(Jonathan Roper Investigates Boxset Page 41

  He was staring into space when the beeping of the dryer alerted him that his clothes were dry. He realised he must have been sitting there for half-an-hour and was surprised the time had gone by without him noticing. He stood up gingerly, wincing at a sharp muscle pull in his lower back. He ignored it and went to get his clothes. By the time he had pulled them on he was feeling bright and alert and the pain was receding.

  He’d left his phone on the side in the kitchen, along with a few odds and ends from his pockets and a small black-leather bag he had been carrying. Picking up the mobile he checked that the signal was still down. The new technology that could create localised ‘black holes’ in the digital world was quite remarkable. Then he unzipped the bag and pulled out a pouch, opening it to extract a small syringe that fitted neatly into the palm of his hand. He carefully loaded it with a clear fluid from a small bottle marked with a blue label. He didn’t bother to check for air bubbles, he wasn’t bothered about that, but he did double check that he had used the right bottle to fill the syringe.

  Satisfied, he carefully closed the bag and let himself out, taking care to leave the door on the latch. He took the lift downstairs and stepped out cautiously, making sure nobody was around apart from the security guard. He produced an apologetic smile. “Hi Fred. Just wondered if you had any news about us getting reconnected?”

  He kept smiling and walking so that by the time Fred started to reply he was right in front of him. Before the guard could finish his sentence Cotter suddenly pantomimed horror as he stared at a spot just behind the security man’s right shoulder. Fred couldn’t resist turning to see and as he did so exposed the left side of his neck; without hesitating Cotter leaned forward, expertly hitting the carotid artery and emptied the syringe. It was fast acting stuff and Fred could make no sense of what was happening before he was slumping in his chair.

  Cotter walked round and shoved the body out of sight under the desk. He figured that even if one of the residents noticed he wasn’t there, none would come and look for him. He had received a lethal dose of heroin so would be dead very soon.

  Pleased with his work he walked back to the lift and headed back up to deal with Roper. Time the man understood he was a long way from being as clever as everyone seemed to think he was. In the flat Cotter went to his little bag and pulled out another vial of clear liquid. This was LSD and it was going to take Roper on the ride of his life.

  He walked purposefully to the third bedroom and opened the door. Roper was clearly deep in a meditative trance. He was leaning back in a single leather chair, his feet up on a leather foot-stool and his hands hanging loose at his sides. Pieces of paper were lying in piles either side of the chair.

  Cotter paused to study him and sneered. This was the man who was going to be transforming the way things were done, was he? Well, good luck with that. Cotter was sure that his interventions at GCHQ must have raised many questions marks about Roper’s abilities, making him look a lot less clever than his supporters had claimed.

  He walked over and plunged the newly loaded syringe into his carotid artery - he was getting good at this - and watched as Roper opened his eyes in shock. Cotter held him down and within moments was delighted to see his eyelids fluttering closed. If he’d got it right then he would be out for about an hour and then wake up to a world gone mad. It was time to get him out of the flat and into somewhere where they wouldn’t be disturbed. His flat near the Elephant and Castle was ideal, and it wasn’t far away.

  He needed to get his van, it was parked ten minutes’ walk away. He could park outside, collect Roper, bring him down in the lift and then carry him to the vehicle. If anyone saw he’d say the man had drunk too much. He bent and scooped Roper up. As he had anticipated, he was so skinny he weighed very little. Moving him would be easy.

  He looked out of the window and noted the torrential rain showed little sign of stopping. Looked like fate was on his side. The foul weather would provide him with cover for getting Roper out of the building. From that point on he would be totally in control.

  The dose he had given him was very large and he couldn’t predict how Roper would react to it. If he survived he might experience flash backs for months. Not that he cared. He’d set out with three objectives. The first was simple: to prove he was better than Roper. He reckoned he had passed that test with flying colours, outmaneuvering him at every stage. Even when Roper had realised he was being duped over the intelligence briefings he still hadn’t worked out what it was really all about.

