The Spook who flew over the cuckoos nest. (BOOK 2)

by Gary Tulley

  ROGON....take note that Brezznov has aborted the mission...and I repeat...mission aborted forthwith....Mike...over and out.

  CHAPTER 10...The flip side of sanity.

  Following in the wake of Brezznov's unprecedented u-turn, the inevitable debate, two days later and chaired by the irrepressible Rogon, was always going to be a heated affair. Besides Eastern and agent 'B', those present at the meeting included an observer representing Scotland Yard, an official from the Bank of England, plus the Prime Minister's Private Secretary, and a certain Mr J.P. Stryker, (whom Eastern took an instant dislike to). His immediate self indictment being, 'The man appears to be out of his depth within the company'. For progression reasons, Eastern elected to get the proceedings underway, all due to his personal links with the file on the table. For his part, he was under no illusions as to Brezznov's erratic strategy by issuing his reasons why.

  "For all present, I strongly suggest that his alleged operation to carry out what I believe to be a 'Cyber' heist', became derailed owing to the inclusion of a third-party breakdown." The Prime Minister's secretary at this stage, looked keen to open up his account by getting involved with the proceedings.

  "Can you elaborate on that theory, Mr Eastern, and define your use of the word 'breakdown'?" Acting on instinct, Eastern dismissed what would have been his normal action without hesitation, in sympathy with the man's naivety, when associated with criminal jargon.

  "Just my poxy luck to get shackled with a dumb pin-striped gopher. He needs to get in the real world, he told himself. Glancing across at Rogon, he attempted to rustle up a form of verbal support. In the end, it resulted in a feeble effort that was going nowhere. Meanwhile, his inquisitor was getting impatient.

  "Mr Eastern...when you're ready?" As an articulate onlooker himself, Rogon was now forced to wince at the obvious cold hostility between the two men, which now began to ice up.

  "Let the man down gently, Mike, for Christ's sake." muttered Rogon under his breath. He needn't have worried. Diplomatic as ever, Eastern had read the situation but, at the same time, wasn't prepared to let Stryker off the hook without making him wriggle first.

  "For those of you who aren't familiar with the term 'breakdown', like yourself of course, Mr Stryker," he emphasized, "We constantly use an expression in our business to compensate for it. And I quote. 'A falling out between thieves'. Alternatively, if you bat for the other side and you're on the receiving end...." Hesitating, he averted his attention directly toward Rogon to cement his position, before returning to Stryker, "Then the expression 'Well and truly 'stitched-up' would apply. But I feel sure that you’re well aware it is a colloquialism used frequently by the criminal fraternity....isn't that so Stryker?"

  If Rogon, at that point, had even the slightest irritation of being locked away in his person, he would have been compelled to share his dilemma with Stryker, who, by now, found himself reduced to virtual embarrassment and wishing he hadn't opened his mouth. True to form, and due to his exclusive persona, any sentiment was completely lost on Rogon's behalf, making it clear that he was eager to press on with the enquiry. "At what point did you suspect that Brezznov had a change of heart, Mike? Would it have been something he said that alerted you, or was it just a spontaneous move on his part?" Eastern then went on to explain his own movements up until four-thirty that day, prior to the alleged 'heist' being carried out, which included the call from Brezznov and quoted the man as stating "You are about to be disappointed and no more than myself. Unfortunately, as we speak I've been confronted with an unhealthy and unexpected glitch. Needless to say, the operation has been aborted until I tell you different. The problem itself happens to be an in internal one so I will be dealing with it personally. In the meantime, sit tight until I contact you."....end of quote. A brief sustained silence ensued, allowing his words to be digested. It was then left to 'B' to endorse his own take on Eastern's disclosure.

  "On the SP you've put forward Mike, I'm fully prepared to back your 'third-party' theory one hundred per cent. I suspect that you picked up on Brezznov's internal issue claim, by putting two-and-two together, by highlighting an unknown accomplice. Probably a 'face' within the 'firm', having a dispute of some kind, consequently leading to a fall-out." A relieved Eastern nodded in appreciation.

