Excerpt: It's Happened Before - Two

NANO 50K (TWO)

It’s Happened Before – Two

Alex

This is the first chance I’ve had to write up my journal since we - thats Chris and me – got back from Moscow. Well, what can I say about that? Chris would say the least I say about it the better since it wasn’t the smoothest operation he’s ever been on, although it was successful, since they managed to stop Lenny – or Ben, I suppose I should call him – from killing * but then, I don’t think I should write down who he was planning to kill, even though no-one else is ever going to see this, just in case, you never know who might find it one day.
I don’t know how Lenny (I can’t think of Lenny as Ben, even now) got back. All I know is that Chris was repatriated (I think that’s what the Russians called it) with the Commander and Sandy the SAS guy. Me and the other men in the Commanders party managed to get to the airport all right, after Lenny, Chris and Sandy were caught outside our hotel. Chris wouldn’t tell me anything about the time he had in the Russian prison. It’s even more hush-hush than it all was before, when Lenny used to disappear from the office and Chris began to suspect him of not being Lenny at all.
Mind you, the other guys who I got away from Russia with all said how important my part in the whole thing had been. If I hadn’t spotted that odd thing about the names of those two passengers who’d saved the plane then they might never have got to Lenny in time. Even now I don’t really understand how Lenny could have been doing what he was doing. Our quiet and peaceful Lenny, who wouldnt say boo to a goose, who wouldn’t stand up to the suits in the office when they were bullying him and who couldnt remember from one day to the next whether Aimee and me take sugar in our coffee. For him to be a killer or an assassin as the Commander called him seems absolutely mad. But he was and probably still is (an assassin, that is).
When Chris and me spotted him in that coffee shop and he said that he was Ben and not Lenny and that he and Lenny were one and the same and that Lenny had no idea what was happening when Ben took over his life, that’s when it all made sense. That night before Christmas two years ago when he changed from Lenny, who wasn’t going to come to the pub with us, to Ben who did. And thats why Lenny knew nothing about it the following morning.
But what happened on the morning after we met him in Moscow I just don’t know because Chris wont say a word. Chris got back a week after I did. I don’t know how things are between us now. In Moscow, when I was helping him and his friends everything seemed all right between us. Now I don’t know. Hes gone into his shell and we hardly ever speak. We still live together, when he’s not working lates, but its definitely not the same. Anyway I’ve decided theres nothing I can do about it so I wont say any more about it now.
Chris did tell me, though, that Lenny had got back and where he was, and Ive been to see him in hospital twice now. The first time he was still unconscious. But not like he was last time. Last time he’d been beaten up and knocked unconscious. This time the nurse said that he’d been drugged somewhere else and that he wasn’t in any danger, he’d just sleep it off. The second time he was sitting up and being Lenny again, but not Ben. I didn’t ask him any questions because I could tell he wouldn’t remember anything, because that’s how Ben had said Lenny was when he’d been ‘doing’ things.
I know now what to say to help Lenny because he always seems to forget what his name is and where he lives and where he works when he’s been Ben. So I just tell him as if its just chatter. I tell him that we’re all looking forward to seeing him back at work again, and where his office and flat are. And we really will be glad to see him back. Not just because he’s so good at what he does either but because he’s such a really nice guy to work with. I ask him if he wants me to fix his flat up for when he goes back again, and he said yes he would. It’s in Primrose Hill and I know the caretaker will let me in to fix things up, since I saw him there last time we did it for him.
Lenny tells me he’s talked to a social worker who’ll be helping him get back home. I suppose its the girl who helped him last time, Claire, I think her name was. We’d had a chat last time and she seemed nice and she was very taken with Lenny. I suppose we all are. So he’ll be in good hands. I notice a stack of paper backs on his bedside table that Jimmy, his friend from the second-hand bookshop round the corner from his flat has brought in and I leave him two more that I managed to find in our flat. I know how quickly he reads them, so I make a mental note to bring some more in.
Anyway, that’s all for now. I’ll be back at work on Monday to give them the good news that Lenny will be back with us maybe in a couple of weeks, at least that’s what the nurse thought.

