by Gary Tulley
“Whoa! Hold it right there Paul…it’s imperative that you listen and learn.” His positive intervention luckily backed Granger into a corner, forcing him to hear Eastern out. The moment then became surreal, as Eastern himself unwittingly found himself facing a dilemma of huge consequences allayed to his cover persona. The moment was right when thinking on his feet by appeasing Granger, while at the same time, endeavouring to keep his true identity under wraps. Or, at least until he found it necessary to abort his man identity charade. “Playing the situation down to redeem some thinking time would be the way forward,” he convinced himself.
“Coffee! How about you? Personally I could murder another one. I figure that we both need to reconcile some of the relevant facts concerning the flip side to the problem, long before you rush headlong into the unknown, right?” Granger nodded eagerly to signify his approval and appeared to be relaxed as Eastern signalled his intention to reorder.
Having secured his coffee Eastern became the first to break their silence.
“Funny thing.”
“Say what?”
“Life I guess. Oh sorry, I was just thinking out loud. An hour or so ago I didn’t know you from Mickey Mouse and now here we are attempting to deal with a forensic time bomb! It’s crazy!” His frankness was now shared by Granger’s willingness to accept that his undisclosed ‘find’ could possibly rebound on him, simply by not pursuing the right channels.
“Fucksake! It’s that significant eh?”
“I can’t stress the fact enough, you have to believe it Paul.”
“I can live with that, the question is, where do we go from here?”
“We…” Eastern demanded. “Don’t! That is until I make an impromptu phone call. You wait here. I won’t be long.”
Wearing a phased look, Granger nodded and replied, “You are one bloody mystery Mike, I’m having a problem with your day job and who you really are!”
Smiling broadly Eastern left him to dangle unreservedly: “That’s for me to know and you to find out Paul. Not that you would believe me if I told you.” Turning on his heel, he made his way to the gents. He was smiling as he made the desired connection. “Rogon? We need to talk. It’s urgent. Something of interest has cropped up. I want you to arrange a meeting extraordinary revolving around a third party involvement.”
When replying to Eastern’s request, Rogon acted in his usual bland and moronic trademark: “If you insist Mike. I presume by your reasoning, it could make a viable contribution to the bung case. And yes, I’ll make all the necessary arrangements.” His reply was short but brief.
“Fine. Let’s say 7.30 at my place tonight then.”
“Leave it with me. By the way, who’s your new found friend?” The innocuous enquiry was no more than Eastern had expected coming from Rogon, and he promptly cut him short. Having said that, he still continued to smile as he returned to the table.
“That went rather well by the look of it.” Granger ventured.
“Yeah, please God it stays that way. Incidentally Paul, what are you doing tonight?”
CHAPTER XVI…Crime by order
The carriage clock situated on the mantelpiece was approaching 6.55pm, just as Eastern entered his lounge, closely followed by an uneasy looking Paul Granger. Sensing his apparent demeanour, Eastern motioned towards an adjacent ‘mini bar’ in one corner. “Feel free to help yourself Paul, and make it a large one. I’ve got a notion it will be a long night.”
Timing just happened to be one trait that he could safely rely on, in knowing that Rogon was a martyr to that particular cause. Having downed the remains of his Scotch, his door bell alerted him to the fact that the agency had kept their part of the bargain as the clock in the lounge chimed 7.30pm exactly. Eastern had briefed granger on the code of ethics surrounding the meet. Nevertheless, the latter appeared to be somewhat daunted by the whole process, once their blindfolds were removed at spooks HQ. Turning to Eastern, he expressed his pent up feelings. “I’m finding it hard to believe this is really happening Mike. You wouldn’t want to upset these people would you? Nobody would ever find your body again!” not wishing to elaborate on the subject, Eastern wisely decided to string him along.
“Let’s just say that it wouldn’t be your body lying in the coffin, if it was ever exhumed. But at least you would have had a funeral in part.” The interrogation unit became instantly recognisable to Eastern as they were ushered inside by two burly departmental spooks, both of whom were instantly dismissed. It became clear to him that apart from Rogon and Granger, they were alone in the room. “Who needs people?” he mused. “there’s probably more bugs secreted in these walls than a second hand mattress.”
