by Gary Tulley
"Now that I've heard the flip side, I feel bound to agree with you, Mike," sighed Rogon, "but, at the same time, let's remind ourselves that Brezznov, purely by default, has virtually put it in writing hat he is still operating in the UK. At least that narrows down his choices of freedom....wouldn't you say?" Momentarily, Eastern, for reasons of his own, declined the offer of an opinion, knowing that his present thoughts lay elsewhere. Finally, convinced that his initial motive held water, he opened up by expounding a dual format, "William Gauntly, aka, Reginald Stockfield presumed self-styled silent partner of Brezznov. Do we have any additional SP over and above what we already know about his movements?" Looking somewhat flummoxed over Eastern's sudden change in direction, had now left Rogon briefly searching for an answer himself.
"Sorry, Mike, you've rather jumped ship on me as far as that goes. Saying that, a follow-up enquiry wouldn't go amiss, although it could possibly entail the Met boys coming on board. Mind you, what wouldn't the agency give to have Gauntly in custody? And not forgetting yourself of course, Mike, In the past, you've always maintained he's the key master to a host of defining boxes. So, all things being equal, where are you going with this one? I ask myself."
"Two things come to mind, Rogon, the first being your initial interest in Brezznov's chances of survival. You're right, of course, to assume that the odds are now in our favour regarding his termination. And secondly, if my gut feeling remains in situ then our enigma, William Gauntly, could hold the link into realizing Brezznov's reign, sooner than later." What now had started out as an informative meeting, in Rogon's view, had now morphed into a need-to-know prelude on his part.
"Seeing as though you appear to be in the chair on this one, Mike, I'm eager to establish what your theory is behind the emphasis being laid on Gauntly? As usual, I'm beginning to fear that, once again, I could be missing out on something." Eastern allowed himself a fleeting smile at Rogon's omission. And just as swiftly dismissed it out of sight in favour of one of his own.
"Now then, I want you to cast your mind back to the art gallery fraud scenario and, more importantly, to the credit card that Brezznov used, if you will."
"Simple enough. Made out to Stockfield...right?" confirmed Rogon.
"Yeah. Exactly, only that. that's what's bugging me. Okay, so we know the name is an alias and that it's history lies with Gauntly, long before we found out of his alleged association with Brezznov. So, putting Stockfield to one side for a minute, it makes sense that Gauntly recognizes the card as being his property, so......"
".......what is Brezznov doing with it in his possession?" intervened Rogon, and continued to pursue a further line. "What if there is an underlying purpose behind the use of the card in the fraud that we're in the dark about?" This time it became Eastern's turn to overlap Rogon's assumption again.
"Precisely! And I make the point that it couldn't have been for the intention of framing Gauntly," he insisted, "because Brezznov, as we know, by bringing his singular ego into play, made it quite clear, via the CCTV, that he alone was responsible for the 'scam'. Which leads me to think, and I stress, that Gauntly himself isn't even aware that Brezznov is in possession of the damned credit card. Full stop!"
"If that is the case," responded Rogon, "it could well mean that to obtain the card illegally or otherwise, Gauntly would have had to have been in the country at the same time as Brezznov, thus enabling him to lay his hands on it."
"Absolutely, and that in itself could be a blessing in disguise."
"As you say, and amen to that. Although, judging by his recent performance, and by that I refer to Brezznov, of course, for reasons of his own, he has never given us any clear indication that he's in a hurry to leave the country, as yet." Acknowledging Rogon's theory with a sustained nod of agreement, Eastern went on to express his own views on their conversation so far.
"So, just to digress far a brief moment, and bearing in mind the emphasis that you've placed on Gauntly. You would have to say that unless there is a conspiracy of sorts going on between the two alluding to the credit card. I for one wouldn't be a happy man if I was Gauntly, in knowing that Brezznov has been using it for his own means."
"And there you have it, Mike." Exacted Rogon. "When putting the problem in layman's terms, not only has Brezznov shafted his alleged partner in crime, but he's also telling the world that, as from now, I've become a solo act." Eastern's eyes then lit up, as he absorbed his colleague's in-depth theory.