Chris

Since Moscow, things have got more and more complicated. I don’t know how the FSB were onto us so quickly after we’d left the department store with Lenny. It could have been they’d been watching us all along and were waiting for us to make a move. The Commander was as surprised as any of us. The reason why we were treated so well, I suppose, was after they’d found Putin’s visiting card on Lenny. If something similar had happened in London and our Prime Minister’s personal visiting card had been found on someone arrested, things would have gone higher up pretty damned quickly here as well.
None of us know what happened to Lenny, but we were stuck in cells in FSB Headquarters. Three days later we had a visit from the Ambassador and he said we’d be repatriated within forty-eight hours. He said a few guarded things about ‘others in our group’ who’d arrived back in London safely, so that set my mind at rest about Alex. The ambassador said he didn’t know anything else about our case, but he warned us not to talk to anyone about what had happened – as if we needed reminding.
Sure enough, two days later we were on a flight back to London. I don’t know what was worse – the days of uncertainty in Moscow, or the debriefing at Scotland Yard. Phew. I wouldn’t like to go through that again. This is how it went:

It’s the same set-up that had started us off in the first place: the Commissioner, an Assistant Commissioner, the Commander, the smart-suited civvy, who I assume was of an equivalent rank to the Commissioner, and myself.
The civvy opens with a rather terse, and not particularly grateful sounding, thank you to our team on what we fondly thought had been a pretty successful operation – give or take a dead body and our arrest. But he is less than polite when he talks about the implications for H.M. Government should any hint of what had happened be revealed - by which he meant the attempted assassination by what appears to have been a government supported agency, on their Prime Minister.
It soon becomes clear what he’s driving at.
“Commander, where do you think the weak-link is in the chain of people who know about what has happened?”
“I can vouch for all the men under my command, sir, so it must be with this Lenny chappie. The man we were hunting …” he paused as if to emphasise the point “… the man we caught.”
“Of course it must, Commander; so what efforts are you making to ensure that there is no unfortunate leak?”
“As things are, sir, the man is in a London hospital recovering from whatever it is that happened to him after he was separated from us in Moscow.”
“In which hospital is he?”
The Commissioner intervenes, “I don’t think that information is relevant, sir; suffice to say that he is there, that no unauthorised people have access to him and that there is a twenty-four hour police presence outside the room where he’s recovering.”
“Not good enough, Commissioner, I’m afraid. I need to know where he is.”
Even to me, a rookie Detective Inspector, with zilch experience in the politics of policing, it was pretty obvious what was going down here. These are the big jungle beasts, fighting for supremacy; protecting their turf and their underlings. The Commissioner is pretty darned impressive.
“In which case, sir, we’ll have to agree to disagree on the point. Can we move on, please?”
“I’m sorry, Commissioner. I must insist. I have explicit instructions from Downing Street to discover the whereabouts of this man.”
“Sir, I was placed in charge of this operation by the P.M. himself, and I have no orders countermanding that instruction. I’m afraid that you will have to report back to Downing Street accordingly. In the meantime, either we proceed with this de-briefing, or I adjourn it.”
“I must protest, Commissioner. Perhaps you have a good reason for being so obstructive?”
“Certainly, sir. I’ve already presented you with my first reason, which is, in case you are not aware, the chain of command. My second reason is I believe that the fewer people who know of this man’s whereabouts, the better … for all concerned … including the P.M.”
By now I’m beginning to, quite literally, shake at the knees. I’d told Alex where Lenny was. I’d cleared her visits with the officers at the door and she’d already been twice to see him – also, I knew she was reporting back to her office. At least I’d got her to swear not to tell anyone where he was. But Alex was so …
There’s nothing I can do about that right now. I return to the ding-dong at the top table, which is still going strongly, with Top C still holding out. Finally, the Commissioner breaks the impasse.
“Gentlemen, I propose a short adjournment while we sort this little difficulty out. I suggest you take time out for a coffee. We shall reconvene in an hour.”
I find a loo and send a text to Alex.

During the break, the Assistant Commissioner falls into a discreet conversation with the Commander, who also heads for the gents. I wonder how many emergency calls have been made from those particular toilets.

