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

expand as more blood seeped from the wounds.
The two figures dropped John and ran back over to Tracy. There was more urgency in their actions. The sound of gunshots could be heard for miles and someone would be bound to call the police. They cut Tracy down from the tree, checked her back. There were no exit wounds.
The two figures then spent the next two minutes staging the murder scene to look as though John had murdered Tracy. John had then turned to go but had tripped and knocked himself unconscious on the ground. The gash on John head was a very convenient bonus for them. Happy with their work the two men then ran to their Range Rover parked a few hundred yards away on the opposite side of the road. Back in the car, agent one, grabbed his mobile and dialled nine, nine, nine. The call was quickly answered and agent one reported he had just heard two gun shots and giving the exact location. Time was of the essence for them now; the drug would start to wear of in about twenty minutes and they had to ensure the Police arrived just before that happened but not too long after, giving John time to get away. Agent four then made a second emergency call, he told them a woman had been shot and gave the same location. Both had used untraceable mobile phones with built in voice disguise. When the emergency room replayed the two calls they would hear the voices of two different women, both untraceable.
The Range Rover drove off as agent four reported to their control that the mission had been a success.
What the two agents had not noticed throughout their operation was a sky blue Bell Jet Ranger helicopter hovering at eighteen hundred feet. The helicopter was just over two miles away and downwind so the sound of the rotor blades was almost inaudible. In the rear passenger compartment a man pressed ‘review’ on the digital video consol. Almost instantly he was able to watch a HD quality replay of the entire operation. The helicopters Hi Tec electronic surveillance equipment fitted into to the belly of the Jet Ranger helicopter had been following the black Range Rover for the previous hour. They had photographed the car from all angles. Photographs that included close up digitised shots of the driver and passenger. The Range Rovers registration number has already been checked, but as expected came back as ‘none issue plate’. This, the man in the helicopter knew, was government code for a secret service vehicle registration. After a final look at the scene and satisfied there was nothing more to be gained from staying, he ordered the pilot to return to base.

* * * *

Forty seven minutes after Andrew had called Geoffrey he walked into the main reception area of the Royal London Hospital where Andrew was sat waiting for him.
“Andrew, are you OK?” asked Geoffrey.
“I’m fine thanks, a bit shocked but otherwise OK.”
“Any ideas what happened?”
“Not exactly,” replied Andrew, “Pat’s still drifting in and out of consciousness. On top of that the doctors still have no idea what it was he had pumped into him.”
Geoffrey thought for a moment before answering, “I’ll bet whatever it was, it to make Pat talk. The stubborn old fool should have just told them what they wanted to know, he’s too old for all of this. Are we OK to go and see him?”
“When they brought him in it was staff only, even the police can’t question him yet and, I’ll guarantee that they’re ahead of us on the visitors list.”
“Let’s go there anyway, you never know, we might get a lucky break.”
Room 641 is a private room on the sixth floor of the RLH and is held on retainer by the Metropolitan Police. It is the closest the police have to a ‘safe house’ in a hospital and it is used exclusively by witnesses they regard as vulnerable. Pat was showing slow, but positive signs of stabilising. His condition had given the doctors cause for concern when he arrived as he had deteriorated shown signs of deterioration in the ambulance. The paramedics had done their best to stabilise him but in the end they did not have the specialised medicines his body required.
A syringe found in Pat’s living room had been sent to toxicology in the hope they could identify what had been injected into Pat. Fortunately there was a small amount of anonymous yellow coloured liquid still inside the syringe. DCS Hughes knew Pat had never taken a drug, recreational or otherwise, at any time in his life so it was a safe bet the intruders had come prepared. They had wanted information, information they thought Pat would be able to give them. Pat.
DCH Hughes knew that Pat would never say anything that would put any of his friends in danger. He would rather die himself than do that, but, there were a number of drugs available today that ensured interrogators would get the answers to any question they asked. Truth drugs were not a myth, they are a reality. In the UK, truth drugs are strictly controlled and only cleared for use by a few specialist government agencies. The one thing all of these agencies have in common is all of their work is highly classified and is crucial for maintaining the highest levels of national security. Whatever Pat and his friends had got themselves mixed up with it had attracted the attention of one or more of those agencies. As much as he hated to admit it DCS Hughes knew the use of the drug also tied in with the bug that John had found in his office and the bogus secretary. DCS Hughes needed to talk with Pat urgently; he had a lot of questions, two murders and so far no answers to anything.
The lab had quickly confirmed the contents of the syringe, a very advanced truth serum combined with a hallucinating had made for a potentially lethal cocktail. Who ever had administered the drug would not have known if Pat would survive or not. That proved to DCS Hughes that the attackers and interrogators had been prepared to kill Pat attempting to get the information they needed. Everything was being played for very high stakes and by some very powerful people.
DCS Hughes was in the room when Andrew and Geoffrey arrived. “How is he?” asked Andrew, “any change since I found him?”
DCS Hughes was about to give the two of them both barrels of his temper when he thought better of it. Whatever danger Pat was in, they were both in as well. Whatever Pat knew, Andrew and Geoffrey also know. Recriminations, if any, could wait.
“He’s showing signs of improvement son, I’m not saying he’s out of the woods yet but things are looking better for him now than they were a couple of hours ago. Pat’s as strong as an Ox, he’ll pull through.”
“That’s good news,” said Geoffrey.
“Is there any chance we can see him?” asked Andrew.
“I think it’s best to let him rest just now, he’s had a very traumatic experience. There’s a café on the second floor, why not go any get yourself some lunch. Give me half an hour and I’ll come and join you for a coffee.”
Andrew and Geoffrey were just about to leave when DCS Hughes called after them, “By the way, have either of you heard from John, I tried his mobile but it’s switched off.”
“No we haven’t,” replied Andrew, “We’ll let you know when we do.”
DCS Hughes raised a hand in acknowledgement.