His train of thought was then shattered as Rogon greeted the pair. “Mike! Good to see you, and I presume that you must be Paul Granger…interesting.” Verbal intimidation went with the territory, leaving Eastern to swiftly return his dud comment.
“You can cut out the mind games Rogon; it only gets interesting as you so indelicately put it, if you can use what I have on offer. By the way, where is ‘B’, shouldn’t he have a say in the matter?”
Rogon shook his head in a patronising manner before replying: “Touché Mike, there’s no fooling you, is there? I always maintained that you would make a damn good spook. As for ‘B’, he’s unfortunately tied up at the present, putting a coup down in Africa so I’m led to believe.”
“What!” Eastern retorted, “not on his own surely?” Rogon was his own forthright self as usual.
“Well, not unless you call a mini arsenal including a Government Issue Barrett M107 as company… then no! From what I gather, his ‘mark’ is an assassination assignment and I’m sure he’ll manage. He hasn’t let us down yet.” he expressed dolefully. Briefly Eastern closed his eyes on an impulse as he digressed.
“And to think you led me to believe that the guy was a fucking caretaker.” For his part, Granger elected to sit down, presumably due to a posture complaint. Rogon then took the initiative by exercising his patience.
“Well gentleman, what have you got for me that is so important it can’t wait? I only hope that it’s substantial. This case has been dragging on too long, a breakthrough at this juncture would be comforting and at the same time enable me to keep the PM off my back.” Eastern then proceeded to draw up a seat and make himself comfortable. Produced a sealed plastic bag, he removed the contents and gave it to Rogon for scrutiny, who in turn made a meagre effort to study what was on offer.
“So?” Eastern enquired impatiently, “What do you make of that?” Taking into account his position, a look of unconcern crossed his face.
“Uhm, obviously a defunct bog standard PIB (paying in book). And an old one at that, I haven’t come across one like this for years.”
“Don’t piss me off Rogon, this evidence is relevant to the case.” Granger reacted to Eastern’s show of temperament, by beginning to squirm in his seat at the thought of a backlash.
“No! I’m serious Mike.” Rogon continued, “The day I sold my body to the state, any personal effects I carried became Government property. So what is so special about this one that it warrants a three man discussion?” Acting under Eastern’s direction, Granger unfolded the story relating to the origin of the PIB. Meanwhile, Rogon sat poker faced listening intently, before passing judgement.
“I hear what you both say and indeed where it could possibly lead to.” He paused, “Trouble is, it’s riddled with circumstantial evidence all based on assumption. It just won’t wash, I’m sorry Mike but that’s how I see it.”
“Utter bullshit!” Eastern wasn’t about to be fobbed off having come this far. “The editor, what about the editor? If we can track him down and lean on him, there’s a good chance we may be able to prove that bung money had been laundered from the proceeds via Conway’s protection rackets that were prominent at the time.”
Rogon was adamant in his reply. “how do we know that the guy still exists or not? And even if he was still a
live and we subpoena him, he’ll make the term ‘no comment’ more popular than a bachelor flat in the Maldives! Assuming of course that you could even find him.” Eastern was still insistent on getting something out of the discussion.
“I hope that we can at least agree that finding a common link between what we have got thus far surrounding ‘Mr Big’, AKA Conway senior, is absolutely crucial.”
“That was never in doubt Mike.” Rogon confirmed. “So why do I get this feeling that you’re hatching something in that head of yours? Because if you are I’d much prefer it to be unclassified information.” He then turned his attention on to Granger. “Unfortunately, it all ends here for you I’m afraid and I thank you for your participation. The PIB, of course, now becomes state property.” Extending his property, the two exchanged a token handshake. Granger looked almost relieved that he was allowed to go, but not before shaking Eastern’s hand warmly.
“I’ll keep in touch Mike if you don’t mind; you never know I might just get a ‘scoop’ hot enough to retire on.” His parting shot caused them both to chuckle.
