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

like to check and re-check information, just to make sure. I did this with let’s call her Suzie for now. When I looked further into the background of Natallia Kolinsky something really interesting came up. Everything I told Andrew about her was correct except the real Natallia Kolinsky was dead. According to the records I accessed she was killed working for Mother Russia. Natallia Kolinsky was buried in Moscow’s State Cemetery, with full military honours, in nineteen thirty six. Two years later she declared a ‘hero of the Soviet Union.’.”
“A hero who happens to turn up alive and well, in London, in two thousand and three?” quipped John.
“The more I look into this case John, the stranger it becomes. I checked and rechecked my sources. When Natallia Kolinsky turned up in London she was thoroughly checked out by the Russian Mafia, and they don’t take chances with anyone, regardless of how pretty they look. Their checks came back ok. This time though, they got it wrong but it was not entirely their fault. All Natallia’s background and credentials checked out despite being bogus. Her background was so good it was able to withstand very close examination, and not just by an employer or a credit check, by people who were highly skilled at looking for false identities. Natallia Kolinsky was nothing more than a figment of someone’s imagination, but this someone had access to some of the country’s most sensitive government databases. This person, or more likely department, was able to piece together a very comprehensive past life for Suzie. In my experience something that thorough can only be put together by one of the government’s own security services. I can only guess which one, but either MI5 or Special Branch is the most likely. I’m not one hundred percent certain but Suzie Reeves, Natallia Kolinsky or whatever her real name is, was probably in a ‘UK witness protection programme’ or something similar.”
“When did the Russian’s find out that she was a fraud?” asked Pat.
“They haven’t,” replied Geoffrey, “as far as the Russians are concerned the woman they will be burying in Highgate Cemetery at ten o’clock tomorrow morning is Natallia Kolinsky.”
“Will you be there?” asked Andrew.
“I’ll be at a discreet distance, with some powerful telephoto lenses. It’s best not to intrude too closely on their grief, especially at this sad time.”
Pat then turned to John. “I think it’s time that you brought Andrew and Geoffrey here, up to date, regarding your visit to Liverpool yesterday. It seems to me that the four of us are all working towards the same end and that we all have bits and pieces that will help solve the puzzle. From now on, we four will work as a team. We will keep in regular contact, and that means at least twice a day, even if it’s to say you have nothing new to add. Nothing held back. As I said John, you start, then Andrew can run his theory past Geoffrey.”
John spent the next thirty eight minutes going through everything that happened with the two samples he and Pat had put together. He explained about their theory that had started everything, about how he and Andrew had come up with their ideas and theories. He finished by confirming that not only did the two samples match, but that the sample gender was female.
Geoffrey looked totally lost. “There has to be a mistake,” he said, “it’s just not possible.”
“Geoffrey,” said Pat, “You have said as much yourself. There is something going on with this case that is way beyond us just now and I’ll guarantee here and now, that whoever the murder victim was knew the answers that we are looking for. I would not be surprised if that is the real reason why she was killed. I’ll be prepared to go as far as to say the victim not only knew her killer, but knew who that person was. She knew the identity of Jack the Ripper. She knew Jack the Ripper is alive, well, living in London and about to start a new murder spree. That is why she died.”
Now Geoffrey looked even more confused.
“Pat,” said John, “get another round of drinks then Andrew can talk the three of us through his theory again.”
A few tables away three people, two men and a woman, were sat enjoying a quiet afternoon drink. They were talking, laughing joking together, a typical office threesome winding down from a hard days shift. The three HSS agents had blended so well into the pub that nobody took the slightest notice of them. No one noticed as one of the men got up to go to the bar at the same time as Pat did. No one noticed as he accidentally bumped into Pat at the bar. “Sorry mate,” he said, “no harm done.” Pat smiled at him. Pat had not noticed that a miniature microphone and transmitter had been expertly pinned under the lapel of his jacket. The HSS agents then all got up and left, still laughing and enjoying their afternoon. Back at the surveillance van, they now had full audio on every word that was being said at the target table.
“Welcome back,” said agent one, “good time?”
“Very funny,” said agent four, “lemonade shandy and tonic water is not my idea of a wild afternoon.”
“Professional as ever,” replied agent one, “now listen up, while you were in the pub having the time of your life GCHQ sent an update. Targets one to four inclusive now designated ‘orange plus 1’.”
“Understood,” they all replied.
Back in the Carters Arms, Andrew, was going through his findings. Pat had said that it was for Geoffrey’s benefit but he was glad of the opportunity to hear it for a second time. He had to admit that so far he was very impressed with Andrew’s theory. He also had to admit that he felt a slight twinge of regret that he had not discovered, what he knew deep down, was the identity of Jack the Ripper.
John’s mobile chirped into life, it was a text message from Tracy. “I’ll just be a minute,” said John. He read the text message and sighed. Tracy had called off their date that evening. She had just had news that a friend of hers from college had died and she was finishing work early to catch a train up to Scotland for the funeral. She finished by saying she’d call him tomorrow afternoon and would Friday night be OK. The message ended with ‘I’ll make it up to you, promise. Love Tracy xx’
John replied, sending his condolences and saying that Friday would be fine.
Andrew finished what he had to say. No one at the table was in any doubt that what he was saying was true. Nor was there any doubt that what John and Pat had discovered was also true. Geoffrey’s findings were also true. They knew everything was linked, just not how.
“John, are you going to tell DCS Hughes,” asked Andrew.
“I was going to call and make an appointment to see him tomorrow.”
“You expect him to believe you?” said Pat
“I’m not sure what to tell him yet. I’ll probably stick with the identity problem for now, and I’ll put to him the possibility that the killer could be a woman. At least I’m keeping in touch with him.”
The three nodded in agreement, agreed a time to meet again tomorrow then all four went their separate ways.
“What do we know about DCS Hughes,” said agent one.
Agent four typed his name into his PDA, a few seconds later DCS Hughes’s file was on his screen. DCS Hughes was as straight as a dye, no markers or blemishes they could use against him.
“We need eyes and ears in his office,” said agent one, “agent two, see what you can sort out.”
Agent two nodded. “I’ll put a surveillance kit together, go in early tomorrow morning.”
“OK, it’s your call. It’s fairly quiet just now so you three go and get some food and rest up. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day. For now we’ll change watch every four hours. I’ll take the first shift; decide between yourselves what watch you want. I’ll meet with ‘watch two’ in four hours time, back at base one.”