  The second objective was to get more of an insight into how his mind worked, especially his annoying Rainbow Spectrum; the thing that had made him so famous and captured the imagination of those fools at GCHQ. To be fair, it showed that Roper wasn’t entirely stupid as it was quite a clever idea, one that no one had come up with before. But maybe he had just got lucky.

  Well, if Roper was going to give up any secrets then this might be the way to do it. He hoped it worked, but of course it may be that it was too much for him. Bad luck if that proved to be the case. In fact, it would save him from worrying about the third objective. Once he had extracted Roper’s secrets he was going to kill him.

  Chapter 48

  A sense of dread had dropped so hard that Hooley almost staggered. Arriving at his Pimlico flat he had instantly realised there had been a horrifying mix-up. Roper’s protection team was outside his flat. Roper was out there alone.

  He’d immediately tried calling him on mobile and landline, but all he could get was a message saying, ‘number not responding.’ He didn’t wait. He ordered the armed officers to take him to Roper’s flat. With the blue lights and sirens, they battered their way through the rush-hour but even that couldn’t defeat the log-jam at Blackfriars caused by the sudden downpour.

  He kept trying the phone with no luck. He looked around at the stationary vehicles and was about to get out and run when they started moving again. His sense of anxiety transmitted itself to the driver who pushed it to the limit.

  Finally, they were there, he hammered on the door to be let in, but there was no sign of the guard and no response from Roper’s flat. He hit every number on the call pad until someone buzzed him inside. He was heading to the lift, with officers behind him, when an instinct made him turn to the desk.

  He ran over, looked behind, and nearly fell over with shock. The bedraggled body proving beyond doubt that they had all under-estimated the danger they were in. For a moment, he was filled with rage but quickly got himself back under control and headed back of the lift, leaving one of the officers to guard the body.

  It didn’t take long before bad news became catastrophic. The door to Roper’s flat was firmly shut and there was no response to ringing the bell. It had taken agonising minutes before a specialist team arrived, equipped with the tools to smash open a reinforced door. Inside there was no sign of him. If he needed any further clues, the CCTV system had been smashed to pieces. Just as he was giving into despair Mayweather turned up to take command.

  A long slow night finally gave way to morning. It was coming up on 5am and still no news about Roper. Hooley was standing impatiently outside the penthouse as scenes of crime people made a careful sweep through the apartment. They found his mobile inside the flat. There were no signs of a struggle. The last time he had been seen was leaving Victoria.

  For about the hundredth time Hooley studied the door to see if he could detect any signs of a break-in. His knew there was nothing. It just gave him something to do while he beat himself up for allowing Roper to leave unprotected.

  When he’d first arrived at the building he was so agitated he had tried to kick the door in, to no effect other than to bruise his foot. Panic had lured him into a daft stunt that only worked on TV. He’d wasted more energy by slapping the door and then resigned himself to waiting. He’d kept trying Roper’s number, pressing his ear to the door and thought he could hear it, but it was very faint and he wondered if it was his imagination.

  The waiting sh
redded his nerves. Good police officers don’t make assumptions, but Hooley knew this was related to the GCHQ investigation. He couldn’t stop himself thinking about the potential danger Roper was in. There were far too many bodies already. He instinctively felt time was running out. Finally, the specialist team arrived.

  That had been almost eleven hours ago. He was downstairs in the lobby, so lost in worry that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Julie Mayweather spoke from behind him.

  “I’ve just had an update from Cheltenham and there’s no news there either. It’s as though he’s just vanished. Any hints from here yet?”

  Hooley didn’t bother trying to hide his worry. “Nothing at all. He was clearly here early in the evening because there are soaking wet towels in the shower. I’m guessing that would fit with the terrible rain we had last night and him wanting to clean up and change.