“Amen to that Paul, as far as I’m concerned your names written all over it, isn’t that so Rogon?” Nodding robotically, the latter was forced to agree. Just then, a spook agent entered the room and proceeded to blindfold Granger. Having reminded him of his allegiance to the Official Secrets act, he was then whisked away.
“And then there were two,” remarked Rogon dryly before continuing, “You’re in the chair now Mike, how do you propose we go about nailing Conway?” Eastern leaned forward on the table and allowed his elbows to take his weight. Prior to speaking, he stared intently at Rogon for a few seconds in a mood of deliberation as if to justify his reasoning. Coolly and calmly, he allowed one pre-set word to escape his lips; the effect of which caused Rogon to sit bolt upright.
“Blackmail!” Stunned into silence, and forced to struggle with the implication, it was left to Eastern to lower him down gently. “In a legal sort of fashion, you understand.”
“How in God’s name do you condone that as an undertaking for a brief?” spluttered Rogon.
“On hindsight that’s the easy part, especially if the intended victim happens to be Conway senior. I’ve said it before Rogon, if you want big, then you have to think big.”
“I wouldn’t dispute that Mike, but c’mon, blackmail? You’ve got to be kidding me? One of us has lost the plot and from where I’m sitting you have to be a prime candidate. Having said that, I admire your nerve.” Brushing his remark to one side, only ignited the strong belief that Eastern felt, regarding the credibility to his claim.
“That is your opinion but to explain my theory I need to digress. Long before and after I came on the scene, you and your agency have done all the running, and for what? I…”
Rogon was on home turf and he didn’t need a progress assassination from somebody like Eastern holding a ‘maverick’ degree. He then cut him short.
“Blast you Mike! Don’t tell me how to run my department. Thus far, we have managed to nail three ‘bent’ coppers.”
“Need I remind you Rogon. It’s how you finish, not how you start that counts.” He fired back. It takes a good man to know when he’s beat, and Rogon applauded his gamesmanship.
“You’ve got some bollocks Mike, I’ll give you that. Now then, about this theory of yours, you were saying?”
“Simply don’t run anymore.”
“Is that it?”
“Far from it. You allow ‘Mr Big’ to do it all for you…call it role reversal strategy if you like, by forcing him to come to you.”
If he was convinced by his logic, then Rogon didn’t show it. “Just like that eh? And what do you propose I use for a contact number?” He replied acidly.
Blanking his show of witticism, Eastern spelt it out for him in no uncertain terms. “I’m only going to say it once more for your benefit Rogon. As I stated in the beginning, the answer is simply ‘blackmail.”
“So you said Mike, but who and what do we use as bait? And, let’s not forget, at this moment in time we can’t legally hang a damn thing on him. Plus, of course, who’s to say the guy is bent anyway?”
Eastern was done with pussy footing around, and allowed his temperament to raise the stakes. “That’s total bollocks Rogon and you know it. That arsehole is hiding behind a blanket position to remain untouchable. But not in my book. I intend to blow his cover apart, besides which I’ve nothing to lose. And that is our biggest asset. Doing things my way will decide whether he’s bent or not. If he’s legal, then he’s got nothing to worry about…and me? I’m just another crank and I can live with that.” Basically, the moment had now become a question of make up your mind time. So, had Eastern struck a chord?
Rogon brought his clenched fist hard down on the table top. “It’s crazy! Everything about it is telling me that the idea is crazy. But you’re right, it could work and I’m in. you have obviously got a game plan Mike, so lay it on me.” Eastern suggested that they instigate an obligatory check as to whether the editor in Granger’s submission could still possibly be alive, and, if so, bring him to book. In Rogon’s case they could construct a letter of implication, the contents of which show the bearer as having retained key knowledge to Conway’s participation, in subversive underground movements.
