The Whitehall Syndicate: A time travel conspiracy thriller Read online

  “But he had the videos, they proved it wasn't him didn't they?”

  “Yeah but that's just it. He gets accused and just happens to have those videos with him? Isn't that a bit co-incidental? You know what, I'm probably just being paranoid.” With that she continued her walk back towards Pete's room and, taking a hard gulp, Jack did the same. As they reached the room they ran into Anisha walking out.

  “What are you doing?” asked Gina.

  “I had a word with him, you know. Told him what's going on and why we…why you did what you did,” she explained. “He does understand, it's just,” she paused, “he needs some time to make sense of everything.”

  Avoiding an awkward situation suited Jack fine, and the three of them all shuffled back outside the hospital, away from the septic odour and dim lights, to take in a mouthful of fresh night air. Getting back into their blue-grey minicab, they rode back to Anisha's apartment in silence.

  The pigeons cooed and the clouds rumbled threateningly as Green came downstairs to make a cup of coffee. The kitchen was marbled and tiled, in line with the rest of the house, and the stone felt cold on his bare feet. Moving into the living room he grabbed the remote and flicked on the television to hear the news as he boiled some water. Silently and subtlety, a shadow flashed across the large double window, too fast for him to notice. He quickly put some bread in his toaster and returned to the news: a technical problem once again holding back the latest NASA launch into space.

  As the adverts started playing, Green muted the TV and attended to his coffee machine. Selecting white with two sweeteners he watched as coffee poured into the mug below. The cup was virtually molten, but Green was used to it and swigged half of it down straight away. A crackling sound from the front lawn fractured the silence and Green poked his head next to the window to investigate. A garden was a rare thing to have living in London. They'd virtually become extinct in the capital as space became more and more precious. Looking over now, he saw his rose bush outside had been trampled. Probably his neighbour's dog he thought, though he didn't see Tazzie around anywhere.

  Not wanting to get unnerved, he turned the television back on and sat down with his coffee. His eyebrows furrowed as he heard the back door creak. It was warm this morning and he couldn't remember if he'd left it open or not. Pop. Green flinched and for a second he could feel his heart rattling in his ribcage. Glancing across he saw the toast was ready. Trying to calm himself down, he turned the television off, and breathed in and out to dissipate his jangling nerves.

  He lived in an open house, with no doors joining the lower rooms. Slowly walking in to the living room he saw a piece of dirty white paper sitting on the doormat. As he edged forward he could smell something rancid. It got stronger as he closed in on the note, until he was fighting his eyes from watering. On the paper, in a murky red and brown colour, was the message WE KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING. It was written in a vile paste of excrement and blood.

  He covered his mouth with one hand and picked up the sheet from the corner using the other. Hurriedly walking across to his study, he yanked at the ivory handle and opened the desk drawer to reveal a heap of other notes. WE KNOW YOUR SECRET, THE TRUTH WILL COME OUT, MURDERER, WE KNOW, and many more. He slipped in the latest to the collection and wiggled the drawer shut with a heavy breath.

  The desk had a plush antique style with an ivory finish and it left him with an odd sense of guilt, storing something so disgusting inside something so perfect. Still it made no sense reporting it. It would only draw unwanted attention. Leaving his office, Green headed for the kitchen sink to wash his hands. For today, he would have to cut breakfast short.

  The rhythmic pitter-patter of the rain woke up Jack; now resting on Anisha's plush blue sofa. She was in her room and Gina quietly lay on Pete's bed. Looking at the clock across the hallway he gasped as he saw it was almost noon. He had already wasted half of his day. On the other hand, with the last two nights free of sleep, perhaps a lie in this morning was justified.

  From the hush it seemed like the girls were also sleeping off their fatigue. He twisted a bit and shuffled down the couch to get more comfortable. His stomach felt hollow and yearned for a good meal. Maybe he'd cook something today, to apologise to Anisha for putting her in this position with Pete.

