Three Faces of West (2013) (29 page)

Dark and cold were the overwhelming feelings John experienced as he probed further into the blackness. It seemed that the further he walked, the louder of the breeze got, but perhaps it was his imagination; it was easy to get carried away down here. With his torch in full shine, he followed the structure round a left hand tunnel, the silence was almost deafening has the old floor crunched beneath his shoes. Suddenly, far in the torchlight, right on the edge of the light beam, something stood out. It wasn’t something immediately obvious as he paced up to whatever it was; picking it up he examined it in the torchlight,

“A rope.” He thought to himself, “I’ll keep this, could come in handy.”

Slinging the rope across his shoulder like a bag, he walked further still, the torchlight beam wide enough to encompass both the radius of the circular tunnel and the ground in front of him. However something else caught his eye on the ground not long after; it was if it had been disturbed,

“Footsteps, and quite recent ones by the look of these.” He thought. Looking straight ahead, because that seemed the direction they were pointed, John knew something must be further on and with his pistol ready, for there was no way of telling whatever lay up ahead, he steeled himself for any possibility. Another corner could be seen further on, about fifty yards ahead which he made for quickly, reaching it in only a few seconds. Once round, the tunnel continued to stretch further as far as he could see with his torch, and he would have seen where it leaded to if it were not for something lying still on the tracks. Pacing over to it he could see exactly what it was,

“It’s a person.” He thought. Cautiously and with the pistol trained, he made his way over to it, clearly still, the figure which was smartly dressed but showing absolutely no signs of obvious movements or sounds definitely fuelled John’s curiosity. He carefully turned it over with one hand with the gun pointed at his head with the other, it over only confirmed his initial suspicions,

“Dead.” He thought. The deceased person was a youngish man, mid to late twenties, but with obvious trauma to the neck,

“Looks like compression, a strangulation of something similar. And he’s still warm, so it was done not too long ago,” He looked around, now he had to investigate the reasoning for this murder and who did it. He cocked his gun in readiness to fire; the clicking sound appeared deafening in the silence.

There was no more time, as he got back to his feet again. Leaving the body where he found it he continued on. By now he had lost all sense of his bearing in relation to the real world outside, the tunnels seemed to go on forever as he continues walking, on and on, yard after yard. The walls lined with old rusty metallic panels structurally reinforced by iron ribs every half meter or so. It wasn’t long before John spots a change in the structure, there seemed to be an alcove off to the left just up ahead, he made for it, gun still drawn. Seeing it was a small maintenance unit, it bore a small access hatch that had clearly not been opened for some time,

“It’s rusted tight.” He thought. Pausing, it momentarily looked like he was stuck. Perhaps he would have to go on further, was this even the right way to go? Experience taught him to go on hunches, and he was getting that tingling feeling in the pit of his stomach, something to say, “yes”. Suddenly having a brainwave, he wondered if he could use the rope he had been carrying here. With an idea in his had he removed it from his shoulders, unravelling it to its full length. Taking one end, he moved to the opposite side to examine on of the iron structures ribs,; the torch light highlighted holes, a part of the simple design when the thing had been originally casted,

“That will do.” He said to himself as he fed on end through the hole and round. Making sure he had enough length fed, he them took the opposite end in an attempt to attach the door. Luckily the simple but utterly rusted handle provided an adequate fixing point as he ties the other end in a knot. The heavy brown rust, scraping across his hand as he did so, a signal to the amount of time passed since human interaction with the door,

“This had better work.” He thought to himself as he finished the knot. Making his way back to the other side again, he wrapped the fed through open end around his waist while putting his right leg up against the wall. Making sure he was stable, John proceeded to use the combination of his own body weight and the leverage provided by the iron rib to force the door open. It wasn’t a full proof plan, but there was nothing else better.

