The Whitehall Syndicate: A time travel conspiracy thriller

by Malhar Patel

  Kim began shuffling her files away now, trying to occupy herself while the machine worked. Finally she opened up her email login screen and typed her password: THE HENCHMAN. It was an ancient film now but still one of her favourites. She even had an original DVD, and a player to watch it.

  The screen finally loaded up and she saw the same emails as before. Flicking through most of them she was unimpressed. There were some junk letters, and one from his mother. As she read it she couldn't help feeling ashamed of herself for sinking to this level.

  She clicked on the last one, hoping for something better. Her face sprang to life as she saw that what looked like a Spam address actually had the name Klaus in the email. That was the name she had heard before in the office. Reading it carefully from the beginning, her face scrunched up into a confused frown.

  LUIS, IT'S KLAUS. I DON'T THINK I'M GOING TO BE ABLE TO OUTPACE GREEN FOR LONG. I MIGHT NOT BE ALIVE BY THE TIME YOU READ THIS. BUT YOU HAVE TO STEAL THEM LIKE WE PLANNED. IT'S UP TO YOU NOW. WE MADE BAD CHOICES GOING INTO THIS BUT WE CAN STILL END IT. HERE ARE THE SIX ACCESS CODES.

  060785

  172122

  59163

  397467

  67567

  98005

  Chapter 14

  As quickly as the sunshine had beat down upon the good folk of London, bathing them in merriment and recapturing memories of wistful childhoods, so it withdrew as darkness quickly invaded. The air had once again grown chilly, gently caressing Jack's skin and causing his hair to stand on end.

  He was sat on Anisha's sky blue sofa and Pete held the floor, discussing his plans. Pete's verbose nature was clear in the delivery: his idea being explained painstakingly and with tremendous attention to detail. Green senior seemed to have grown drowsy by the end but nonetheless smiled when he finished.

  Pete had come up with a way to get into the party without making a scene. The affair was strictly invitation only, all friends of Green. That however, encompassed a great many people and as long as Green didn't spot them they would be fine. All they had to do was to fool a few of the other guests.

  Pete reasoned that a large chunk of the attendees would be involved at his own personal headquarters, so he needed two things. Firstly an attendance list for the party and secondly, the names of the people to go in and carry out the task. This small topic sparked feverish debate as everyone in the flat vied for the honour.

  Jack definitely had to take part, and for the plan he needed two more people with him. After much discussion, the final decision was left to him, since it was his life at stake.

  He stared around the room coldly, knowing there were two volunteers he wasn't keen on. Despite that he realised some simple truths. Green senior was in no shape to be going into the field. The man had trouble walking up the stairs to urinate. Anisha was in the surveillance sector, so trustworthy or not, she had to come along. It would look suspicious if he didn't choose her.

  Jack now had to choose between Gina and Pete, and once again he found himself having to make the hard choice. Gina probably couldn't go in since she was necessary for her plan regarding the ambulance. Jack still wasn't sure about Pete and instead declared that for now he thought only him and Anisha should go in. When they had more details he might see if it was worth putting another person at risk.

  Surprisingly, there was no real protest. As he spoke he could see Gina giving him a strange look, and he knew exactly what it was about. He still hadn't had a chance to be alone with her and discuss what she'd said. This meeting wasn't the time to worry about it though so he handed over to Green senior, who had been musing on his idea for administering the Dextrafizene.

  Originally he had considered a dart of some kind. He made it quite clear however, that he didn't recommend the idea and was searching for an alternative. There were too many problems with implementing it so instead it was decided it would be better used as a back-up plan. Five days to go and he still had no foolproof plan.

  Frank hated the global communication network. He had just hung up from them and it had taken him a few hours on the phone just to do a few minutes' work. Phone companies were always a pain when it came to getting tracer records of their clients' phones. Arguing every little detail about the warrant, and just exactly what permission it gave. Always worried their clients would turn around and sue them.

