Dead To the World

The Mortuary was not as cold as she had first imagined it would be. Everywhere was white except for the grey floor tiles. There was a glass cabinet against the wall; it contained knives and scalpels, syringes and saws. In the middle of the room was a large hand basin Fixed to the wall was a long rectangular mirror. There was a desk; it was covered untidily with files and papers. The woman was about five feet five inches tall, with black shoulder length hair. She wore a dark blue dress, a black knee length coat and carried a handbag.

She was led into a second room by a plain-clothes police officer and a woman police constable. In the second room there was a simple desk and chair and set in the wall opposite were six drawer fronts, like filing cabinets. A man in a white coat sat at the desk, as they entered he stood up, the policeman nodded and they walked over to the set of drawers in the wall. "Are you ready Miss?" asked the policewoman. The woman said nothing, but simply nodded. The man in the white coat then pulled open one of the six drawers. "Is this man your fiancé?" asked the pathologist. Janet looked down into the long drawer; she looked down upon the white bloated face of the man who had once been her fiancé. Janet nodded again and burst into tears, she could not bring herself to speak. "I'm sorry to have to put you through this Miss Portland" said the policeman, "but we needed someone to identify the body." Janet was led away by the policewoman. "Can we give you a lift home?" she asked. Again Janet nodded, tears were streaming down her cheeks. The pathologist slammed the door closed. Janet knew that her fiancé went away for weeks, sometimes months on end. It was because of the kind of work he did. But this time, it had been nearly nine months since she had heard from him, and now he was dead. What was hardest of all was the fact that no one could tell her how or where he had died. Oh it was quite apparent that he had drowned, but that's all she knew. Her father, Sir Charles Portland, for whom her fiancé had worked, could tell her nothing. Janet had not believed him for some reason, she was told it's due to the 'official secrets act' and all that. Weeks before, she had been put in touch with 'INVESTIGATION OF MISSING PERSONS ' (IMP) in an attempt to find her missing fiancé. But they had not been able to trace him, now they could close the case!

The proceedings had been observed by two other people, only the pathologist had been aware of this. Because the two people, a man and a woman stood behind a two-way mirror. The man was six feet tall with black hair; he wore a dark suit and a black raincoat. The woman was about five feet six inches tall with red shoulder length hair. She had a slim figure and was wearing a white blouse, blue skirt and a brown knee length coat. "A positive identification" the woman said, "that's the end of the case, he's no longer missing."

"I'm not so sure" the man replied quietly. "Can you really be sure it's him?" he asked. "We have both read the pathologists report, something is not quite right." "But he's been in the water a long time" she replied. "Yes, and there were marks on the body which he could not account for" he said eagerly, "and besides which the dental records are not a perfect match, almost, but not perfect." "You don't believe it's him in that drawer do you?" the woman asked. "No Corey, I think it's a fake. A body of the same height and build, and then altered" he replied. "But Janet positively identified the body Flynn" replied Corey. "She saw what she wanted to see" replied Flynn. I believe he's still alive somewhere and we are going to find him." "But we haven't got any clues as to where he is. If it's not him in that room and if he is still alive, what makes you think we can find him?" Corey asked, not sure if her partner was right or wrong. "I don't know, but we are going to do some more digging" said Flynn. "Come on, let's get out of here."

They vacated the small room behind the mirror in the mortuary. In a corridor Corey asked, "You're not going to let this one go are you?" "No, not this time Corey, he's alive somewhere, I just know he is" replied a determined Flynn, "and we are going to find him." As they walked down a long grey corridor, the mortuary room behind them, they failed to notice that they, in turn had been under observation by a thin man in a long black coat.

Back in their office in a building just off Whitehall, Corey asked, "where do we go from here?" "A good question" replied Flynn hanging up his raincoat on a hat stand. "We need to get his personal file from the 'Central Filing Office', he resigned from his job several months ago, that might be a clue". "I'll get that," said Corey "and also the file about his last assignment. Also I'll check missing persons to see if anyone else has disappeared. Anyone out of the ordinary I mean". "We shall have to try and piece together what he did and where he went, after handing in his letter of resignation" Flynn said starting to make notes. "What about his old working colleagues?" Asked Corey. "I'll pay one or two a visit while you collect the files" replied Flynn. "How many?" Corey asked. "Well, The Colonel, Fotheringay and Sir Charles Portland, his boss of course, I think that should be enough for now," said Flynn. "I wonder what they will all have to say about it all?" Corey asked "what about Janet Portland? She brought us in on the case". "No, leave her, she can't tell us anything," said Flynn; "let's just stick to the one's who were close to him at work". Flynn lit a cigarette; he had a strange feeling about this one. "Flynn, hundreds of people disappear every year," Corey said trying to reassure him. "Yes, but not people like him" replied Flynn stubbing out his cigarette. "Tomorrow morning we shall check out his home, but now it's late and I need some rest" said Flynn. "Okay" replied Corey "see you here at 0800, goodnight Flynn". "Goodnight Corey". Flynn collected his coat from the hat stand and closed the door behind them. As they left the building they failed to see a hearse parked in the road opposite, it was an easy mistake to make, no one takes any notice of a hearse, even at 7pm.

