by Gary Tulley
Caught up in his own private war, had made him oblivious to the fact that the office had now opened to reveal an interested third party. Keen to make himself heard, "That won't be necessary, Mike, although I do owe you an explanation." Despite being heavily engrossed with Whiting and his negative approach, Eastern would have recognised the exclusive overtones of that particular voice everywhere, as it cut through his immune system. The sheer timing alone was as predictable as the man himself. Putting persuasion to one side, his thoughts shifted up another gear as he swung round to confront his demons. He wasn't about to be disappointed and lost no time venting his feelings on the situation. "Rogon!" He bawled, "I'm not even going to ask what the fuck are you doing here? Although seeing as you are, I hope for your sake that you've left any bureaucratic shit you might want to throw at me, back in your office." True to form, Rogon appeared to be unmoved by Eastern's outright demand, and kept his demeanor focused solely on the latter's welfare, after shaking hands.
"Good to see you too, Mike. It's refreshing to see that the system hasn't diminished your personal attributes. I presume Mr Whiting has explained the unforeseen turnaround regarding your internment?"
"I figured out you already know the answer to that one, so let's cut to the chase Rogon. And we can start by you dealing me with some hard facts as to why the operation has been so conveniently aborted." Clearing his throat, Rogon stated his case.
"Basically, the agency, while acting on a directive from Whitehall, prompted me into making a swift decision, just over a week ago, prior to Steadman's demise." He explained tentatively.
"Steadman!?" echoed Eastern. "How come a low-life like that be allowed to influence the operation? You'll be telling me next that the arsole was a leading player in your little game." A bad attempt at expressing a meaningful smile followed, as Rogon picked up from where he had left off.
"Until I knew any better, Mike, I had a problem, myself, in thinking that Steadman could be of little or no importance. But the ironic truth of the matter, is that he was the one person, above all else, who instigated the conclusion of the operation." Glaring, Eastern motioned him toward a nearby chair.
"If I didn't know you any better, Rogon, I'd have to say that this whole bloody charade could take some time to unravel." Having made himself comfortable, Rogon then went on to explain the justification for his former decision to abort the mission.
"We need to thank Simmons', or should I say 'B', into kick-starting the fact, that, Steadman was not all he appeared to be."
"I can recall testing that theory with 'B' at one stage," asserted Eastern. Nodding briskly, Rogon continued. "Yes so I believe. Anyhow, acting on a premise I authorised a thorough search of Steadman's cell to be carried out, the consequence of which, resulted in the discovery of a diary,containing pages of guilt-edged information. Relating to certain inmates, to surface."
"I wouldn't mind betting that Brezznov figured highly on his 'hit' list" suggested Eastern. "The creep used to hang around him like a bitch on heat."
"Apparently, more than most Mike almost to the point of a full-blown dossier, in fact. But more importantly, and this is the crux of the matter, part of the information also stated that he was about to go 'public' with the inside knowledge that he'd accumulated, as a trade-off in pursuit of an early release."
"Christ! What the hell was the silly bastard thinking of? Whistle-blowing at that level is on a par with assisted suicide. Rogon shrugged his shoulders in a carefree manner before replying.
"We'll never ever know the answer to that, will we? But from Whitehall's prospectus, they would have ensured that Steadman's volatile scheme would never have been allowed to materialize. Simply, if Brezznov had found out that we had pre-knowledge of his intended 'scam', he would have most certainly pulled the plug on it, and all our groundwork would have been in tatters." Eastern's head was now at full stretch as he manoeuvred his brain from one scenario to the other neither of which seemed compatible with Steadman's sudden and unexplained demise....unless. A random thought then struck him as he digressed.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, Rogon, but just how far would Whitehall, or yourself for that matter, have gone to maintain his silence....murder possibly?" Rogon's face remained unflinching, even though Eastern had put him directly on the spot. Although, what Rogon couldn't disguise in a confrontation, lay in his body language and, as such, became a weakness that Eastern had been well accustomed to from their early association. Almost immediately, alarm bells began to sound off, reminding him that there was more to his enquiry than he could have imagined.
