The Samsara Project by David Burgess (ebook reader screen .txt) 📖

be caught John, I’m going to need your help. I know you’re a journalist and that you have a job to do but we’ve helped each other in the past.”
“We have” John managed to say, more to get a word into the conversation than for anything else.
“As I was saying, I’m not going to ask you to compromise any of your sources, but I do need you to let me know as soon as you hear anything that may help. Intelligence from ground level is what will crack this case open. You can ask questions we can’t, ask people we can’t ask, go places we can’t go. At least not without probable cause, a judge’s signature and a search warrant. I’ve got to bypass the system on this one John. You understand?”
“I understand,” John gestured across to Andrew, “No we’re happy to help in any way we can. We’ll keep you up to date with anything we find that could be useful. Chief Superintendent, you have to be straight with us as well. Anything you find out I want to be the first journalist to know about it. No names mentioned, I’ll just quote a reliable source.”
At that moment there was a short double knock on the door, it opened straight away and Tracy entered the room pushing a small tea trolley. The conversation in the room changed.
“Ah! Thank you Tracy.” Said DCI Hughes, “And I see you found the chocolate biscuits as well, excellent.”
Tracy smiled. John looked over at Tracy as she walked over towards him. He noticed that her blouse now had the top two buttons undone.
“Would you like tea or coffee Mr. Reynolds?”
“Coffee please,” replied John.
“With milk or cream?” she asked
“Cream please.”
Tracy walked over to John with the cup of coffee. “Sugar?” she asked as she leant forward to give John the cup.
“Please.” John said.
As she leant forward the front of her blouse opened slightly revealing just a tease of cleavage. She didn’t move. “Would you like one lump or two?”
John wasn’t sure if he blushed slightly or not. He looked up and their eyes met. Just for a moment.
“I’m a two lump man,” replied John in a far quieter voice than he expected. He then swallowed and was sure his Adams apple moved far more than usual.
“Two it is,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. John was sure he could also smell freshly sprayed DKNY pour femme.
Tracy then stood up, and without any ceremony handed the refreshments out to Andrew and DCS Hughes.
“Will there be anything else sir?”
“No thank you Tracy, that’s fine.”
Tracy then turned around, collected the trolley and left.
“Let’s get back to business then John. I’ll make sure you get the information you want but, and I’ll not back down on this, I’ll not give any information that is sensitive to any on-going operation or that I think will put any of my officers in danger. I’ll not compromise on that. Take it or leave it.”
“That’s fair. Andrew will be working with me on this. He’s in his final year at university so the experience will be invaluable to him. I want Andrew in the loop. You can trust him as much as me.”
“No offence, Andrew, but you and I don’t know each other yet. I’ll decide who I can trust or not. I advise you to do the same. I’ll keep in touch with John, he can pass on what he feels is relevant. See how that goes then, maybe.”
John nodded. “There is one thing I would like though, the photographs shown as the press conference just now. Could I have a copy of them? You have already shown them to the media so they’re not operationally sensitive.”
“May I ask why you want them? Not to put into your lecture talks I hope.”
“No, nothing like that, I would like to study them more closely. I am sure there is something about them but I can’t put my finger on it just yet. Call it instinct if you like. I could be wrong, but you never know.”
After a few moments thought DCS Hughes agreed, John handed him a 2GB data pen and the photographs were electronically transferred in under nine seconds.
“Thank you, Chief Superintendent, just one last thing though, what about off the record information?”
Again there was a pause as the DCS thought. “Maybe, but as before’ I’ll not put at risk any ongoing operation or my officers.”
“Agreed,” said John as he held back his surprise. That was one concession he had not expected, at least not this early into the investigation. He continued; “You know me well enough by now Chief Superintendent. Off the record means just that.”
“I’ll bear that in mind John”
John knew not to push any further. They all then discussed the two theories they had come up with.
“We’ll look into the Eastern European Mafia theory. I don’t think it’s one we’ve thought of. A Ripper copy cat, too early to say.” DCS Hughes looked at his watch. “Sorry gents but I have another appointment. I’ve a favour to ask.”
“What’s that?” asked John.
“Can you go through your papers archives for the last two years and see if there are any reports of missing women. Our people are going through the Yard’s files but you may have something we don’t. I know it’s a long shot but I just can’t believe that she was the first. I’m afraid we’ve missed a link to past murders.”
John turned to Andrew, “Can you look into that this afternoon?”
“Sure, no problem, I’ll let you know if I come up with anything.”
“Thanks for coming in” said DCS Hughes as he walked them to his door. He opened the door. “Tracy, can you see the gentlemen out for me please?”
“Certainly sir,” she replied.
John glanced over towards Tracy. Her blouse now had only the one button undone.
“Mr Reynolds,” said Tracy, “The Superintendent asked me to give you his direct line number in case you need to get hold of him without going through the switchboard.”
Tracy handed John a business card.
“Thank you Tracy.”
“You’re welcome”
They both smiled. John caught up with Andrew who had gone on ahead. They got into the lift and headed towards the ground floor. John still had the business card in his hand. He looked at it for the first time. It was DCS Hughes official business card. He turned it over. On the back it said, Tracy Rae, her mobile number and ‘sorry to be forward but if you’d like a drink sometime call me xx’.
John smiled and gently bit his bottom lip. The lift stopped at the ground floor, they got out. “Can you give me a minute?” asked John.
“Of course” said Andrew. “I needed the gent’s anyway, all that coffee.”
John took out his phone, punched in a number. It was answered after three rings;
“Hello, Tracy Rae,” said a cheery voice on the other end of the line.