Alex

This morning I get a text from Chris. Under no circumstances was I to visit Lenny again and I mustn’t say a word about him at the office. I feel bad about this since Aimee and Allan and one or two others are very concerned about him. I’ll just have to think of some story for the. Maybe I could say he’s been moved.
We do miss Lenny. The work’s beginning to pile up and we’re struggling to keep up, so the suits are getting a bit cross. Also, Mr Whiteside isn’t back from his holidays. I’m sure they said he’d be back in a week. It’s been three weeks and he’s still not back.
What I’ll do on Saturday is get Lenny’s key and do a clean up for him. He’s bound to have left his flat in a tip, messy creature that he is. I can also get some more books for him from Jimmy.
There’s not much else to add tonight, apart from I haven’t seen Chris for three days. I know he’ll be very busy, what with the Lenny and Ben thing and everything else he has to do, but it would nice to see him occasionally.
Oh, there is one other thing. Claire, the social worker at Lenny’s hospital rang (I’d left my number for her in case she wanted any information for when Lenny leaves hospital). Apparently she’s going to have to make sure his flat’s OK because the hospital have put him down as a vulnerable adult (quite right, too, because he is, no matter what some people think). She has two days off work, so I’ve arranged to meet her at Lenny’s flat on Wednesday night.

Lenny

Everyone’s gone very quiet. When I ask a nurse about the people who are supposed to be wanting to see me, she clammed up and said I’d have to ask the Ward Sister. Luckily I have a stack of books to keep me going, and my head-ache’s almost completely gone now. I don’t know what caused it and I hope it doesn’t come back again. I wonder if there’s still a policeman outside. I didn’t like the sound of that. As soon as I can, I’m going to leave this place. They can’t hold me here against my will. I’m supposed to be seeing a doctor this morning and I believe he’s the only person who can discharge me; so I’ll wait until I’ve seen him and get it all done officially.
“Honestly, doctor,” I say, when he comes around later on, “I feel fine now. Even my head-ache’s gone.”
He looks at my chart and humms and hahs.
“I think not, young man.”
Young man indeed, I’m probably ten years older than him.
“Why, what’s wrong?”
“There’s an abnormal reading on your … heart, bio-rhythm read-out …”
Absolute nonsense. He’s making it up … it’s as plain as a pikestaff.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’ll have to stay in for another few days … so we can do some tests.”

I’ve been lying here all morning and no-one’s been around to do ‘tests’. Then there’s a flurry of activity. Without a word, four ambulance-men wheel a trolley in to my room and they lift me onto it and wheel me out. There isn’t a nurse in sight as I’m wheeled out to an ambulance. They push me inside and climb in with me. The siren starts and we’re off across London. As always – destination unknown. I give up.

