented by the odious smell of Chinese cuisine, proved to be far more efficient than his alarm clock. It also reminded him, to keep his rear window shut at night. “Shit! Is that the time?... that’s bloody obscene.” Eastern contended, through bleary half open eyes, each one pleading to remain anonymous. Moments later, a well directed blow from his pillow resulted in the said clock taking the brunt of his frustration. “Fuck the world, I want to get off,” he grunted, and promptly lost himself under his duvet.

  Some two hours or so later, the world according to Eastern ground to a halt by colliding with reality. Having survived a self induced coma earlier, it was left to his mirror to analyse a body check. The inevitable shower, followed by the first cigarette of the day, suitably eased him back into the frame. “Things to do, places to go,” figured highly on the day’s agenda, as he sipped a debateable looking coffee. The stairs in his flat were as usual nothing less than genuine, which was more than could be said for the rush hour traffic, inhabiting Western and London road Brighton.

  Exiting Preston Circus, the city was left to its own devices as he headed for the suburbs and ‘Clarion House’, a local newspaper publishing site
. Once inside the records department, he lost no time explaining his presence. Furnished with the facts relating to the case in question, it was then left to Eastern to attempt to uncover the vital information he so desperately sought. Locating the actual press coverage, stemming from the Spelling murder, became the easy part. As were the graphics surrounding the late Henry Dowling. Unfortunately, any visuals linked to his son, appeared to be non existent. Not to be outdone, he decided to pursue another line of thought.

  Aware that Dowling junior had been a past activist, when supporting his father’s alleged treatment by the police, now suggested to him that the likelihood of a prosecution due to his extremism was a possibility not to be ignored. Half an hour later, his hunch proved to be conclusive, as he honed in on a reliable press cutting.

  Local man bound over to keep the peace

  It was never going to make front page interest, but the ‘mugshot’ that accompanied the report more than compensated for his own input, by giving him reason to vent off. “Sorted! You arsehole, now let’s get it on!”

  Sometime later, and armed with a blown up version of Dowling, he duly parked up just beyond the ‘Pepper Pot’ in Queens Park, opposite Islingword Road, his sole aim being to carry out a pub crawl hoping to connect a possible sighting of his nemesis. It was always going to be a long, outside shot, but a necessary one nevertheless.

  ‘Lady luck’, it seemed had chosen to take the day off in his case. Any feedback from his enquiries had proved fruitless. Spotting a 24/7 corner shop on the way back to his car, reminded him that hew was low on cigarettes. Once again Eastern asked the question – it was beginning to be a bad habit. “Do you happen to recognise this person?” As expected, he drew a blank. Pocketing his cigarettes and the photo, he turned to leave.

  “Hang on a minute man…maybe I was a bit too hasty.” The proprietor, Eastern noted, was obviously unsettled about something. Assuming he may have been short changed, he held his hand in expectation. “No, no! The photo, something had just occurred to me, it’s only a stab in the dark mind you but…” Eastern retaliated before the man could finish.

  “Here. Take a really good look this time,” and he thrust the photo back in the man’s face.

  “Yeah, that face definitely bothers me, when was it taken, any idea?”

  “You’re probably looking at three or four years ago.”

  “Only I notice that the guy has got long hair there, now what would happen if I do this I wonder?” By manipulating his hand, he endeavoured to blank out the hair on the image. Eastern could only look on in gathered interest, and moments later he wasn’t disappointed as a smug look decorated the proprietor’s face. “Yeah, no question about it, it was the hair that threw me at first. I recognise him now, the guy you’re looking for has got a close shaven hairstyle now. He comes in here about twice a week, and stocks himself up with ‘zap’ food.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell me about him?” Eastern implored.

  He shook his head, “I’m afraid not guv. To be honest, you’d get more contact out of a stuffed dummy…know what I mean?”

  “He’s coming across as being your typical stereotypical loner, from what you say.”

  “Yeah, right, except to say that he’s got an attitude problem to go with it. And apart from that, it’s fair to say he’s local…that’s about it I reckon.”

  Thanking him for his trouble, Eastern left the shop feeling more decisive than when he entered. With ‘bullets’ to fire, and a few ‘maybe’s’ beginning to make sense, what price an address? Now that would be the business in sharing that thought. His wave of confidence was still on a roll, as he emerged suitably toned from a delayed shower that evening. Exiting his flat ten minutes later, gave him cause to vent off. “I figure the crazy bastard think he’s dealing with a frightened and defenceless woman. Well, I’ve got news for you sunshine, welcome to the club of three!”

  He was still stuffing his face with a salami bagel, via a local ‘nosh’ bar on the way over, as he arrived at Joan’s flat. After making his excuses, Eastern lost no time in grooming Joan, regarding her pre-meditated call…”Now remember Joan, it’s essential that for the present you go along with any decisions he promotes. Remember this call is all about ‘mind games’. Promise him everything without sounding too patronising. And try to imagine he’s controlling you, that way we get more out of him. The chances are he could get too over confident and let something slip.”

