The Samsara Project by David Burgess (romantic books to read .TXT) 📕

Daily Herald’. Something was on his mind and it just wouldn’t go away. He had been searching through the paper’s archives and trawling the Internet for something new on the Ripper, something that would bring new light to the hundred year old Ripper mystery. Andrew spent the next two hours going through the newspaper archives covering the three months of the Ripper killings. Then, he remembered, it wasn’t The Daily Herald archives, it was the local paper where he’d seen the report.
Andrew went back to the archive library, handed back the papers he had taken out and asked for the local editions covering the same dates. He scanned through them, then, when he had almost gone through every paper, he found what he was looking for. The story was only small but Andrew had a gut feeling that it was probably the biggest story the …… had ever printed. They just never knew it.
Andrew went over to the library desk and asked for an electronic copy of one specific paper to be e-Mailed to him. He now had a name to work with. The adrenalin was pounding through his veins. His theory did not yet have any proof, but he felt sure he would find it.
Back at his desk Andrew logged in the papers high speed web servers. He called up Google and did a keyword search for the name he had. Google returned thirty five hits. That was more than he expected. He clicked on the blue coloured links and without bothering to read the results clicked on the printer icon. The high tech. electronic pages now became good old fashioned paper or hard copies. Andrew would never admit this to just anyone but he far preferred the feel of paper in his hand when he was reading. Electronic copies from the ‘paperless office’ were all well and good but there was something tangible, more believable about holding a piece of paper with words written on it than reading the same words off a TFT monitor.
Andrew knew he was starting to get somewhere, but he still had further to go. Back on the Google home page he widened his search parameters to include anything related to the name he had found. In microseconds Google’s massive computer power presented the results of his search onto his screen. One result stood out so much that a two hundred foot high flashing neon sign would have made less of an impact on his senses. He knew this was the missing piece of the jig-saw and he knew it because the source and content were impeccable. The story was about PC Thompson, the constable who found the Rippers last victim.
Andrew read the story, hardly daring to breath. It turned out that PC Thompson was not alone the night he discovered the body. Another constable was with him, PC Ian James. He had not been mentioned previously. When the two constables first realised there was a body on the ground there was a figure standing over it. The constables, who were officially off duty, shouted and ran towards the body, the figure ran off. PC Thompson stayed with Francis Coles but was unable to do anything except comfort her in the last few moments of her life. PC James did not stay; he chased the figure through the streets and back alleys of Whitechapel. When he finally caught the figure, it was too late to make any difference. The person he had been chasing was also dead, killed in what the papers reported as ‘a tragic accident’.
That there had been a terrible mistake made that night was clear for all to see. The mistake resulted in the death of someone considered to be very special, someone kind, hardworking and irreplaceable. That this person could ever have been thought of as the Ripper, even for a split second, was laughable, and as a result no further investigations were made.
Now Andrew was certain, he had more than enough circumstantial evidence to support his theory. He now knew with one hundred percent certainty who Jack the Ripper was. This revelation would blow the whole Jack the Ripper industry wide open. No one, at any time had even been close to identifying the Ripper, yet the evidence was there all along. It was never hidden. All anyone had to do was look for it. All they had to do was put aside their preconceived ideas, theories and notions about mass murderers and, to use a modern buzz phrase ‘think outside the box’, if they had, the case would have been solved while the killer was still alive.
“Just wait till John sees this,” thought Andrew. He then went over to his Apple Mac and started to write.

* * * *

Peter walked into the DNA testing area of his lab. It is here that hundreds of DNA samples a week are tested by the school. He gave the samples to twenty two year old Carla Charlton, a final year Bio chemist and one of the brightest students currently studying at the school. The faculty have high hopes for Carla and providing her final exam results turn out to be what they predict then she will immediately be offered the opportunity to study for her PhD in Bio chemistry.
For someone of Carla’s capability the test was straight forward. Once she had the results they were logged, along with the DNA chemical profile in the national database.
Within seconds of the profile being added a ‘red flag alert’ was flashing on a computer screen in the Homeland Security Section of GCHQ in Cheltenham. The alert was immediately passed on to the shift supervisor who was able to trace the data source back to the computer terminal Carla had used to log her results.
Within five minutes of the alert a team of five people were locked in a secure room at HSS, there was only one item on the agenda. Why was that particular DNA profile tested, by whom and why? Eight minutes after the start of the meeting the team had decided to authorise an immediate ‘Class A1A’ response. The operation was given the code name ‘Woolton’.
HSS agents, based in Liverpool, were contacted and given their orders verbally. Their ‘rules of engagement’ arrived by secure fax less than sixty seconds later.
Three minutes after the agents were given the orders Peter Livingstone received a telephone call. It was answered by Shareena who immediately paged Peter.
“Yes Shareena?”
“I have a call on line five for you Dr. Livingstone. The caller would not give his name but...”
Peter interrupted, “It’s OK Shareena, I’ll take it in my office.”
The school did not have a ‘line five’; it was a code word for ‘Extreme Importance’. Peter had no idea what could have activated the code as he picked up the extension in his office. When he put the phone down a minute and a half later he wished that was still the case.

