The Whitehall Syndicate: A time travel conspiracy thriller Page 4

  He had volunteered his own prints but unfortunately, with today's sophisticated duplicate software, it wasn't quite that simple. Jack's brother worked in a security office close to the area, and as he’d discovered yesterday, it would be necessary to pay him a visit.

  Fingerprint searches not related to active cases had to be authorised by senior staff so Jack hoped that his brother maybe able to help. After all, he had access to the entire central database.

  Jack’s forehead broke into a frown. According to the audio instructions, he had to operate anonymously. ‘Great,’ he thought sarcastically, ‘just one more obstacle to contend with.’ Accessing records would be difficult enough without having to keep it anonymous.

  As Anisha took another step, the floor creaked noisily and Jack turned in her direction, taking off the earphones. “Morning.”

  “Hey. You still playing that FLD?”

  “Yeah I'm trying to place the voice. I don't recognise it at all.” It was itching at him. The identity of this man was a complete mystery. He didn't even have an inkling as to who it was. He kept racking his brain but nothing was coming to mind.

  They heard the soft patter of Gina skulking down the stairs and walked over to her. It occurred to Anisha that Gina was in smart clothes, and Jack had wet hair so he must've come from the shower. She was the last one up. Gina whispered to Anisha that she had to go to work, and her comrade could immediately tell she didn't want to. Her voice was hoarse, her tone apologetic.

  To Gina, it was as if she was abandoning her best friend at the worst possible time. Even so, she couldn’t help feeling a little nervous about going out by herself- especially with such dangerous people around. But with Big Brother having eliminated the fraudulent sick day, what choice did she have?

  They all said goodbye and promised to call when they had some news. With Gina deserting the flat, Anisha trekked upstairs to the shower, while Jack rewound the file and played it yet again.

  In the grimy, basement level car park, a young man with spiked blonde hair sat in his car listening to the horse races. The threat of rain later on had forced them to start early. There wasn't much interest in horse racing anymore, since gambling had slowly been phased out of society.

  With time travel possible, you could go back in time knowing the winner and place your bet with complete confidence. It had taken the whole purpose out of it. He just liked the thrill of it though. Even without the money laid down, he still enjoyed the race.

  Looking at his watch now, he saw it was quarter past ten. As if on cue, Green opened up the other door of the large silver Sedan and hastily entered. “Here's the latest report from the lab,” uttered Klaus dryly, staying calm and professional. The MP took the folder and began leafing through it.

  “The laboratory contract expires in a few weeks Klaus. This is your last report. I trust you'll be wanting your money.”

  “If it's not too much bother,” smiled the German slimily, in the process showing off his pearl white teeth. Green got out an envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to him.

  “There's a little extra in there, just to make sure your lips stay sealed.”

  “I won't say anything to anyone.”

  “I know you won't.” Green slipped out of the car and began to walk away hurriedly checking left and right as he went.

  Looking down at his envelope, the blonde odd job man opened it up with rabid impatience. He knew something was wrong when he saw a flashing red light instead of a wad of cash. That was the last thought he ever had. Behind Green the front of the car exploded in a crescendo of violent noise.

  From the front seat came a small flash of dirty flame, which was quickly engulfed in dense clouds of smoke raging outwards, and masking the thick film of blood and brain matter left lining the interior. With a handkerchief over his mouth, the Chancellor ducked out of the way through a small door and was gone before anyone ever had the chance of seeing him.

  Jack and Anisha walked into the towering glass building on Druid Street. As they went up the escalator, they overlooked children playing in a small grassy field, probably part of the nearby school. The innocence of the schoolyard stood in direct contrast to the events of the last few days. The thought made them both shudder.

  The pair reached Bob's floor and Jack walked out of the lift. Finding himself in a safe, familiar place, a small sigh of relief quietly escaped his lips. The room was packed and busy, with hideous olive green partitions separating the space into small cubicles. The soft hum of office machinery hung gently in the background, like an army of bees working cautiously.

