The Whitehall Syndicate: A time travel conspiracy thriller Read Free

gentlemen.
     
    The stools around him had all been empty and to see these men suddenly appear from nowhere was a shock. The man next to him sat breathing quietly but hoarsely, like some great dragon from hell. The smell of his rancid breath had quickly found its way to Jack's nostrils and it was enough to make him nauseous. He took a few seconds to compose himself, and was just about to leave the bar when the bartender tentatively came up to him with a package and said, “Here you go mate. I think this is for you.” He didn't seem completely convinced. “It's from, and I quote, 'Some-one who'll be giving you a surprise soon'.”
    He fought to subdue his inner grin and failed: his face exploding into a coat-hanger smile. Within a few seconds his confidence had grown volumes, so much so in fact that he decided that now he would keep her in suspense. In the dark, cobwebbed recesses of his mind, a plan slowly formed. He would go upstairs, slowly. Let her follow him and see what happened from there. He thanked the bartender and headed off. As he entered the lift he loudly declared, “Floor three please,” to the woman by the keypad. Not too subtle, he thought, but effective.
    Getting out of the lift he preceded to walk slowly, making sure everyone passing down the corridor could see him. His gaze wandered from person to person, all the while a flaccid confusion forming in his mind. Where did all these people come from? This corridor was empty a short while ago. His worries didn't persist for long though, displaced instead by eager thoughts of the debauchery to come.
    He entered his room in just as laboured a fashion as his walk up to it. However, a quick look around was enough to see it was just the way he'd left it: an absolute tip. He realised he didn't have time to unpack now, and suddenly his calm, cool exterior dissipated. He was sure a few minutes ago it had been a lot more spacious.
    With some frantic running around, the room almost seemed to come to life as clothes were picked up, suitcases stuffed and objects arranged into neat symmetrical patterns. Rushing around, looking for a place to put the bag, he decided instead on simply shoving it under the bed. Then with a strained sprint over to the mirror he got one final look at himself. It wasn't much but it would have to do.
     
    He could feel his heart beating a little harder as he heard footsteps. For a second the image of the henchmen from the bar popped into his mind and in a single, fleeting moment, paranoia had taken over with a fiendish grip.
    Events like this one didn't happen to him often and his nerves were jangling at the prospect. He was determined not to let the cloud of worry persist, and instead went to wet his hair in the sink as a last-minute substitute for hair gel. Scuttling quickly across the large magnolia room he failed to notice the bartender's package on the bed was leaking a dark red, viscous fluid.
    Jack came out of the bathroom and was already beginning to second-guess himself. A look at his watch only heightened his anxiety. Was the present from the woman? Did he imagine the looks she was giving? Or did she just get lost on her way up. Maybe he should go outside and look for her. His train of thought was abruptly derailed by a splintering knock on the door. This was it.
    He scrambled over to the door, bringing himself down to a calm, casual saunter midway, to ease his mind. Reaching the door he took a deep breath as he let his charming self rise up to the surface. With a smooth motion, he suavely swung open the door, flashing a Colgate smile for his new friend.
     
    There, in the doorway, stood a middle-aged man, balding from his crown and sporting a hideous comb-over. His royal purple waistcoat and faded gold tassels screamed out the fact that he was one of the hotel staff. “Good afternoon sir”, he droned out in a jaded monotone, leached of all feeling by his tedious job.
    “Erm hello,” replied Jack, glancing left and right down the