Applying pressure, he heaved and tugged, it wasn’t budging. He tried again, straining as he did so, still no give. Pausing to catch his breath he tried once more, focusing to gather all his strength in a concerted effort to force it open. He pulled again, heavier and harder than ever before, feeling it move ever so slightly he continued the pressure, even though the effort felt like it was killing him, he took encouragement from it. Suddenly, almost smoothly the rope slackened more and more, peering backwards through the darkness he could see the hatch opening. It was heavy, but it had worked.

Reaching down he grabbed a few stoned and bricks just lying around to place on top of the rope’s end to stop if from slamming shut once he let go. Once secure, he made his way to the hatch. Looking inside it was pitch black, but suddenly he could hear sounds, like extremely muffled voices. Turning his torch off and now in almost complete darkness, John totally relied on the sounds to guide him; there was no turning back as he pulled his pistol out yet again. Gingerly he proceeded to crawl through the hatch and into the void.

A darkened room lay at the other end of where the hatch led though to. A small windowless space, grotty apart from a few pipes lining the walls accompanied by air conditioning that was unreliable at best. Despite the small size, there was enough room for a small table in the centre, strapped to it was a man, tied and heavily restrained. Conscious, he struggled in silent vain to release himself from his capture. Sporting a bag over his head he had no idea of how to escape, but even so he wasn’t alone, a heavily built bald man stood over him obviously keeping watch over his captive. Discretely appearing in the shadows, John attentively looked on at the scene before him, as he saw the thug hold something in his right hand. It was hard to tell exactly what it was, perhaps a tool of some sort. Suddenly, raising it while totally unprovoked by the restrained man it became evidently clear what the object was, a hammer. High pitched cries of agony screeched across the room as the thug violently smashed it down onto the captive’s stomach, then face, like something out of a violent gangster movie, the bald mad continue to torture his prisoner without a shred of mercy. John has seen enough, pulling out his pistol with and no way of knowing if there were any others in the vicinity he was extremely restricted in his options.

With no silencer accompanying his firearm he had to take the stealthy approach and do it now. Silently and slowly John revealed himself, taking each step as lightly as he dared as he got closer to the criminal. Pausing, his eyes checked the walls for any shadows cast, a sure betrayal to his presence. Taking a few seconds while the thug was busy hitting the restrained man yet again, the screams ironically offered a mask to the sound of his approach as he positioned himself squarely behind him,

“Hello.” Said John quietly, causing the thug to spin round. Hudson hit him full force with the butt of his pistol in the face. The metal of the gun causing more damage than any physical punch, knocking the massive thug to the ground with a shuddering thud and out cold, giving John ample opportunity to free the trapped man. Having absolutely no idea who he was freeing, if he wanted info he had to find out. He began loosening the ropes,

“These are the same as the ones in the tunnel.” He thought to himself as his hands worked to unto the knots that made up the restraint. Now free the man sat up slowly, his clothes, distressed to the point where they could be considered rags hung of his body, but the bag was still on his head,

“Here, let me help you.” John said as he grabbed the bag. He pulled it off revealing the identity of the man he had just freed,

“Jack?!!” He whispered. Jack West, the man who had committed suicide before him, was staring him straight in the eyes. His face, bruised from the torture, but John was looking at something which should not be here,

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Asked Jack weakly,

“I’m looking at one.” Said John as he desperately tried to prevent stumbling back. Almost fainting from the shock, he recovered by moving closer to his friend. As the two briefly embraced in the sort of comradeship only seen in situations of mutual danger, questions raced through John’s mind. Unusually disoriented given the situation, he had no idea where to start,

“How the hell?…I mean why are you here?”

Jack knew exactly what his friend meant, “I came down here to find Bruenstein. But he found me.” The agony was beginning to get to him, but he carried on, “Him and his thugs, caught me and tied me to this table…I wasn’t careful enough.”

John still struggled to understand the context of this, “But you…I mean…you shot yourself.”

Jack continued, “I know this makes no sense, but believe me. Once Bruenstein had me here, he ordered one of his men to torture me, but he couldn’t go through with it. He went mad…he snapped his neck in rage, no hesitation, just did it. He ordered someone else to dump his body outside in the tunnel.”

“Yes I found the body.” Said John.