* * * *

Geoffrey walked back into his office. He sat down behind his desk, opened the top left hand drawer and took out an A4 pad and pen. Geoffrey found that he could make sense of a problem more easily if he wrote his thoughts down. He had learned a lot in a very short time and he had to make sense of it all in his head.
Sylvia opened his office door and brought in a cup of coffee. “Thought you might like this,” she said, “I’ll leave now if that’s OK.”
“Thanks mum, you don’t have to go. Stay if you want.”
“Thanks but I’ve a bit of shopping to do. By the way the photocopier was serviced earlier on. The engineer said it was just a routine check, part of the maintenance plan. There were no problems with it, everything was fine.”
Geoffrey stopped what he was doing and looked over at the photocopier. He then turned to Sylvia, put a finger up to his lips and pointed to the door. He stood up and the two of them left the office. Geoffrey and Sylvia went to the kitchen; he turned on the cold water tap. “We don’t have a maintenance contract for the photocopier,” he whispered.
“He had copies of the agreement, identity card, everything.”
“Don’t worry it’s not your fault. I just need to know what he’s done. You said before you wanted to go shopping. Leave now and go to the shops. When you’re there use a public phone, don’t use your mobile, and call Alex, tell him I need a full precautionary sweep off the office, home and car.”
“Are you in trouble?” she asked her tone that of any concerned mother.
“No mum, nothing like that, probably a rival company wanting to try and find out some of our secrets. Maybe try to poach a few clients.”
Sylvia nodded and smiled. She didn’t believe a word he had just said, but let it go anyway.
One hour and twelve minutes later Alex Orfrima walked into Geoffrey’s office. Alex was second generation Afro-Caribbean, five foot seven inches tall and, according to him, a slim sixteen stone, six pounds and rising. Alex was thirty three years old and had been working, one way or another, in the surveillance business since he was sixteen years old. The main difference between now and then was Alex was now legitimate. Previously he had been scanning the police bands whilst acting as a look out for his friends. In those days it had been fun and a bit of a lark. It stopped being fun for Alex when he was sentenced to nine months detention at the age of eighteen. They were the worst nine months of Alex’s life. Some people can handle prison life, some can’t. Alex certainly couldn’t. He would privately admit though to close friends that it was probably the best thing that ever happened to him, and only being eighteen years old at the time, he had ample time to re-think and re-build his life. With the help of the Princes Trust ‘Orfrima Counter Surveillance’ was launched. The company had grown from its inauspicious start to what was now the largest and most respected business of its type in the South of England.
Alex gestured for Geoffrey to keep quiet. Alex held in his hand a device that looked like a small torch. It was, though, an RF scanner. This particular model