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

beyond any doubt what so ever that the fingerprints found of the spent shell casings and the fingerprints lifted from the pistol, and no other prints were present on the pistol or the shell casings, match. Who drove your car this morning?”
“I did,” replied John.
DC Roby nodded, “Forensics examined your car and they took prints from the inside, from the gear lever, the steering wheel, the door handle, all your prints John, your fresh complete prints. The same prints we lifted from the pistol that was used to shoot Tracy Rae, not once but twice. One shot John could be an accident, or maybe to wound, but two shots is for murder. Nobody shoots somebody twice and hopes they are going to live.”
John knew he was in trouble, he had known that all along. “I did not shoot Tracy Rae,” he said as calmly as he could. We were both drugged, both shot with a dart containing a drug. I’ve already told you about the two men. Why aren’t you looking for them?
DI Baxter answered that question, “Because they are a figment of your imagination John, because you shot Tracy Rae, not once but twice. When you ran off you tripped, knocked yourself out and only started to come round when our officers arrived. Forensics tell me you were the shooter, they don’t tell me any men dressed in black were there.”
“Then you haven’t looked closely enough,” replied John, “you might want to think that this is an open and shut case, even one of the simplest cases you have investigated but it isn’t. I’ll guarantee to both of you that this is one of the most complex cases you will ever have been involved in. You will tell your grandchildren about this case and if you want to solve it, I mean really solve it then you’ll have to start believing what I say.”
DI Baxter interrupted him, “Save the speeches for the court. This is an open and shut case and right now I recommend you get in touch with your solicitor. I hope for your sake they’re good. I’ve had to sit here and listen to your so called theory, now it’s my turn. I know quite a bit about you. John Reynolds, Investigative journalist for the Daily Herald and, now I think this is important, a part time ‘Jack the Ripper’ expert.”
“So are lots of people,” replied John.
“That’s true, but I think you took things one step further.”
“That’s interesting, so how do you think I took things further?”
“I think that you became so obsessed with Jack the Ripper that you decided to take on the role yourself. The few moments of fame and recognition you have as a journalist are not enough for you. You, John Reynolds, craved more so you decided to go on a murdering spree yourself. You decided to murder innocent women, in the style of Jack the Ripper then you, John Reynolds, investigative reporter would be able to write about the ‘new wave of ripper murders’. Maybe you thought you could go out on the lecture circuit, give after dinner speeches.”
DC Roby was nodding in approval. John was just looking at DI Baxter in utter disbelief.
“You can’t be serious,” spluttered John. “That’s the most far ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”
“Well,” said DI Baxter, “It’s not the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. and that’s just today. I’ll also throw in for good measure that Tracy Rae knew what you were doing. Maybe you told her, maybe she guessed. In any event that’s why you shot her, to keep her quiet.”
“That’s crazy,” replied John, now very worried. “I would never shoot anyone. I don’t own a gun, I don’t even know how to hold one let alone fire one well enough to hit them.”
“If you can’t even hold a pistol explain to us why are your prints are all over the one found at the scene?”
“I told you, Tracy and I were drugged. We were both shot with a dart of some kind.”
DI Baxter interrupted. “I hope you can come up with a better defence for yourself than that. I’ve heard your story, you’ve heard mine. If you were on the jury, who would you believe. Deep down, who would you believe?”
John had no answer.
“Thought so,” said DI Baxter in a final defiant tone.
Twenty seconds later John was formally charged by DC Roby with the attempted murder of Tracy Rae. Inwardly John was happy the charge was attempted murder, which told him Tracy was still alive. What he didn’t know was the police had no idea where Tracy was and that the attempted murder charge was only a holding one until they could track down the victim. At that moment Southern Counties Police had one hundred and twenty seven officers trying to do just that.

