Once upon a Spook (The Spooks series Book 1)

by Gary Tulley

  “Anybody else but you Rogon.” He sighed deeply, what am I looking for in particular?”

  “For once you have got carte blanche on an open mind Mike and that’s why I have requested you to do it…and good luck.” Left to his own devices, Eastern surveyed the paperwork lying on the desk in front of him. They seemed to mock his presence, causing him to mutter in a languid manner.

  “Well! Thanks but no thanks Rogon.” A secondary thought then escaped him. “At least I know what I’ll be doing for the rest of the day…alone!” Armed with a pen and note pad, he then proceeded to unravel as to what lay in the transcripts. A few mentally strained hours later, Rogon made himself known. In the one hand he could be seen to be clutching an A4 type buff envelope.

  Eastern glanced upwards and quipped: “Hum, I see you’ve brought me some wages then?”

  Rogon’s facial expression remained motionless as he replied in a cynical manner. “When you have a minute, I need you to examine some photographs which you will find in this envelope.” Placing the package down, he continued to speak in his own exclusive and robotic manner. “A word of advice Mike, don’t look for the obvious, you could be mistaken for taking them at face value.” Eastern was forced to chuckle at his double edged request and fired back.

  “You’re talking in riddles again Rogon, but I take your point.”

  An unmoved Rogon then put a cap on their brief conversation. “You can forget any qualms I may have held in that direction. I feel assured that your views on the subject will be highly interesting.” Turning on his heel, he left the office leaving a befuddled Eastern to adjust his thoughts.

  “Patronising sod.” He told himself. “But I suppose as spooks go, he’s not all that bad.”

  Some hours later, and surrounded by a dozen or so empty cups of stale coffee, he stretched his back and eased himself back into his chair and reflected on his input. “Bearing in mind the original conversation that we had, I can see now where Rogon was coming from regarding the photos. As for the transcripts, I could visualise a code cracker having a field day examining them.” He openly remarked in a buoyant fashion.

  Depressing a nearby button, he requested that Rogon makes an appearance. Minutes later, a rejuvenated Eastern couldn’t wait to divulge his hard earned findings. “Well overall I’m not sorry that you asked me for an opinion. I have to say that based on the evidence thus far, I strongly believe that what I’ve revealed from the content, is likely to prove to be 100% factual. I fear I may have jumped the gun a bit.” Rogon, for his part, was quick to allay his sincerity.

  “On the contrary Mike, you could well be forgiven for thinking otherwise, prior to your research. Having gone over the transcripts my self, I’m confident that our conclusions are on a parallel. My first instinct kept telling me that apart from anything else. Gleason’s many omissions, although positive, retained a double edged meaning to them.”

  “Exactly my sentiments, the manner in which he explained himself on paper for instance, it was almost as if he was trying to tell us something. I refer to an example on occasion, of the written word ‘our’. Is he stating ‘our’ as being the police as a whole, or could he be referring to a silent partnership? Likewise the constant use of two other words, ‘he’ and ‘us’ says to me that Gleason is talking collectively, and that in itself is dangerous.”

  “Precisely!” echoed Rogon. “Carrying on from that, what did you deduce from his parting shot, quote…”It takes a man to operate a car before it can become serviceable”…unquote.”

  “Bizarre, and I have to admit that one had me guessing for a while but working along the alleged partnership theory. I honestly think that the man he refers to is a leading associate, and that the car business, stupid as it may seem, consists of the conspirators including himself. In other words, you give the orders and we’ll carry them out! That, in turn, begs the question, that just maybe your ‘Mr Big’ himself is still out there.”

  Having got his own view across, Rogon would have been happy just to allow the earth to swallow him up. “I have been dreading this moment Mike, knowing that you’re nobody’s fool and I suspect Gleason were he here would say likewise. As things stand, it’s now beginning to look like we have inherited far more than we previously bargained for.” Eastern meanwhile had alternative ideas. The expression ‘beaten’ didn’t exist in his CV and for him, the show was still running.

  “I beg to differ Rogon…the photos, there’s something not quite kosher about them. On examination, I was reminded of our conversation yesterday when I implied that Gleason and Conway senior go back a long way…right? Including a stint in the army…” Stopping short he collected his thoughts. “By the way, from where did you manage to obtain these photos?”

  “They were in the personal effects bag taken from Gleason’s house…why do you ask?”

  “And not Conway’s?”

  “No!” Spreading the four photos in question out on the table, Eastern pointed to them.

  “In that case, take a good look at them again and tell me exactly what you see?” Shrugging his shoulders, Rogon carried out a quick analysis.

  “Uhm…well apart from the one depicting Gleason and Travers together, the rest are all group scenes with them included.”

  “Right…anything else?” Eastern demanded. Rogon glanced upward in disbelief as hidden cogs co-joined positive wheels.

  “I only assumed that because you stated the two had a history together. Working on that assumption, Conway would then become significant in the photos. In actual fact, his face doesn’t show up at all in the other three?”