  As they approached Bob's cubicle, he didn't see them until the last minute. With a shocked expression he greeted his brother, and his friend. “Aren't you on vacation man? What are you doing here? I'm working. Oh hey if you wanna hang out tonight I'd love to but I can't. I'm hanging out with the other you!” He let loose a hearty chuckle.

  That was Bob, always laughing. Garrulous, even with people he didn't know. It was a gift that won him more than his share of ladies, and was something Jack had always been jealous of. Anisha introduced herself and Bob thought back to years ago, vaguely remembering her as Jack's friend. He was about to start some more joking but a quick look at their sober faces swayed him against it.

  After some more light banter, a very serious Jack asked Bob to come with them into the elevator. Crossing the vast corporate jungle they got in and the pair began to explain what was going on. This was no easy task since they themselves weren't entirely sure. As if to drive the point home, once they were done, Bob too looked worried.

  “And you have no idea who these people are?”

  “None at all.”

  “We can't go to the police either,” chimed in Anisha. “We have to work this out ourselves.”

  Hearing his brother was in trouble, Bob was more than eager to help. The elevator reached floor twenty-seven, Criminalistics. As they got out, they walked into a huge cave-like computer room, ominously signposted as 'The Main Hive.' There were security guards all around them, six in total, all dressed in standard cyan uniforms with their badges clearly visible. From their rigid pose and serious gaze, as well as their advancing age, Jack, guessed they were ex-members of the TPU - the Time Police Unit.

  The TPU had been a government plan to reduce crime by sending agents back in time after a crime had occurred, in a bid to spy on the suspects and the victim and thus work out who was responsible. Unfortunately higher arrest rates didn’t act as the deterrent the government was hoping for, and the cost of finding and hiring all those agents and as well as the price of their constant time travelling, was enough to effectively terminate the project.

  As the pair followed Bob into the room on the right, they found themselves enclosed by lab rats. Jack wagered that every single person in this room had at least a degree in Temporal Sociology and probably a lot more besides. Jack had never been the brightest at school and all he knew about time travel was the bare minimum. Given how much it had hurt his head learning the very basics at college, he was in no way curious, nor eager to learn anymore.

  Bob showed the others down several white, maze-like corridors. After checking that no-one was watching, they went past a swipe card door and entered a new set of corridors, these ones with black, claustrophobic walls.

  Walking along, Jack pondered the inevitability of his fate and thought about the cardinal rule of time travel. When you go back in time you can't cause any new major events or stop any major ones from occurring. Jack was pretty sure his death was a major event, at least to him. Even if he did what was being asked of him, was he still going to die?

  His stream of thought was interrupted by a tug from Anisha, pulling him into a small side room with Bob. In front of them was a dark blue access terminal.

  “We better be quick. We’re not supposed to be down here without my supervisor knowing.“

  In the interests of public privacy, government fingerprint archive terminals all required two passwords, hence the
need to rope in Bob. Fluttering around, the pair of security experts hurriedly began looking through files while a nervous Jack stood watch, sweating and struggling to maintain his calm. Just as he was starting to relax, he heard footsteps and everyone immediately froze, ears strained intently and hearts racing.

  It was her lunch break and Gina was casually walking down the road, on her way to the market. She'd long since given up taking lunch from home or buying overpriced processed food from the nearby shops. Getting fresh fruit from the market had become her routine, and no-one questions somebody with a routine. She checked for anyone following her and after a few seconds was convinced she was alone. She hoped that shopping might ease the tension that was strangling her, but in the back of her mind she knew that it wouldn't work.

  Every now and then she looked back at her phone. Still no word from Anisha. She wondered if anything had happened. Anisha was usually the first person to call you up for any reason. She shuffled those paranoid thoughts out of her head. There was probably nothing to report, that's all. Wandering through the stalls, Gina's gaze was directed to a black ski mask. She was tempted and made a mental note to come back later on.

