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

warm glow. He knew that he would never be able to hold, touch or smell her again but in his head she was every bit as real to him as she had ever been. His love for her was even stronger now than it had ever been. To John that was exactly the way it should be.
“Penny for your thoughts John” said Janet, “You’re miles away, back in Victorian Whitechapel by any chance?”
“No” replied John, “Germany as it happens, you know its two years since I was last over there. Time flies, so I’m told”
“John” said Janet “You know I’ve been a friend of the family for years now, in fact far more than I care to remember. I know how special Pamela was, such a sweet young thing. I mourned with you when I heard about her terrible accident. She was far too young and too full of life to have died that way but you are still a handsome young man and I’m sure that somewhere out there is a woman who is looking for the love of a good man. Don’t give up on life John because if you do then life will give up on you.”
“You always did have a knack of getting straight to the point. It’s just that I feel Pamela is still with me, I can sense she’s around. I look in a shop window and I think I can just see her reflection. I turn around and she’s gone. I know it’s all in my head bust it just seems and feels so real. To be truthful I don’t want it to stop. It’s as though we are playing a game of spiritual hide and seek. All I have to do is find her.”
Janet held his hand and gently stroked the back of it with her thumb; “I’m sure you will John, I’m sure you will. Now, what I came over to say was there are a couple of ladies over there who would like to have a word with you about Jack. But then again it just might be an excuse to get you on your own.” Janet winked at him as he looked over to the two ladies over the other side of the room.
“Thanks very much Janet.” Said John, “I suppose they’re both single and available.”
“I have no idea.” replied Janet, with a sly wink.
At that moment Status Quo’s ‘Rockin’ all over the World’ could be heard. “Looks like there is a God after all,” said John, quietly to himself. He took the mobile from a pocket inside his suit jacket. The caller ID gave him advanced warning that the paper was calling. He flipped open his Motorola Raza phone, “John Reynolds”.
On the other end of the phone was Andrew Cleaver, a bright up and coming twenty two year old reporter in the last year of his University Media Studies degree. Andrew had managed to latch onto John during his placement at the Daily Herald. At first John had not been very keen on working with a ‘green’ reporter but had slowly come round to the idea as he got to know the young cub reporter.
“Andrew”, said John, then he whispered into the phone “Please tell me you have something for me, I feel as though I’m just about to be fed to the lions by some well meaning Romans.”
“This could be your lucky night then John. We’ve just had tip off from one of our sources in the Met that a body’s been found in Whitechapel. The source thinks it’s a young woman but that’s not confirmed yet.”
“Any other details Andrew?” asked John.
“Well that’s the thing that’s a bit odd. We normally get far more detail than this but for some reason there’s no information at all on this one. It doesn’t matter who we call or speak to there’s no information. The shops not only shut on this one but the shutters are down and the drawbridge is up.”
“Shops don’t have drawbridges” said John “Have you not learned anything at that expensive University of yours?”
“Yes, a lot and yes they do especially where this murder is concerned.”
“OK Andrew, have you got an address. I’ll go down there and see what I can find out.”
“I’ll just get it for you, it’s Broughton Common, just past the Royal Oak Pub.”
“Thanks Andrew. If I leave now I should be there in just over half an hour. I’ll call the desk in about an hour with whatever I can find out.”
John walked over to Janet, “Sorry Janet, I’ll have to leave the two ladies for another night but thanks for thinking about me. I’ll have to leave my things here for now, OK to pick them up tomorrow?”
Janet looked at him with a look of disbelief on her face. “It’s a good job I know you” she said scornfully, “Go on then, be the good reporter and make your excuses to leave just before it gets interesting. I’ll make sure your things are safe. You get off and save the world.”
 
