The Whitehall Syndicate: A time travel conspiracy thriller (22 page)

His eyes stung and tears began to stream from them. He looked up and saw the blurry image of his pursuer. His body already ached so much he wondered if it could get any worse, but feeling a sickening kick to his abdomen he was proved wrong and grunted in pain.

He blinked to clear his eyes and looked up just in time to see a combat knife come crashing down into his chest. A few silent moments passed and the man walked away, bloody knife in hand, leaving behind Tony's corpse in the middle of the road.

Pete's belly rumbled violently. He hadn't had lunch yet and instead of appeasing his stomach, he was being dragged along to help Gina. As the hunger took over, he began daydreaming about a nice thick and fluffy omelette with crispy fried bacon. His mouth began to moisten as he got caught up in the fantasy, and Gina had to nudge him out of it.

They were at the Central Kensington hospital now and the ambulance was parked in the driveway of the back entrance. It was only a small facility and neither of them could identify any doctors or nurses around.

Gina slipped over to the vehicle and Pete gingerly followed her. Despite being a clichéd, football loving, beer-guzzling male, he didn't have a clue about anything under the bonnet of a car. Luckily, through years of watching mechanics work, Gina did.

Pete looked around to check nobody was watching and Gina began pulling wires out and unscrewing valves. Ever since that day she had coffee with Anisha, she'd discovered so many more qualities about herself. It was as if she had been given an opportunity to really test her limits, and she was approaching the challenge with solid determination.

Pete was entirely different. As he stood there watching her and the empty driveway, he couldn't wait for this to be over. He was just a simple man, not a hero, and he longed for his normal lifestyle again.

Pete looked around once more and saw no one coming from the street or the hospital's back entrance. Then, as his head swung round, he noticed a flash of colour near the building. Turning back and observing more carefully, he saw it was a man in a pair of dark blue scrubs walking past the windowed walls of the entrance.

He poked Gina nervously. “Someone's coming.” She closed the bonnet and the both of them slowly ambled over to the waiting area, and then smiled as the oncoming young doctor walked past.

After a few seconds of loitering around the entrance, Pete slowly turned back, trying to make it seem casual. There was nobody there anymore. With a quick nod to Gina, the both of them slowly walked back to the ambulance again.

She was beginning to sweat and Pete was feeling hot under the collar of his black and gold shirt. He stood on lookout again, failing to spot anyone threatening.

As the minutes dragged on his toe began tapping impatiently, and eventually he turned and asked her how long it would take. At almost exactly the same time she smiled to say she was done, closed the bonnet and began walking away, with Pete following closely behind.

Once they were down the road from the hospital, Pete reached a payphone and called for an ambulance. He hung up the phone and the two of them crossed their fingers. If Gina had done things properly, it would look as if everything was under the hood was okay, but the ambulance wouldn't start. The hospital would have to phone the garage.

While on the payphone, Pete's mobile buzzed, startling him. He handed the receiver to Gina, who squeezed into the booth, and then he checked his phone. It was a message saying Bob was awake but visiting time was almost at a close. He let out a huge smile and Gina could tell through the glass booth that it was good news. Glancing at the clock on his phone, Pete sighed as he saw that there wasn't enough time for the pair to reach Bob at the hospital. They would have to go tomorrow.

A septic odour filled the white walled room, which was silent except for the gurgling sound of various bodily tubes. A half eaten dinner lay on one of the chairs and the jam sponge cake was beginning to look soggy.

There was a knock on the door and the injured man shouted out, “Yeah I’m finally awake, you can enter now!” In rushed a pair of happy faces and Bob's spirits lifted instantly. Jack came over to him first and the pair shared their complex brotherly handshake, a tradition established from when they were ten years old.

Bob struggled into a sitting position as Jack and Anisha gathered
around the bed. Green had chosen to stay at home and in the end it worked out for the best: Jack felt more comfortable with just himself, Anisha and Bob.

The three of them sat around the bed and began chatting about whatever topic sprang to mind. It was typical of the brothers' relationship; they would talk about anything except feelings and issues.

Even now, with Bob having nearly died, Jack didn't lapse into any sort of sentimentality. But he was thankful that his little brother was okay, and Bob knew it. Jack couldn't believe he was awake already; the doctors had told him it would be several days yet. His brother was a fighter; there was no denying it.

Jack presented Bob with his phone and Bob's eyes lit up. Stuck in this cramped little room for the next week or so, at least now he had something to occupy him and some link to the outside world. “So how are you going with your little problem?” Bob looked over the room for cameras, unsure if he was being watched.

“No its okay,” replied Anisha. “I’ll deal with them later on at work.” Jack chimed in,

“So yeah the little problem. It's not going too bad actually. If everything works out well, it should be done by tomorrow.”

“No way! Damn, how long have I been out for?” The pair of them laughed.

As Anisha watched them talk she saw Jack in a new light. She could see that Bob was the funny brother of the pair, the one who could be shot in the chest and still come out laughing. Jack was different; he was more reserved, more cautious. Most importantly though, she could see that he cared for his brother more than he let on.

Anisha began speaking now, having been deep in thought for a few minutes. Her expression was serious and she Bob could see the hope and uncertainty in her eyes.

“Bob, can you tell me what you remember about the attack?” She looked across at Jack, her eyes searching for his permission to continue. An uneasy look filled his face but he eventually nodded.

“Somebody tried to frame me for shooting you, and so far Jack and me can't work out who it is.” Bob took in a deep breath and blinked a few times. His face seemed to strain as he recalled the harrowing experience.

