Three Faces of West (2013) (4 page)

“No that’s it. I’ll be in touch if there’s any development.”

“Good,” Said Jack, “Come on John time to get back.”

The two men left the room, pounding through the busy office toward the lift they had just emerged from. Arriving swiftly thus allowing entry by the two men in double quick fashion, and once inside, turning round to hit the control panel Jack gazed out to where they had just come from. Directly in his line of sight, yards back he could not help but see Waterson staring from across the office. This non-verbal but suspiciously disturbing encounter was only broken by the automatic shutting of the doors.

Thames House, 11:27am, West and Hudson arrived back to their office complex within the building. Still busy, but slightly more ordered was the mood but that did not concern them at the moment. They knew they had to report this new evidence and they got the chance. In the main office their superior, the section chief, Charles Harvey could be found, a tall man in his early fifties, slightly overweight nothing unusual for his age. Characterised by his trademark three-piece suit, he turned round to greet both West and Hudson as they returned from Scotland Yard,

“What did you find out?” He asked,

“Well, we spoke to an Inspector Waterson of the special branch; he was there at the robbery. He says the police seem to think that the robbery at the Duke of Westminster’s apartment and the atrocity at King’s Cross were linked. They are also confident that the explosions were terrorist related and not accidental.”

“That’s the conclusion we have reached as well. There’s got to be more to it than this.”

Jack continued, “He also showed evidence that the stolen Cullinan brooch recovered was in fact a fake, and a pretty crap one at that.”

Section Chief Harvey seemed surprised at that,

“Then there is more to it than this.” He remarked,

“That makes the robbery definitely a security issue and not just a police matter.” Said John,

“Yes,” Replied Harvey, “There’s something I want you to do. Go to Whitehall and brief a man called Peter Finnin, he’s a junior home office minister, a sort of intelligence attache to the security service. Not the Home Secretary I’m afraid, you haven’t got clearance for that. Go and brief him on your findings, then come back here and amend your report.”

“Whereabouts is it in Whitehall?” Asked John,

“It’s a small section in the Cabinet Offices at 70 Whitehall.” Replied Harvey.

West and Hudson agreed, John imputed the directions into his smartphone as the two turned tail and headed straight back out of the exit. The city was still in chaos, and it made the act of keeping the government in the loop all the more vital.

Chapter 3:

The Cabinet Office, 70 Whitehall, 12:51pm, Whitehall itself was hard enough to get down the best of times, especially at lunchtime. This day however was different, the usually busy street lined by huge office blocks as a statement to central government power was strangled by traffic diverted and bottlenecked in the capital due to the incident not two miles away. Arriving amidst the honking of horns and the frustration of commuters, West and Hudson approached the main Cabinet Office outside the public entrance just round the corner from Downing Street itself.

Going up the white stone steps and through the tall doors felt a little like going through the famous black door in Downing Street itself. Indeed the buildings were linked and to both West and Hudson, they were entering the very heart of government. As soon as they both came off the street and crossed the threshold they were greeted with a grand entrance hall well lit and well-staffed,

“May I help you?” Asked an authoritative voice. A stern business like lady approached, a real conservative type, obviously a senior civil servant playing gatekeeper to anyone who strayed in from outside,

“Yes,” Said West, “We have an appointment with a Mr Finnin.”

“And you are?” She replied,

“Jack West and this John Hudson. We are here from MI5, D Branch. Counter Intelligence. We were told to report here regarding a high profile robbery incident this morning.”

Discretely producing small identifications proved to the civil servant that what they spoke was the truth. The lady softened somewhat as a result,

“If you would like to follow me, I’ll show you to his private office.”

They both followed her down a long spacious corridor, full of bland walls lined with dark, heavy oak doors.