A cold silence ensued before Rogon finally broke the ice in his own indomitable trademark manner. "I'm not here to justify my reasoning to you or, in fact, to the very people to whom I'm answerable to...but murder? I think not, Mike. As a high profile agency we find that word most disturbing and, dare I say, old fashioned? No! We prefer to use the term 'put down'. It sounds that much more final you have to say and, indeed, trivial, when you consider what is at stake here." Inwardly, Eastern could be found seething at Rogon's blind arrogance and more than determined to have his say.
"Why don't you come right out with it, by admitting you had the poor bastard assassinated? You just don't get it do you? In my book, you've managed to mess up big time you and Whitehall together. It's not just a 'nonce' you've managed to 'put down', but also the fucking golden goose for Christ's sake!"
"I totally disagree, Mike." Rogon fired back, "Once we were in possession of the diary, we had everything we needed to know, in black and white. What more could you want!?" Eastern was now resigned to shaking his head, more in despair than in anger.
"I can't believe you just said that, so I'll spell it out for you. What you so badly wanted and haven't got, is the evidence that Steadman took to the grave with him. When people like him are calling the shots, they inevitably, keep to themselves as a means of bargaining. If the truth was best known, the man was a walking encyclopaedia. At worst, you could have struck a deal with him.The agency had nothing to lose and everything to gain." Pausing to collect his thoughts, he continued. "By the way, what's Simmons take on the outcome as it stands?"
Eastern had undoubtedly touched a raw nerve with his opportune request, leaving Rogon to squirm unconditionally in his chair before replying in a brusque manner. "Simmons!" I'd much prefer it if you referred to the man as 'B', if you don't mind. Like yourself, his covert position no longer exists." Eastern hadn't finished with Rogon just yet and likened himself to a terrier with a rat between his teeth.
"He did it, didn't he?"
"Did it? I'm sorry, Mike, you're not making any sense."
"Steadman! You got 'B' to do the dirty work for you."
"I don't have to justify the answer to that question, except to say he gets well paid for what he does."
"Yeah right. I had this feeling all along, especially with regard to the fact that he'd gone missing the day after the murder. Now it all makes sense." Leaving off briefly, he allowed an irritation of sentiment to enter their conversation.
"We come from different worlds, Rogon. You and the agency including those fucking pin-striped puppets who constantly pull your strings. They tell you when to jump...and me? I get to sleep at night even when I'm on the inside. How about you, Rogon, what do you do? I reckon you lie awake half the bleedin' night dreaming about dossiers and sanctioning Government 'hits'! God help you when you retire to the real world, you're going to be one sad old bastard that's for sure."
For whatever impact his feelings may have been provoked by, was lost in translation, as a repentant Rogon sought to take the meeting to another level, simply by averting his attention back toward Whiting. "Well George, I think that just about wraps up our business up for the time being. I'll leave it with your people to retrieve Mike's, personal effects. We can pick them up on the way out. In the meantime, thanks for your co-operation. Incidentally, you won't be seeing me again." Shaking hands, Eastern followed suit but not before he took one last swipe at the sys
tem.
"Give my regards to Mr Donavon for me, if you would Governor, and tell him he didn't qualify for a 'Michelin star' this time around." Smiling discreetly at his parting shot, Whiting swiftly put a seal on their bizarre contract.
"Under the circumstances, Mr Eastern, your request would be highly improbable. Although, as far as guarantees go, and the inmates are concerned, you're on a transfer to Wakefield goal. As for the prison authorities, any form of co-existence between themselves and you, has never been registered. Half an hour later, a much relieved but frustrated Eastern found himself detained in an agency car, bound for what could well be a hotly disputed debriefing session.