As Eastern said, “If he responds to the bait on offer, he’ll inadvertently shoot himself in the foot by granting us a case on a plate. Then, as a bonus, we could always introduce the editor into our claim. And who knows, he could well save us a lot of grief by locating the guy for us.” In winding up, he stressed the facts from a gambler’s point of view. “Theoretically, we have got nothing to lose whatsoever. And at the same time, be safe in the knowledge that there won’t be any comebacks on the agency’s part in knowing that our position is watertight.”
Seemingly satisfied, any existing tension voluntarily eradicated itself. Eastern remained at the HQ long enough to arrange a further meeting to finalise their way forward. In his absence, another agent was allocated his role at the ongoing trial. It was nearing 10.30pm that same evening before the agency car got round to dropping Eastern off at Brunswick Square. Leaving any thoughts he may have held in contacting Joan to one side he reassured himself “I’m pretty sure she’ll understand it’s the damn business I’m in.” Needless to say, the ‘mini bar’ took the brunt of his frustration, before deciding that bed would be a better proposition than a headache to contend with.
In the event, his conclusion wouldn’t have made the slightest difference as headaches have a mind of their own, by showing up when they feel like it. The ‘headache’ in question kicked off at HQ the following morning. Somewhat relaxed, Eastern leaned forward on the table and attempted to pour himself a coffee. Halfway through, he stalled as a grim faced Rogon entered the room. Sensing an immediate problem, Eastern decided to make the first move. “Good morning to you too!”
The reply on offer was curt and straight to the point. “Is it? Huh, not from where I’m bloody standing. I’ve had better ones.”
Hesitating to answer, Eastern finished pouring his coffee, not wishing to be drawn into personality conflict.
He then looked up and remarked nonchalantly, “Sorry, you were saying?”
“I’ve just received a call from Division that I could have well done without.”
“Is it something that we need to talk about?”
“I’m afraid it’s become inevitable seeing as it concerns the both of us. It would appear that there’s been a murder right here on our doorstep.” At first Eastern became conscious that the emphasis on ‘us’ could be misconstrued as being personal.
“Murder you say…who…when?”
Pulling a chair up, a gaunt looking Rogon opened up. “From what we know at this juncture, the crime was carried out in the early hours of this morning. And I’m sorry to say that the victim, by all accounts, happens to be Paul Granger.” Shockwaves riveted him to the chair, leaving Eastern momentarily speechless. Meanw
hile, Rogon was forced to continue where he’d left off.
“Apparently it seems that a cleaner came across his body this morning, and alerted the police. From what I can gather, the Path boys are examining the body as we speak and early indications leave them to suspect that cause of death was by strangulation.”
Eastern had now sufficiently recovered from Rogon’s explosive disclosure. “There has to be a mistake surely, I mean, think about it? It was only a few hours ago that the three of us were sitting here talking. No, I don’t buy it. To my mind, the police have fouled up, it’s obviously a case of mistaken identity.”
“Believe me Mike I’d love to share your version of events. Regretfully the facts speak for themselves. Personal effects found on the body are conclusive and certain items found inside Granger’s flat, plus a positive ID from a close neighbour, all point to one conclusion. Apart from a sister living up in Sheffield, he had no other family. Fortunately we have managed to trace her, and later on she will be in a position to formally identify the body.”
“Strangled, I believe you said?”
“Yes, according to the early Path report, that is.”
“The poor bastard didn’t ask for that, did he? Could it have been a random killing do you think? You know, wrong time, wrong place scenario?”
“Hard to quantify, although the flat itself had been trashed. Clearly the killer was looking for something…money perhaps? Maybe we’ll never know.”
“And as usual, nobody heard a goddamn thing.” Exclaimed Eastern with just a hint of sarcasm.
“If anybody did, then they’re keeping it to themselves, although the flat itself is situated in the basement so any unusual noise would have been isolated.”
“Motive. What comes to mind?”
“It’s too early to speculate Mike. Personally, I wouldn’t have thought that he had an enemy in the world, now having met him.” Shrugging his shoulders, Rogon issued a token sigh. “And God knows the man had no assets as such.” On that assumption, a train of positive thinking channelled Eastern’s thoughts.