  Frank reached over to his desk now and opened up the printout of the file he had been sent. Tony had gone home a few hours ago and Frank thought he should do the same. Fatigue was beginning to set in and he wanted to make sure he didn’t miss any detail.

  Jack was on the 4FC network, which was particularly annoying for Frank. The network only compiled records every twenty-four hours, which meant Frank only had access to where Jack had been, not where he was now.

  He opened up the display and began a quick look. There didn't seem to be anything suspicious he thought, while rubbing his sore eyes. He could check properly tomorrow though, and in the mean time he needed a good night's sleep.

  Ever since he began this investigation he hadn't been able to drift off. Thoughts of murder scenarios, global conspiracies, sting operations and ways to trick Jack into confessing all competed to keep him awake. But tonight he had found the best lead he had, and was one step closer to solving the case. Maybe he could relax a little and finally get some sleep.

  As he began to clear away, his eyes turned to the phone on his desk. He activated the re-route function and diverted the calls to his mobile number, just in case someone should call on the drive home.

  The sky had grown dark long ago, and with the lights out he failed to see anything through the windows as he walked out of the office and down the short flight of stairs to the back exit. He hardly ever went in through the front door anymore, because that's the way the criminals he locked up came in, and he was determined not to share anything with them: not even an exit.

  As he headed over to his car, still scratched and bruised from his malevolent driving today, he heard his mobile ring. Frank let it ring a few times, to see just how persistent the caller was. Finally, when the shrill bleeping showed no signs of desisting, Frank grabbed the stylish silver handle and said, “Hello. Police, major crimes division.” From the other side came a hoarse crackling, which Frank guessed was the muffled sound of someone breathing.

  After a few short seconds, they hung up and the crackle gave way to a flat dial tone. Frank scratched his head, confused by the phone call. Realising that he had forgotten to lock his desk drawer, he turned around to head back in.

  A dense shock wave of rippling air smacked him off his feet and an agonising roar rang in his ears as he saw his floor of the police department enveloped in flames. The fire seemed almost liquid, pouring across into huge waves and raining rubble down all around him. He instinctively raised his hands to shield himself from the falling remnants. A blacked scorch mark stood where his office used to be, plumes of smoke and soot billowing from it. He began coughing uncontrollably, spluttering and fighting for every breath before doubling over.

  Even this far away he could feel the intense heat licking at his skin, roasting him alive. Slowly he strained himself back upright and stared at the station, slowly burning to the ground. Someone had been checking to see if he was in the office. Someone had wanted him dead.

  With the morning sun glaring in through the window, Pete squinted as he looked on. Jack pulled the suit slightly higher up onto his shoulders and adjusted his tie for the umpteenth time, trying to fatten it up. He hated suits and shirts and ties: all corporate clothing in general. He felt like he was in some cotton shackles and it made him uncomfortable and less confident about the image he presented.

  Pete was convinced this was going to work, although so far Jack had no reason to trust him. In the short term though, he assumed that Pete was working in his best interests, for the sake of the plan. At least he was for now.

  The plan was fairly straight forward in theory, and there was only a small window of a few hours wh
ere it could work. Pete had called on a fairly well know friend of his, the delicious Kenya Ferrara. She was the sort of girl that had a heart of pure gold, and a head full of air. Not to mention a body that could stop a clock. When she walked into a room, all eyes were on her, and that's what Pete was counting on.

  He had told her it was all for work, part of a commercial with hidden cameras, but for her to believe it the set-up had to run smoothly. Luckily for everyone, Anisha had the morning off again and Jack had agreed to include Pete on the plan.

  Borrowing the suit, shirt and tie from Pete, Jack felt insecure in his new attire. His shoulders weren't broad enough; the shirt made his torso look squashed and the outfit didn't demand attention, as it would've done on the photographer. Still, he knew he had to look the part for this to work.