  “Now you’re thinking straight. Not only that, I can recall his daughter in law Joan Conway, nee Travers, informing me some time ago that he served exclusively in the Royal Navy…so, what does that tell you?” For the moment, Rogon had been left speechless as the last of the jigsaw finally fell into place. Then, and only then, was he available for comment.

  “Travers?...Major bloody Travers, of course! It’s all beginning to make sense now…’Mr Big’ in person. It just beggars belief that a man of his standing managed to evade suspicion for so long. Right now, I’m having a problem dealing with the audacity of the man. I mean, what makes a man who’s got everything, manic enough to want to throw it all away?”

  Momentarily, Eastern found himself caught up in the heat of the moment, by allowing his subconscious to run off at a tangent and become surreal as the ghost of three blighted marriages entered the equation, forcing him into a private smile.

  “Mike?”

  “Oh sorry Rogon, I was somewhere else for a minute, but to get back to your question, yeah two probable reasons spring to mind.”

  “Which are?”

  “Complete boredom in retirement, or the sheer buzz he generated, in knowing that he could just sit back and be in a position to manipulate the system, I guess.”

  “It would have made the perfect paradox if he’s been allowed to get away with it. Have you any other thoughts on the matter Mike?” His question became lost in transit as Eastern deliberated.

  “Only to say that what goes around…comes around. That sums it up for me Rogon, although knowing that the Major is in the frame doesn’t make it any easier. I feel sorry for his family, the devious bastard has got a lot to answer for.” Rogon nodded in a robotic manner then turned his attention toward the business in hand, as his mind shifted into spook modern.

  “Well Mike, it’s been a day to remember. From now on we can safely leave ‘other business’ in the hands of the IPCC. I would suggest that your time here with the agency, apart from a last debrief, has officially run its course. The bureaucracy of it all ends here I’m afraid, you know how it is?”

  Eastern extended a token nod of sympathy that belied a hint of personal regret. “Only too well, once a spook always a spook, eh Rogon…?”

  “And never out of sight, so don’t you forget it Mike,” he interrupted. Given time, Eastern might have cause to reflect on Rogon’s prophesy. When you’re ready
I’ll take you through for a debrief, but before we go this will be the last time we will be in a position to converse together. I just wanted to convey my thanks for your services Mike. You would make a great agency man, which reminds me, have you thought…”

  Eastern had already accelerated the predictable offer and cut him short, “Another time, another place maybe, so thanks but not thanks…although…” He pondered briefly as he focused on a hidden agenda. “I need a favour…a big favour, it would mean a great deal to me personally, if it were made possible.” During the next five minutes, the two discussed the logic and concerns surrounding his undisclosed plea, finally terminating with approval from both parties.

  Thanking him once again, they warmly shook hands together, and said their respective goodbyes. Once outside the debriefing room, Rogon turned on his heel and didn’t look back. Eastern watched him go until he disappeared from sight. His plastic figures inciting a thousand memories to flood back, and just as quickly fade into obscurity, except for one nagging doubt which seemed reluctant to let go.

  “Why do I get the gut feeling, that this last meeting has the makings of a bleedin’ dress rehearsal,” he muttered to himself. In no time at all, he was blindfolded and escorted to an agency car, waiting to transport him back to Brighton and, what he believed to be, a whole new chapter in his life while embracing a world of reality, as he remembered it by.

  EPILOGUE

  A week or so after the media furore had subsided, Eastern would have readily admitted to you in confidence, “It became the hardest decision that I have ever had to make, especially at that moment in time, including the letter of course which explained my reasons for parting with Joan. As for the dreaded phone call to London, I realise now that in hindsight I could have handled the delicate situation a whole damn lot better. It was crass of me to allow the circumstances as a whole to take control of my selfish ego. Although at the time, I sincerely thought that it was the right thing to do.

  Without due consideration, I seemed to have made Joan’s mind up for her, mainly without any consultation as to her own feelings, towards the inevitable outcome her step father had unwittingly placed himself in. On the other hand, he alone chose the path that would culminate into his tragic death. And I make no excuses for the part that I played in his downfall. The complications arising with death of course can evoke a problem with the people you leave behind, and Joan is no exception. I can only hope that in time she will forgive me for playing ‘Judas’. In my defence, it’s fair to say that with or without me, I seriously believed that the Major would have taken the ‘Gentleman’s way out’ anyway…but I digress.

  The morning after splitting with the agency, I found myself going through the throes of a man in a hurry. Having placed a letter addressed to Joan in a convenient position, inside her flat in Brunswick Square. I shortly vacated the premises carrying a large suitcase, along with his various belonging which I placed in my car before heading off on an unrehearsed trip to Framfield, and an eagerly awaited confrontation with Major Travers.

  A short distance away from my intended destination, I pulled into a service station and made a pre-planned mobile call. Glancing at my watch reminded me that I needed to be mindful regarding the absolute importance of my timing. Some fifteen minutes later I found myself parked up in the large courtyard, adjacent to the Travers residence. Having satisfied myself inwardly that my intentions were necessary, I alighted. Seeing myself, I rang the visitors’ bell in the entrance area. Moments later Joan’s mother appeared from behind the door.