  "I'm glad that you see it my way 'B' and, as you so rightly mentioned, I couldn't even begin to elaborate on an alleged co-conspirator at this stage."

  Rogon appeared to be sceptical. "Assuming that one did exist, Mike, what role would he have played in the 'heist'?"

  "I'd be clutching at straws if I knew the answer to that one, but I suspect it would involve somebody internally placed, therefore enabling him to give covert access when called upon. Thus handing Brezznov the key to 'Aladdin's Cave'. That's my immediate assumption."

  "Okay, so wer'e probably looking for a 'bent' security guard or similar?" 'B' asserted.

  "Precisely!" Eastern echoed, "Without him on board as an investment, the 'heist' would never get off the ground, as you well know and......."

  "......knowing that you've got that monopoly over somebody, puts them in a prime bargaining position. Especially if they should decide to up their share of the ante involved." interjected Rogon.

  "Now you're talking. I suspect Brezznov was being leaned on from that quarter."

  "Christ's sake!" 'B' exploded, "If somebody is responsible for that, they must have some sort of a death wish. It's not exactly the call of the month...is it?"

  "At least it gave Brezznov the incentive when making the decision to call the operation off," Stryker bleated.

  "Yeah, and for how long?" demanded Eastern. "Once he has 'dealt with the business' as he stated, I can't see him sitting on the fence. People like him usually get what they want. Power is a form of bloody religion within the circles he moves in, so rest assured he will be back. The glitch he refers to, and I think we are unanimous on this, implicates person or persons unknown. And knowing how he works, the problem as he sees it will be eradicated, thus leaving him the window in which to progress. In the meantime gentlemen we need to take a step backwards and wait for his next move."

  Following an hour addled with conjecture, the meeting was finally abandoned sine die. In contrast to Brezznov's windfall of grief, Eastern's solid intuition just happened to be on a roll, although having said that, there was no way he could have envisaged what was to follow. A few hours later, the badly mutilated torso belonging to a man, was fished out of the Thames by the river police at Rotherhithe docks. Adding to the trauma of the grizzly find, was the fact that the head and the hands of the victim had been forcibly removed.

  News travels fast and Spooks hotline was no exception to the rule. "Good morning, Rogon, I was wondering how long it would take you to get back in touch? I presume your call has got something to do with the headlines in this mornings 'CLARION'."

  "Well, Mike, putting coincidences to one side for a moment, and based on the supporting SP that we have, the grim circumstances don't leave an awful lot to the imagination...wouldn't you say?"

  "I hear what your implying, Rogon, but first and foremost I don't do coincidences as you well know. I only deal in facts, so in my humble opinion this particular murder had got all the trappings of a gangland fall-out. Probably presided over by an aggrieved Brezznov! It now gives you a realistic insight into the kind of people we are up against. As I have said before, and make no mistake, the man is one mean bastard. Whether or not he was culpable in committing this latest crime, doesn't alter my opinion one way or the other."

  The fact that the two were at opposite ends of the line, betrayed Eastern's rare moment of emotion, as Rogon exercised his bland opinion. "You worry me sometimes, Mike. Unlike myself you seem to have this unerring gift of being able to put things into perspective, especially when it matters most."

  "Gift!? That's an over-reaction on your part, Rogon. I'd rather settle for common sense backed up with the bleedin' truth. It's never let me down yet."

  "I'
ll make sure that I keep you up to that. Now, then, business. I strongly feel that we need to delve more into this latest killing, even if it does mean ruling out a connection with the crime committed and, indeed, Brezznov himself."

  "I don't have a problem with that, except to say I suspect that the Met boys are far better equipped to deal with this one. To my mind, whoever sanctioned the 'contract' on the victim has to be a pro, and a wealthy one at that. Those responsible for the murder itself had to be well-paid and under no bloody illusions as to the extent of depravation they were paid to inflict on the victim. As far as forensics are concerned, I can foresee us being in for a long wait before any concrete evidence, if it all emerges. I should imagine those poor over-worked bleeders at the pathology lab, are climbing up the wall right now, trying to make some sense of the 'stiff'' (torso)."