"Uhm, now that I can see where you're coming from. Is there a possibility that we could capitalize from his ego trip, and gain an advantage in the broader sense?" he queried hopefully. Nodding briskly in a decisive manner, Rogon was swift to retaliate.
"Unreservedly, I would have to say, Mike, as things stand, we've been gifted some bullets so let's start by firing them. By the way," he added, "I presume that the tabloids aren't, as yet, aware of the details surrounding the robbery up West?" "Heavens, no. Not at this stage. It's clear to me that we need to process what we're looking at here, before we even consider a release of any kind."
"Excellent. Now this is what I suggest we do, Mike." He then went on to advise Eastern to contact West End Central, with a view to authorising their Press Officer to release a media statement regarding the robbery, the contents of which, would be to emphasis, the fact that the theft, from start to finish, involved a pre meditated collusion between Brezznov and Gauntly. But, more importantly, that Gauntly himself was the major instigator. "If that doesn't cause a 'turf war' (pecking rights) between the pair of them," he concluded, "then I'm one hell of a lousy judge."
Quietly confident, within himself, that Rogon's 'poisoned scheme could trigger a worthy result, Eastern, nevertheless, still retained a degree of sceptimism. And was quick to relay it. "Gauntly isn't going to like the idea that he's been 'fingered' (held responsible) for the theft, one bit. I only hope it says enough to coax the assole out of hiding. And, furthermore, that he takes his grief out on Brezznov." Rogon wasn't for turning. As far as he was concerned his motive was etched in granite.
"Like!?" he retorted, "I couldn't give a cuss what the man thinks. So what's he going to do if it all goes belly up....sue me for bloody slander!? Besides, you're forgetting that the Press release is out of our hands, as such. The crux of the matter is that we rile Gauntly enough to make him want to show his hand. And do you know what, Mike? I feel safe in knowing that he will. I just happen to have this feeling about it, so trust me."
"I've no reason not to, Rogon," Eastern was swift to add, "and I have to say that playing one off against the other also appeals to me. Good old-fashioned policing works for me too. Know what I mean?" He continued to support his theory in the same vein. "Seeing as though you're a past master at that type of situation, I can't see how, working as a team, we can fail. And as far as those two assole's get off, pride and ego in their case is delicately poised on a parallel with insanity, and reasoning can so easily become distorted........."
"............and that's when stupid mistakes creep into the equation." Exacted Rogon. Momentarily, their joint thoughts were put on hold by the sound of a knock on the office door, and, in turn, followed by a diminutive figure entering the room clasping a document of sorts. "Apologies for disturbing you Sir, but this fax came through via Central a few minutes ago, marked urgent, It requires your immediate attention." A short hiatus ensued as Rogon randomly scanned the fax before replying.
"That will be all for now, Milton. I'll let you know, sooner than later, should there be a reply. “Nodding robotically, the courier swiftly exited the room. The moment then became a cue for an evergreen Eastern to open up.
"More bureaucratic shit to get your head around I presume?" he remarked dryly, and motioned toward the fax on Rogon's desk top. He might as well have saved his breath, as the cutting innuendo went directly over his head, as he blissfully focused his full attention toward the fax. In his own time, he then broke off, before picking up with Eastern.
"Three words, Mike. On th
e contrary, what we have here is a hugely significant development concerning our operation. Or, as you might refer to it, as being 'bloody Karma'". For a second, Eastern found himself lost and bewildered for an answer to Rogon's spontaneous reference, by allowing a vent of intrigue to get the better of him.
"In that case, I suggest, that you'd better share with me, what you obviously consider to be so important, and not before you eclipse yourself by becoming over- humanized." His derisive remark was typically lost in transit, by allowing the implication to die a death, as, once again, Rogon contemplated the contents of the fax.
"Ah...yes, I thought I was right the first time," he proclaimed. "I see there's a reference enclosed here regarding a certain HMP official'"
"Sounds interesting...go on."
