Three Faces of West (2013) (24 page)

“Jack West!!!” He shouted as he banged on the door with his fist. Goodness knows why he was doing this but he was; he had to get to the other side of this door, no matter what, although it still was a mystery. Gripping the brass handle yet again, this time he felt it loose in his hands, it definitely wasn’t locked anymore. Turning it, the latch clicked in time as the door loosened; he opened it.

Not realising what he was about to face, he swing open the door to its fullest extent. Behind the door confronting him stood West,

“Jack! What happened? Why? Why the hell did you bomb the CIA safe house? Why did you walk away? Where have you been?”

Jack did not react, preferring to stare at his partner. The intense eye contact fuelled the kind of uncomfortable powerful emotion felt between individuals but John needed answers; it was a strange compulsion but he wanted to do it,

“Why?” He asked.

Still saying nothing, Jack was beginning to act totally out of character. This wasn’t the Jack West that John knew, but he wanted to persist with the line of questioning. Suddenly Jack raising his hand and holding a pistol suddenly, coldly and without words pointed it at his friends head. Finding himself staring into the blackness down a gun barrel, John knew full well a bullet could be waiting at the other end,

“Oh now wait!! Hang on I only wanted to know where you have been!!! Come on Jack put it down!!”

Jack didn’t,

“Don’t be stupid, let’s just talk yeah?” Said John as Jack suddenly walked forward with conviction the couple of paces to face John. The pistol still raised he only stopped once the barrel pressed against John’s forehead, causing John to kneel down in front of his master,

“You don’t’ have to kill me!!! You don’t have to kill me!!!!” Pleaded John, his hands raised in surrender,

“You don’t have to kill me!!!!”

The pleading continued as Jack looked on, eyes fixed on the now pathetic figure John presented,

“No don’t!!!…please….you don’t have to kill me!!! ” He said.

Jack pressed the trigger, jolting the gun slightly in his hand as the firearm discharged a bullet, shooting John through the brain. The bullet entering his forehead and exiting out the back, blood spraying everywhere all over Jack as smoke from the forearm residue wafted upwards. Then everything went black,

“UUGGGHHHH!!!” Shouted John as he sat up violently. His breath short almost to the point of hyperventilation and covered with cold sweat he found himself sat up in a bed. Realising the experience he had just put himself through was nothing more than a harmless nightmare,

“Just a bad dream.” He thought to himself as he got his breath back. He looked toward the curtains covering the window of his bedroom, the slightly orange glow from the street lamps outside indicate dawn was not yet near. It reassured him to think he was in a place of familiarity, safety and comfort, yet he still wondered about the previous day’s events, and what has happened to Jack. Turning to look at the bedside clock it read 03:21am,

“Get some sleep John.” He said to himself as he resettled back into bed to continue his rest.

The following morning, 08:55am, Hudson walked into the office amongst an air of resignation and shock. He didn’t care, they weren’t in Belgravia yesterday, they do not know what really happened, but to be brutally honest, neither did he. Opening the door to the private office shared between himself and Jack there was a part of him that almost expected his partner to be sitting there at his desk, but alas it was vacant. Shutting the door behind him he took his seat at his desk in the now vacant office; sitting there just staring out of the window, his mind was as far from being focused on his work as it possibly could be. There was so many questions, so many missing answers, what prompted West to do what he did? What were the dossiers in the CIA house? And why was there a specific file on West? All these he could not explain. Excuses and scenarios raced through his mind trying to make sense of everything, but no amount of logic could provide an answer no matter how hard he tried,

“I wonder what happened to Grey?” John quietly asked himself. Mentally he wanted to deny it but there was just a little part of his mind, right at the back that could not hide the tiniest of inklings that perhaps West and Grey were in collaboration with each other. Feverishly trying to make sense of the events over the past few days his mind wandered onto the events at the Lion Inn back in Lewisham,