Getting to Finnin’s private office took a few minutes such was the complexity of the building. Seemingly less busy in this area made is easier to get to where they needed to be as their guide led them through a door and into an adjacent office,

“These two men are from counter intelligence, here to see Mr Finnin,” She said to a secretary who was at that moment sat at a desk dealing with something administrative. Appearing rather flustered, or could that be stress, and obviously lower down the career ladder in the Civil Service, she rose rather obediently to greet John and Jack,

“Good afternoon, I’m Carol. Do you have an appointment?” She asked rather candidly while shaking the two men’s hands. By now the other lady had departed to attend to her other duties,

“We are here to brief Mr Finnin on a robbery that occurred this morning.” Said John,

“I believe he should be expecting us.” Added Jack, “Is he in?”

“I’ll just go and see if he’s available. If you would like to wait here.”

“Thank you.” Said Jack in a polite tone as Carol disappeared into the adjoining main office. In the brief few seconds that they were both alone, both men savoured their surroundings. The office was a mix of all the trappings of modern technology and fine classical architecture. The paintings on the wall, the 18
th
century leather bound volumes in a closed bookcase along one side of the room, the large secretary’s desk with the modern flat screen monitor coupled with the large filing cabinets. It was all very nice,

“AAARRRGGGHHH!!!” A scream shrieked out from the Finnin’s office. Both West and Hudson instinctively reacted by both looking at each other in the briefest of glances before rushing through the door to the source of the noise.

What greeted them was a sight of pure horror. Peter Finnin sat at his desk slumped in his chair obviously dead and surrounded by disturbances giving clues as to whatever happened. It was an extremely distressing sight as the body had clearly been mutilated in situ and that was the first thing that struck anyone who saw this. Directly in front of the door stood the assistant Carol, frozen in terror as to what was before her. As West and Hudson entered behind her apart from the terrible scene Hudson noticed her expression, here dark brown eyes wide open unable to take her gaze off the body yet mentally tortured by the scene. Beginning to tremble was the cue for West to open arms as she turned away; shaking like a leaf was the proper bodily response. Jack though for a second,

“Go and call the police.” He said to her in a reassuring tone. Without looking back she exited the office to make the call obviously, almost desperately trying to compose herself,

“Well,” Said John, “This is something else.”

“Go outside and ask if our political friend has anything of value here.” Asked Jack,

“You think this has similarities to the Cullinan diamond robbery earlier today?” Asked John,

“Probably, go and ask her”.

John went back out to the secretary’s office. By now Carol had composed herself somewhat slightly, but she was still shaking. In the process of picking up the phone, John appeared to interrupt,

“Excuse me,” He said lightly, “What was Mr Finnin’s role here?”

The secretary paused briefly as if she was thinking of an answer. Her state of mind was understandable but it still seemed a little suspicious nonetheless,

“He was the seconded to non-terrorist security matters from the home office. His job was to brief senior civil servants and ministers on potential security threats.”

“How did he do that?” Pressed John,

“He based his briefs directly from people like you, the security services and also from GCHQ. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to call the police.”

John wasn’t going to get much out her at this stage, in frustration he went back to join West who was at that time busy utilising his police background before he joined MI5 to disseminate the scene. Just like he had done earlier at the Duke of Westminster’s apartment,

“I’m not getting much out of her Jack, she doesn’t seem all that cagey, can’t tell if there is anything of value here.”

“There must be a motive here, something to commit this crime.” Responded West.

Hudson cut in, “But what? It’s not for us. We need to leave this for the law, not the security service.”

John’s remarks fell on Jack’s deaf ears. He was far too engrossed in the surroundings. Walking over to the desk did not deter him from interfering in the situ of a crime scene as he knelt down to examine something. Hudson looked on as the West could see that there was broken glass scattered down one side of the desk. At first glance it seemed rather ordinary, like from a tumbler or something similar, but it wasn’t, it had a pattern and a regular one at that. This gave the fragments some kind of structure,

“This is no drinking glass,” He said, “We are not looking at something that was knocked over by accident on the edge of this desk.”

“What do you mean?” Asked Hudson.

“Look at the grooves in the glass John, see that?”