  Green senior walked into the room now, also dressed up in a flamboyant party shirt. They both exchanged a look of shared pain. Pete gathered everyone together and announced nervously, “It's show time.” This morning the weather had gotten warmer, and it was surprising how much more relaxed the atmosphere was as a result of it.

  As they all left the house, Jack realised his phone was switched off and thought there were probably several messages he had in his backlog. He turned it on, just in case and with that, walked out of the door to do his first major spot of acting.

  Kim stirred in her bed, not wanting to spend yet another day at work. She hadn't been able to reach Jack all of last night and she wondered if he was in trouble or just ignoring her. Her alarm had been blaring away for over a minute now and the shrill tone showed no sign of ceasing so she finally dragged herself up from the small, single bed and turned it off.

  Pulling back the faded green, flowery covers, she swung herself out from under the duvet and headed for a shower. She needed some cold water to wake her up, and to remove the jaded feeling, which had been lingering this last week.

  She pulled at the belt of her lilac silk nightgown and it slid sensually off her smooth back and onto the floor. As she slipped off her frilly turquoise underwear she felt a sudden urge to check her phone again.

  She pulled the robe back up, thinking it would be uncomfortable to be calling someone while she was nude. It sounded silly but to her it was almost as if people could hear that she were naked. Concealing her dignity, she walked over to her dressing table and checked for any messages. Her face lit up straight away as she spotted one from Jack.

  Scrolling through, she read it and felt better, the bitter taste of rejection being washed away. He apologised for not returning the call but his phone had been switched off, and he was doing something very important but would call her first chance her got. She didn't like the idea of having to wait on him, but was still thankful to have a friend through all this. She walked back into the shower now and got undressed again. At this rate she was going to be late for work.

  Frank hadn't slept in two days and his eyes were starting to become bloodshot. All of yesterday night had been spent talking to the forensics and working with the police on duty to find out what happened.

  He stood outside the building now, the first few floors wrecked by the explosion. The forensics were virtually finished off with the building and no-one else had been allowed to enter so far. The scene was chaotic as everyone clamoured around the rubble-strewn structure, anxious to find out what had happened.

  By now some of the public were beginning to walk the streets and bystander curiosity was holding up traffic on the roads and the pavement. Frank was deep in thought, trying to connect the explosion with his case.

  Yet another healthcare worker came up to him, anxious to check he was okay. He was oriental, possibly Japanese, with a large smile and an eager look on his face. As he approached and straightened up his black-rimmed glasses, Frank didn't give him a chance to speak. He told him the same thing he had told the three or four others who had come before him: he was fine and he didn't need checking out. The young lad saw the grizzled determination evident on his face, and didn't bother arguing, instead skulking away quietly.

  Frank walked over to the grubby white van parked just opposite the road and knocked on the back door. It slid open and he entered the little cavern that the tech boys had made up. All the electronics you could ever wish for seemed to be there, and Frank couldn't help smirking as he saw the technicians at work, clearly in heaven.

  They had been called out early this morning to try and salvage what data was left from the security camera, through an external line, which meant they didn't have to enter the building. He sunk down a mouthful of his bitter, Mango Rooms coffee and wiped his mouth before asking for a progress report.

  The men swarmed around him, eager to show off their knowledge and their progress. Frank listened patiently to the babble and just about managed to extrapolate from the conversation, that the video logs were salvaged but in much poorer quality. He walked out of the van mid-conversation, and threw a half-hearted goodbye as he went.

  At the same moment the crime scene analysts dramatically stepped out of the door and declared that everyone could enter now. There was an exodus into the building as bodies swarmed from all directions into the small entrance. For many the attack felt personal and they were determined to catch the culprit responsible.

  Frank knew that he would have to wait a while to enter, and patiently held back. As the forensics passed by he asked one of them what had happened. The report was with the chief, who would no doubt brief everyone, but the middle-aged, blonde woman turned to him with a smile and explained it again, for his benefit.