“Help me will you.” Jack asked as he tried to stand up. John, put his arm around his shoulder in support as Jack put his weight on his legs. Limping outwards toward the door, he turned to his partner,

“Let’s get out of here, back to Thames House.”

“Sounds good, just don’t ask me where I’ve parked the car.”

As they made their escape, there was one thing Jack needed to say,

“I think you have been through enough. I think now it’s about time for the truth.”

Looking into Jack’s eyes, John could tell it was not a lie. Suddenly his partner had changed, for this was the old Jack West that John knew, perhaps now at long last the facts would come out and some very big questions would finally be answered.

Chapter 20:

Thames House, the next day. The door to Harvey’s office opened as he walked in with both West and Hudson in tow. Jack, still bearing the scars of his injuries, but physically fit and now cleaned up with fresh clothes took up one of the leather seats in front of the desk. John sat down in the other one to his right while Harvey himself placed himself in his own seat; a lot needed to be explained,

“OK let’s begin. First off Jack, are you OK to resume?” Asked Harvey, opening the briefing,

“I’m fine, a little worse for wear, but I’m OK. I’ve been cleared by the medical officer to resume full duties.” West reassured his superior.

It was what Harvey wanted to hear, “Good, then I think it is time the real truth comes out.”

“Before we go any further I would like to apologise for the deceit. I know a lot of people were kept in the dark, but it was necessary.” Said West, aimed mainly to John. “We can now definitely say that Victor Bruenstein was ultimately responsible for orchestrating Peter Finnin’s murder.”

“How do we know this?” Asked John,

“Eavesdropping on conversations.” Replied Harvey. “Everything you have been through so far has actually been part of an operation codenamed ‘Sunshine’. Highly classified, maximum security.”

“Sunshine?” Asked John,

“Yes.”

Jack continued further, “Remember in Finnin’s Whitehall office, there was a safe?”

“Well yes, you said there wasn’t much of interest in it.” Recalled John,

“Well I lied. There was something of interest in that safe, a government file on Bruenstein himself. I procured it while you were out chasing that secretary.”

Suddenly one piece of the puzzle became clear to John, “Yes…I remember.”

“We received intelligence on David Finnin via the police.” Said Harvey, “Both he and Maxwell Grey were acquainted. I understand he was known for being somewhat volatile before his internship at Whitehall.”

Jack then continued the story to the best of his knowledge, “From what we know, David got wind of a plan by Bruenstein in wake of the King’s Cross bombing. Whatever was being planned, Bruenstein didn’t want any disruptions…so he had him watched in his lodgings in Finchley.”

“The gap in the fence in the back garden.” Recalled John,

“Exactly.” Confirmed West, “At some point he must have been approached by Bruenstein’s men, tortured in some way and made to ingest some kind of poisonous concoction to cause madness.”

“And divulge access to Peter Finnin at the same time.” Concluded Hudson. Now bits were becoming a little clearer, and a logical conclusion was divulged,

“So that would explain why David went mad in Southampton and committed suicide.” He said. Harvey then butted in again and picked up the story,

“David’s torturers, including a deceased man called Carey were also Peter Finnin’s killers.”

“How do we know this?” Asked John,

“From police confessional files. Obtained during interview after their arrest in the pub over in Lewisham.”

“Yes and there is a connection here between Whitehall and Lewisham.” Remarked Jack tantalisingly, “In Finnin’s safe the government Bruenstein file was not the only thing I found. There was also evidence linking another individual to a plot, a senior government minister, the Secretary of State for Health.”

“He was outside the hospital in Lewisham.” Said John,

“I know, I was inside and spotted them remember.”

Harvey then cut in again, “So this new Bruenstein plot uncovers corruption in the very highest levels of government.”

This was all quite shocking, but it seemed to explain many things. But to John there were still aspects that were very much unclear,

“Why on earth is a government minister involved with Bruenstein in the first place?”

“Information from other sources suggest, quite credibly that Bruenstein may be planning some kind of audacious overthrow of the government.” Said Harvey