Once upon a Spook (The Spooks series Book 1)

by Gary Tulley

  “Sure I do, and for two good reasons alone. One being that without the witness there’s a good chance that the case as a whole could fold. In which case, certain people could and would come out of this smelling of bleedin’ roses!”

  “It makes me want to reach just to contemplate it. You know and I know that arsehole Conway and the little ‘firm’ he’s surrounded by are as bent as a £3 coin.”

  “Point taken, but it’s early days yet Mike.” Curtis reminded him. “So I wouldn’t dwell too strongly on it. Right now, if I were you, I’d give Dowling some priority.” Together they then went on to discuss the case at various levels before Curtis pulled the plug on an intriguing conversation.

  His watch was saying 10am as he left his office. Eastern opted for common sense in knowing that the parking in the ‘village’ would be a problem. “Brunswick Square mate…Western Road end thanks.” Acting on a whim, he had decided to call on Joan. He was still on a high as he paid the cab off. Fortunately she was in, and made no secret at being relieved to see him.

  “I appreciate you calling in on me Mike, and before you say anything, I heard the news on Southern Sound, although I wish I hadn’t now. I couldn’t even hazard a guess as to where my position lies at this moment in time. I mean, this changes everything, doesn’t it?” Eastern was having none of it.

  “I won’t allow a shower like that to rain on my parade, or yours for that matter Joan.” He assured her. Leaning forward he grasped her shoulders tenderly. “Joan, now listen to me, in reality nothing has changed. In spite of what’s happened, your husband is, and always will remain a bent cop. And again I say, nothing is going to alter that fact. The only problem as I see it, will be one of timing when proving that he isn’t. But, as things stand, the only winner if there is one to come out of this unholy mess is Dowling. With the prime witness out of the frame, we’ll never know if the two were ever linked to a conspiracy or not. Meaning that the heat is off him at the moment.” He hesitated, to allow a positive thought to make its mark. “Apart from what I want to shift his way of course.”

  Releasing his grip on her, he motioned towards the nearest chair and indicated for her to sit down. “I don’t know about you Joan, and I realise it’s early, but I think we could both use a drink. Saying that, drink is like the poxy weather, you don’t know what you’re getting from one day to the next. But right now, it’s raining bloody grief.”

  A couple of hours later, a chilled out Eastern made his way back to his flat. Strangely enough, even the enigmatic lock on his door seemed to maintain its spontaneous revival.

  His five minute break from obscurity to normality was once again threatened by a chain of events, fuelled by a police press report some 48 hours later. This in turn was subsequently capitalized on by the tabloids. Devoid of any cynicism Eastern’s take on the outcome of the whistleblower’s Post Mortem would simply have been ‘I told you so’, and left it at that. The importance of why he would suggest that would probably amount to being on a par with the main air vent outlet, on the nearby launderette.

  His face remained motionless, as the headlines offered up by the ‘Clarion’ slowly filtered through to his brain. His overall impressions based on the report could well leave him relegated to the wilderness, simply by the enormity that the case as a whole now had to offer his ongoing dilemma now embraced a verbal coupe de grace.

  CHIEF WITNESS MURDERED

  Conclusive evidence revealed by the autopsy The sudden and unexplained death of the leading crown witness in the police bung conspiracy case three days ago. The victim has now been named as one Terry Bryant, a 46 year old ex DC, who was attached to the same division some six months previous, while residing at Shoreham. It has now been clarified that his reason for terminating his career arose from an ongoing internal problem. This in turn, led to his prime role in the forthcoming trial. It has been revealed that his death had been caused by asphyxiation consistent with being smothered by means of a pillow by a person, or persons, unknown. The fact that the victim was secured in a ‘safe house’ at the time of his death has increased the original enquiry, set up by the IPCC. The four security officers brought in by police to contain his welfare are now on full suspension as enquiries continue. No charges are being pressed at this stage. At a recent police press report, the Chief Constable, Sir Daniel Conway, father of the accused DCI Conway, was asked by a reporter for his view on his son’s role in the investigation and his subsequent internment. He replied ‘no comment’ and stalked off. We can also disclose that an anonymous phone call received yesterday stated that up until his release Bryant was a keen and ambitious officer who would have gone far. A provisional date for his funeral has now been announced and is likely to be held in a week’s time at Brighton crematorium. All relatives have now been informed.

