The Whitehall Syndicate: A time travel conspiracy thriller

by Malhar Patel

  After a little thought, Jack ventured an explanation.

  “Now that Ortega thinks Green is dead, he must have been trying to get rid of any evidence. So I guess he left the bomb in this place so that when it exploded it would take out the video too.”

  “That doesn’t make sense though,” chimed in Anisha. “There are much easier ways to dispose of things. I think he was storing the contents here rather than in a safe, since it’s the last place anyone would think to look.”

  “I agree,” said Frank.

  “So the bomb was probably just a safety mechanism, in case somebody looked at the chest who wasn’t supposed to?” asked Jack.

  “Exactly. In addition to the padlock key there was probably also a radio switch someone had to use to deactivate the bomb before opening the chest.”

  With everyone satisfied by the explanation, they turned their attention onto what to do next. As Frank and Anisha rummaged through the chest, Anisha saw a few scraps of paper lining the bottom. Peeling them off and bringing them up to the light she leafed through them sequentially.

  “These look like invoices for equipment and bills for security personnel.”

  “If they're invoices, shouldn't they have an address for the delivery or where the work was done?” Anisha began scanning through them and spotted one. Looking across at the other sheets, the same address appeared on all of them.

  “Okay I've got one.”

  “Let's go,” said Jack immediately, and Frank interrupted to say,

  “Let's pack away the explosive first, just in case someone else finds it.”

  Drury Lane was possible the most luxurious place in all of London. Every house radiated with good taste and it was home to only the wealthiest and most refined. Half way along the road stood a typical house for hire, towering and pearl white with a garden as big as a small public park. It was no hyperbole to call it a mansion. The golden gate outside the property warned against trespassing and an intercom controlled access into the estate.

  A man in a white shirt tucked into his grey trousers sat on the table outside the house, enjoying the fresh breeze. Everything had gone according to plan so far and soon he would be in for a big payout. He closed his eyes and began humming, whiling away the last few hours of his contract.

  All he had to do was make sure nobody entered the house and so far this afternoon he had barely seen another resident walking the streets. He heard shouting inside and sat up, his ears focusing. Mr Ortega was having one of his typically heated conversations on the phone and through the walls he could the muffled sound of his voice booming.

  He struggled to make out any clear words and moved a little closer to the window. Ortega was wondering why Tomlinson hadn't checked in and yelling blue murder at one of his unfortunate employees.

  Being necessary to all security issues, he knew a little about what was going on and couldn't help but think that Ortega was overreacting. His plan had worked and the Green situation was taken care of, so he couldn't understand why the ferocious man was still screaming awake the dead. Everything had worked out perfectly. What could possibly go wrong now?

  Pete took another sip of his second cup of mint tea and rubbed his head again. He felt a little embarrassed, having needed Gina to save him from the crazed psychopath. They both sat on the sofa, tired and aching from too much stress and not enough sleep.

  Tomlinson was definitely taken care of now but the muffled protests from Green still chiselled at the back of Pete's mind. All he wanted was some peace and quiet but it wasn't going to happen. He turned to Gina and they shared an uneasy look. There was something morbid about what they were doing, something dark and unsettling.

  They were ordinary people that led ordinary lives and now here they sat watching over two tied up people, one of them an accomplice to murder and the other a kidnap victim. It didn't sit too well with Pete and he could see that Gina was also having trouble with the idea.

  She hadn't been home in over a week and longed to return to her grotty little flat, hoping that home would wash away the memory of all they had done. As she started to say something to Pete, she thought she heard a groaning sound. He didn't look as if he'd heard anything, so she ignored it and carried on conversing as normal.

  Behind them, in Pete's room, Green was on the offensive. The left side of his face was gashed from the cheek down, and he couldn't' feel half of his mouth. After rubbing at his gag for what seemed like weeks, the sharp edge of the bedpost had finally cut it free, and taken some of his chin with it.