  “But otherwise all the building security cameras are out so we can’t see him coming or going. The odd thing is that residents are complaining that they lost all connections to the outside world last night. Internet, wi-fi and landlines. They couldn’t even get television. It all came back on about 9pm but they were out for several hours.

  “I’ve had uniforms canvassing other buildings, but so far they are coming up fine. This ‘outage’ seems confined to Roper’s building. Normally I’d say that was odd, now I think it’s very suspicious.”

  Mayweather gently rubbed her eyes. It had been a long night and she was feeling badly in need of a cup of coffee and a chance to sit down for a while. But all that would have to wait. She said. “I bet I can guess what you are thinking. This must have something to do with secret technology belonging to MI5.” He nodded and she looked around at all the people in sight.

  “I’ll check, but not here. I’ll make the call from my car. The trouble is that while we would both like to know what is going on, I’m not sure that it will take us any closer to finding Jonathan.”

  Chapter 49

  Roper was dreaming he was lying in a beautiful meadow on a warm summer’s evening. He knew that various animals were coming out to feed but also understood that they were nervous and trying to keep out of sight. He blinked and made an amazing discovery; he could see more clearly, as though he was looking through a pair of binoculars.

  He blinked several times in a row and the edges of the meadow started coming into focus and he could see several deer nibbling delicately at green shoots. A few more blinks brought his sight into ever greater focus. Now he could make out much smaller animals and birds also feeding quietly.

  The colours were vivid, the sun was warm and it felt as though he was in a magical world, even his hearing had improved to the point where he could make out the smallest animals munching on blades of grass.

  It was the most natural thing he had ever seen, until the world lurched. He could see the heads of the hunters, but they weren’t tracking the other animals, they were looking at him. A golden-coloured stoat sat up, its haughty features making it look cruel and majestic. Its face was turned towards him. It was rocking gently from side-to-side.

  It began to move, slowly at first, then all flowing movements as it raced across the meadow, getting bigger and bigger as it approached. By the time it reached him it had turned into a huge creature and its mighty jaws ripped into his puny body. He looked down to see his blood flowing out onto the earth.

  Roper was locked into this fantasy, totally unaware that his true location was rather more mundane. He was in a flat near the Elephant and Castle, tied to a bed and being monitored by David Cotter, who noted with disgust that a few moments ago, his victim had emptied his bladder. The smell making it obvious.

  The transfer from Roper’s own place had gone smoothly but he had been waiting more than an hour before Roper showed some signs of life; moaning and thrashing against his restraints. Cotter was getting frustrated because he wanted him to wake up and start answering questions. He had tried talking to him but to no avail, his words were not getting through.

  A few minutes later and he noted that Roper was starting to sweat and soon his face was running with it. Then he was shivering violently, apparently going from extreme heat to extreme cold. Cotter wondered if he might be about to die but Roper surprised him by opening his eyes.

  He looked around and at first seemed to ignore his captor then he looked directly at him and smiled. “David, good to see you. Do you have some water? my mouth is very dry.” His manner was matter of fact, as if he wasn’t truly aware of his position. He debated the request, he didn’t want Roper getting too comfortable, but pragmatism won out. Maybe having a drink would help him answer questions.

  He fetched a glass of water from the kitchen tap and held it to Roper’s lips. In the event he only managed a couple of sips before falling back, apparently exhausted. He lay there with his eyes closed, breathing shallowly. After a few minutes Cotter gave up in disgust. He had been warned that LSD was an unpredictable drug, but he still hadn’t expected this. At the same time, he was forced to admit that he wouldn’t complain if the drugs killed Roper. He didn’t like to admit it, but killing him was not a task he was looking forward to.

  He had been experiencing quite violent mood swings all day. One moment calm, the next angry. Now he was overwhelmed with a ravenous hunger, he felt faint from lack of food. He had no idea when he had last eaten. It might have been the previous day, or the day before that. He looked out of the window and noticed that the rain had eased off so he might as well go out for a short while. Roper was going nowhere and seemed in no state to talk. If he left him a bit longer he might get the prefect result. Roper would come around just enough to answer questions then slump unconscious once more.