Chris

When the de-brief reconvenes an hour later, the civvie’s no longer there. Top C didn’t even mention him.
“Right, then Commander, let’s get on. I’ve read your report and I’d like to congratulate you and your team – including Inspector Oldfield and his … er … friend – on a pretty good job. Well done. Nothing you could do about the intercept – their intelligence has always been spot on … and they were working on home territory.”
After the Commander winds up with a verbal summary, Top C gets down to brass-tacks.
“What’s to be done now?”
The Assistant Commissioner, a little smugly, I thought, said, “We’ve … er … moved the er … difficulty sir … to a new hospital. This one is a bit more secure.”
“Good work. That’ll keep ‘em guessing for a while. But not for long, mind, don’t forget, they’ve also got some top-rate intelligence officers, and they, too, are on home territory.”
So, this rivalry between Scotland Yard and MI5 is just as competitive as rumour has it. I’m beginning to wonder what’s being cooked up for Lenny here. I feel hopelessly under-experienced and I don’t think it’s my position to ask any questions.
“What’s your view on this, Commander.”
“I’ve seen this man, sir, but only in his Lenny persona. Inspector Oldfield here is the only one of us to have met him as his Ben persona. If this dual-personality is to be believed, sir, and I see no evidence, yet, to suggest it isn’t genuine, then I believe we need to get him under cover and in the hands of a psycho-analyst as soon as possible.”
I’m trying to understand why it is the Commissioner can’t leave this to MI5. After all, we’re both on the same side, aren’t we? Is this simply a territorial spat … or is there something much deeper going on?
“What do you think, Oldfield?”
This is it. I know my ignorance is about to show … but I’ve got to give it a go.
“I might not have a grasp of all the, er, political implications here, sir, but, as far as Lenny’s concerned, I was pretty well convinced about his ignorance about what he was lined up to do … and what he eventually did do.”
“Go on, Oldfield, we don’t expect you to know everything that’s going on; to be frank, I don’t know whether anyone in this room knows that.”
“Right, sir, there’s not a lot else I can say. It’s true, I’ve seen him twice in his ‘Ben’ persona, and he’s pretty impressive. If he walked in here now, I think everyone would become aware of that very quickly. In my view, the Lenny I know would be incapable of putting that on.”
“But,” the Commissioner said, “would the ‘Ben’ persona, as you call it, be capable of putting on the ‘Lenny’ persona?”
“I doubt it, sir, but I think I’d have to accept that there is a possibility that he could.”
“So, would you recommend a shrink, Oldfield?”
“Yes, I would, sir. But in a much safer place than an NHS hospital.”
The Commissioner scanned the room. “Right, then, does anyone have anything to add … then, are there any dissenting opinions?”
I was on the verge of asking …
“Yes, Oldfield. I believe you have a question.”
“What about the … er … dead man, sir?”
“What dead man?”
“The … er … dead man in the store-room, sir … the … er …”
The Police Commissioner, smiling very gently, said, “I think that you’ll find there is no dead man mentioned in the Commander’s report. You must have been mistake; a trick of the light, perhaps.”
I shot a glance at the Commander, who was wearing a sardonic smile. Our eyes met.
“No further questions then. Good, I’ll leave you in the hands of my Assistant Chief Constable, Good morning.”
The Top C leaves; his Assistant takes over and covers a wide range of operational issues, most of which don’t concern me.
“I needn’t add … keep this entirely to yourselves,” he says when he finishes. “Do not communicate with each other by e-mail, telephone or letter on the subject. Proceed on a ‘need-to-know’ basis only. You’ll receive a code-word in due course, and a secure means of communication. Oldfield, will you remain behind afterwards? The rest of you, thank you for your attendance. Good morning … and good luck.”

When they’ve gone, the Assistant Commissioner says:
“I need to know where your loyalties lie in this, Oldfield. I did not approve of this … girlfriend … of yours being pulled into the operation In Moscow. It was highly irregular … and I told the Commander so at the time … highly irregular.”
“We were up against it, sir, the Commander realised …”
“I’m well aware what the Commander realised.” The A.C. slams his hand flat on the desk. “He made that clear in his report. The fact remains … it was you who recognised him, wasn’t it? Not her? You could have spotted him without her help. It’s in the report, man.”
“In retrospect … that’s true, sir … and, actually, we recognised him at the same time.”
“That’s what was so irregular; an operational detective working with his girl-friend. I’ve never heard the likes.”
This man has transformed himself as effectively as Ben does when he emerges out of Lenny.
“All I can say, sir, is that the Commander felt we were up against it. We’d drawn blanks wherever we’d looked and things were getting out of hand … time was passing and it looked like we’d be too late to have an effect.”
“I want this to be clear from the start, Oldfield … no more little bit-parts for her … otherwise you’ll be back on the beat. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir; perfectly well.”
The A.C. seems disinclined to dismiss me. He drummed his fingers on the desk. I had a strong feeling that he wasn’t finished … that worse was to come.
“Will that be all, sir?”
“No, Oldfield, it won’t be all. This man Fell, or Lenny … or whatever it is … Ben. What’s his little game, eh?”
“I don’t think it is a game, sir.”
“Oh, it is, Oldfield; it most certainly is.”
“Perhaps that’s why it’s as well we get a psychologist’s opinion, sir.”
“That will be a complete waste of time. Tell, me, do you really think this ‘dual-personality’ clap-trap is genuine?”
“In this case, sir, I think there’s a very good chance that it is genuine.”
“But, you can’t be sure, can you?”
“Not absolutely sure, sir, no.”
“In which case, I want you to work on him, personally. You know the procedure. You are a detective, aren’t you?”
“He’s not under arrest, sir. Surely I can’t interrogate someone who’s not under arrest.”
“Then arrest him, man. Get some discipline back into this case.”
“With all due respect, sir, charge him with what?”
“With murder, man. You know he’s committed a murder. You were virtually there when he did it.”
By now I’m beginning to think my head’s about to explode. First the Top C denies that there’s been a murder – indeed the Commander had not even mentioned it in his report – or so the Commissioner said … then his Assistant, the man he’s put in charge of the case, tells me to charge Lenny.
“I’m sorry, sir, but the Commissioner has just …”
“I know that; but I have taken responsibility for this shambles now … and it’s going to be done properly. It’s down to you Oldfield; I shall hold you personally responsible if anything goes wrong. That will be all … and not a word to the others about this conversation …”