  The pressure seemed to be off him a little today. He hadn't received a suitcase or shoebox or any other creepy messages in the night and for the first time in his vacation - if you could still call it that - he seemed to have some control over what was going on. He had some sort of a game plan and it felt like he understood properly what was at stake.

  Concluding that sleep was a lost cause, he stretched and took in a long yawn. With the minimum of effort, Jack hauled himself off the couch. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes to clear up his vision. His body was athletic and well toned but right now it felt tired and beaten. Walking across the room to where his jacket lay slumped, he pulled out the small booklet on using a knife, and wandered into the kitchen to get one.

  The floor was covered in linoleum, patterned to match the wood grain of the rest of the flooring. Searching the drawers slowly to make the minimum of noise, he finally found one and tiptoed back to the living room. Checking to see that no one was around, he began to read the booklet, and at the same time practise.

  Kim's bloodshot eyes softly focused on the huge queue for the coffee machine. Everyone in the lab looked like the living dead. She shuffled into line, not too happy at having to spend her lunch break waiting for coffee when she could be draped on a couch in the staff lounge. But she, like half the lab, desperately needed the caffeine.

  All of a sudden, even though she couldn't see anything, she sensed someone behind her. She could feel their body heat radiating as they slowly crept up. What if Adam had blabbed about their conversation? It could be her bosses telling her she's fired, or worse…. terminated. She gulped and took a deep breath, but remained anxious. Out of nowhere she felt a sharp stab at her left shoulder.

  Almost yelping out, she just managed to contain herself and jerked around by reflex.

  “Hey Kim. Great night yesterday.” She let out a slow, relieved breath.

  “Yeah Imran, it was fun. Today's not so great though.”

  He grinned and said, “Well in my opinion you can always tell how good a night was by how bad you feel the next morning.” She smiled and allowed herself a gentle laugh.

  “Then I guess last night was awesome!”

  He did another Cheshire Cat grin and added, “You know the best bit. Thanks to time travel, I got to have my birthday twice!”

  “Does that make you a year older?” The both chuckled.

  She was at the front of the queue now and filled a huge cup of black coffee to the brim. Seeing that the staff lounge had somehow become packed solid, she instead retreated to the calm of her office. Occupying her desk was the summary of what the team had found out so far about decay rates. She leafed through the report, this time thinking about energy release and Chronotrons.

  Jack was in a pair of dark beige and olive green khaki's with a black T-shirt on top. Gina had chosen a fruity, stripy top with assorted colours, and a pair of long dark blue jeans, both borrowed from Anisha. The two of them were furiously tidying up now, waiting for Pete to return home with her. Anisha had suggested that now they knew Pete was trustworthy, it would be safer if the four of them all stayed at her apartment.

  Since Anisha already had a spare key for Gina's flat, she had decided to pick up some of their things on the way back from the hospital. As the bell rang, everyone clamoured for the door, wanting to make a good impression. They still had a lot to make up for, Jack in particular. The photographer entered the spick and span apartment, immediately greeted by two smiling faces, eager to make amends.

  Pete could be stern and cruel when he wanted to be, but in general he was an easygoing guy. He knew lots of friends who had made mistakes and he was the first to forgive them all. Jack stepped up to him and shook his hand, lo
oking solemn. “Listen, about last night. I am so sorry-,”

  “It's okay,” interjected Pete softly, “I get it.” They both looked relieved as the tension eased, and then Anisha helped Pete into his room. It was cleaner than it had ever been before: all the magazines had been stacked away and all the FLDs and camera equipment neatly stored out of view.

  Pete crashed onto his king-size mattress, tired and slightly sore from his stay on a hospital bed. He was glad to be out of there and for now he just wanted to rest. The doorbell rang and he heard the quiet, muffled sound of Gina shouting, “I'll get it.” Arching back, Pete didn't even bother to get changed. He simply closed his eyes and heard Anisha say “That's right mate, get some rest.”

  “I'll try,” he replied, in a playful, mocking voice. His eyes were still closed but somehow he knew she was smiling. Then he felt her warm lips on his forehead as she kissed him to sleep.

