The Whitehall Syndicate: A time travel conspiracy thriller Read Free Page B

It was perfectly straight, falling down to her shoulders, and the comb slid through effortlessly. She was Asian but compared to most people in her family, her skin was several shades paler. Licking her cherry red lips seductively, she grabbed her keys and headed out of her huge apartment. Being a monitor monkey -that's what they were nicknamed - she was entitled to certain privileges. Today she had the afternoon free and she was off to meet her best friend for a meal. She could sense it was going to be a good day.
     
    The colours of the room all blurred together: the soft pines, mild magnolias and royal blues seemed to form a raging vortex around him. A million thoughts bounced around his head, seeming so urgent as to take physical form. All the events of the last few minutes seemed to bleed into each other. In his flustered state, the same few questions cycled continuously through his mind.
    Who was Jenny? Whose fingers were in the box? Who delivered it to him? Disorientated, Jack stumbled backwards and just about managed to find a small velvet chair to slump onto. Deep in thought and still shaken up, he resolved to find out what was going on. It seemed the most logical thing he could do given the seemingly illogical turn of events.
    As he blinked, the room came back into focus and gazing around, his attention again drew to the bloody box. His hands felt itchy, as if his sweat was suddenly caustic and etching away at them. He held them up to the light to check for blood and thankfully saw none. With an almighty heave he forced himself up, and out the door. He had to find Jenny in less than an hour.
    The bar was packed full and on his walk through, it rumbled with deafening conversation. A quick scan of the place for the men he had seen earlier turned up nothing. Instead he saw the Japanese woman, now smiling at somebody else. He walked through into the lobby and up to the reception desk.
    There was a different person from the one had seen a few hours ago, although in his haste Jack hardly noticed. “Erm hi there,” he began, “Can you help me out please?” His voice felt raspy and strained.
    “Sure thing mate, what seems to be the problem?”
    “I'm looking for a girl, erm, a friend of mine. She was supposed to be checked in today.”
    “What's her name?” he enquired, friendly as possible.
    “Jenny.”
    “Jenny what?” Jack began to feel hot under the collar and sensed a crimson flush taking over his face. His eyes became glazed over as he immersed himself deep in thought. Then something struck him. “Erm, let me level with you. You seem like a pretty mellow guy. It's not that kind of a friend. It's this girl I met at a club,” he paused to cheekily raise his bushy eyebrows a fraction. “Do y'know what I mean?” His voice was seedier now. “She mentioned she was staying here.” After another short pause the man at the desk nodded his head a little, returning the sleazy grin.
    “Let me see what I can do.”
    Jack started back up to the elevator, a list of Jenny's staying in the hotel now safely in his leg pocket. He stopped for a second, reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the note again. It said Jenny's room was to the west of the hotel. Checking his list of room numbers against areas in the west wing, only one name seemed to match. Jenny Doyle.
    He headed off to her room, W96, with a stomach full of butterflies and a brow drenched in nervous sweat. All this frantic scurrying had left his every muscle tense and he could feel his legs ache with every step he took. Finally arriving, he inhaled deeply to calm his shredded nerves, then rapped on the door with his knuckles.
     
    From the shower she heard a hollow thud, followed by another. The ancient faucet creaked with lime scale as it was turned off, and the sound became discernible as knocking on the door. With a thunderous voice, surprisingly loud for such a small girl, she yelled, “One second” and felt around the cubicle for her towel.