  “What if he gets over demanding?” Joan asked hesitantly.

  “Just run with it, don’t forget he’s telling you as it is, by not being aware of my involvement with you. Remember the pressure is all on his twisted ego, and not yours!”

  “You make it all sound so convincing Mike, I hope I come across the same way.”

  “Trust me, you will. And rest assured that I’m listening in on the extension in the hall…good luck.” The following two minute time check leading up to 8pm seemed like an eternity. Finally Joan dialled the appropriate number, after taking her lead from Eastern.

  The monotonous dialling tone was beginning to have its effect on her demeanour, adding to her apprehension level. Moments later, her concern became short lived as the sought after connection became a reality. Swallowing hard, she steeled herself before speaking in a pre-determined manner and addressed herself by using her married title as planned.

  “This is Joan Conway speaking, can you identify yourself please?”

  “Good evening Mrs Conway, congratulations on your timing. It’s good to know that relationship is ongoing, even if it is at a distance. And yes, if you haven’t already guessed, this is ‘winner’ speaking.’ The dulcet tone of his voice sounded natural and certainly educated, Eastern noted, but, at the same time reliant on sinister undertones as a means of conveying authority. Joan then continued where she had left off, only this time in a connived manner.

  “If that is the case, I really can’t see how I fit into this charade. Your grudge is with my husband surely? He’s the one person you should be dealing with.” Eastern was then forced to wince at her self proclaimed naivety.

  “Damn it Joan! Don’t push your luck…now is not the right time.” Dowling then picked up where Joan had left off.

  “Please, give me some credit Mrs Conway, we both know that you alone are my biggest asset in this charade, as you put it. Any communication I could or might have had with that unrelenting husband of yours would have been via a shredder. As a result, my intentions rest solely on his feelings towards you. I think I make myself perfectly clear, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Let is go Joan for Christ’s sake before you really piss the guy off.” Showing restraint while listening in was proving difficult for Eastern at this point. Fortunately, Dowling bailed him out with a fresh approach.

  “Now then Mrs Conway, more importantly we need to talk about this information that I require from you, in furthering my late father’s claim for justice.”

  “I see, having said that, you do realise that it isn’t something I can obtain over night? Especially when I don’t have any proof available to me.”

  “Good move Joan, keep kidding him along,” Eastern mused. For reasons of his own, Dowling then decided a more rigid stance was required.

  “Please don’t take me for a fool Mrs Conway. I do happen to read the newspapers and I can change my mind quicker than I can exchange my address. I thought I made myself clear, when I said the onus was on you to deliver? In fact, I’ll be generous and give you two weeks to come up with substantial evidence alluding to my father’s case. In the meantime I’ll take your mobile number, rather than writing to you. We wouldn’t want your husband thinking that you’re the flavour of the month…would we? Incidentally, they tell me that Hove is popular this time of year.” Joan reluctantly handed over her mobile number. Then suddenly, without any warning, the line went silent as Dowling decided to hang up.

  Minutes later, an air of anti climax clashed with intense relief ensued, as Joan opened up her heartf
elt feelings. “I think I need a drink Mike, in fact make that a large one. It just might enable me to get that perverted creep out of my system.”

  “I’d be the last one to argue with that Joan, you’ve more than earned it. I thought that you handled your end well, considering what he laid on you.”

  “He certainly made his position clear enough. So, what did you manage to glean from our conversation, if anything?”

  “Hard to say Joan, it was too one sided. Mind you…” he tailed off prematurely, to allow a nagging doubt to surface. “It’s probably nothing, but the reference that Dowling made concerning a change of address; I have to say it bothers me.”

  “Really, in what way?”

  “The emphasis alone, it came across as sounding like a half-baked threat, as opposed to a voluntary statement. I honestly don’t think he meant to say it. It could imply that the word still happened to be fresh in his mind, and possibly linked to a recent association of some kind.”

  “But when you consider that it’s only a month or so that he vacated his own flat, I can only presume that could be the unintentional link.” Her analytical prognosis gave Eastern cause to smile in a calculating manner.

  “In a manner of speaking, you’re right, and the more I think about it, my gut feeling is telling me that the egotistic idiot might have moved back there…think about it for a minute?”

  “I’m trying hard Mike, but I can’t see where you’re going with it.”

  “Hear me out, and then consider this Joan. Dowling, I believe, is thinking like a fox. I’m assuming that he’s doubled back over old ground to throw us off the scent. Meaning, that the last place anyone would expect to find him at this stage…”

  “…would have to be back living at his own flat, as you suggested.” Joan interrupted, leaving Eastern to nod aggressively before continuing.

  “Precisely! Now you’re thinking like me Joan. The man isn’t stupid, I suspect he thinks that somebody has been tailing him, and that’s why he moved out in the first place. Come to think of it, his flat was still empty when I first visited it, which is unusual in itself.”