* * * *

It was a local patrol car that was first to arrive at the scene of the shooting. The officer pulled up just behind the Jaguar. He knew that the report said shots had been heard so he was not in too much of a hurry to the possibility of becoming exposed in the open ground. If shots had been fired he did not intend being the next potential target. PC Welling got out of the patrol car. He kept looking in every direction as he slowly made his way towards the picnic area. Slowly the tabled area started coming into view. He continued to move forward, now he could now make out the outline of a male lying on the ground. The figure wasn’t moving. The officer had a quick look around and ran to the figure. John was just starting to come out of the effects of the drug, some slight movement was beginning to return to his limbs, he could also feel the tremendous pain from the wound in his head.
PC Welling asked John if he was alright, had he been hurt. John could not answer; the drug had not yet worn off sufficiently to allow him to talk. Then the constable noticed the nine mm lying on the ground a couple of yards away from John. Then he noticed a woman, lying on the ground. He stood up and could clearly see the blood stains on the front of her blouse. He reached for his radio.
“2941 to control”
“Go ahead 2941”
“Request urgent backup one female multiple gunshot wounds and one male possibly the attacker, also request immediate paramedic and CID.”
“Message understood”
PC Welling ran over to Tracy, he could not detect any pulse or breathing. He then went back over to John who was starting to move, very slowly and very painfully. The side effects of the drug were not at all pleasant. John started to mouth something to the officer.
“What is it sir?”
“Jo .., Tracy,” he slowly managed to point towards Tracy.
“Is her name Tracy sir?”
John nodded; in the distance the sound of multiple sirens could just about be heard.
“Do you know who did this sir?” asked PC Welling.
John slowly shook his head followed by a weak “No.”
The sound of the sirens was getting louder now, John could now feel the blood rush into his feet and fingers, he cried out as every muscle in his body felt as though it had cramped at the same time. The extremities of his fingers and toes started to tingle. No matter which way he moved the pain was excruciating.
The first of the backup patrols arrived and after checking with PC Welling there was no other casualties started to cordon off the area. The nine mm was left in place but covered over with what looked like a fluorescent orange miniature pop up igloo.
Sergeant Brown approached PC Welling, “The male does he have any gunshot wounds you are aware of?”
“No sergeant”
“He was lying on the ground when you arrived?”
“Yes sergeant”
“Which way was his head pointing?”
“Over that way sergeant, towards the cars.”
John cramp was slowly starting to ease. He could see another patrol car arrive, then an unmarked CID car. For the first time John was now able to speak. He called an officer over to him, “How’s Tracy?” he asked “Over there, how is she.”
John could see a couple of officers were standing over Tracy, neither doing very much.
“I’m sorry sir, I’ can’t say how the lady is, we’re waiting for the paramedics to arrive.”
“Thank you,” replied John.
As if on cue there was a whooping sound as an ambulance inched its way through the site, stopping as close as it could to Tracy but not too close as to disturb the crime scene. The driver parked up a quickly jumped out from the cab, the second went around to the back and opened up the double rear doors.
“Can I ask who’s in