The following morning, Flynn and Corey paid a visit to 'Lageu and Son Estate Agents'. This was after they had called at 1 Buckingham Place and found a for sale sign outside. Mr Lageu had been most co-operative and had passed over a key to the house. All they were asked to do was pop the key in through the letterbox when they had finished. The estate agent's had put the house up for sale. The lease to 1 Buckingham Place had run out and the tenant could not be traced, so the house was put on the market. Flynn and Corey thanked My Croydon and left the estate agent's and climbed into their white Lotus Cortina. "Next stop, 1 Buckingham Place" said Flynn. The visit to the house proved pointless, all was in order and nothing was missing. "All his clothes and personal belongings are here" said Flynn, looking, but not moving anything. "I suppose they'll all be cleared out once the house is sold" replied Corey. There was even tinned food in the cupboards in the kitchen, but the phone had been disconnected. Apart from that, the house gave nothing away. "Where's his Lotus Seven?" asked Corey. "In storage, in an underground car park, Miss Portland arranged it" replied Flynn. "Then she must know about the house," said Corey. "Why doesn't she collect his belongings?" "She will do, in time" replied Flynn. It's not our business, what is our business is to find ZM73". "ZM73?" asked Corey. "That is his code number" replied Flynn "so he resigned from his job and after handing in his letter of resignation he came straight back here, that much we do know". "So what happened after that" asked Corey. "Well, wherever he went, he didn't take his beloved Lotus 7, that's in storage. And wherever he went he always went in his Lotus 7, if you can follow that" said Flynn. "Perhaps he was kidnapped," she said. Flynn just looked at her. "Perhaps he went by train" he replied. "Or hearse" said Corey looking out of the window. "What?" he asked. "By hearse, there's one in the street opposite the house across the road" she said. "There's a thin looking undertaker sitting in it". "Collecting or delivering?" laughed Flynn. "Neither, he's just sitting there" replied Corey closing the blind.

As there were no clues to the tenant's whereabouts in the house, they decided to leave. Flynn popped the key in through the letterbox according to the estate agents request. They walked to the car, as they climbed in, a hearse passed them slowly, it was empty save for the driver. The Lotus Cortina pulled away from 1 Buckingham Place. The driver of the hearse keeping an eye on the Lotus in his mirror, until the Lotus passed the hearse. But the driver of the hearse always kept the Cortina in sight.

They had decided to split forces, Corey went to the 'Central Filing Office' and Flynn had three calls to make, and three interviews with close colleagues of ZM73. Fotheringay was to be first. Flynn caught up with Fotheringay in his office. "What can I do for you Mr Flynn?" asked Fotheringay who was busy tidying papers and files. "It's just Flynn, I'm here about ZM73" replied Flynn. "What department are you from?" asked Fotheringay. "Not a department, I.M.P. (investigations of missing persons)" replied Flynn showing his I.D. "But they found his body, why are missing persons involved?" he asked putting the files in a grey cabinet. "I don't think that the body in the mortuary is the body of ZM73 and besides I am more than simply 'missing persons'!" replied Flynn. "You are a close personal friend of his as well as a colleague aren't you?" asked Flynn. "Oh yes" replied Fotheringay. "We were at school together. I can't believe that you think he's still alive". "What can you tell me about his last assignment?" Flynn asked. "Nothing. I'm afraid that information is classified old boy. Different departments and all that" said Fotheringay, "now if you will excuse me, I have a great deal of work to do". "Is the Colonel in his office?" asked Flynn. "No, he won't be back until this afternoon" replied Fotheringay, "now please excuse me". He left his office and rushed down the corridor to a lift. He got in and the lift went down.

Next stop, Sir Charles Portland, and he hoped for better luck, he felt that Fotheringay was afraid, or was hiding something. But one thing was for sure; Fotheringay was not going to talk.

Corey meanwhile had arrived at the 'Central Filing Office'; she was standing in a very large room. She stood at a counter and all she could see was rows and rows of shelves, from floor to ceiling. They were packed with papers and files. A woman with grey hair wearing a grey cardigan and tweed skirt approached the other side of the counter. "Can I help you?" she asked taking off her black rimmed spectacles. "Yes, I need access to some files, I may need to take one or two away with me" Corey replied. "What files are you in need of?" asked the woman. "The personal file of ZM73 and the file of his last assignment" said Corey. "Any identity?" the woman asked. Corey showed her black I.D. wallet. "Alright, that seems in order, you can have the personal file of ZM73, but his last assignment is classified. So that file is not available to you". The woman said. "Oh never mind" replied Corey "I would also like the personal files of these people please" and she handed the woman a piece of paper. "Fotheringay, The Colonel, Cobb, yes, Sir Charles Portland? Sorry that one is 'eyes only' I'm afraid. Please wait" the woman said and she disappeared amongst the forest of shelves. Corey was disappointed not to have gained access to certain files, but some things will always remain a secret.