  There was an explosive in the office, some sort of firebomb. Looking at the pieces they had managed to find, the action switch was radio activated. It was a short-range transmitter, so whoever had activated it was in a couple of hundred meters range of the blast when it happened. Frank shook his head, angry at how close he had been to the person responsible.

  In all the confusion he had forgotten about the tracer files for Jack Winchester. Luckily he had had the back-ups with him and now began shuffling inside with the crowd. As soon as Tony arrived, they would head off to find Jack Winchester. He had lot of explaining to do.

  Chapter 15

  The small, homely Mexican restaurant was silent, save for a few quiet conversations. It was only late morning going on noon and the proprietor was surprised. While there were several couples munching away on authentic spicy taco's, there were a few too many tables empty considering it was nearing lunchtime.

  From across the street, a group of suit-clad politicians and their entourage slowly marched up to The Happy Mexican. The six friends had made it part of their routine to get an early lunch at this same restaurant every week, and this week was no exception.

  Being the top six employees on Michael Green's staff, they were constantly swamped with work and this was their favourite time to unwind. As they entered the establishment the owner showed them to their usual table, right next to the counter and they began leafing through the menus. It was an arbitrary exercise, because although the selection of meals changed every week, the alterations were usually insubstantial. Even so, the clique always looked through the menu every time they arrived, almost seeing it as a challenge to spot the difference.

  The head of Green's speech writing team was a middle-aged woman in a pale blue-grey suit, wearing her sandy hair just below shoulder length. She began making small talk with the chancellor's political advisor, a tall, lean and muscular African man with a shaven head and a dark black box surrounded by hazy stubble.

  As they sat talking about the value of kidney beans in a tortilla wrap, both their eyes turned to a gorgeous brunette who stepped through the door. She had golden skin and her long dark brown hair matched her sparkling eyes. Every man at the table sat in awe, while the women burned with jealousy.

  She went over to the usher to get her a seat but stopped halfway. In a shocked, shrill voice she cried out “Oh my God!” Within a split second she was walking across the room, where she interrupted
a trio of business types eating their meal.

  “Hi there. I'm sorry to bother you but are you Jason-Patrick Lazardou?” The man smiled, clearly flattered at the recognition, and gave a restrained nod.

  At the other table, Green's public relations strategist sat up at the scene, his ears burning. The table had long gone quiet, entranced by the exotic woman. He whispered to his colleague “Did you hear that? That's Jason Lazardou.”

  Lazardou was almost legendary as an MP. He was often credited as single-handedly breaking the thirty-year dominance of the liberals with his radical alteration of the conservative party. Since then he had kept out of view most of the time and it was rare to see him at all in the capital nowadays. Chuck was also at the table and looked across in awe.

  Back at Lazardou's table, the gorgeous woman continued the conversation, speaking just loud enough for Green's staff to eavesdrop. “Hi I’m Marta. I used to work with you for a little while. So what brings you out to London. I've read that you rarely ever come here anymore.” Lazardou was surprisingly chatty considering the interruption but one look at the person interrupting, and it wasn't hard for any of Green's staff to see why.

  “I'm here for my wife's birthday,” he began, fiddling with his wedding ring. The woman broke into a soppy grin. “And me and my friend are throwing a party for her. Oh sorry, this is my good friend Jeffery Dunn.” The clean-shaven man next to him stood up to shake hands and the woman smiled again, coyly this time.

  Across the room, gossip volcanically erupted. Moira was nearly yelping at yet another name she knew. She had only ever met Dunn once and he had changed a little since then but remained as handsome as ever. Most of the table looked confused and those who didn't left her to explain. “Tony Dunn is in the top twenty on the UK rich list. Oh my God he’s a major contributor to the campaign. He was the one who financed the complete cabinet re-shuffle and the party re-structuring.” The others began to nod, most of them having got their jobs from that same re-shuffle.