Going Underground (Jonathan Roper Investigates Book 1)

by Michael Leese

  He had only got as far as the third question before it became clear Roper’s analysis had totally nailed it. What Hooley hadn’t anticipated was that being pre-warned meant he was able to remain calm in the face of Sykes’ stalling tactics and antagonistic behaviour. It stopped him gaining the upper hand, but it was only a small victory. It didn’t make any difference to the biggest problem; the mercenary was flatly refusing to give anything away.

  Sykes was leaning back in his chair, tapping the side of his nose. “The way I see things, I have got all the time in the world. There’s no chance you are going to let me walk out of here so it’s all about what you can do for me. But I will let you into a little secret.” He leaned forward, all pantomime villain. “I never rush into things.”

  “If I am in a restaurant I like to study the whole menu very carefully before I make a choice. I would hate to miss out on some little gems because I didn’t take my time. So you’re going to have to bear that in mind before I can even think about telling you what you seem so anxious to know.” He paused for a moment then affected boredom. “That’s assuming I know the answer to your questions at all.”

  Mayweather and Major Phillips, who were observing through the one way mirror, both clenched their fists as they listened to what he was saying. The SAS man said. “Roper was right. Look at him; he’s almost preening with his own self-importance. Back in the day he had a reputation as a smarmy sod and it seems nothing has changed. Right now I could happily choke the little bastard.”

  While he had remained calm up to now, Hooley knew that much more of this behaviour was going to get under his skin. He glanced at Roper and then had an idea about how he might be able to exert some pressure of his own. It was a gamble but one he felt worth taking if it got them the answers they badly needed.

  “I won’t insult you by saying you can help yourself by helping us. You are going to prison for a long, long time. But you need to bear in mind that thanks to Jonathan we’ve been able to get one step ahead of you and he has already calculated that you are hoping to get busted out.

  “I hate to disappoint you but there are prisons and then there are very secure prisons. We can pursue you under anti-terrorism legislation and that means you could end up in a black site in a very deep hole where no one will ever find you.”

  He resisted the urge to say anything as he watched an uncertain expression flash across Sykes’ face. “Oh, I suppose you thought that only the Yanks had the black sites. Well, dummy, what would be the point of a black site if everyone knew about them?”

  With that he tapped Roper on the arm and the pair of them walked out. The waiting Julie Mayweather said. “Black sites? Where did that come from?”

  Hooley shrugged. “He doesn’t know that though. I mean, for all we know, it might be true.”

  They decided to leave Sykes alone for a short while which gave Hooley the chance to swallow a cup of the before the “second round.”

  It had been agreed that this time they would fall-back to Roper’s list of questions and Hooley noted the way that Sykes appeared to become a little more relaxed at this line of inquiry. A short while later he was boasting about what had happened to David Evans.

  “I’m afraid that in every campaign there will be casualties and that’s what happened to him. In a way it was his own fault. He started asking questions about things he had no need to know about so we had to do something to shut him up.

  “That soppy bird who was his PA was obsessed with her mother so it was easy enough to put pressure on her. I just took the gun round to her house when it was time, showed her how to point and fire it, and then left her to it.

  “We had quite a chat between us about the best weapon she should use and the final choice was my idea, and a very good one it was too. It allowed her to do the job perfectly.” That smug expression appeared on his face once again.

  Hooley thought that, in many respects, this causal indifference to forcing innocent people into impossible situations was the most sickening thing he had heard Sykes say yet. It was the way he was so dismissive. He realised he was grinding his teeth with the effort to keep his temper in check. Needing to keep things moving along he asked why they had recruited a genealogist.

  Sykes had looked at him for a moment, clearly making some sort of calculation, and then replied. “I don’t suppose it matters if I give you the outline, there’s no way you can find out anything else. It was because we needed to find current members of a family with a history of immunity to cancer. The twist was that they hadn’t realised it.

  “We had information that identified this family from mid-Victorian times. Then they were famous because it was claimed that they were long-lived owing to a special potion they drank. They used to appear at stage shows all over the country to promote its benefits. It wasn’t true, at least not the elixir bit, but they believed it and that’s what made them so convincing. But the real joke was that their genetic line really was special.

  “We had the name of the original family but by the 20th century the direct line had vanished and was proving impossible to track down. We turned to Evans to see if he could help us.

  “It took him months but he finally found the people we needed. After that it was my job to round them-up and make them offers they couldn’t refuse. Then they were put to use in the research being done by old pointy head. Some garbage about living for ever apparently.”

  Sykes paused and looked smug. “I don’t suppose you hear many a tale like this. It was a lot more interesting than some of the work I have done. The pay and perks have been especially good.” With that he gave Hooley a lewd wink and sat back in his chair.

  “So what’s happened to these people now?”

  Sykes looked over at the mirror then gave a little wave. Mayweather, who hadn’t been expecting him to do that, flinched then caught herself. The former SAS man jutted his chin at the window. “That’s a little trick he learned in Hereford. It’s supposed to help give you a feeling of being in control, but I don’t suppose the prat needs much help with that.”