  Anisha walked back out of the room and tiptoed down the stairs before casually yelling, “So who was at the door?” She came into the living room to find Jack and Gina looking stunned. In between them was an elderly man with wispy white stubble and a sizeable bald patch on his crown.

  She paused, waiting for him to introduce himself. “Hello my dear,” he finally said, his voice slightly weak but full of charm. “I'm Michael Green. I've come from the future.”

  Chapter 7

  Kim walked into the quiet car park. It was the basement level and the low ceilings and fleeting shadows conjured up a claustrophobic edge to the darkness. A few vehicles remained parked but the majority were gone by now. As she walked to her car she could hear her heels resonating against the hard floor. The car park was chilly and the delicate hairs on her arms stood on end. She listened to her heels. Click Clickety Click Clickety Click Clickety Click. The rhythmic sound was almost soothing. Click Clickety Click Clickety Thud Thud.

  She stopped dead in her tracks and listened intently. Another pair of shoes walked a few more steps before stopping too. Snapping her head right and left, her gaze swept over the giant concrete structure. There were a few cars obscuring her view but it appeared empty. She was just paranoid. Nobody knew she was here. She wasn't going to get caught.

  Walking again, she heard nothing further except her own feet. It must have been her imagination. Even so, she found her frayed nerves had her pacing more rapidly. Reaching Dr Lewis' car she plunged into her pocket and fished out the keys she had swiped off his desk a few minutes ago. Her nerves were taut as piano wire now, and the cocktail of excitement and fear was making her giddy.

  She glimpsed around one more time and, convinced she was alone, yanked opened the door. Reaching into his car she pulled out a bundle of paper scraps from his glove compartment. Hopefully this was what she was after. With a step back, she placed the stack of paper on the roof and used it as a counter-top to sort through them. Most were unpaid parking tickets, newspaper articles or other irrelevant titbits. Then a red-paged document caught her eye, with the title: MICHAEL GREEN PROJECT.

  She reached over to grab it but her hand only got halfway. With a flash of black sinking across both eyes, a piece of fishing line whipped round her throat without obstruction, pressing down violently on her soft skin. A jagged, burning pain took hold of her throat and she felt herself gagging. Floundering her hands around, she trying desperately to tear off the wire or hit whoever was behind her.

  Her body was aching now, being leached of oxygen. Her head was light and she felt like giving up. Flailing like a fish on a hook she began to taste blood in her mouth. It felt oddly sweet on her aching, smouldering throat, the friction becoming scorching. As small streams of brilliant red drooled from her mouth, her muscles relinquished all energy and her eyes glazed over. Her limp body, released of its hold, sagged lifelessly to the ground.

  Michael Green senior sat on the couch, the trio of cohorts staring at him confusedly. Now that his long trench coat was off, they could clearly see a metallic object intimately attached to his skin. The macabre item was flat and rectangular, running down from his neck to somewhere inside his shirt, and it seemed to be riveted to his flesh.

  “I realise this must be a shock for you,” he began grandly, “But I assure you I am Michael Green.”

  “How can we be certain?” pressed Jack.

  “Do what you like. DNA, Retinal, fingerprints. I have nothing to hide.” His clandestine look of caution jarred against his words. Jack left the girls for a second and retreated to the corner of the room. Getting out his mobile, an antique by contemporary standards, he sent a message to his brother. Ever since the incident at his work, he had told Bob to stay away from him, for his own safety. As expected, Bob had vehemently objected and Jack was hoping that meant he would reply to the message.

  According to Anisha, there was a certain list of high-risk people across the country whose personal security was considered paramount. It included all MPs and a large handful of other miscellaneous government officials. This special list didn't require access clearance so if Bob agreed to help, he could send Anisha a copy of Michael Green's fingerprints. Jack waited for an incredibly long minute, and finally his phone beeped with a reply. Concise and not revealing too much, just as he had requested, it simply said 'I'm sending it now'.