  Eastern chose to remain silent for a while as he gathered the remnants of his thoughts. The only clue to his belated foregone conclusion could now be found locked in the firmness of his voice. When he finally got round to speaking, he surmised “It would seem that my original estimation concerning the smell was way out. I can only suggest that the stink involved is getting stronger by the minute.”

  Later on that evening, he picked up a call made to his mobile.

  “Mr Eastern?...Uhm…it’s me.” Although unrecognisable at first, he did detect a note of desperation in his voice.

  “Does ‘me’ have a name?” He responded. “It usually works better that way.”

  “You said to call you if…” And then the penny dropped, and ‘me’ instantly became hot property by Eastern’s standards.

  “Mr Caretaker I presume? Eastern speaking, what’s on your mind?”

  “It’s about our friend…you know…Dowling in flat two. I thought you needed to know what’s occurring?”

  “Well you got that bit right. So, what’s going down?” The man then said that he’d spotted Dowling that same day putting two large suitcases into a hire car. He went on to say that he’d managed to take down the company’s contact number. An elated Eastern thanked him for the information and assured him that another ‘broom’ would be in the offing soon.

  Slowly and methodically he replaced the handset and looked up. As if by demand, he caught his profile in a nearby mirror. A voluntary smile had now captivated his face and he felt good. Deep inside his subconscious, a plug of well being exploded, with the velocity of an over heated gas cylinder. And in doing so, released the internal mental crap he’d been harbouring to drain away into obscurity. He continued to study his reflection in an alienable manner before nodding in a meaningful way.

  And then the truth came out. “It’s been a funny old day…one door shuts…and another one opens,” was all he said. He was still smiling as he poured himself another Scotch. Although this one would be different from the usual, it was one that he could savour. Ten minutes later he contacted Joan.

  CHAPTER IX…A neighbour from Hell.

  “Help yourself to another drink Mike when you feel like it, you know where it is by now,” Joan could be found acting out her hostess mode, in her usual conventional manner. It came at the end of a day completely addled by more revelations than the ‘good book’ itself. For his part, Eastern was eager to make conversation. At worse, it would be a move in the right direction, if only to detract from the latest tabloid splash.

  “One thing that we can depend on Joan is knowing the whereabouts of that weasel Dowling, this time around. I’ve checked the company number out so first thing tomorrow I intend on paying the ‘Excelsior’ booking office a visit. I’ve been given an approximate time that Dowling was picked up today, so obtaining a drop off address shouldn’t be much of an obstacle. Besides, I know the cab owner from way back, him being a past client.”

  “Is there anybody that you don’t know Mike?” She taunted him in a sexy manner. In ignorance of his past lifestyle she would have been at a loss even if the truth had have been etched in granite! In return, Eastern was forced to bite the bullet.
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br />   “Never cut off the hand that feeds you…that’s business, end of” he quickly reminded himself. “Even though she’s one classy bitch,” he added. Besides, he’d tested the water three times before at a cost. One more transgression could mean drowning in a sea of obscurity.

  Shortly after 9am the next day morning he parked up a side street leading off Dyke Road, with the intention of securing a lead into Dowling’s latest and spontaneous address. Ten hectic minutes later, shortly after leaving the cab office, he soon became a statistic having been caught up in the intensity of the morning rush hour. Although the grief arising from the traffic problem would only be a blip, compared to what he had in mind, or, in fact, to where he was now heading. It made sense to turn off Western Road and use Preston Street as a shorter means of access, if and when entering the bottom end of Brunswick Square.

