The Samsara Project - David Burgess (early reader books .txt) 📗

thought or not MPs and members of the Royal Family were being protected without their knowledge or consent.
The powers the organisation had went way beyond anything other law enforcement agencies had ever had. This resulted in agents making major ‘in the field’ decisions. Most of the agents were recruited from other secret service departments or the Special Forces. All needed exemplary or higher six month evaluations for at least two years prior to joining. HSS did not advertise, they head-hunted. So far they had never been refused.
Agents would always work in the same four person team, each totally relying on the other for their back up and support. Each member of the team was a specialist in one area and very competent in at least three others. All were highly trained field medics. In contrast to other agencies no one knew anybody else’s name. A four person team was led by ‘Agent one’ the other three members being assigned numbers two to four in no order of seniority. Agents would always keep their same team numbers, except when promoted to number one. When names were required they would be randomly chosen by the agent. They were never allowed to use the same name twice.

* * * *

John listened through his messages. Andrew had called a couple of times, the last message asking John to check his e-Mail and to say he would bring him up-to-date in the office tomorrow. As soon as the PC booted-up John called up his e-Mail account. He typed in his user name and password.
“Thank you very much,” whispered a voice in the back of a van parked down the road.
There were the usual assortment of junk e-Mails asking for John’s help with a financial problem in Africa and did he need this pill or that medication to ‘improve his performance and stamina’. “Pass,” he thought. John found Andrew’s e-Mail and read it. He then read it again. Andrew had sent a brief report about Suzie Reeves and how this might affect their investigation into the killing. Andrew had not yet passed anything on to New Scotland Yard; he wanted to let John know first. The last paragraph caught his attention. Andrew said he was almost certain of JTR’s identity and that he would explain it all to him tomorrow.
“Find out who JTR is,” said surveillance agent two.
“I’m on to it” came the reply.
“That would be something if you have,” thought John “because then we will have the name of Suzie Reeves killer. Pat and I know it was the same person and you know the name.” For John it was going to be another long, sleepless night.
John walked into the Daily Herald offices at eight fifteen. Andrew was already there. “Morning John, welcome back.”
”Thanks Andrew,” replied John; “is that coffee still hot by any chance?”
Andrew poured a large cup for John who sipped it as though it were a fine vintage wine. “That’s better,” he said, then after another drink from his cup, “Is there anything urgent that can’t wait just now?”
“No John, everything’s fine around here.”
“Good, that’s what I had hoped. Now let’s hear this theory of yours.”
For the next hour and a twenty minutes John listened as Andrew explained his theory to him. He did not interrupt at any time as he was shown photocopies of newspaper cuttings from Eighteen Eighty Eight. Andrew also had webpage printouts that filled in a lot of the killers’ background as well as providing motives for the murders. John listened intently and read everything that Andrew showed him.
Once Andrew had finished John sat back. He looked over to Andrew, “You do know that you may well have solved one of the greatest criminal mysteries of the past hundred and fifty years. People from all over the world have studied the Ripper murders, University students and their professors have studied the killings in the hope of finding the identity. You have a very powerful case here, probably the most powerful I have heard. We need someone else to hear this.”
John grabbed the phone and punched in Pats number. He answered after two rings, “Hi John.”
“Pat, listen up. Andrew and I are coming round to see you now. I think Andrew may have found something to help us. I can’t tell you any more over the phone, it’s too complicated. We’re leaving now; we’ll be at the museum shortly.”
With that John hung up. “Come on Andrew, get everything together, and don’t leave anything behind.”
John and Andrew jumped into a taxi, John gave the address and promised the driver double fare if he could get them there within half an hour.
John and Andrew were not the only people on their way to the black museum, a squad of HSS agents were also keen to get there. John’s enthusiasm for Andrews’s theory had taken them by surprise. To date, Andrew had only been listed as a ‘work colleague – student’. The fact that he had come up with an independent theory raised his HSS profile considerably. Within the next sixty minutes Andrews’s life would come under as much scrutiny as John and Pats already had.
The journey did cost John twice as much as taxi pulled up outside the Black Museum twenty six minutes after leaving the Daily Herald’s offices. He paid the driver, then knocked on the museum door and waited for Pat to answer.
The HSS agents were watching from across the road through blacked out side windows of an old rusty Ford Transit crew bus. The agents had the floor plans of the museum, but, at this point, did not know exactly whereabouts in the building they would go. All they could do was sit tight and wait.
Pat opened the door. “My John, you’re in a hurry this morning, what’s the matter? Everything OK I hope?”
John and Andrew went inside. John closed the door behind them, “Anyone else in here Pat?”
“No just us. Does that matter?”
“That’s what I was hoping Pat. Can we use the auditorium?” asked John.
Pat was looking confused. The initial elation caused by yesterday’s conversation had worn off and in its place was the realisation that something way beyond their understanding was happening. He was starting to worry that maybe they had found out something they were never meant to. Pat could see that this was not the right time to talk to John about his concerns, they could wait until later.
“The auditorium? yes, of course, this way.”
Pat led the way to the auditorium, John and Andrew following in silence.
Outside the HSS agents were scanning over the blueprints for the location of the auditorium. “There it is,” said agent three, “first floor, east section, rear of the building.” The other agents all looked at the location, it was not ideal for their purposes. The auditorium was mainly used as a lecture hall and was designed to have very little natural light. The only windows were running along the top of the external wall. The blueprints put them fifteen feet off the floor and as each window was only two foot in height the HSS agents would have difficulty hearing what was being said inside even with their sophisticated listening devices. “We have to go in,” said agent one, “agent two, find a window on the ground floor that we can use to get in and out. Take agent four with you. Once they are in the auditorium make your way to it and slip a wire microphone underneath the door. There should be more than enough clearance. If possible, see if you can also get a fibre optic camera under as well. It’s always useful to have visual as well as audio. We know there is no one else in the building so you should have enough time to pull out once they have finished.”
Agents two and four gathered together the equipment they needed, and then slid open the side door of the van and headed off towards the black museum.
 
