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Description
Chapter Five

   Gordon never liked the interview rooms. They were always too cold, too clinical. The floor and walls were cold steel and the only light source in the room came from a failing light in the ceiling. A tinted window was on one of the walls. On the other side, the two or three people who were aiding the interviewer kept watch to make sure nothing bad happened inside. On that particular say, the only person there was Rodney.
   Gordon had tracked down the first on the list. A man named John Nightingale. He worked in forging documents for overseas missions. He was always smoking some form of cigarette and frequently stank of the stuff. He was known for having a short temper and an aggressive nature. He was born and raised in East London and grew up amongst people like the Kray twins. There were rumours that he even ran a few jobs for them but not anymore. He worked for national security. He had to distance himself away from his darker background as possible.
   On the day of the interview he was thoroughly annoyed. It was partially because his car had been clamped that day and also because he was being interviewed as part of a murder investigation. He took a drag on his cigarette.
   "This won't take long, yeah?" he said. His had a cockney accent that sounded rough and gritty. Gordon looked him in the eye.
   "If you co-operate, then yes." He smiled. John didn't. Gordon continued. "Can you give me the details on the tasks Vernon Tully and Rodney East gave you in the past few years?"
   John took another drag on his cigarette. "They were standard things," he said. "Vernon gave me a few passports that he suspected were fakes. He asked me to run through them and send him the details. He kept asking me to keep all work to myself. They never told me what it was all about but he and East kept on sending me similar things to work on. I just assumed they were for some interception job."
   Gordon jotted down notes on what John had just said. He nodded and looked back at John. "And when was the last assignment either of them asked you to do?"
   "I did a name check for Rodney three months ago. That was the last thing I did for them." He stubbed out his cigarette and pulled out another from a silver box on the table. He jabbed it into his mouth and lit up. Gordon smiled.
   "Tell me, John, did you see anyone come into contact with Jeff Norton before he was killed?" John shook his head. "What about Frankie Harris? Did you see anyone with him before he was killed?" John sighed.
   "I don't know anything about the people who were killed. All I know is that you knob heads at the top let a Commie bastard slip through our supposedly top-notch defences and take out some of the highest ranking agents in the damn business. And now you're trying to put the blame on me. Well I'm faithful to my fucking country. I would never assist some Russian prick in sabotaging our intelligence operation."
   Gordon stared him in the eye. "Your mother's Russian isn't she?" John nodded.
   "She's one of the kindest women you'll ever now," he said. "Not like my pissing father. The fucker ran off when I was born. He left my mother to look after me and my two brothers without as much as a scrap of food. He left us with nothing. My mum was in tears for weeks afterwards. My brother ended up rearing me while me other brother was out working for us. He had to leave school in the end. He can't get a decent job because of that. My mum eventually did stop crying and she took over looking after me. She didn't really though. My brother sort of stood in when she couldn't do much. It was hard on all of us.
   "And then when I left school I got into a good college. I got my degree in cryptography, I did. We were all there on my graduation day. We were getting a big photo of us all. Then out of nowhere this bloke comes up to us. Big scraggly beard, messy clothes, I honestly thought he was a tramp when I first saw him. He asked my mum could I get a photo with me. My mum started crying. I looked at her and she nodded. The fucker was my father. Two decades later, he decided to show up. He smiled at me and he began to well up. I spat at him and told him to piss off.
"'Where were you?" I screamed at him. He was taken aback. 'I'm sorry, John,' he said. He was crying at this point. He was a desperate man. He probably was sorry and for a moment I actually pitied him. But then I remembered what he'd done and I told him to shove it or I would call the police. He said sorry. He said he wanted to make things right. He left the college and disappeared again.
   "The next day I went to visit him. I don't know why. At the time I wanted to try and make him remember what he'd done. I drove over to his flat. I went up to his room and pushed open the door. He'd hung himself. There was a bottle of whiskey in one hand tear stains all down his shirt. I found a note by his stool. I looked at it. 'I cannot express how truly sorry I am.' I read it and reread it. In the end I took down the body and put it in a black bin liner. I drove him to a nearby field and burned his body. I had a piss on him first though. He didn't deserve a decent burial. He was a heartless prick who deserved what he got. I don't regret it."
   Gordon was surprised. "That's a fairly selfish thing to do, wouldn't you say?"
   John dropped his cigarette. "Are you serious?" he spluttered. "The cunt robbed me and my family of a decent life. He should've come to us twenty years before that. Perhaps not showing up at my graduation after years of no contact would've been a better plan?"
   Gordon stared at him quizzically. "He wanted to apologise to you? And you pissed on his body after he hung himself? What the fuck are you?"
   "I'm a man whose father walked out on him before he was born," John screamed.