  In spite of all his struggling, he was still bound, although not as tightly as before. He had some room to wiggle and he looked around to find something useful. He was sweating profusely and the salt was caustic, burning his bounds like venom. His heart began beating faster, knowing he had to do something quickly if he had any hope of freeing himself.

  Looking around again he saw a mobile phone on the counter and tried reaching it with his bound hands. As he stretched his muscles the twine began digging into this flesh. Scowling in pain, Green continued to stretch his fingers out, pushing harder on the ropes.

  His whole arm had gone pale now and the skin behind the twine was becoming a sickly purple. He kept pushing, ignoring the blood that was dripping from the rope. Getting two fingers on the phone he slowly passed it over and into his hand, then quickly pulled his arm back, groaning in relief.

  Although he couldn't see his wrists from the position he was in, with the burning sting he felt, he imagined they were a bloody mess. Feeling over the keypad with his thumb he felt the buttons on the display. He closed his eyes to visualise the layout and when he was sure he had it worked out, he dialled 999. There was silence and he wasn't sure if he's pushed the wrong keys. A long silence passed by, and Green hung his head. Then he heard a ringing sound and immediately he pushed the phone down under his leg to muffle the sound.

  Straining his ears he heard an operator ask for an assessment of the situation. This was it, his only chance. Taking a deep breath he shouted out “It's Michael Green I'm being held captive. I'm in an apartment somewhere with a parking-,” He was cut off by the door dramatically flying open.

  Seeing Green with the phone, Pete kicked him in the head and Green screamed in pain as tears swelled in his eyes. Pelt felt sick to his stomach at having to get violent but now it was his freedom and his livelihood at stake. There was no other choice.

  Gina grabbed the phone and disconnected the call, then dropped it on the floor and stamped on it repeatedly until she as sure it was broken. “What did you do that for? That's a nine hundred pound phone.”

  “They can trace it even when it's off, as long as it's still getting a signal. Neesh told me.” Pete nodded and then stood watch as Gina went off to get more twine and tape.

  They both had a bad feeling in their stomachs, and were skirting round the issue. The police knew Green was alive. It was only a matter of time before they traced him back here.

  It was late in the afternoon now and fatigue was beginning to set in for everyone. They all stood opposite the house and began planning their next move. Frank was convinced that it was too heavily guarded to just storm in and Anisha agreed.

  She suggested they use a distraction to throw off the guards and the other staff while they sneak in and capture Ortega. In the back of everyone’s mind was the same question. What would they even do with Ortega if they did manage to capture him?

  Frank could only arrest him for a minor parole violation and with his helping the police in the past, and the problem of over-crowded prisons escalating; he might not even serve jail time. Frank also knew there wasn't going to be enough time to torture the truth out of him. This was a well-protected man and someone would come looking for him.

  Everyone left the question for now, choosing to face it when the time came. For now they just had to come up with the distraction. Frank volunteered to try and cause a scene at the front gate, hoping it would draw the attention of the remaining people. If the others cou
ld find a way in through the back then they might be able to get to Ortega.

  “What do you think Jack?”

  “I think they might kill you.” Frank laughed half-heartedly.

  “Nice to know you have so much faith in me.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “I have to do this, for Tony.” A solemn look filled his face and Jack nodded understandingly.

  They said their goodbyes and walked around the road to the back of the house, leaving Frank to slowly stroll up to the gate. As he approached the man sitting outside the house got off his chair and walked over to address him. “Who are you?”

  “I'm Detective Wilkinson. Mind if I come in?”

  “Actually yeah I do.” Frank moved closer to the railings, his face staring at the guard’s; taunting him.

  “I wasn't actually asking.” Now the guard moved up to the railings, intent on proving his machismo.

  A cocky look filed his face and he held his chest out threateningly. Frank saw his chance and through the railings, fired off a sharp punch to his gut, managing to get in a quick second to his face before he reeled back completely. Rolling over, the guard got back up and switched opened the gate, revenge burning in his eyes.