  Inside the interview room Sykes was pointing at the mirror. “I suppose your fragrant lady boss is looking at me through that. Tell you what, just because she’s taking such an interest, I will give you a little bit of information. Those people from the family tree; well once we got what we needed there was no more use for them. So I had to make sure that no one else would be able to get anything from them.”

  Hooley decided now was the time to take another break. It was that or punch Sykes.

  67

  As Roper pulled the door shut Hooley stretched his arms out to try ease some of the tension he could feel building in his neck. To his dismay he was treated to the sound of his elbow joints crunching loudly and a pain stabbed through his left shoulder. This interrogation is making me get older by the minute, he thought gloomily.

  Then he noticed that Julie Mayweather was looking visibly angry and raised a quizzical eyebrow. She responded by pulling the three of them further down the corridor, as if she wanted to get away from any potential contamination coming out of the room where Sykes was now sitting alone. They were joined by the duty Sergeant Geoff Purbeck, who had the key job of being on top of all developments coming from suspects in the interview rooms.

  “Tell them Geoff. But start from the beginning,” said Mayweather. Her expression grim.

  Out of habit the uniformed officer checked there was no one listening nearby. “As you know, we started talking to David Jones a short while ago, while the DCI and Mr. Roper were talking to Sykes. Anyway, Jones didn’t need any prodding. He’s been spilling his guts from the moment he sat down and we have it all on the tape.”

  For a brief moment he managed to look both pleased and worried then he carried on. “I just want to warn you now that what he has been telling us is pretty bad. He said David Francis and Tricia Williams have been making some amazing medical breakthroughs, especially with the cancer drug, but it’s how they got there that is the problem.r />
  “At first, says Jones, everything seemed fine and it looked like it was the results of top science. They were taking cells from embryos that were just a few days old. Apparently, the UK is one of the leading nations in this type of work, something to do with government legislation which allows it to happen.

  “But Jones says David Francis was harvesting the cells in the worst way possible and that’s where Sykes comes into it. He has been trafficking young women into the country and picking out the healthiest and prettiest ones to be forced into the programme. Then they are raped until they become pregnant and the women are made to keep the baby so that cells can be extracted at different stages of the pregnancy. As far as Francis and Sykes were concerned the women were treated as though they were “grow bags for cells.” That led to a lot of deaths because they were treated very badly. It was Francis who was behind it all. He had a theory that he needed a huge variety of cells from different women and at different stages of pregnancy so that he could judge which was the most effective.”

  There was a shocked silence at this news. Hooley said: “Did Jones offer any information about exactly how many women are involved and why rape them?”

  Purbeck threw his hands in the air. “To answer the first part of your question, it’s not clear to me how many, just a lot. Jones is saying that he had only just found out about it and was being threatened by Sykes. He’s claiming that Sykes was treating the rape of these women as a perk for him and his men.

  “He says this has been going on for ages and all the women were picked up from refugee camps all over Europe. Jones is claiming that when he confronted Francis he was told to think of all the good they were doing with inventing new drugs. Then Sykes turned up and threatened to kill him. Again, according to Jones, his boss apparently said they could never have found the cancer cure without the different stem cells.”

  Roper was looking thoughtful and Hooley knew he was too caught up in the details of the investigation for him to react to the horrific treatment of the women that Purbeck had just described. Roper did a little half-nod as if confirming some thought. “This does fill in the gaps. I just need a little more time on my own and then I think I might be able to work it out.”

  With that he walked off. Mayweather was about to call out but Hooley laid a hand on her arm. “Leave him be. Hopefully, he’ll be back with more answers.”

  68

  Roper walked up to the fifth floor and closed the office door behind him. He badly needed this time alone and wanted to shut the world out as he pulled together the final threads of the investigation. He picked up a handful of printer paper, sat at his desk, and started to slow his breathing as he put himself into a trance. Conventional methods to do this include focusing on a favourite space or imagining the perfect, sun-kissed beach. Roper had an approach that was all his own.

  He drew on an image of his heart valves opening and closing. By focussing hard enough he could slow them down. He’d once told Hooley about it but the DCI had been horrified. He’d warned him he could stop his heart altogether. Roper hadn’t been deterred. He carried on with his method, but keeping the details to himself. Especially, since on a couple of occasions he’d made himself pass-out.

  But now there was no time for worrying about that. As he gently slowed his heart, he carefully counted out two stacks of twenty sheets of paper. Then he began gently flapping each handful. It intensified his sense of serenity. Over the years he had tinkered with his approach and was confident that twenty sheets in each hand was just the right amount to achieve the effect he was hoping for. The weight of paper produced a feeling of resistance that he could feel in his finger tips. He also enjoyed the gentle sensation of a breeze caressing his face as he flapped backwards and forwards.