  As she continued through the market she got the feeling that someone was watching her. It was just jitters of course, but it didn't make it seem any less real. To reassure herself she reached into her purse and felt the cold handle of her ZGH-47 pistol: an old present from Anisha. If it came down to it, she knew what she had to do.

  Tap Tap. The footsteps were definitely getting closer now, accompanied by the off key whistling of a security guard. Jack knew they couldn't talk to each other without giving away where they were but he had to do something, so he began gesturing emphatically, only to be met with faces of confusion. They all ducked low and stacked up behind the far wall of the minute room. There was a tiny table just to the left of the door and they struggled to pack themselves underneath it, clamouring desperately to get out of the line of sight.

  The tapping was getting louder. Peeking out through the wire-enforced safety glass, Jack suddenly saw a face. He jumped back and nearly let out a small shriek, with Anisha managing to cover his mouth just in time. The guard shone his flashlight from outside the window, so far unaware of the three people just outside his view.

  Inside, the light danced around as if it were possessed, flying over the matt grey-blue walls, delving deep into the boxes stacked up by the far wall and finally wandering over the top of the battered old table.

  Jack's eyes began to wander and in a split second he thought it was all over: he was staring straight into the guard's eyes and the guard was staring straight back at his. His heart sank and his body numbed as he imagined what would happen now. This was it. For sure it was all over now. Not being able to move or say anything, he just stood there waiting for his fate.

  A few long seconds passed. Maybe the guard hadn't seen him. Maybe he was looking at something else. As the footsteps began again, Jack let out a sigh of relief. Glancing back at the others, it was clear from their expressions they were still waiting; cautiously making sure the guard was well clear.

  Jack was sweating again, his nerves frayed and Anisha's hot body pressed up against his, burning him up. A tickly feeling began to grow in Bob's nose. He tried to ignore it. It grew more and more forceful, etching at the skin. Moving it from side to side didn't help. His hands were wedged in an awkward position and he couldn't get them free.

  A second went by and it became just too much for him to contain; with an almighty sneeze, he shattered the still silence. Everyone became rigid, beads of sweat trickling freely off their worried faces. The guard was still close, and they could hear the patting of his feet stop. Had he gone? Was he frozen in his tracks?

  The next few seconds seemed to drag on for an eternity. Silent prayers cycled through Bob's head. Finally the patter began again, fading away. He was gone. They all remained a while longer just in case then eventually shuffled up from their hiding place. No one said a word after that; they simply went back to work.

  Green washed off his hands, rubbing the soapy lather in and scrubbing ferociously. There was probably nothing that could trace him to the explosion but he wanted to remove all doubt. It was nearly lunchtime, which meant he still had half a day of meetings left. He frowned at the impending ritual of smiling like a puppet while he listened to lowly politicians drone. What made it was worse was being forced to disagree with them and regurgitate the opinions of the cabinet heads.

  Still, that was nothing more than a mild irritation, and only one issue currently occupied his mind. Klaus' report from his privately hired science group. The pieces were all coming together. All he had to do was stay alert and soon his grand plan would be complete.

  Riding back up the elevator they laughed about how close they'd come to getting caught. Everyone was fine now, and Bob was heading back to his cubicle. He wanted to go with them but he knew he couldn't, the same way Gina had known she had to go to work this morning. The law was clear that you had to work. If you called in sick it was inevitable that you were checked on, so taking days off was a risky business.

  With the new right having entirely taken over, your job was all you had. You weren't going to get any government support and with mean education and qualification levels constantly rising, finding a new one would be nearly impossible. All Gina and Bob could do was go back to work, to keep their jobs and their livelihoods. There was no need for Bob to go with them anyway. Anisha had already downloaded Jack's fingerprint onto her phone. All that was left was to say their goodbyes and leave.