  "Yeah, I guess you're right, Mike. I'll just keep a need-to-know line open in the event something might turn up. In the meantime we are back to the waiting game, while, Brezznov decides on his next move." Whether or not, Rogon knew something that nobody else did, and kept it to himself, then only time would be the best judge of that.

  Three trying weeks had now almost elapsed since the discovery of the gruesome 'Torso in the Thames' revelation. With Brezznov seemingly content to wage a war of nerves campaign, the only remaining chance of a possible breakthrough came via an auspicious phone call from regional forensics, logged to Spooks HQ. This, in turn, was backed up by a detailed up-to-date transcript containing their findings. As follows........The victim being of Caucasian Male missing dismembered head & hands. Heavily built in stature and retaining a muscular definition. All organs were found to have no abnormalities and were functional up until time of death. Total body weight prior to death would be approximately some 100 kg's and would be aged between 30-40 years. He has of yet to be identified. The timing of the victims demise prior to being discharged into the water, would only have amounted to a couple of hours. The torso itself on examination was found to have been in the water not longer than 24 hours. Cause of death is unknown partly due to lack of skin impediments EG Needle punctures and abrasions to back up any additional theories, although the possibility exists that one could assume the victim to have been bludgeoned to death or shot in the head prior to decapitation. Asphyxia was also ruled out. the embodiment of distinguishing marks, namely, a series of some 7 exclusive Tattoos were present on the torso, 4 on the left upper arm & 2 on the opposing arm. The single 1 on the lower right leg in particular, still retained partial scab tissue. Most likely the result of having been a recent addition. Probably carried out in the last 7-10 days & depicted a venomous snake embracing a stiletto type dagger. Also apparent were 2 inscribed letters E&S, presumably one would assume to be the victims initials. (see enclosed photo). end of transcript.

  With that in mind, the SP came as no great surprise to Eastern, even allowing for the fact that the crime was allegedly committed some three weeks previous. At least, it was something to dwell on, and the fact that he had been given the report first-hand, was pleasing. The dilemma now facing Rogon would entail the importance of Eastern's reaction to the transcript and as to whether it would differ from his own. Leaning back in his chair, he gave him a long searching look before speaking.

  "So, what do you make of our mystery man thus far Mike? Would you say that we are nearer to maintaining a connection with Brezznov in mind?" Slowly lowering the forensic report, Eastern asserted a disdainful look that could have spoken for him as he levelled with Rogon.

  "You're already aware of my take on the 'stiff', and this report you will find, in time, accelerates justice to my claim. I'll be frank with you and say that Brezznov himself could have written this, and included the name of the victim's tailor, amongst other things!" Sighing deeply, Rogon took on the appearance of a crushed man, before replying.

  "I should have known better than to have asked, although you didn't pass any comment regarding the initials linked to the tattoo that came to light...any specific reason why?" "No, no reason at all. To my reckoning, it's origin will prove to be a formality. Even allowing for the fact that the torso had been immersed in water for a period. And phasing the tattoo to a degree, shouldn't have affected it's history. I can tell now, it is a custom-design job fused with military overtones. In short, the victim's credentials will be on file with the tattooist responsible for the work involved. Once the E.S. aspect is clarified, this will give you the victim's I.D which can be checked out against any 'previous' he may have on record, if any. Personally, I'd let the 'plod' deal with it. That way they can furnish us with their findings.

  "Uhm, sounds reasonable enough. That being the case, I'll make that official, Mike, asp."

  "Fine, as long as you realize that even knowing the victim's I.D, you're still left with the grief of connecting, who ever he is, to Brezznov. Surely that's the crux of the matter, which leads me to ask, is 'B' still employed on surveillance cover since we spoke last? It's vital that we will still be able to monitor Brezznov's movements. Having said that, the man can yield the type of power he commands, merely by sitting in his own front room. Quite honestly, a poxy fly on the wall would be out of business in no time, working in Brezznov's bolt hole, mainly through utter boredom."