   "Personally I think you're a heartless prick," Gordon chuckled. John leapt up and grabbed Gordon by the collar. He slammed his fist into Gordon's face and threw him to the ground. Before he could launch a second strike Gordon jumped up and grabbed John's throat. He slammed him against the wall and smashed his head into the steel. John kicked Gordon in the groin and slammed his elbow into the back of Gordon's head. He kicked him in the ribs and slammed his body down on top of him. John grabbed Gordon's hair and yanked him up and onto the table. He slammed his fist into Gordon's face. The door burst open and Rodney East and a security guard pulled John off Gordon and wrestled him to the ground. Gordon stood up and wiped off some of the blood. Rodney stood up and looked at Gordon.
   "Are you alright, Gordon?" he asked.
   Gordon nodded and spat out some blood. He gathered up his things and walked out of the room. Rodney followed him. "He doesn't know anything," Gordon said.
   "How do you know?" asked Rodney.
   "He's too violent, he strays off topic. The guy's attention span is shorter than a fucking second. He doesn't have the mental capabilities to aid a killer. He would just get too focused on the violent side of things. He likes to pick arguments with people. I could see him getting pumped when I started aggravating him. He was enjoying the conflict and the anger. He has a passion for violence. He would be useless at keeping quiet."
   Gordon walked up the steps to the main building. Rodney was struggling to keep up with him. "So did you get anything that would help us progress?"
   Gordon walked up the main steps to Rodney's office. He stopped outside the office and turned to Rodney. "So what now?" he asked, panting slightly.
   Gordon turned to Rodney. "I'm going to look into known Russian agents. I imagine that our killer is an expert in the field of espionage so I may be able to find something. And I'm going to try and get in contact with my father. If anyone can find something for us it'll be him. Where are you now?"
   "I'm down in the interview rooms supervising Vernon," Rodney said. "It's going to be a while though. Vernon's rather slow when it comes to this sort of thing."
   "Then the hurry the yank," said Gordon. "And keep an eye on him. I have a funny feeling about him. There's something about Vernon Tully that I just don't feel good about."
   Rodney nodded and walked back down the stairs. Gordon opened the door to the office and walked in. He shut the door behind him and looked ahead. The office had been converted into a private meeting room for Chessboard. The only people who had access to the room were the four men in charge of the operation. Everyone else was to gain permission before entering. Gordon sat down in one of the chairs by a table and began his work in finding out who this killer was.

Description
Chapter Five

   Gordon never liked the interview rooms. They were always too cold, too clinical. The floor and walls were cold steel and the only light source in the room came from a failing light in the ceiling. A tinted window was on one of the walls. On the other side, the two or three people who were aiding the interviewer kept watch to make sure nothing bad happened inside. On that particular say, the only person there was Rodney.
   Gordon had tracked down the first on the list. A man named John Nightingale. He worked in forging documents for overseas missions. He was always smoking some form of cigarette and frequently stank of the stuff. He was known for having a short temper and an aggressive nature. He was born and raised in East London and grew up amongst people like the Kray twins. There were rumours that he even ran a few jobs for them but not anymore. He worked for national security. He had to distance himself away from his darker background as possible.
   On the day of the interview he was thoroughly annoyed. It was partially because his car had been clamped that day and also because he was being interviewed as part of a murder investigation. He took a drag on his cigarette.
   "This won't take long, yeah?" he said. His had a cockney accent that sounded rough and gritty. Gordon looked him in the eye.
   "If you co-operate, then yes." He smiled. John didn't. Gordon continued. "Can you give me the details on the tasks Vernon Tully and Rodney East gave you in the past few years?"
   John took another drag on his cigarette. "They were standard things," he said. "Vernon gave me a few passports that he suspected were fakes. He asked me to run through them and send him the details. He kept asking me to keep all work to myself. They never told me what it was all about but he and East kept on sending me similar things to work on. I just assumed they were for some interception job."
   Gordon jotted down notes on what John had just said. He nodded and looked back at John. "And when was the last assignment either of them asked you to do?"
   "I did a name check for Rodney three months ago. That was the last thing I did for them." He stubbed out his cigarette and pulled out another from a silver box on the table. He jabbed it into his mouth and lit up. Gordon smiled.
   "Tell me, John, did you see anyone come into contact with Jeff Norton before he was killed?" John shook his head. "What about Frankie Harris? Did you see anyone with him before he was killed?" John sighed.
   "I don't know anything about the people who were killed. All I know is that you knob heads at the top let a Commie bastard slip through our supposedly top-notch defences and take out some of the highest ranking agents in the damn business. And now you're trying to put the blame on me. Well I'm faithful to my fucking country. I would never assist some Russian prick in sabotaging our intelligence operation."
   Gordon stared him in the eye. "Your mother's Russian isn't she?" John nodded.