  “Mike? Good heavens!” She remarked, “What a welcome surprise, I must say you’re the last person I expected to see…please come in. I know the Major will be pleased to see you, does Joan know you were calling in? I must ring her shortly.”

  For my part, there was no turning back now, and I couldn’t afford to be blinded by courtesy. Rather I needed to alienate myself, by focusing on what I had set out to do. I quickly reassured Lady Travers that Joan was fine, and that I had conversed with her recently. I then asked her if I could possibly speak with the Major, “Business…you know how it is?” I explained to her in a pleasant manner.

  Just then we were interrupted, “Who are you speaking to Celia? I heard voices and…” All of a sudden we were both greeted by the overly shocked looking Major.

  “Well! Hello dear boy, if only I…” I didn’t give him the satisfaction to finish and went straight for the proverbial jugular.

  “We need to talk Sir, if that’s acceptable? What I have to say shouldn’t take long.”

  “But of course dear chap. I have to say that you have rather thrown me…what! Come on through, we can use my study.” Shutting the door behind me, the Major ushered me toward a chair which I readily declined. As for the Major, he proceeded to make himself comfortable behind his desk. Glancing hurriedly at my watch reminded me that time was of the essence, knowing that an enforced conclusion to a third party deal was on the cards.

  Without more ado I went for gold. “I think we can drop the old school tie routine Sir.” I said. “I feel sure that the respect is mutual. I’d be very surprised if you didn’t know why I am here.” A look of sheer resignation masked the Major’s face, and his breathing became erratic. I immediately sensed he was now aware that the road to perdition for him had finally run its course.

  “It’s all over…isn’t it?” He spluttered and then resumed his verbal status quo. “I have been expecting you Mike, I can call you Mike? And now that you are here, I feel so much better…can you understand that?”

  “Indeed!” I levelled with him. “But why…explain to me why did you do it to Joan of all people? And not forgetting Mrs Travers of course.”

  “Ah yes Joan, sorry about that old chap, I couldn’t help myself. It wasn’t the money don’t you know. I say, you will take good care of her won’t you? God! What have I done? I’m finished aren’t I? There’s so much I still need to do. Not that I haven’t been prepared you understand. One has to be seen to be orderly, tacky is out of the question…what! I wont be seeing you again dear boy, although I’m sure you’re aware of that anyway. I realise, exactly what I have to do to square things now.”

  The next minute he thrust his hand out for me to shake, more in desperation than in etiquette. Declining his offer, I shook my head before stating “I would have to be the worst type of hypocrite to accept that, you and I are words apart Major. And I happen to believe in the one that I live in. I’ll see myself out…goodbye.” Without more ado I exited the study and left the Major contemplating his immediate future.

  “You will see Joan is alright, you did promise…” Was the last thing I heard him say as I closed the door behind me. Just then Lady Travers herself appeared.

  “I’m off now madam, but hopefully I will be back in touch at some time. By the way, the Major told me to say that he didn’t want to be disturbed for a while.” Shaking her hand reverently, I then departed. I’d only just opened the door to my car, when the explicit blast from a shotgun coming from within the house, filled my ears. Unperturbed I drove off. Halfway down the gravel drive I passed two police squad cars heading towards the house. Glancing nonchalantly at my watch I smiled discreetly and said “Damn good timing that even for a spook, thanks Rogon, for everything.”

  In time, Henry Dowling was granted a posthumous Royal Pardon, and four other serving prisoners were in the process of having their respective cases reviewed. Cleared of all charges, assistant Chief Constable Conway decided to retire on medical grounds, and conveniently moved abroad to escape the hype surrounding his son. He is now currently servicing two life sentences and conspiracy charges.

  As for me, I decided to move back to my old address and assume my flair as a PI. Two or three months went by and I received a phone call from Joan.

  Consequently, we could be seen eating out together at a notable restaurant in the Lanes. For his part, Rogon continued to uphold the status quo, while secreted in a bubble of state security…I p
resume. Yeah,,, you could say that life for me is pretty good at the moment.”

  For the record, and unbeknownst to Eastern, shortly after contacting the restaurant to make his booking, the call was monitored and placed on file at spooks HQ.

  The end…maybe?

  FOLLOW THE STORY

  SECOND BOOK in the series

  The Spook Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest

  By Gary Tulley

  Synopsis

  In hindsight the precarious circumstances that Mike Eastern PI found himself in would have come as no surprise, had he stopped to consider the ‘knock on effect’ clause hidden in the small print of the non-negotiable contract. Instead, once again, Eastern finds himself drawn into an exclusive Government Law and Order Security Agency called ‘Spooks’, headed by a secretive operative known only to him as Rogan. As a prominent PI in his own right, Eastern’s brief’ involves working undercover, on a highly unpredictable covert mission that sees him associating with the dangerous and volatile people, as he attempts to create a relationship convenience with a career criminal. Namely, the one an only Victor Brezznov, the self-styled International Diamond Merchant.

  ISBN 9780 992 711 83 2 (Gibson Press)

  Available Paper back

  www.Ministryofcrime.co.uk

  E book coming shortly