  Frank dropped his coat off and cracked his knuckles as the man approached. A punch like that would normally have a guy bawling like a baby. Unlike a lot of criminals he had met, this man was a professional and it was going to be a close fight.

  The man ran up to him and swung a left hook, which he blocked, but then shot out an upper cut into his chin that sent Frank flying backwards into the ground. His back smacked the floor hard, and his jaw was throbbing, but the man was still approaching.

  Swiping his legs across the ground, he knocked the guard of his feet and scrambled over, starting to batter him in the face. Making sure the sharp tips of his knuckles smashed right into the pressure points on the man’s skull, Frank could feel he was winning the fight. Then, from the corner of his eyes he saw two more men in white shirts approaching, and a few others further behind.

  The roads around the area were complicated, due mainly to the size and flamboyant shapes of the houses. After a lot of walking Kim had finally found the way to the back of Ortega's house. The garage door was locked and there was a man in a suit sat down by the car.

  He looked like perhaps he was a chauffeur but he may have been a guard, it was difficult to tell for sure. The back garden was half the size of the front and the trio scrambled around to the sides to get out of view. Jack jumped the back fence and landed in a few bushes, crushing them to the floor. Getting up, he helped the girls down and then the three of them looked around, taking in the surroundings.

  The garden was beautifully kept and even in the cool weather managed to evoke feelings of summertime. Seeing the backdoor to the house, Jack skulked over to open it. All of a sudden he felt a searing pain to the side of his head and before he knew it he was on the floor screaming.

  His eyes clamped shut from the pain, and he writhed on the floor. Teasing his eyes open a fraction, he saw Anisha trying her best to fight off the same thug who had whacked him. She fared equally badly. Trying to run, Kim was knocked down and hit the dirt with a thud.

  The back door swung open and out walked a tanned man in his mid-fifties, dressed in a polo shirt and smart brown trousers. His face resembled the picture of Mario Ortega but there were definite differences.

  Two other men came out behind him and loomed over each of the girls. Ortega snapped his fingers and the man that had just attacked Jack pulled out a gun and aimed it at his head. Shaking on the spot, Jack fought back the tears and closed his eyes, preparing himself for his death.

  Chapter 29

  Jack could hear the quiet grinding of the pistons and cogs clicking. Then came the shearing sound as the man's cruel thumb cocked the gun, followed by a final electric buzzing as the hammer prepared to shock the bullet. There was a long, chilling silence as his finger moved over to the trigger and gently began squeezing. Jack's eyes shut even tighter, preparing for the worst.

  All of a sudden there was a crackling sound and Ortega shouted out “Stop for a second.” Jack's eyes opened a fraction and he saw the man fiddling with some buttons on his hands-free speakerphone.

  “Sir we just got word from our contact at the police station”

  “What is it?”

  “Green just phoned in a few minutes ago. They've just analysed his voiceprint and confirmed it. Green is still alive.” Ortega cursed and barked at the man to lower the gun. Before he could say anything else, he was interrupted by the trudging sound of twigs splintering and grass being trampled.

  Jack turned round to see two men dragging a beaten, broken Frank up to Ortega. His right eye was covered in blood and he had bruises across his whole face. There were bloodstains on his shirt and some was dribbling from his lower lip. Kim grimaced as she watched the spectacle.

  Ortega looked at the four of them for a few moments and Jack's stomach began to churn and bubble, fear taking it’s vice-like grip: he knew how close he was teetering to death. After a few seconds Ortega said, “Okay take them inside, I still need them.”

  Jack felt himself being pulled to his feet and he slowly followed the men into the house, being encouraged by a sharp pain in his back from the cold gun barrel.

  As he marched like a prisoner, he fantasised of one last escape but they were vastly outnumbered and no one was in any condition to fight. They walked into house and despite the grimness of the situation, Kim nearly gasped at the size of the living room.