On the positive side of things, he took close comfort in knowing that his social life would at least be back on track once again. Long before their arrival at Spooks HQ, Eastern had already made up his mind, up before the inquisition had started, that he was prepared to sit back and allow Rogon the time to justify his actions. In retrospect, his unfailing tuition should have told him differently. In contrast, keeping an open mind could well have been the way forward. Slowly Rogon lowered his coffee cup before speaking, Choosing his words to appease Eastern would be paramount, when deliberating on his next move to carry the operation forward.
"So, Mike, I believe this is where we first came in. Now, along with added hindsight, the situation that we are now left with isn't one that I could have visualised. Trouble is, that happens to be the business that we're in, I'm afraid. Personally, I would like to think that a margin of success has been achieved; inasmuch much as Brezznov, has no reason to suspect that Steadman's, unfortunate death was due to anything, least of all being outside interest. The plain fact is that life goes on, and with Brezznov's release now imminent, we are now in a position...." He paused to emphasize his next gambit, "That! Thanks to the information that Steadman was able to procure, the agency now have a gifted opportunity to infiltrate his organization."
Eastern's patience had now outreached it's performance. Rogon's blaze' attempt to whitewash over what he himself considered to be, an 'Illegitimate murder', was proving to be a blunder too far. “Don’t patronise me Rogon. That negative crap doesn’t wash with me anymore. You seriously need to explain your motive for withholding Steadman’s death from me for a week. Or was that a code red? ‘B’ was the designated go-between, which became very convenient for you to string me along, and then to remove him entirely from the picture when it suited you. Stopping short, he made a sudden token look over each shoulder, and returned to level Rogon with a fixed air of expectancy. “Talking of which, where is your precious ‘hitman’? You’ve always led me to believe that ‘B’ and myself were on a joint mission. Seeing as this is a debrief, where the the hell is he, I ask?”
“It’s not my wish to prevaricate on the situation, and I can only apologise in his absence, Mike. But State-related circumstances have dictated that his services have been directed elsewhere. In fact.....” Breaking off suddenly, Rogon consulted his watch before continuing, “I can say with some amount of certainty, that less than 20 minutes ago GMT, the world as we know it, is now rid of one more despot.” Shrugging his shoulders in a care less attitude, Eastern dismissed his keen sense of State interest out of sight, and veered his attention to focus squarely on the Brezznov affair.
"That being the case, then we'd better press on, and start by sharing what evidence Steadman supplied us with and what we intend doing with it." A look of relief clouded Rogon's face as an offering.
"I don't have a problem with that, Mike, in fact...." Breaking off, he delved inside nearby leather satchel. "Here, what do you make of this?" Producing a small booklet, he placed it in front of Eastern for scrutiny. "Well! What does that do for you in terms of positivism?" he enquired. as Eastern proceeded to flick the pages over at random.
"Uhm, Interesting...yeah interesting," he remarked glibly. One page in particular seemed to dominate his thoughts, by causing him to smile discreetly. In anticipation, Rogon was quick to pick up on his body language.
"Is it something you wanted to share, Mike?" Shaking his head, Eastern strove to put his mind at rest.
"You wouldn't appreciate the irony of what I'm thinking right now."
"No? so try me." The question is, how do you begin to humour a State 'robot'? In Rogon's case, it becomes a 'no-brainer', which left Eastern to reply anyway.
"Looking at what I've seen of the contents implies that I wasn't the only one who figured that Donavon was a nasty bastard.!" The implication as expected, sailed clean over Rogon's head, who's integral priorities, for selfish reasons, lay elsewhere, leaving him to pursue his findings.
"So, what do you make of Steadman's reference quote..."That money breeds money, but the difference is it won't be mine that I'll be investing?" You'll find it on page fifty-five I believe."
"Well, if Steadman heard it right, and I suspect he did, it obviously relates to a monetory 'scam' purely by definition."
"Precisely my feelings. In fact, every snippet of information he's logged, I find relates to finance in one form or another."
What about diamonds, is there any suggestion to suggest that his interest lies in that direction?" Rogon was insistent when replying.