* * * *

Pat was sat up in bed as Geoffrey and Andrew entered his private room. Pat did not notice his two friends at first, he was trying to drink a cup of tea but a very sore throat was making swallowing very difficult and he felt as though he was swallowing barbed wire. His discomfort was not lost on either Andrew or Geoffrey, who was the first to speak, “Being tea total never was for you Pat, I’ll see if I can get a wee dram in fro you later on.”
Pat put the cup down on his bed side cabinet, he looked over towards the two men, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to tell them anything.” He was starting to get upset, not over the attack but by the damage he might have caused.
“You were drugged Pat, you’re actually very lucky to be alive. You are what’s important just now.”
“I agree,” said Andrew, “anyway, how are you?”
Pat’s voice was very faint and his throat was causing him a lot of pain each time he tried to talk, “I’ve never really known what a hangover was like, never suffered from them, but from what I’ve been told this would be a bad one.” He started to cough. Andrew went over to the bedside cabinet and poured him a glass of water. Pat took a sip of the water and grimaced as he swallowed it. “Thanks,” he said, “any ideas how long they want to keep me in here?”
“I would think just a day or two. They want to keep you in for observation just to make sure there are no adverse side effects from the drugs.” Pat nodded, resigned to his fate. The secure mobile phone that Andrew had in his pocket started to ring. He checked the screen and saw John’s name in the display. “It’s John,” he said out loud. Geoffrey and DCS Hughes both looked towards Andrew. It had been a while since the news had filtered through to them about the shooting. No one actually believed that John had anything to do with the shooting but after the events of the past few days, and last night in particular no one was surprised at this latest turn of events.
“John, it’s Andrew, I’m with Geoffrey and DCS Hughes. What’s happening, are you OK?”
“Andrew, just listen,” replied John, “I don’t have a lot of time and this is the only call I can make. The police have charged me with the attempted murder of Tracy, I need Geoffrey to organise a solicitor. I’ll leave the choice up to him but I need them here quickly. Keep the paper up to date. Andrew, please make sure everyone knows I had nothing to do with this. I’ve been set up and just now I have no idea how I can prove it when all the evidence points to me.”
Andrew had to interrupt, “John, I think the same people got to Pat last night and that’s how they knew you and Tracy would be together today.”
“Is Pat OK, has he been hurt?” John sounded concerned.
“They got into his house and injected him with some form of hallucinogenic truth drug. It looks like he’s over the worst of the effects now but the hospital want to keep him in a day or two for observation.”
“Andrew, I’ve got to go now. Try to get someone here as soon as possible and try and find out how Tracy is, no one here knows.” Andrew had expected something else but the line went dead.
Andrew relayed John’s message to Geoffrey and DCS Hughes. Geoffrey immediately made a telephone call. DCS Hughes called Andrew over, “I know John’s been set up for this and I also believe you’re right about whom it was that went after Pat also went after John and Tracy. Geoffrey and you had better watch your backs. They have so far taken out two members of your little group and Tracy has been shot. It’s also obvious they have no issues about using armed force.”
“Don’t forget either DCS Hughes that they also bugged your office, you had better be careful too. These are ruthless people we are dealing with and I doubt if your status as a serving police officer, whatever your rank, will stop them from coming after you if they feel they will be able to get anything useful from you.” Andrew was putting on a brave face but inside he was starting to feel quite nervous.
“I’ve taken a few additional precautions so don’t worry about me but, I appreciate your concern never the less.”

* * * *

John was transferred to the holding cells of Southern Counties Police HQ where he would spend the night prior to appearing before the Southern Counties magistrates in the morning. John was kept in a cell measuring ten feet by eight feet by ten feet high. The only natural light came from a small strip window at the top of one of the walls. The window itself was covered with metal bars, each about eight inches long and five inches from the next. The walls were painted in a dark green colour and had scratched in to the paint the names of most of the prisoners who had stayed there over the past couple of years. The bed was a raised concrete slab covered with a thin mattress; the blankets looked like world war one army issue, dark grey and very itchy. In the corner was a stainless steel toilet, no lid no seat and a wash basin with a couple of paper towels and a small plastic waste bin. The door was solid metal with a small glass spy hole fitted centre and head height.
It was only now that John was starting to take in the enormity of the day and it struck home to him that he could spend the best part of his life in jail. John was also struggling with what had happened at the picnic sight. Who ever had attacked them had used very sophisticated drugs, they had worked almost immediately and, according to the police toxicology report, had left absolutely no trace in his body. His recollection of the events was also hazy; he could remember bits of it. The two men, dressed from head to toe in black, he remembered the stinging sensation as the dart hit home, he remembered running and falling and he can vaguely remember two loud bangs. After that John could remember the police arriving at the scene and an ambulance arriving, no, two ambulances arriving. Why two, he thought, must have been one for Tracy and one for me, until I became the police’s prime suspect.
The police cell was temperature controlled at seventy two degrees but this did not stop John shivering. He wrapped the blanket around himself but it did not