* * * *

John has taken Peter’s advice and spent a very pleasant couple of hours walking around the Albert Dock complex. Once derelict warehousing, now transformed into an upmarket shopping area with an excellent selection of wine bars and restaurants.
The weather was perfect for walking around the dock, clear skies and sunshine but with a crisp bite of wind blowing in from the Welsh mountains. John should have been enjoying his afternoon but his mind was elsewhere. For John time seemed to be going backwards, he had lost count how many times he had checked his watch. In the end he decided to go back anyway. “May as well wait there as here,” he thought.
John arrived back at the school. He entered the reception and walked up to Shareena who was busy sorting the outgoing post. “Hello Mr. Reynolds, did you enjoy your afternoon?”
“Yes thank you Shareena, very nice. It’s a great day for walking, and please John, call me”
“OK John, I’ll let Dr. Livingstone know you’re here.”
Shareena let Peter know that John was in reception, he came straight out.
“John, let’s go through to my office, it’s a bit quieter there.”
John followed Peter back to his office; Peter closed the door behind them.
“Any news?” asked John.
“I have,” said Peter, “I’d best give you these back before I forget them.” Peter handed the cooler box back to John. “No doubt, Pat will want these back?”
“Any news?” asked John a second time.
“Do you really want to know?” asked Peter, “I can tell you, the answer is in this envelope.”
“I have to know Peter,” replied John, “I’m sorry about before. I just can’t say why right now, but yes, I do need to know. Please, trust me.”
“Have you ever thought John that sometimes it is better not to know something? You must have a compelling reason to know if the samples match. Are the results really that important to you?”
John was not getting good vibes from Peter. He could not put his finger on exactly what the problem was but the atmosphere had definitely cooled.
“I’m checking out a theory for an article I’m putting together for the paper. These results are critical. If they confirm to be true what I think is true then at least I’ll know I’m not cracking up. I have no idea what the next step will be, I’ll worry about that after I’ve met with Pat when I get back to London. Without the results there won’t be an article. If they don’t match there won’t be an article.”
“So Pat really is involved in this, whatever, you’re investigating?” It was more a statement from Peter than a question.
“Pat’s an expert in his field. I needed someone with his level of knowledge and expertise to check something for me. He believes the samples will be a match.”
“And you John, what do you expect the results to be?”
“Pat confirmed my own thoughts so I also expect the samples will be a match.”
Peter picked up the envelope containing the results. He handed it over to John. He held it and hesitated. “Do you know the results Peter?”
“Just now John only two people know the results, Carla who did the test and me.”
“I have to know.” John replied. He tore open the envelope, took out the results and with trembling hands read them. John looked at Peter. “It’s a match,” he said, almost whispering. “They match.”
John put the results on the desk and said nothing. He felt numb. The two men sat in absolute silence. Peter was the first to speak, “Does the match solve your mystery?”
John was still quiet for a while longer. “These results are not the end of something Peter, they are the beginning. How can you have an answer to something and yet have the answer to nothing? These results are accurate?”
“They have been checked twice John. Accuracy is 99.99, add in as many other nines as you want, %. We always have to leave the possibility of a mismatch open but we also know there isn’t one.”
“John, I’m not digging but, is this paternity thing?”
“You think, I .., No, it’s not paternity.”
“I just thought, well you know. John,”
“It’s OK, I understand, if I’m any further forward when you come down then we’ll have a talk. Could probably do with your help anyway to try and understand a few things.”
“Sorry to rush off like this John but while you were out we had a call from a major client. Everything’s wanted yesterday. I’ll give you a call about coming down but, with what’s come up, it may be in a couple of weeks.”
The two hugged. “Don’t leave it too long,”