"I'm afraid not, so we can rule that one out." Eastern decided to turn his attention back to Brezznov's claim that he would be using a third party benefactor, to subsidise his alleged investment. "If I didn't know any better, I'd have to say we could be looking at a Bank 'heist' (robbery). Probably on a massive scale, followed by a shares monopoly. What are your feelings on that Rogon?"
"Off the record, I tend to agree with that theory, Mike. Having said that I do have reservations in that area."
"You do! In what respect?" Challenged Eastern.
"I'm finding it damned hard to believe that Brezznov, bearing in mind the fortune he's amassed, would want to undergo the grief attached to an organized 'heist'....." He stopped abruptly to consider a hidden option. "Unless of course we are looking at a monetory fraud on a major scale, via a world-wide banking network, escalated by the present internal computer system." Eastern's eyes lit up to signify his approval.
"In other words, a monumental Cyber 'scam'. I like the genesis of that Rogon, it ties in with his claim to a 'paper money' investment."
"Exactly! Assuming of course he could hack into any one system, and that way
he hasn't laid out a penny of his own money on his alleged return, and therefore adding credence to my original theory." At this point he continued to study Steadman's diary for any possible lead he might have missed.
"Anything look familiar, Mike?", questioned Rogon.
"Well, assuming we have hit on the right format, we now need to consider our, next move. It's imperative that we endeavour to get in at the beginning. As sharp as Steadman may have been, there's not one single concrete entry in his diary that lends itself to reveal when and where Brezznov intends putting his alleged 'scam' into operation. All we have at present is pure supposition to go on."
"You're entirely right of course," Rogon added "so now I'm saying to myself, at least you had a repertoire with the man, which is a huge bonus. And one that we need to capitalise on. I'm thinking, there might possibly be a way for you to come through the back door, so to speak. If so, there's a chance you could pick up where you left off."
"God! You make it all sound so bloody easy. It means that I'll be back under-cover and working on the outside. Contact! How do you propose I......?" The pressure alluding to the last few days had almost seconded his overworked brain into retirement. It was only now that he realized the full potential arising from the trump card that had momentarily eluded him. Now was the time to deliver his coup de grace, as he swiftly adjusted his reasoning. "Let me ask you something Rogon. What do the numbers 01273181933 mean to you?" His enquiry being spontaneous, led Rogon to sideline what could be on offer, by dismissing it out of sight.
"Are the numbers relevant Mike? If not, the answer to your question is no." “For whatever
reason, Eastern appeared to be unruffled by Rogon's negativity and increased his eagerness to offload the information he'd managed to secrete thus far. And given to him as a future gesture by Brezznov himself.
"I didn't think for a moment that the numbers would do anything for you, but just for the record, they represent my calling card as a means into contacting Brezznov himself. Alternatively, if you have a stronger lead than mine, then I'm willing to listen."
"Touche, Mike, you kept the best to last it seems, which I can’t compete with, so I suggest that you take some time out and get your head around what’s going down. As things stand, I can’t imagine Brezznov deciding to make a move just yet. His alleged ‘scam’ is far too complex and would entail a vast amount of planning. Besides which, he is still under licence., right? He can’t afford to mess up.” Having established a pre nuptial working relationship based on assumption, Eastern remained at Spooks HQ for the following hour mulling over strategy procedure, the logic being his proclaimed phone connection with Brezznov in mind.
It was also agreed that a two-month cessation would be put in place forthwith. This would grant the agency access to some borrowed time to deal with Eastern’s alleged release from internment. Their motive being to ensure his covert identity remained intact within the ‘underworld’, should it ever become a topic of conversation. As for the strategic discontinuation, it was never intended to be spent as a ‘category A’ holiday.
Eastern was fully aware that his mission as such, hadn’t even got out of the starting blocks. From his point of view, it was a time to regroup and capitalize on his ground resources. The following few weeks would severely test his durability and patience, right up until the moment he felt that his timing was right to place the call. That would hopefully reunite him with his nemesis, Victor Brezznov.