  Nodding in agreement, Rogon raised his shoulders in a gesture of sympathy. "Patience they say, is a virtue, Mike, and that's the only one redeeming aspect we have got going for us at present."

  "Yeah right. That, and an unknown headless 'stiff'. Not much reward for months of graft is it? I'm beginning to feel synonymous with collateral damage. As of now, the idea of booking myself into a bloody health farm for a week or two, had crossed my mind." Even taking into account Rogon's unemotional standards, his unprecedented conclusion in reply, could nevertheless be found to be tainted with sympathy.

  "Luckily, you're a born survivor, Mike, and that's why you do the damned job. If it's any consolation, I'm pretty sure that the lab boys will come up with something substantial in the next forty eight hours. Meanwhile, I can only advise you to get some well-earned rest while you can. They tell me that Brighton is in the throes of a mini heat-wave right now. And who knows? Brezznov might have a change of direction."

  CHAPTER 11...A successful night out.

  As 'eateries' go, the Dolce Vita could be found to be a restaurant apart. Especially to the majority of food buffs that patronized the venue. The fact that it epitomized Italian cuisine (and just happened to be Eastern's idea of fulfillment) only endorsed Joan's intention to make a belated reservation, intended to breathe some extra new life into a dejected Eastern, who could be found reeling of late from a bout of non- progression. "You'll need to hurry, Mike. The cab will be arriving at any minute now."

  "I'm doing the best that I can, Joan, although I could have done with you giving me a bit more notice," he retaliated in a brusque manner. Although, deep down he was mindful of the fact that she only had his best interests at heart. "By the way, you never mentioned where."

  "There wouldn't be any point, darling," she hastily interrupted. Her well-timed intervention then coincided with the door bell sounding off. "Besides which," she continued, "our evening, as far I'm concerned is intended to be a surprise." Having said all that, there was no way possible that she could have known, at the time, that her heart felt prediction would be only one form of aspect, deriving from their spontaneous dinner date.

  The 'Lanes', traditionally the heartbeat of the city was, by it's very nature, a Mecca for gourmet revellers. It could now be found to be alive with bodies, all intent on creating that certain 'buzz'. Vacating their cab in East street, the two made their way towards the 'Pump House' tavern, anticipating a liquid livener to kick-start their evening. Minutes after entering, Eastern downed the remnants of his favourite Scotch and gestured his empty glass toward the barmen for a refill. With Joan shadowing him, he turned to express his immediate thoughts. "God! I needed that. You should get me out more often. I've just got this feeling that were in for a good nig
ht."

  A knowing smile briefly made an appearance, allowing his inner thoughts to go walk-about. "It's just occurred to me Joan."

  "Go on."

  "Rogon! I'd love to know what his idea of a good time is. I wouldn't even know 101 where to start if prompted." Joan smiled broadly.

  "Hazard a guess, Mike. I have to say that putting Intelligence papers and files in order comes to mind." This time the smile he evoked belonged to him, and just as quickly broke into a chuckle as, once again, he released his thoughts.

  It's just occurred to me, Joan. I reckon that you know Rogon better than I do. You have to say he's such a sad bastard. He really does need to get out more."

  Checking the time, Eastern turned and cast a sweeping glance around the bar and beyond. Over the years it had become a habit that went with the job. His definition being 'Better you know the devil behind you, rather than the one facing you'. At one point his body stiffened, almost as if something had infiltrated his vision, causing him to attempt a double-take. This time he went with his gut, knowing it wouldn't take a steward's inquiry to confirm that the alien 'face', whom he'd witnessed amongst the crowd punters, was no stranger to him. In fact it belonged to none other than Tommy Brandon himself.

  Moreover, it became even clearer to him that Brandon was heavily engrossed in conversation while in the company of two other unrecognisable figures, mainly due to the many misplaced punters haunting the bar. In a split second his vision evaporated as the returning barman eased him back into his own comfort zone.

  "Your Scotch as ordered Sir....will there be anything else?" instinctively, Eastern averted his gaze and turned to confront him. The strained look he was wearing suggested that retrieving his drink amounted to the least of his registered problems.