“Okay well I was working on that data I sent you and then suddenly my door swung open. There was this crazy looking guy who stormed into my place and shot me straight away. It hurt like hell but I pretended I was dead so he wouldn’t shoot me again. It hurt so much that for some reason my eyes started flickering, even though I was trying to keep them closed. I saw him smashing up my laptop and run out, then I called 999. That’s all I remember.”

“Okay Bob,” said Jack. “Think hard. What did the guy look like?” Bob stopped for a second and cleared his throat.

“He was maybe thirty five or something, and he was starting to bald. He had a faded black bomber jacket. Erm his skin was white and his hair was pale brown. He was about as tall as me. That's all I really remember.”

“That's great Bob,” said Jack enthusiastically. Silence hung over the room for a few fleeting moments. Bob immediately changed the subject and everyone was chortling away again in no time.

The sky began to darken outside his window and Frank was ready to turn off the computer and call it a day. His research wasn't taking him anywhere but maybe with an early night, Tony and him could start fresh tomorrow.

As he got ready to pack up his things he got a phone call to his desk. He picked it up and his face fell as he heard the news. His hand went limp and he almost dropped the phone. Slowly hanging up, he sat staring at the wall, his eyes fighting back tears.

Despite massaging his temple to try and clear his mind, he felt sick to his stomach. In a spontaneous burst of anger he threw his pad at the wall and screamed. By this time, there was nobody in the station to hear him.

A few tears found their way out of the hard man's eyes, and he let them tear down his stubbly cheeks and drip off his face. He realised he was slouching and he sat upright while his palms clenched into angry fists. With fire in his eyes, he logged on to his computer again to get the
details of the case. Somebody had tried to kill him, and failed. But killing Tony was one mistake they were going to live to regret.

It was the early evening and everyone had jitters about tomorrow. Green senior was so nervous he had gone to bed to bring on tomorrow sooner. Jack, Pete and Anisha were gathered round in a circle on the floor, making up their back-story for the party tomorrow evening.

Jack wasn't too happy about having to dress up in a tuxedo and by the look of it, Pete didn't seem too thrilled at having him play Anisha’s husband. But they had printed out a wad of information from the internet about Dunn and Lazardou, and they were presently committing it to memory.

At the same time, Pete and Jack were writing their own version of what had happened to the pair over the last few years. It was going to be especially hard for Jack and Anisha tomorrow, since being husband and wife meant they had to know each other's details as well as their own.

As Pete read aloud some of the things that Jack, being Lazardou's friend, would be expected to know, Jack began wondering about Frank. He didn't know whether or not the hospital had yet informed him that Bob was awake.

Getting out his phone he excused himself and went upstairs to phone the detective. After an eternity of ringing, Frank finally picked up. Listening to the jaded man tell him the news about Tony, Jack was speechless. All he could do was to say he was sorry.

He felt guilty offering him the good news about Bob. Good news should cheer people up but at this moment he felt like telling Frank was insulting: parading Bob's recovery over him at the worst time possible

There was a long, dark pause and Jack wondered if he'd hung up. Eventually Frank coughed away the lump that had formed in his throat and asked for a description of the shooter. After a few more moments of ominous silence, the cogs in Frank's brain began to turn.

“Whoever shot Bob was probably the same person who killed Tony and tried to kill me.”

“It makes sense since you were investigating the shooting.”

“The video records of Tony's shooting are also missing. But if I check the video feed around the area along with the description Bob gave you, I might get lucky. It's going to take some time though.”

“Let me know what you find.”

Green slumped down on his huge leather sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table. It had been a long, tiring day and it wasn't over yet. He still had to talk to the caterers and double-check the menu for tomorrow's soiree.

With a loud wheeze, he hauled himself up to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of red wine. Uncorking it, he poured himself half a glass and took it with him into the living room.

He was still worried about the boxes. They were vital to his machine and some of them were irreplaceable items: only one in existence across the entire world. Somebody was out to foil his plans and it was killing him that he had yet to find out whom. He smiled as he considered that soon it would kill them too.

He glanced, through the study doors, at all the papers on his desk and slowly hauled himself up again to have a look. He was fairly sure that Klaus was behind all of the death threats, and since he had already been dealt with, Green took the stack from the drawer and threw them in the wastepaper basket.

His eyes turned to the security detail for tomorrow. There was usual absolutely no need for it but he always felt safer with some guards around anyway. Circumstances had changed though, and he knew it was very possible that somebody else was out to get him.

Just in case, he picked up the phone on his desk and called up the security agency. It went through instantly and he asked for an extra guard to be posted to the detail for his party.

Hanging up, he felt calmer about tomorrow and took a large swig of his drink. With his nerves settled further by alcohol, he walked over to the closet and pulled out a duffel bag.

Inside it was a large heap of money, banded off into bricks. Roughly counting it one last time, he was sure that it definitely did come to twelve hundred thousand pounds. He had killed off enough people so
far, and it was beginning to cost him more than he liked. With each murder he became more and more likely to get caught. Hopefully this pay-off to Dr Ruhbaker would be enough to stop him having to hire yet another hit man.

Jack and Anisha were sat in her bedroom going over the story one more time when Frank phoned back. Putting it on speakerphone, Jack asked what he had found.

“I looked over the feeds around the area for people who might be fleeing the scene and the computer cross referenced them with the description to come up with a list of possible matches. I need to send you a list of facial shots, so you can get Bob to identify the correct one.”

Jack got his phone ready and gave Frank the okay. Within a few seconds an archive of the photos was sent. Jack then fiddled with his phone, trying to send them to Bob with a message asking him to pick out his shooter.

“Okay I've just sent it. I don't know how long Bob will take to find the correct picture.”

For the next few minutes the pair stood in uncomfortable, suffocating silence. Jack and Frank were both looking for vengeance and this was their only clue so far. Eventually the ringing of Jack’s mobile broke the hushed mood.