* * * *

John and Andrew met in the foyer of New Scotland Yard. John checked his watch. He was fine for time. He reached into his jacket pocket and took out his wallet. Opening it, he took out a well used card and gave it to Andrew.
“This afternoon Andrew I want you to go round to the address on the card. Geoffrey Adamson is one of London’s best private detectives. Don’t expect a stereotypical PI either. Adamson works from very plush offices in Soho. Hi Tec and high rent. He’s the kind of guy who should have been an officer in the Queens Guard. Eton educated with a degree in Criminology from Oxford University he likes to get amongst the gritty, grimy and seedy side of London. This should be right up his street.”
“Do you know any normal people?” Andrew asked, mockingly.
“Some, I know you and you’re fairly normal. Don’t upset Adamson either. He won a Blue at Oxford for martial arts and would have represented England in the Olympics if he hadn’t broken his leg in a stupid accident four weeks before the games.”
“Anything else?” asked Andrew.
“Yes, don’t say anything about him to his receptionist, she’s his mother. Although for business reasons he calls her Sylvia at work. Mummy just wouldn’t do.”
Andrew shrugged, “What do we want him to do?”
“A couple of things, do you want to write them down?”
“Best to, you never know. Dot the i’s, cross the t’s.”
“Firstly, I want a full background check on Suzie Reeves and the boyfriend. I want to know everything from the day they were born. Secondly I want you to go back to the office and do a web search for anything unusual that happened on or around the thirteenth of February eighteen ninety one. Check up to two weeks after.”
“OK but give me some clue as to what I’m looking for and why that particular date?”
“That was the date of the last ‘Jack the Ripper’ murder.
Twenty five year old Francis Coles was murdered at about two fifteen in the morning in Swallow Gardens, off Chamber Street. She was found by PC Earnest Thompson. It must have been very soon after the murder that she was found because the police reports state PC Thompson as saying that, ‘Blood was flowing profusely from her throat.” PC Thompson also reported that he witnessed the victim open and closed her eyes while he was with her. Francis Coles had suffered injuries to the back of her head and, her throat had been cut. Many people who have studied the Ripper killings also believe that while PC Thompson did not prevent the death of Francis Coles he did stop any mutilation of her body, and as with Suzie Reeves, Francis Coles was still alive. She too would have known what was happening to her. It is also believed that that was the closest the police ever came to catching the ripper. What is really strange though is from that day to this no one ever heard of or from ‘Jack the Ripper’ again, and nobody knows why?
The editor is bound to want some background link into yesterday’s murder. Best be prepared, but don’t go for the tried and tested stuff, people have read that all before. Even ‘Jack the Ripper’ can get boring after a while. Use your gut instinct. What is it they say today? ‘Think outside the box.”
“Any idea how big the box is?” joked Andrew.
“The secret of the box, Andrew, is that it is as big or as small as you make it. Remember that and you’ll never go far wrong.”
“Thank you master, you are so wise and I have so much to learn.”
John bounced back with “Very true little insect, and when you have completed your tasks you will wait for my return at the office.”
“What are your plans for this afternoon, anything I need to know about?”
“I’m meeting a good friend of mine that I haven’t seen for a long time and if it wasn’t for this murder it would probably be a lot longer. I’ll introduce you to him sometime, his names Pat Wallace and he’s the curator of the ‘Black Museum’.
“The Met’s museum, the one that everyone knows about but doesn’t officially exist?” asked Andrew
“Don’t tell anyone, Andrew, but it does. Pat Wallace has been a friend for many years and he knows a thing or two about the dark undercurrent of London’s past. I just want to run your theory past him about a Ripper copy-cat. See what he makes of it.”
“Sounds good to me, I’ll see you later