Chapter 2

John flicked the lid of his phone closed as he walked towards his car. He put the phone back into his pocket and then took out his car keys. Pressing a button on the key fob de-activated the alarm and twin locking mechanism of his two thousand and six Jaguar X-Type three litre. The Jaguar, and anybody who ever called it a Jag in front of John were soon told in no uncertain terms that is was a Jaguar and to always make sure in future that they never uttered the demonic three letter word in his earshot again. It was always said ‘tongue in cheek’ and with a smile and that’s how most people took it. But nobody ever said the ‘three letter word’ in front of him again.
The car was finished in highly polished British Racing Green, an SE model with cream leather trim complemented by burr walnut woo, very British. John settled himself into his seat, turned the ignition key and fired up the three litre V six engine. The sound of the car firing up was like music to his ears. Mozart, Haydn, Brahms or even the Beatles have never penned anything that sounded more soothing. John had owned this car for the last two years and the pleasure of driving it was every bit as great now as it was the first time. He could never see himself owning anything else again. John then programmed the onboard Sat Nav with his destination, shifted the gear lever into drive.
“In fifty yards, turn left” said the soft female voice from the Sat Nav. John indicated left and followed her directions.
Eighteen months ago John had been promoted to the Daily Heralds Chief Crime Reporter. He enjoyed his job and the responsibility that came with it but he did miss being ‘out in the field’. This was now left to his staff reporters. That was unless the Duty Editor thought the story was a ‘developer’. John knew that this was newspaper speak for an on-going investigation, one that would develop over an undetermined period of time. This could be days, weeks or months. At this stage you could never tell. John though was just relishing the thought of being back on the streets again. The streets after all are where the stories are and he was a reporter.
John pressed the remote CD player button on the steering wheel and Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours album started to play. John turned the volume down until the music was nothing more than background noise. He liked to have music on when he was thinking, he found it helped him to relax and when he was relaxed he could think more clearly, more rationally.
“At the roundabout ahead turn right, third exit.”
John followed the Sat Nav’s directions. Even though he knew London like the back of his hand he still followed the directions given. He had been surprised a couple of times in the past by the Sat Nav’s choice of route It had taken him down roads he had not used before but he had to admit it had been quicker than the way he would have gone himself. Unlike people Sat Navs are not slaves to habit, they will not always go the same way simply because they had taken that route before.
John arrived at the scene of the murder twenty eight minutes later. This was confirmed when he heard;
“You have arrived at your destination.”
John almost said thank-you. He pulled over to the side of the road. There were no official parking areas on this stretch of road so he parked half on the road and half on the grass verge separating the pavement from the road. John quickly looked around at the scene. Police vehicles were everywhere, blue flashing lights bouncing off the surrounding buildings and the large glass windows of the small neighbourhood shops. John slowly got out of his car, closed the door and pressed his key fob twice to lock the car. He walked around the back of the Jaguar, across the grass verge and stood on the pavement. Just looking at and taking in the atmosphere of the area, especially the crime scene.
Across the road and about a hundred yards ahead was the crime scene. It looked more like the set of a new Stephen Spielberg science fiction movie than a Metropolitan Police investigation site.
The outer perimeter of the crime scene was cordoned off with yellow tape with angled thick black stripes. Written in bold white lettering were the words ‘Police Crime Scene – Do Not Cross’. This perimeter was guarded by a uniformed constable stationed every ten yards around the entire perimeter. The entire area was lit up by twelve high intensity high rise light units, each unit rising thirty feet into the air from the roof of a Police Special Incident Transit van. Each unit consisted of three lights; the Police operator, using a small remote control much like a game console joy stick, was able to control the position of each individual light. A small movement of the joystick and the lights could be moved in a full circle or ninety degrees up or down or any combination of the two. The lights were independently powered by the specially built Transit vans. Each contained two generators, one main and one backup.
John looked at his watch and saw it was six fifteen. The evening was just starting to draw in and John though it would be dark by seven. The crime scene though looked in a different time zone, the lights making it as bright as noon on a summer’s day. At some time during the late afternoon there must have been a shower of rain at the crime scene as the heat from the overhead lights was drying out the ground resulting in a ground mist about six inches in height. To John the effect looked similar to stage-produced dry ice.
Off to the right and back from the perimeter tape was a yellow and white tent. It was covering the spot where the body had been found. The tent was a ridged frame aluminium construction, about eight feet high by twenty foot square. The tent had been set up so the entrance was facing away from the road. This was designed to stop not only the public from seeing what was going on but also the press. What were visible though were the two machines attached to the rear of the tent. The first was a portable air conditioning unit that kept the interior temperature stable, the second a dehumidifier that would take out any moisture from the tent. While both made the working conditions inside