"The memo is listed under the name of Donavon. Does the name ring any bells?" he quizzed, and gave a self-assured look, before continuing. "I have reason to suspect that the man was a one-time acquaintance of yours, Mike." His choice of words, when summing up his findings, had now set a precedent in terms of setting up a collision course with Eastern's now enflamed hostile temperament.
"Poxy acquaintance!" He retorted, "A sewer rat has got more going for it than that mean bastard. Yeah, of course I knew him, as you well know, and certainly not by bleeden' choice. As far as I'm concerned, that chapter of my life, when I was at Foredown, is now dead and buried. So why the hell would you want to remind of it?"
"Lets just say it's another way of endorsing your closure on the issue, Mike." admitted Rogon, "and by the way, our Mr Donavon," he strongly emphasised, "Is no longer with us."
"What, thankfully pensioned-off you mean?" Eastern replied solidly.
"That's one way of putting it, Mike, but in official terms I would have to say permanently! As of three hours ago he's been lying in a morgue pending a token post mortem."
"No shit!" Exclaimed Eastern, who was now clearly taken aback, "bloody dead eh? Mind you, I'm not exactly broken-hearted. So what's the story behind it all?"
"Without the full facts I'd be hard-pressed to say, although everything points to him being targeted, and in the process, mowed down by an unmarked vehicle, minutes after coming off a shift."
"So it goes, without saying, that we're talking murder here then?"
"Without question, Mike. The local 'plod' are calling it a vengeance killing. This theory was verified later by two of his associates who were both present at the time the 'hit' occurred."
"That being the case, were they able to obtain a make on the vehicle itself?" implored Eastern.
"Not a single shred of evidence, would you believe. Unless a white van counts for anything, and to quote one report, 'the number plates had been removed and the van stolen to suit. All in all a highly professional job you have to say. So even if the 'plod' were fortunate enough to locate the van," Rogon went on, "they're only going to find a burnt-out carcass."
"End of story, as they say, and well fucked!" Concluded Eastern, and pursued the same line of thought. "apart from knowing who was responsible, it's needless to say that I'll go along with my gut on that one."
To understand Rogon, one would need to delve beyond a facade of bureaucratic doctrine, addled with political correctness. And nobody knew, not even Eastern, as to how his thoughts translated at any given time. It soon became apparent, that he wasn't about to let Eastern's theory on Karma slip into oblivion. "I find it strange but also fascinating," he tendered, "that alternative expression you so often use, ’What goes around comes around.’ I can see a distinct link there, with Donavon's pre-meditated murder, and yourself, Mike. As I recall, you always maintained that he was the one responsible for blowing your cover, while you were operating in Foredown, by collaborating with Brezznov, no less."
"Yeah. And what a price he paid for it, although I'm not surprised. The obnoxious bastard upset a lot of people on the inside, but outside, in the real world, you have to say that he was a dead man walking. I can't say I'm sorry the guy was 'mullered' (killed). To be honest, the guy was living on borrowed time. Whoever was responsible for driving the vehicle that did the business on him, must have taken part in a bloody raffle to get the job. Personally, I'd like to have shaken the driver's hand."
Also prominent on his mind at the time, led him to question his former suspicions surrounding a further victim's activities, 'In that he had access to damning evidence via his role as prison 'gopher', now bore out a margin of substance. His theory being, that prior to his murder, Steadman was possibly on the verge of going public by disclosing certain covert SP he'd been privy to. 'I also suspect,' he went on, 'that Donavon managed to acquire first-hand knowledge of Steadman's intentions. From then on, he decided to utilize the damning SP to target his victim with blackmail'. Rogon threw him a concerted look, and nodded.
"Lumping all the evidence together, Mike, I can see the reasoning behind your logic. Unfortunately for Donavon, whoever his killer may have been, and Steadman's come to that, must have been privy to the same SP."
"Exactly! And on that basis it's all too bloody convenient, as murders go," he assured himself, "And that just about sums up the whole rotten mess, although," he concluded, "the question still remains. Which person, or persons, stood to gain the most from Donavon's timely murder?"