  On the way down the colossal glass elevator, a bolt of inspiration struck Anisha. If the shooter was at the Café during the incident, then the cameras might have recorded him in action. She was authorised to access the logs from any branch so she quickly explained the idea to Jack. With his approval, she pushed the button marked thirty-five to go and search them on the top floor. The lift seemed to climb up painfully slowly, taking them closer and closer to the clouds. Finally it chimed to a halt and the duo walked out.

  Flashing her badge to the large African lady at the desk, she headed through to the computer room, Jack in tow. She logged onto the machine and after inputting the area, date and time, a 'SEARCHING' banner came up. There was a pause and Jack began nervously drumming his fingers on the desk. Finally the screen flashed: NO RESULTS FOUND. “That can’t be right,” muttered Anisha and tried it again. Jack had a bad feeling about this that sunk down into the pit of his stomach. Again, NO RESULTS FOUND.

  Springing up without so much as an explanation, she went back to the woman at the help desk and asked her for the user log file. The woman passed her an FLD.

  “What's going on?” asked Jack dumbfoundedly.

  “There's no video for the cameras we want. The data is supposed to be stored for at least a month; it's a strict legal requirement. It should be there.”

  “So what are you doing now?”

  “There's no log for each camera so instead I'm looking at who accessed camera's in a one mile radius in the last twenty four hours.” The machine beeped, causing her to frown. “The log's been emptied as well. Wait let me try the backup.” Jack watched in admiration as her fingers shot over the keys. Beautiful and smart. “Okay I think I have it,” she said.

  “One of these people deleted the camera pictures. That means one of these people is working with those men that shot at us. Have a look at the list.” Jack's eyes scanned over the set of eighteen names. He didn't recognise a single one. “I don't see anyone familiar,” he said grudgingly. A hard lump formed in the back of Anisha's throat as she hoarsely whispered, “I do.”

  She pointed at the screen, to the penultimate name on the list. ZOE GHOSH. “It's my TSN pseudonym for when I log in through my home terminal. Only two people have access to that machine and since I haven’t been home in almost twenty-four hours…” For a second her voice trailed off. “The main machine is password protected. The only other person who could’ve acces
sed it is my flatmate Pete.”

  Chapter 5

  As they made their way through the grimy streets, weary waves of disorientation crashed at the two of them. Their minds were troubled; even causing distraction from the stench of the homeless men as they passed the alcoves by the bridge. Anisha and Jack slowly walked up to Gina's flat, confused and paranoid. If Pete was out to get him, how did Jack know that Gina wasn't too? Or even Anisha? Who could he actually trust anymore?

  He had to be careful: after all his life was on the line. Anisha was quiet, the feeling of betrayal clear in her deep brown eyes. Reaching the familiar red door, they noticed something taped onto it: another envelope. Jack spotted it first and jogged up to grab it. He didn't bother looking around, assumed the culprit was hours away by now.

  Tearing it open, he tipped out the folded paper inside. It was written in the same type as the first note he'd got, and sent the same shiver down his back. “What's it say?” inquired Anisha. Jack read it aloud. “In your hotel room is a briefcase with the necessary information.” Jack paused, deep in thought. Anisha stood by him, reading the fear in his eyes. The sun suddenly began to shine, bathing them in an unpleasantly intense golden yellow.

  Jack began having doubts about retrieving the briefcase immediately. Just the thought of the hotel left him with a sick feeling. Even though he knew that realistically it was no less safe than the flat, it still scared him. It was where this had all began and in some way, his mind now associated it with fear and bad luck.

  Events so far had convinced him that whoever was behind this needed him to assassinate Michael Green so they couldn't kill him. Yet. But that didn't mean they couldn't do some pretty nasty things to him first. Just like that all the possible methods of torture began cycling through his mind, filling his ears with imaginary screams. He gulped, trying to swallow his doubts, and then scratched his stubbly chin. Before he entered the flat he told Anisha he planned to go to the hotel.