Chapter 10

John and Pat settled themselves into the auditorium’s comfortable armchair style seats. They were both sat next to each other in row three. Andrew was stood at the front, his laptop connected to the data projector that was shining the image of a newspaper cutting from 1891.
At the side of the building the two HSS officers had found a partially opened window leading to what looked like a store room. They carefully opened slid the window open, just enough so they could slip through the gap and into the room. Once inside they closed the window, but left just enough of a gap that they would be able to open it quickly if need be. Agent two turned the handle of the door, it was locked. Agent four was the teams’ expert at opening anything that was locked. The door did not even present him with a challenge. The two agents then quickly and silently made their way towards the auditorium. They arrived to find large double doors leading into the auditorium. The flooring was carpet and the bottom of the doors just touched it. This ensured the carpet would not create any problems when trying to open the door but also made a good seal against drafts. This was ideal for the two agents. The carpet would give way, just enough to allow then to slip their listening devices under the door, the carpet would them spring back up and hold their equipment in place. Both agents had spent many hours practicing and training for moments like this and they quickly slid the camera and microphone underneath the door. The two pieces of equipment were then connected to the agent fours PDA. They had audio and visual. The doors leading onto the auditorium were at the back of the room and central. This gave the camera an image of Andrew and the screen behind him. The audio was acceptable but not perfect. Back in the van agents one and three were also watching and listening to Andrew via the PDA’s satellite link.
Pat turned to John, What’s this about John, anything to do with yesterday?”
John smiled and said to Pat, “Just sit back, keep an open mind and save any questions until the end.”
Andrew began to tell his story.

Whitechapel, London 13th February 1891.

It was one forty five AM and the regulars of the Red Heart pub in Whitechapel were still drinking and enjoying their ale. The pub was full of the usual assortment of Victorian Whitechapel residents. Late night drunks, prostitutes plying their trade, pimps ensuring they got their cut, card sharks and tricksters ready to take money from any gullible fool who chanced their luck, pickpockets out for whatever they could get and a couple of police officers who could not find anywhere else to get a drink at this time of the morning.
The atmosphere in the pub was heavy with smoke. The air smelled of stale beer, body odour, bad breath and an assortment of stomach churning smells from excreted body fluids of all descriptions. Fights between both individuals and gangs were common place as were broken limbs and stabbings.
The landlord of the Red Heart was an ex bare knuckle boxer known as Flat Nose, it was doubtful if even he now remembered his real name. Flat Nose tried to keep the fights to a minimum and would physically throw out of the pub anyone whom he thought might be there only for trouble. In his eyes there was a difference between trouble and a fight. Standing six foot three inches tall and weighing eighteen stone Flat Nose was a giant of a