  He slowed down to a crawl, enabling him to stare intently at each of the terraced units in turn. His body stiffened as one brass plate in particular drew him like an obsessed magnet forcing him to slam on his brakes. The sudden aura and magnitude given out by the building seemed to consume his body causing him to shudder involuntarily, as a wave of cold air swept over his body akin to a controlled Tsunami. And yet he was sweating. A recipe of disbelief and outright anger formed the core of his present state. Once again he checked the number on the brass plate. No! He was adamant that he hadn’t got it wrong. It had checked out with the number handed to him by the cab company.

  “This has to be bleedin’ crazy, if my information is kosher.” Seemed to be the best result he could apply, before his brain made an appearance. Every aspect of the building could be found stamped firmly in his memory, as he drove in a daze to the top end of the square, finally coming to a halt at Joan’s apartment two minutes later.

  “Calm down Mike! You’re not making any sense. It’s not even 9.30am and you’re talking in riddles. I honestly done know where you’re coming from.” One very confused lady, enter Mike Eastern. He was making a lousy job of convincing her that her unbiased entry into the ‘hall of frame’ was now at less odds than a Jewish bacon bagel. Even the see through negligee she was wearing had failed to impress him after she readily opened the door for him. “But business is business” he once again reminded himself.

  “Besides,” he told himself. “Once you’ve seen one pussy, you’ve seen the lot. The only difference is that some cost more to keep than others.” As he would quote, and as a past historian on the subject, he wasn’t in a position to argue. In knowing that Joan’s nemesis could now possibly be cosied up nearby through unbelievable circumstances and residing in a flat that it would take less time to get to than a ‘quickie’ divorce. Under the circumstances, Joan’s approach to this latest and bizarre twist which nobody could have predicted even had Eastern coming up for air.

  “This isn’t a bloody game of I win, you lose, Joan. You need to get real, because the first prize could well be a blasted coffin,” he insisted. While Joan accepted the fact, she was unwittingly prepared to make a stand.

  “I’m sorry Mike, and I hear what you say, only this time I’m staying put.” She retaliated, then continued, “I don’t intend on giving that sad bastard the satisfaction of knowing that he’s controlling my life…that’s just how it is.”

  A brief stand off manifested itself, allowing Eastern to collect his thoughts. “I’m sorry too Joan, it’s become plain to see that I can’t persuade you to leave. Having said that, I admire the ‘chutzpah’ in you. Nevertheless, the fact that you’re living on your own is a concern and it bothers me, as you well know.”

  “It doesn’t have to be like that you know.” She replied casually.

  “Meaning?” What followed next, including the intense impact it made, was nothing short of swallowing an unexploded hand grenade. Her reply, when it came, was coordinated to perfection.

  “I’m saying Mike that you could always move in with me.”

  It was one hell of a decision to lay on somebody when familiar with their current disposition. For his part, Eastern felt himself being metaphorically torn apart. Momentarily, his confused mind swayed from the convenience of a luxury apartment and onwards to a vision of the ‘OVERDONE RASHER’. And, not forgetting, the viaduct tapestry that went with his zero rated bed sit. As you can imagine, it was a close run decision to make!

  He smiled in defeat, and shook his head likewise. “I guess you win Joan, although we do need to make some ground rules around here…right?”

  And so it was settled. Eastern spent the next couple of days relocating, before deciding to find out whether or not Dowling had a liking for fresh air. The park bench situated on the green adjacent to the latter’s latest bolthole became a blessing in disguise, leaving Eastern to take full advantage of it. Although, even at this stage, he couldn’t be totally sure Dowling’s move was more than a temporary one.

  On this particular day, and having secured a midday Argus newspaper, he made the bench his own, and hopefully Dowling’s space thrown in. Aware as he could be at the time he failed to note the report at first glance, mainly because it took up a slot in the stop press ‘breaking’ news.

  SECURITY GUARD CHARGED WITH CONSPIRACY TO MURDER WHISTLEBLOWER

  IN BUNG CASE

  On a whim, Eastern was sorely tempted to contact DS Curtis for more information, but then reneged in knowing that his position in the queue would be a valid one. Some thirty minutes later, his thoughts were justified. Curtis was in his face explaining the details surrounding the arrest, and the varied conclusions therein.