“Would Jack have really shot Finnin’s killers in that room is the police hadn’t arrived?” He thought. Last week he would have known he answer, but now he definitely wasn’t sure at all. Going into a daydream trance everything flashed in front of him, the King’s Cross bombing, Peter Finnin’s body, David Finnin’s madness and suicide. No, no, no!! This was all too much for John; he could not be stressing himself out like this against something that he clearly could not figure out, when he didn’t have all the facts. Getting up to walk off some of the anxiety, the office wasn’t the largest but anything was better than keeping still and letting his mind wander. He walked around the back to Jack’s desk, around his large desk seat beside the window, the morning light lit up the room in a kind of haze reminiscent of an early evening causing everything to be cast in a gentle yellow light. Carrying on, John continued round the desk to the other wall where some cabinets lay. Casually looking as he walked past there seemed to be nothing unusual on these, why would there be? Files and papers amongst the office stationary littered the furniture as Hudson suddenly saw something that wasn’t there before, a small brown paper parcel. It looked ominous enough but it wasn’t there before, John would have noticed it,

“What’s this?” He said while picking it up. Being no bigger than the size of a box one would put a necklace in, it intrigued him, it certainly felt light. In fact it felt as if there was nothing in it. He shook the contents but to no avail, so he decided to open it, ripping the paper wrapping off the small white box he opened it to confirm his suspicions, it was empty.

Puzzlingly he picked up the paper to see where it had come from turning it round expecting to see an address or postage mark but instead he saw something quite different, a small blue sticky label. Examining it closer he made out the writing upon it,

“The Old Fisheries, Luton.” He read to himself. This was definitely familiar, he heard of this place before, but where? Thinking for a second John searched through his memory hoping that he wouldn’t get one of those awful mental blocks. Luckily though he didn’t, the place flashed into his mind, an old bed and breakfast hotel in Luton, just on the outskirts of the town. Both West and himself had used it once for a stakeout when tracking an individual on a previous case, it had to be there. The reason why it was here was beginning to become increasingly clear, West had to have left it here at some point, perhaps when he told him to go and wait in the car before Belgravia. Who knows, but there could be no other reason why this label had been left in such a place where John could find it,

“He’s got to be there, why else would he leave this here as a clue? No one else would leave something like that here, not something relating to a job we did a couple of years ago…No, Jack’s not disappeared he’s letting me know exactly where he is!” He thought to himself as he suddenly got a funny feeling. A slight tingle when you know when someone is behind you, or watching from a distance began to surge through John’s body. Getting up he was still in the deserted office but something drew him to the closed door, reminiscent of his bad dream last night, he cautiously, but quietly approached it, stopping only a few feet from the handle. Putting his hand out to grab it he paused halfway, hesitant in his nature,

“Jack?” He asked out loud, in a kind of weird deja-vu sensation recalling the dream’s events. Not wanting to wait he decided to take the bull by the horns, grabbing the handle full force and pulling the door open quickly. Correct in his assumption he was surprised by the figure standing before him,

“Inspector Waterson!!” He said rather surprised. Indeed this was the last person Hudson expected to see. A suitable reply was about to be given when from behind Harvey appeared with a sullen look upon his face, accompanying was three other suited officers all people Hudson had never met before and all looking deadly serious,

“John,” Said Harvey, “you need to come out of that office now.”

John was puzzled, “Why?” He asked, as one of the other three men spoke up,

“You are Jack West’s partner aren’t you? John Hudson?”

“Yes I am. You are?”

“Never mind who I am, we need to search your office, come on, out.”

The two other unrecognisable men proceeded past him as john stepped out of the doorway. Looking back he could see them setting to work, one accessing Jack’s computer the other going through files and paperwork but John himself was ushered away by Harvey. He wanted answers,

“What the hell is going on?” He asked,

“These men are from a special division, investigating corrupt activity within MI5.”

“Corrupt activity?!! What corrupt activity?”

“We have reason to believe Jack West has gone rogue.”

The revelation stunned John; no way could he believe that, “Rogue? He can’t.”

“That’s what we intend to investigate. If he is, we can make life very difficult for him, and you.” Said the officer. John wanted to reply but could not find the words,

“Look John you need to go with these people, Inspector Waterson and Mr Peterson here would like to question you.” Said Harvey, trying to put things into perspective,

“Anything we did was on your orders Harvey!! We didn’t exceed any authority!” He protested,

“Still, you need to go.”