Their meeting then shuddered to a halt, as Rogon's fax machine once again kicked off. "Anything relevant to the case in hand?" enquired Eastern dubiously.
"Uhm, could be interesting," advised Rogon, "It's a follow-up from West End Central.”Apparently, they're now saying that they have clear confirmation regarding the Rotherhithe murder suspect, namely Charles Regan"
"And?" an impatient Eastern cut in.
"It appears that, reading between the lines, Regan has finally accepted a plea bargain in exchange for crucial evidence. And, damning Brezznov for his role as co- conspirator in the Stowlowski murder."
Anticipating an immediate reaction, Eastern nevertheless appeared subjective in his reply. "At the risk of repeating myself, I have to say it makes my blood boil, knowing that the system is railroaded into having to corroborate with scum like that!"
"Looking on the plus side though, Mike, ventured Rogon, "If wer'e talking assets, then I feel that the deal in question, irrespective of it's origin, at least counts for another nail in Brezznov's coffin." A somewhat ambushed nod of agreement from Eastern, then sealed their incommodious conversation. But not before Rogon reminded him to take full use of his strategic flat in London, as opposed to his Brighton residence.
CHAPTER 17...A providence call.
Placing his proverbial grief to one side for a spell, an unwarranted seventy-two hour respite, cleansed of contact, and via the clutches of Rogon, would, under normal circumstances, be considered as a reprieve to savour. Now, with so much enforced time on his hands, the logic attached to the theory somehow appeared to have back-fired on him.
"I'm beginning to suspect that the current situation is fast becoming bloody personal," he related to Joan that particular morning, in a phone conversation following another mood-swing, and as such, continued to vent his frustration in a well- rehearsed vein. "I'm sick and tired of sitting around waiting for some thing to happen...know what I mean? It's almost as if the criminal fraternity, as a whole, has decided to take a damned sabbatical!"
Some time later, resigned to adjusting to the untimely habit of catnapping as a means of killing boredom, meant that re-entry into the real world (should a reprieve arise), would be less of a chore. When the impasse to his problem was finally broken by the melodic tones emerging from his mobile, he instinctively awoke with a jolt and snatched an intrusive glance at a conveniently-placed clock, for mental guidance. If he'd have been a gambling man, the self-nominated odds of six-to-four on and four-to-six against, as the caller being either Rogon or Joan, in that order, would have registered as a good bet. He then averted his full attention toward his mobile.
The moment then became a first for Eastern, as his in-built 'gut' instantly nosediv
ed out of contention, and, in the process, forced his assumption to be dragged down with it. At least he had the token compensation of resurrecting a clear head, in spite of a sudden adrenalin rush which consumed his body, as the truth of the matter hit home- base. But then he was going to need every human faculty available to him, knowing that it wouldn't warrant a second glance, to ascertain that the caller belonged to none other than his ongoing enigma...Victor Brezznov himself.
So, how does one deal with an inconceivable situation arising such as that? Especially when the circumstances are prominent and in your face. It's not every day, especially Eastern's, whereby the 'mountain' in this case Brezznov decides, instead, on an unofficial pilgrimage to contact 'Mohammed'.
For Eastern, the God given art of thinking on one's feet had, in the past, become a necessary trait of his make-up, should an untoward situation present itself. Without any hesitation, he immediately decided to adopt a nonchalant attitude toward Brezznov, with a need to patronize his ego quality, should it arise. Or, In the event that the latter might inadvertently reveal something of substance, it could prove to be beneficial. Settling for his past trend, a clear-headed and relaxed Eastern then sat back and allowed his inquisitor to do all the talking.
As he fully expected, his nemesis had still managed to retain his unswerving egotistical charisma from word go. "Mike!? I presume that you're still using the name, or is there another pseudonym you needed to throw at me.? No! We both know, by now, that would be a fucking waste of time, especially with my prime influence. So for the moment I'll stick with what I know, that way we've got a shared understanding...right?"