  “No, nothing about this case surprises me anymore Johnnie,” was his opening gambit. He continued to probe, “How big a conspiracy in your opinion, are we talking about mate?” he ventured.

  “The size, as you put it, is irrelevant Mike in terms of physical. It’s the importance of ‘Mr Big’ alone that is paramount. Without doubt, he is our prime concern to us. Whoever sanctioned Bryant’s murder has to carry a whole lot of clout…do you agree?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And just to make matters worse, I figure that the arsehole responsible is in our own backyard.”

  “Yeah, well I’d have put money on that you were going to say that. I’ve been thinking along those lines myself for some time now.”

  “Exactly, any other scenario doesn’t even warrant a motive. Anyway, for what it’s worth, the guard we’re holding in custody at the moment is keeping ‘schtum’. We figure he’s only a pawn within a major organisation anyway. And it’s early days of course. Given time, I feel certain that he will crack eventually, and allow the flood gates to open.”

  Eastern thanked him for his time for his time and information, and passed on Dowling’s new address at the same time. Later on that evening, Joan happened to receive a cold phone call. The consequence of which brought her back into the realms of reality. At the time it came through, she happened to be on her own. Meanwhile, Eastern was in the process of paying Dowling’s old flat a visit. Their conversation went:

  “Mrs Conway? This is ‘winner’ speaking as promised. I’m rather hoping that you may have some fresh news for me, and before you say it, I too read the papers. Strange isn’t it? How a person’s situation can go from a to z in such a short space of time. I wonder what your husband is thinking about right now? At least his time won’t be wasted, in knowing that every day for the rest of his life will become one long habitual routine. The best part of it, I hasten to add, spent in solitude assuming that he’s not ‘got at’ first of course. A ‘bent’ cop on the inside is only one rung away from a nonce. So I’ll leave you to think about his future. I’ll leave you to work that one out.”

  “If that’s the case,” she retorted. “Then I fail to see what type of satisfaction you would want from me?” The exclusive stance that she had taken then continued in the same vein. “You have to believe that my marriage died a death months ago. Like yourself, I also happen to be a victim of circumstances. As things stand now, there is n
o way that I could influence my estranged husband’s judgement on your terms. I’ll leave that for the courts to decide. One other thing, as from now, this number will no longer be recognised.”

  Satisfied that her fresh approach with regard to her own standing would remain intact pe se, Joan took the initiative and promptly hung up. The moment he walked through the door and sounded her body language out, Mike’s instinct took control.

  “If you’ve got a problem Joan, I suggest that we talk about it. You know the rules.”

  Reluctantly she allowed her face to drop. “It’s that obvious is it?”

  Eastern offered up a jocular smile before replying. “Putting it mildly, it’s not exactly ‘Oscar’ season, so why don’t you start from the beginning?” Ten minutes later his present mood had swung like and out of date pendulum. “Damn it Joan, you say that you actually hung up on him? I blame myself, I should have been here. That was not a good move Joan.” Shrugging his concern to one side, she went on to explain that she was intending to ditch her mobile. And hopefully by doing so, it would switch the onus on to Dowling, and all the blame and grief that goes with it.

  “Don’t let’s forget Mike, that as things stand, we know where my husband is this time around. And right now…” she contested strongly, “I could be anywhere and he wouldn’t know.” Eastern was forced then to cave into her logic but with reservations.

  “Reverse psychology is one thing Joan, but unless you’ve forgotten, we are dealing here with an 18ct nutter, who is now holed up less than a breath away. I mean, how surreal is that?”

  In spite of Eastern’s good intentions, Joan chose to remain persistent by throwing caution to the wind. “His rotten choice, not mine! Me? I’m through with running. The sooner he’s out of my life then so much the better.” She who pays the piper, wins and Eastern wasn’t about to contest her meaningful approach to the current problem.