   "She's one of the kindest women you'll ever now," he said. "Not like my pissing father. The fucker ran off when I was born. He left my mother to look after me and my two brothers without as much as a scrap of food. He left us with nothing. My mum was in tears for weeks afterwards. My brother ended up rearing me while me other brother was out working for us. He had to leave school in the end. He can't get a decent job because of that. My mum eventually did stop crying and she took over looking after me. She didn't really though. My brother sort of stood in when she couldn't do much. It was hard on all of us.
   "And then when I left school I got into a good college. I got my degree in cryptography, I did. We were all there on my graduation day. We were getting a big photo of us all. Then out of nowhere this bloke comes up to us. Big scraggly beard, messy clothes, I honestly thought he was a tramp when I first saw him. He asked my mum could I get a photo with me. My mum started crying. I looked at her and she nodded. The fucker was my father. Two decades later, he decided to show up. He smiled at me and he began to well up. I spat at him and told him to piss off.
"'Where were you?" I screamed at him. He was taken aback. 'I'm sorry, John,' he said. He was crying at this point. He was a desperate man. He probably was sorry and for a moment I actually pitied him. But then I remembered what he'd done and I told him to shove it or I would call the police. He said sorry. He said he wanted to make things right. He left the college and disappeared again.
   "The next day I went to visit him. I don't know why. At the time I wanted to try and make him remember what he'd done. I drove over to his flat. I went up to his room and pushed open the door. He'd hung himself. There was a bottle of whiskey in one hand tear stains all down his shirt. I found a note by his stool. I looked at it. 'I cannot express how truly sorry I am.' I read it and reread it. In the end I took down the body and put it in a black bin liner. I drove him to a nearby field and burned his body. I had a piss on him first though. He didn't deserve a decent burial. He was a heartless prick who deserved what he got. I don't regret it."
   Gordon was surprised. "That's a fairly selfish thing to do, wouldn't you say?"
   John dropped his cigarette. "Are you serious?" he spluttered. "The cunt robbed me and my family of a decent life. He should've come to us twenty years before that. Perhaps not showing up at my graduation after years of no contact would've been a better plan?"
   Gordon stared at him quizzically. "He wanted to apologise to you? And you pissed on his body after he hung himself? What the fuck are you?"
   "I'm a man whose father walked out on him before he was born," John screamed.
   "Personally I think you're a heartless prick," Gordon chuckled. John leapt up and grabbed Gordon by the collar. He slammed his fist into Gordon's face and threw him to the ground. Before he could launch a second strike Gordon jumped up and grabbed John's throat. He slammed him against the wall and smashed his head into the steel. John kicked Gordon in the groin and slammed his elbow into the back of Gordon's head. He kicked him in the ribs and slammed his body down on top of him. John grabbed Gordon's hair and yanked him up and onto the table. He slammed his fist into Gordon's face. The door burst open and Rodney East and a security guard pulled John off Gordon and wrestled him to the ground. Gordon stood up and wiped off some of the blood. Rodney stood up and looked at Gordon.
   "Are you alright, Gordon?" he asked.
   Gordon nodded and spat out some blood. He gathered up his things and walked out of the room. Rodney followed him. "He doesn't know anything," Gordon said.
   "How do you know?" asked Rodney.
   "He's too violent, he strays off topic. The guy's attention span is shorter than a fucking second. He doesn't have the mental capabilities to aid a killer. He would just get too focused on the violent side of things. He likes to pick arguments with people. I could see him getting pumped when I started aggravating him. He was enjoying the conflict and the anger. He has a passion for violence. He would be useless at keeping quiet."
   Gordon walked up the steps to the main building. Rodney was struggling to keep up with him. "So did you get anything that would help us progress?"
   Gordon walked up the main steps to Rodney's office. He stopped outside the office and turned to Rodney. "So what now?" he asked, panting slightly.
   Gordon turned to Rodney. "I'm going to look into known Russian agents. I imagine that our killer is an expert in the field of espionage so I may be able to find something. And I'm going to try and get in contact with my father. If anyone can find something for us it'll be him. Where are you now?"
   "I'm down in the interview rooms supervising Vernon," Rodney said. "It's going to be a while though. Vernon's rather slow when it comes to this sort of thing."
   "Then the hurry the yank," said Gordon. "And keep an eye on him. I have a funny feeling about him. There's something about Vernon Tully that I just don't feel good about."
   Rodney nodded and walked back down the stairs. Gordon opened the door to the office and walked in. He shut the door behind him and looked ahead. The office had been converted into a private meeting room for Chessboard. The only people who had access to the room were the four men in charge of the operation. Everyone else was to gain permission before entering. Gordon sat down in one of the chairs by a table and began his work in finding out who this killer was.