  The thought of food was driving him mad. He needed something now. Something hot, fatty and salty. He was in an area where fast food was king. He shouldn’t have a problem. As he walked out he stopped in the door way and looked down. Roper looked almost peaceful. As Cotter stared down at him he felt a sense of disquiet, something about this situation was worrying him, but he couldn’t pin the thought down, like one of those dreams that slithers away as you come awake.

  He exited and went outside to call the lift. There was a decent chippy nearby; a bag of chips would make him feel better. Twenty minutes later Mr. Roberts opened the front door and walked in. The first thing he noticed was the smell of urine. He followed it to the source and was amazed to see Jonathan Roper lying on one of the beds.

  He was unmoving, his features relaxed. Mr. Roberts wondered if he was dead and even finding a pulse could not stop the sudden panic grip him. What was going on? Yet again he was coming back to find people tied to the bed. He must have brought Roper here, but he had no recollection of having done so.

  He was forced to admit that those gaps in his memory were getting worse, not better. The strangeness of the situation began to play on his already taut nerves. Roper being here, coupled with his memory loss were threatening to overwhelm him. He had to get out of the flat.

  He ran out, taking the stairs at full pelt, unconcerned he might miss a step. He emerged into the deserted lobby and bolted straight outside into a wall of rain which had chosen that moment to start falling again.

  Mr. Roberts ignored it. He made straight for the pub on the corner, the Red Lion. It was a large, cavernous place, typical of the area. He burst through the door and marched straight up to the bar. “Pint of lager mate,” he said to the barman, not bothering to see if the man was ready to take his order.

  The bar tender was normally talkative but not this time. There was something about this customer that suggested it would be unwise to engage him in conversation. He silently placed the drink and stepped back. Mr. Roberts snatched it up and drained it in one. The empty was thumped down hard enough to make the barman wince and Mr. Roberts spun on his heel and left without a word. He hadn’t paid and the barman decided he wasn’t going to make an issue of it. It was best to let some people go; even better if they never came back. He regretted tha
t the money would probably come out of his wages, but sometimes it was better to be safe than sorry. That man was the type you could imagine ramming a broken glass into someone’s face.

  Outside it was still raining heavily. As he stood in the pub entrance, with the first effects of the alcohol starting to kick in, David Cotter looked around with a startled expression. “What on earth am I doing out here?” he thought to himself. He could taste the lager in his mouth and turned around and pushed back through the door. He walked towards the bar and stopped, frozen by the way the barman, who obviously recognised him, shrank back in fear. He needed to get out of here and back to the flat. He didn’t want to know why the man was scared. He’d lost all track of time and couldn’t recall how long he’d left Roper alone.

  Back at the flat he paused outside the front door, listening carefully, but could hear nothing. Not that he really expected to, the door was reinforced, designed to resist burglars, which also gave it excellent sound insulation. Inserting his key into the lock he stepped inside.

  As the door swung shut behind him he felt a sense of deja vu that was so powerful it was almost a physical sensation. It made him shiver and he started to wonder if he had accidentally ingested some of the LSD as well. That would explain the odd things that were happening. He shook his head, he’d been too careful of that. He walked in to the bedroom and studied Roper, standing there for five minutes while he waited to see if the man would come around.

  This short vigil did nothing to clear his mind. Roper was still out for the count and he was having doubts about his plan. Ever since he had brought Roper here he had been feeling very strange. If anything, the feeling was getting worse by the moment.

  He began to wonder if his subconscious was trying to tell him something. Being realistic, why was he doing this? He’d already made his point. What more could he wring out of Roper that he had not already extracted through their numerous sessions in Cheltenham? The fool had been so innocent, happy to try and answer all and every question put to him. And that was the key; he had answered a lot of questions and provided an awful lot of answers. Just as importantly, his other plans were coming nicely to fruition,