Lenny

Where the hell am I now? It smells like a hospital. It looks a bit like a hospital. But it doesn’t sound like a hospital, or feel like one either. Instead of a nice outlook onto lawns, trees and a main road, I stare outside at a blank, white wall, which doesn’t seem to have a top. The room’s done out nicely enough, and there’s a little bunch of flowers in a vase on the desk. They’ve also brought my paper-backs; and there’s a coffee percolator, perking away on a shelf by a sink. But I’m feeling absolutely fine. No head-ache, no … there’s nothing physically wrong with me. So, why …this?”
I pour some coffee – into a beautiful porcelain cup. Pretty decent coffee … I couldn’t have chosen it better myself. But, where the hell am I? And why am I here?

Alex

On my way to Lenny’s flat I call in to see Jimmy, his friend who has the book-shop round the corner. He gives me a pile of books and asks me to pass on his best wishes.
“’E’s the greatest reader I’ve ever seen. I don’t know ‘ow ‘e does it,” he shouts after me as I leave.
Claire is waiting outside and I ring the bell for the Caretaker.
Lenny’s block of flats is at the bottom of Primrose Hill Lane, opposite the entrance to the park. It’s quite up-market, not like mine. I think the only people to live there are people who can afford to. There are a number of swish cars and Chelsea tractors parked outside, and there’s a really nice restaurant virtually next door. I try to imagine Lenny eating there on his own, but I can’t quite see it. I think he’s much more likely to get a take-away hamburger or pizza and bring it home.
Claire’s a lovely looking girl; tall and in a very nice skirt and blouse. She says she’s only had to come a short way and has walked it over Primrose Hill. Just before the Caretaker comes out of his basement flat, though, someone comes up behind us. I think it’s one of the residents, so, as the door opens, I step to one side to let him past.
“Oy. Where d’you think you’re going?” The caretaker shouts.
“My friend … he live here. Flat twenty-one.” The man says – or something like that.
“No he doesn’t. That’s Mrs Marsh who lives in that flat.”
The man says, “No. See this my friend,” and he shows him a grubby piece of paper.
The caretaker looks at it. “That’s not this block, mate. I can’t make this writing out, either; but that’s not this block.”
The man steps back, apologises and walks down the steps towards the street..
“You’ve got to be careful of these chancers, you know. That’s the second time today someone’s tried that trick. Next time and I’m calling the police. Sorry, ladies. You’ve come to sort Lenny’s flat, haven’t you? Come on up and I’ll let you in. At least, I know who you are.”
I’ve mentioned that little incident on the doorstep because I got to thinking about it later … when I heard about what’s happening to Lenny. But I’m jumping ahead of myself.
Both Claire and I have brought some coffee, milk, biscuits and other things, so we set to organising his pantry. The Caretaker’s already done a basic clean-up, so there’s not a lot for us to do. We stack the food into the pantry.
“Let’s have a cup of coffee,” I say, “I’m sure Lenny wouldn’t mind.”
While I’m putting the kettle on, Claire does a tour of the flat. Again, I’m sure Lenny wouldn’t mind, since he’s asked us to sort it out for him.
“Everything seems to be OK,” Claire says. “All the electrics work; there are bulbs in all the sockets. Nothing obvious that’s dangerous. Nothing nasty lurking in the airing cupboard.”
“He doesn’t have many things, does he?” Claire says as we settle into his settee with our coffee. “No T.V. for instance. I can’t even see a radio. He has an alarm-clock, and I think that seems to be the only mechanical thing in the flat.”
I’m aware, after Chris’s text about not visiting Lenny again, that I’ve got to be careful what I say about Lenny; and, of course, there’s no way I can tell Claire what I know about him. But I’m really anxious to have a look around to see if there are any clues as to his identity. I’m dying to look in his drawers, but it’s pretty obvious that Claire wouldn’t be allowed to do that.
“Is this what you have to check when anyone is coming out of hospital on their own,” I ask.
“That’s right; especially vulnerable patients.”
“Why has Lenny been classed as vulnerable?”
“That’s a decision a doctor takes after we’ve had a case conference – we always have one of those if there are any doubts about someone being able to cope.”