  The huge room had a small bar in the corner, a huge television screen, a computer to the side and a large cream couch that occupied the centre. Ortega motioned for them to sit down and they crashed onto the comfy cushions, glad to be off their tired feet.

  The henchmen were still towering over them with expressionless faces, guns in hand. Somehow, Jack could sense that the mood had changed, and he felt less threatened. The boss walked over now and sat on a small wooden chair opposite the quartet, breaking into a villainous smile. “I think it's time I explained everything to you, right from the beginning.”

  Pete and Gina stood in the kitchen, wearing faces soiled with worry. In Pete’s hand was a pen that had nearly been halved by nervous chewing. He tapped it up and down on the kitchen counter, deep in thought. They both knew that they had to resolve the situation.

  With the police aware that Green was alive, they were left in a vulnerable situation. Who knows how far the call had been traced. If they began searching apartments in the area, they were done for.

  “We have to get rid of him.”

  “But what about Jack?”

  “The police already know Green is alive, how long before the public and Ortega find out? We have to stop anyone being able to trace him back here.”

  “Okay that makes sense. But what do we do with him?” There was another pause as the grizzly question was proposed.

  “Erm, I don't know.”

  “Okay well what if we drive him to the docks and dump his body there. Circle around a bit so that when the police ask him how long the drive was it won't lead them to us. How about that?”

  “Okay cool. It's still light but I think we should go anyway. Who knows how fast the police are working.” Gina nodded and decided to watch Tomlinson while Pete drove Green.

  Grabbing a woven bag they used for carrying vegetables, Pete walked into Green's room. He was still groggy from the beating before and putting the sack over his head was easy. Getting him into the car in broad daylight wouldn't be.

  With Gina's help Pete got out a roll of bin bags and began putting them around Green. Green struggled violently and his mumbling became louder and more intense than Gina could bear. Grabbing a shoe from beneath the bed she began smacking him over the head.

  It wasn’t subduing him fast enough and looking down, she found a large steel-capped boot and started using that instead. Pete watched queasily until she finally subsided
. Green was no longer moving. Gina's hand began shaking, wondering if she had taken the beating too far.

  She checked for a pulse but couldn't find one and in a second became frantic. Moving her fingers all over his neck, her heart started to beat louder and louder. She exhaled slowly as she felt his pulse, and double and triple checked before her nerves calmed down. He was okay for now.

  They both finished covering him up in the bags and then heaved him off the chair and to the door. Remembering something, Pete dropped Green’s feet for a second and ran into the kitchen to pick up some bleach, which he rammed into his inside jacket pocket. Slowly creeping open the door to the flat, he looked both ways. It looked clear. The silence was pounding and Pete felt all his senses heighten.

  With a deep breath, the pair charged down the hall with the body and into the elevator, which opened up straight away. Hitting the ground floor button, Gina dropped his head slowly to the floor and began shaking again. This was just one of a thousand memories she didn't want.

  As the small steel cage moved downwards, Pete watched the lights, praying no one else stopped the elevator on the way down. He breathed a sigh of relief as they went all the way down to two and still nothing.

  Beads of sweat suddenly ripped through his skin as he saw the Floor One light come on. Someone was about to spot them. Whirling his head around in panic he slammed the emergency stop button and sunk down to the floor as the elevator screeched to a slow halt.

  “Jack, you're a difficult man to blackmail. I threaten you with a one hundred percent guarantee of your death and still you don't comply. I'm running out of options now. All I can do is tell you the truth, or however much of it you haven't managed to work out already.”

  Jack ran his eyes over the man. Definitely the same face as in the photo Frank had shown him, but much more weathered and aged. Still, as he talked now, the menace of a few minutes ago was gone from his voice, replaced by a softness that made him sound genuine and almost warm. Jack shuffled slightly and could hear Kim breathing gently next to him. All ears were on the man.