  Jack told Anisha to ready her phone for a transfer and within a few minutes she had the file. The senior Michael, who had been waiting with impressive patience, stuck out his hands, eager to get the task out of the way. One by one, Anisha printed each of his fingers. Finally when it was complete she pushed a few buttons and exhaled with a smile, announcing, “It's a match.” An expression of relief crossed Green senior's face and, finding a room full of eager faces, he realised he now had the floor.

  “Excellent. That proves that I'm definitely me. I'm sure you have a host of questions but first let me say my piece. Hopefully that should answer most of them.” He was greeted by unanimous nods of approval. “It must seem like,” he said looking at Jack, “your life has taken quite a peculiar turn recently. People blackmailing you, threatening you, boxes of dead fingers and so on. I'm here to try and help us both. You see, in my time, the future to you, time travel has become much more strictly regulated. For technical reasons, I'm afraid I can't impart too much information on the matter. I can however, tell you what's going to happen unless you're smart.” Jack stirred restlessly. So far this speech wasn't proving too helpful.

  “If you try and kill me, you're going to fail. You're going to stab me in the neck and leave thinking you've done the job. Even when you do, the people threatening you are going to kill you to keep you quiet. Meanwhile I'm going to spend the next five years slowly recovering from spinal neuro-degeneration and,” he paused pointing to the metal object, “I'll have this grotesque thing plastered onto me for the rest of my life.”

  Jack sat up and paid closer attention now, the talk suddenly taking on personal relevance. “The only way we can both get out of this is to find the men responsible, and the only way to do that is by tricking them into thinking you've killed me.”

  “I don't follow,” said Anisha, clearly voicing what everyone else was thinking.

  “We pretend to kill the other me, and then when they think I'm dead they'll try and kill you. But with my knowledge of where and when it happens, I can stop it and we can lure them out and take care of them permanently.” His triumphant finish was met by an unsettled mood.

  “So you want to use me as bait?” questioned Jack defensively. He shook his head saying, “you don't understand my dear boy.” They're going to try and kill you anyway. If we do it my way then we know when it's going to happen and we have a better chance of stopping it.”

  “So when and where is it going to happen?” enquired Gina who, until now, had remained quiet. It was a shrewd question.

  “I can't tell you yet I'm afraid.” Jack frowned untrustingly. Green was withholding the most useful piece of information.

  “Why can't you tell us anything?” quizzed Anisha accusingly. She was t
he closest thing they had to an expert on time travel; maybe she could understand.

  “The Morrison paradox,” replied Green senior, as if this three-word explanation was more than sufficient.

  “I'm not familiar with that particular theory,” responded Anisha, completely confused but thinly attempting to hide it.

  “When one travels through time events are invariable altered merely by the presence of the time travelling party. Time is elastic however and the universe has its own adjusting mechanism, which alters events slightly to compensate for the actions of the traveller, thus returning the future to more or less what it was before he or she travelled. Hence I can't tell you too early or else the universe will have more time to re-arrange events against us.” Gina shot Jack a pointed look at the use of the word 'us'.

  “I see,” said Anisha slowly, while emphatically nodding.

  Jack looked at her to confirm whether or not his explanation has any credibility. She glanced back, appearing slightly unsure but ultimately convinced. Jack stood up now, re-asserting the fact that he was in charge.

  “So what I think we should do now, is to spend the next few days looking through the papers in the briefcase and planning a way to falsely kill the other Michael Green.”

  He paradoxically looked across at Green senior, simultaneously showing off his authority and seeking his approval. He turned back to the girls now, adding in a sombre voice, “assuming you're still interested in helping me. I wouldn't blame you if you weren't.” Surprisingly, Gina was the first to answer, seemingly taking offence at the notion.

  “You've already saved my life once so far and I get the feeling I'm in just as much danger as you are right now. So I'm in.” Jack allowed himself a smile and after a short pause heard Anisha say,

  “Me too.”

  There was a creaking sound from the hallway floorboards and with a gust of wind the living room door suddenly swung open, giving Green senior a start. “What's going on here?” asked a groggy and confused Pete.