“And you had doubts about Lenny?”
“Well, yes. This is the second time he’s ended up in hospital in suspicious circumstances.”
“You mean, no-one knows what happened to him either time?”
“That’s right. He seems to have lost his memory twice now. The first time he was beaten up and the second he was drugged. Also, he doesn’t seem to have any family. That’s why we call him vulnerable. I don’t suppose you know if he has any family, Alex?”
Now I don’t know what to say. I can’t tell Claire that Lenny made up a family in Harrogate and that Aimee and me believed him, until he slipped up one day and it became obvious that they didn’t exist. I can’t tell her how upset he’d been when we’d found out. And I certainly can’t tell her that he has a split personality … and that his, whatever it’s called, is an assassin, who he knows nothing about.
“He’s a strange man, Claire. I like him a lot, but he does such odd things.”
I tell her about him wearing odd socks, grubby shirts, forgetting to shave – not all the time, I say, just occasionally – forgetting whether me and Aimee have sugar in our coffee – things like that. Clair takes all this in quietly. I don’t know what she’s making of it.
“He’s not dangerous … or anything like that. In fact he’s really … sweet … and very caring.”
I tell her about the times he’s stuck up for me when a ‘suit’ – that’s what we call the financial experts – from upstairs in our office bullied me once. Well, I exaggerated a bit with that, since he never ever took any of them on.
“Why did you say he’s not dangerous, Alex?” Claire asked, “Why ever should Lenny be dangerous?”
Me and my big mouth. Of course, there would be no reason why I should say a thing like that, if I didn’t know about his other side. I think I must have blushed, and I was close to tears.
“Come on, Alex, I know that you know something about Lenny that I don’t know. Hadn’t you better tell me?”
“I’m sorry Claire, there are some things I can’t tell you about …things that I’m not allowed to tell you about … in fact I can’t even tell you why I’m not allowed to tell you about them.”
“Oh.” She says, after a long pause. “Oh. I wasn’t expecting that, Alex. Are you really a colleague of his … or are you a police officer? Or something like that?”
“No. But … but … look, Claire, I honestly can’t tell you … I can’t even tell Aimee … and she’s my best friend … and she knows Lenny as well as I do … I can tell her anything … anything at all about me … about … about my sex life, even … but I can’t tell her what I know about Lenny.”
“But you can tell me he’s not dangerous … and that’s good enough for me … for the time being, Alex.”
Thank God, she was smiling. She got up to take her mug into the kitchen, and I followed her … and gave her a hug.
“Thanks for understanding, Claire … it means a lot, that does.”
By now I really was crying, and so, I think, was she.
After a while like that she said, “Let’s go.”
We washed up, locked up, shouted down to the caretaker that we were going, and left the block. I noticed a man sitting in a car opposite the block. He looked away as we walked passed, but not before I recognised him – it was definitely the man who had tried to get into the flat. I was about to say something to Claire, but she hadn’t noticed him, so I said nothing. When I got home, I phoned the caretaker, though, and left a message on his answer machine. Maybe he’ll call the police.

Chris

‘So no pressure then,’ I say to myself in the lift after I leave the Commissioner’s conference suite. ‘No pressure, whatsobloodyever.’
I feel like kicking something – something very expensive – but I resist the temptation like a good police officer and get meekly into my car. Where shall I drive to? I’m finding it very difficult to be with Alex now. Something’s come between us … and that something is my bloody job. For two pins I’d jack it in. Then I think just about every police officer in the world gets a job sometimes that gets to him. This is the first time it’s ever got so personal. In a strange, cack-handed way, the A.C. was right. Alex should never have been dragged into this. At the time it had seemed the most sensible thing to do … I know the Commander had taken the decision in good faith; I certainly hadn’t queried it. But now it looks like it’s going to wreck our relationship … and I really do love Alex.