“Fine.” John agreed,

“You do not have to mention anything when questioned but anything you do say may harm your defence to something which you may later rely on in court. Do you understand the caution Mr Hudson?” Waterson warned. Looking him straight in the eye John agreed, he wasn’t in a position to argue as both the inspector and Peterson grabbed each of his arms leading him away to one of the sealed interrogation rooms. Humiliating as it was confusing the whole office looked on as one of their own was led away and the office sealed in a frightening crackdown against a compromise of security.

A couple of hours later, the offices were still reeling from the morning’s events. West and Hudson’s office was still sealed off and buzzing with officers trying to disseminate what had happened. Hudson walked in, drained and emotional from the interrogation he had just endured. It was strange, why have they let him go? Attracting the attention of the office he sat at a vacant desk and keyed in the computer. The logon screen flicked up prompting him to input his details, but they did not work, “ACCESS DENIED” was the red error message that flashed before him,

“What the?” He said to himself. Trying again ended with the same result; realising he had been frozen of the system he didn’t know what to do when Harvey approached him,

“You’re back.” He said,

“Yes, look why did they let me go?” John replied,

“What did they ask you about? Can you say?”

“Just about my relationship with West, this case, my relationship to you, things like that…”

“Have they taken anything?” Asked Harvey,

“Just my ID documentation and I’ve been ordered to surrender my passport.”

Considering the situation it looked like John had got off lightly. Although he didn’t say it, he hadn’t divulged the Old Fisheries link at all, but he knew that if the investigators found the label and traced it back, he would be in even deeper trouble and this time truth drugs may be used,

“They have told me I’m still under investigation.” He added. But Harvey had some more bad news,

“Your clearance level has also been reduced. I’m sorry but I can’t allow you access white you are still under investigation.”

“Oh so I’m on supervised light duties only then? Look West has been acting a bit strange lately, at Bellmarsh Prison I have reason to believe that helped our subject, Maxwell Grey to escape, saying he was going to take him to some kind of safe house. And I know it was him who planted a bomb at the CIA building you directed us to in Belgravia. There were dossiers on him, and us.”

“Really?” Harvey replied in a slightly knowledgeable tone,

“Has he really turned? Is he really trying to damage international relations? And to what end?”

However he didn’t mention the Old Fisheries to Harvey either, secretly he knew he had to find West, and the link was the only clue. If he could keep it to himself, there was a chance he could stay one step ahead of the MI5 investigators,

“I can’t access this computer.” He said

Harvey momentarily hesitated, “I know, you are being suspended pending investigation with immediate effect.”

“What?!!”

“Your presence in this building is illegal, so I’m ordering you to leave. Go home John, I’d advise you off the record to stay there, for your sake. I would warn you, don’t try to abscond during this investigation it relates to a potential breech of the Official Secrets Act, the one you were bound to sign when you first came to us.”

“I won’t. Thanks.” Said John as he turned to leave. Still keeping the Old Fisheries link to himself his next move was absolutely clear. He had to go and investigate himself, knowing his actions could be construed as highly illegal he still had to try. It could land him in prison if it went wrong, but the risk was acceptable. As he entered the busy street, the ordinary pedestrians racing around him made no difference at all. In fact it became increasingly clear to him that the next port of call was the nearest train station. Pacing off down the street and knowing full well that he would probably be tailed and watched he himself had done it before enough times but he absolutely didn’t care. The next stop was Luton.

Chapter 16:

Arriving in by train Luton that afternoon seemed effortlessly easy. Despite the restrictions placed upon him as a consequence of the investigation into Jack’s activities he had to press on. Getting into one of the fleet of taxis waiting outside the station’s main entrance he instructed the driver to the address of the Old Fisheries arriving around twenty minutes afterwards. Upon completion of the journey, John asked the driver not to approach the site itself but instead to park just outside the perimeter, which he did. Getting out after paying the fee he was faced with a tingling feeling of the past, this place held rather happier memories for him, now it was just another part of a very disturbing puzzle.