“Yes,” said Hudson, “I’ll tell you what that looks like-‘

West turned to look at his friend; he already knew the answer,

“A decanter.” He said.

Jack, rising to his feet could not help but face the body in front of him. It was his next obvious target for investigation. Looking around the body in close proximity was a quite gruesome task, there were signs, some stark others not so. The attention immediately focused on Finnin’s hands as they were situated on the chair arms,

“Look at that.” Said John.

West examined closer, all four fingers and the thumb of the right hand were clearly bent in an unnatural way. It was if someone had placed his hands in a vice and turned the screw in some king of morbid, sadistic torture method,

“They’ve been crushed.” Said West noticing the left hand had suffered the same fate as the right one,

“They both have.” Hudson pointed out.

Just as John made the remark Jack, now looking at the left hand noticed something which only a former detective like him could have seen. Finnin’s white shirt sleeve and grey polyester suit had ridden up slightly given the posture of the body and this gave him a peek at his left wrist. Squinting to focus Jack made out through the forearm hair a pattern of the skin. Parallel lines and the reddish mark of a buckle.

“This man used to wear a watch!” He said, “John, see that? Look there, the mark of a watch strap.”

“Oh yes, but where is it?”

“That’s what I want to know” Replied West.

Once they had examined the hands, both men’s inquisitiveness carried them inexorably toward the rest of the body. The torso was one thing that stood out. The red tie, skewed at one side led to the white shirt pulled open at the buttons to reveal the meaty flesh of the torso. The stomach area, hairy, had been slashed violently to create open wounds filled with and seeping fresh blood down the body. These cuts were deep and recent indicating an infliction of incredible and tortuous pain on the individual. The events were shocking enough if John hadn’t noticed one very significant detail,

“Look, his arms have been tied to the chair” He said rather excitedly. It was an important discovery,

“Then this proves Mr Finnin was restrained while tortured.” Remarked Jack.

Indeed his forearms had been tied to the chair arms by thin lengths of hessian. It was not immediately obvious as the hessian lengths ware applied quite tightly to prevent any leeway in the movement of the arms. Whoever did this clearly did not want to afford their captive the opportunity of movement.

“Like something out of a horror movie.” West commented.

“Yes.” Agreed Hudson, remorsefully.

Jack quickly got to his feet. Looking around the room he quickly spots something to draw his attention. Walking over to the nearby cabinet, Jack clearly senses something here but there doesn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary on the outset. A few books on a shelf, files and the like, nothing unofficial except for one thing West noticed at the side, the drinks cabinet minus the decanter,

“This is where the decanter came from.” He said.

John agreed, but just as West turned round something else caught his eye, it wasn’t big, but just visible enough to draw the attention of a searching mind,

“What’s this?” Asked Jack as he drew closer, whatever it was it appeared to be a small silver door,

“A safe, it’s a safe John.”

It was not meant to be opened easily, there appeared to be a combination lock on the front to prevent any unauthorised tampering. West thought about trying to gain access, but his police and intelligence background taught him that it may be alarmed, and a silent one at that. Jack wanted to investigate further, however their misfortune came to the fore as Carol the assistant came to the door. Going no further, she clearly found it extremely distressing to be in the same room as the deceased,

“The police are on their way.” She said while looking furtively at the corpse. John turned to her knowing what Jack wanted to ask. He thought he would get in first,

“Do you know what is in this safe?” He asked,

“No.” Was the reply. John suspected dishonesty here so decided to probe further,

“We would like to investigate but the safe is locked by a combination. Are you aware of this?”

Carol hesitated for a second before replying,

“I’m aware of the security code required for that safe, but I would be happier giving it to the police rather that you.”

“Why is that?” Queried John,

“Because I don’t. Look I’d really rather wait until the police arrive.”

She seemed very tense, almost agitated as to the line of questioning. Clearly Carol did not want to be probed in this way. John sensing this decided to employ a bit of reverse psychology by asking a different question,