  Ready for the next step he leaned back in his chair and imagined himself sitting in his childhood bedroom. Growing up this had been a place of sanctuary where he could flee the pressures of school. As well as being bullied because of his different mentality, he also suffered from a chronic lack of co-ordination. It manifested itself at all times, but especially when he was forced to take part in sport. He spent a lot of time sprawled on the ground as his feet tripped on any possible object.

  He shoved these memories aside and his thoughts went into super-slow motion. Now he could introduce the Rainbow Spectrum and examine everything they had learned up to this point. Had anyone walked in at that point they would have been treated to the sight of Roper leaning right back, seemingly about to topple out of his chair as he went deeper into his trance and became completely still.

  He had been in that position for 20 minutes when his eyes opened. He had found what he was looking for. The answer upset him. He was delighted that he had worked things out but distressed that the name he had come up with was one of the few people he thought of as a friend. He knew he couldn’t allow himself to dwell on this; he needed to get back to Julie Mayweather and Brian Hooley to tell them what he had worked out.

  Bounding down the stairs he saw Mayweather and Major Phillip listening intently to Hooley who had come out of the interview room again. Stepping closer he heard the DCI complaining bitterly that Sykes was “far too tough to crumble.”

  They hadn’t seen him but turned as one when he called out “its Gary Malone, we need to find him.” Before anyone else could speak he carried on. “I don’t know how I could have missed it. Right from the start he has been the only other person with access to every bit of information we were getting. More importantly, he is clever enough to have laid all the false trails.

  “He’s told me loads of times how he loves any game that involves deception and says he likes it that people dismiss him as a computer geek. I had never thought about it before but he made himself one of the few people who saw every bit of information that came in.”

  Hooley was looking like a man who’d just realised he’d lost his wallet. He actually smacked his forehead. “Of course. Throughout this case he’s been asking questions about what we knew. Had we figured out who’d got Tricia Williams, what about the murdered policeman? I just put it down to over enthusiasm, but every time Jonathan popped out of the office he was there asking me questions. It was all done under the guise of him checking to see if I needed any computer help.

  “I didn’t think twice. He was right at the heart of things from the start. I said he needed to look at that lap top you found at Sir James’s house.” He stopped. “Of course, the email exchange between Sir James and David52. No wonder he kept saying how impossible it was to find out who the mystery person was. I bet it was him.”

  Mayweather had turned pale. “It’s unbearable to think that one of our own is involved in this, let alone being the brains behind it. Jonathan, I have to ask, are you sure?”

  He didn’t bother to speak just nodded. She let the tiredness show for a moment and then looked determined. “There’s no point dwelling on it, there will be plenty of time to work out what went wrong later. In the meantime we need to get hold of him. This reminds me, I don’t think I’ve seen him today.”

  Hooley chipped in. “I spoke to him this morning so he was around then. The bloody man rang to ask if I needed any help with my computer. I just thought he was being a bit over keen. The man has made a complete fool out of me. I’m just grateful that Jonathan worked him out. But As you say Ma’am, plenty of time for blame later. Let’s get looking for him.” He pointed at Major Phillips. “I suspect he will have long gone but if you’d like to come with me let’s go and make sure he’s not sitting at his desk.”

  “Be delighted to help,” said the Major. “My boys are still around and would be more than happy to help in the hunt. In fact, I think I can say it would be a pleasure.”

  Minutes later it was established that no one had seen him since the morning, although one of the detectives reported that he had seen him apparently down-loading files on to a flash-drive.

  “I wonder what information the sod has taken with him,” said Hooley a short while later as a s
mall team raced round to Malone’s home address, an expensive looking modern apartment building close to the Cromwell Road and the private Cromwell Hospital.

  “I would say this is a bit beyond Mr. Malone’s police pay scale,” said Hooley, eyeing the building. He was in the command vehicle which had been shifted from Mayfair. Before Roper could reply the SAS team had breached the front door and was inside the four bedroom apartment.

  Within minutes the news came back that the place was empty. Hooley and Roper rushed to see for themselves but discovered that the flat had been totally cleared of information. No computers and no documents.

  Hooley resisted the urge to kick the walls. He told Roper. “I suppose it was a bit much to hope he was sitting here waiting for us. At least we’ve got his picture being issued to all the media so his ugly mug will be everywhere soon. And if he tries to leave the country we’ll get him.”

  69

  It was just after 4am and Roper and Hooley were walking into work. Both men had spent a restless night and over a 2.30am cup of tea had agreed they would make an early start. Roper was a bundle of nervous energy. He had spent the night trying to work out where Malone might have got to. Checking in with the duty team before they had set off confirmed there was still no sighting of him.

  Hooley was feeling washed out. He’d been woken several times by a nightmare where someone was hunting him in the dark. He’d finally given up all hope of decent sleep at 2am when he had woken with his heart pounding and covered in cold sweat. This time he had no recollection of what the nightmare was but decided enough was enough. He took a long, hot shower, put on his dressing gown and went into the kitchen, where he found Roper filling the kettle.