The woman returned after what seemed an age. Corey took the files and sat down at one of the tables provided for people who wish to read the files there. She spent some time reading the files and making notes. When she had finished, Corey returned to the counter. "I have finished thank you" she said to the woman, "but I need to take the personal file of ZM73 away with me". "Okay" the woman replied, "but you will have to sign for it". She said opening leather bound ledger. As Corey sorted out the file she wanted and searched her handbag for a pen, a man dressed in a long black coat and a black top hat entered the room and stood next to Corey at the counter. She was amazed to see that he wore a pair of black thick rimmed sunglasses. She felt a little unnerved by him. He was carrying a green ring binder file, which he put down on top of the counter. The woman handed him a pen and picked up the green file. Corey caught a glimpse of its title, 'The Village', and there was a penny-farthing with a sort of canopy on the front. The man signed the ledger and left, leaving the pen on the counter. The woman had taken the file away, also the one's Corey did not need. While she was gone, Corey signed for ZM73's file and at the same time she scanned the ledger for the name of the man who had just signed 'The Village' file in. But after studying the ledger, Corey could find no record of the file entitled 'The Village'. But she had seen the man in black put the file on the counter and sign it back in. Hadn't she? She decided not to ask the woman, but simply left with ZM73's personal file tucked under her left arm.

Later that afternoon, Flynn and Corey met up again in their office. Corey started to make some coffee. There was a kettle and cups etc on a table. "How did the interviews go?" she asked. "Not very well, Fotheringay didn't want to talk, I think he's afraid of something or someone" Flynn replied "but he believes his old school chum to be dead. The Colonel was out, I returned later but he still wasn't in his office". "What about Sir Charles?" asked Corey putting two cups of coffee on the oak desk. "He was saddened over his future son-in-law's death of course, but it's an occupational hazard for one in his type of work" replied Flynn sipping his coffee, his feet on the desk. Flynn went on, "Sir Charles could not understand why we were so interested. After all ZM73 is dead, full stop". "Sir Charles does not believe ZM73 to be still alive". "Anyone talk about his work, his last assignment?" asked Corey who was sitting opposite Flynn". "No, it's all classified, in the words of Sir Charles Portland, I'm wasting my time" replied Flynn and he quietly sipped his coffee. "Well I have learnt one or two things," said Corey getting her notebook out. As you say, his last assignment is classified, but I did get his personal file". "Good" said Flynn. "And I also checked other people's personal files and files of disappearances", Corey was feeling quite excited. "The Colonel, Fotheringay and Cobb who are all close to ZM73 have at one time or another simply disappeared!" "What do you mean, disappeared?" asked Flynn. "For short periods these people and others from various departments have gone missing for short periods". "How do you know that? He asked. "Because whatever one does, wherever one goes, it is put on file, in one's personal file anyway. Holidays, sickness, trips abroad, meetings, work, everything" replied Corey. "But Fotheringay, The Colonel and Cobb, remember they are all close friends of ZM73. They have gaps, which cannot be accounted for. They went somewhere but there is no record of where or how they went where they did." Corey sat back in her chair cup in hand. "And what's more" continued Corey, "Roland Walter Dutton also a close colleague to ZM73 went missing three weeks ago!" "You've been busy," said Flynn flicking through the personal file of ZM73. "A couple of other things" said Corey, "one, a top government minister, and we're talking cabinet here, went missing for nearly two weeks, without trace, but like the others he came back. In fact he went missing twice and in the end he came back a different man". "What do you mean?" " I'm not sure" she replied, "secondly I saw a man at the 'Central Filing Office' dressed in a black coat and top hat wearing sunglasses", she went on, "and he signed in a file, only when I checked the ledger there was no sign of the file being signed in". "What was the name of the file?" asked Flynn. "The Village" replied Corey, "and it had a penny farthing on the front and it had some sort of canopy on it". "Strange" thought Flynn. He closed the file he had been looking at. "His letter of resignation is missing," he said. "What of Sir Charles Portland's file?" "Eyes only" replied Corey. "These short disappearances must mean something" said Flynn, "where did these people go?" "And why?" asked Corey. They worked and worked into the night, piecing pieces together, they hadn't much to go on. But at the end Flynn said, "I believe ZM73 and Roland Walter Dutton were abducted by person or persons perhaps even governments unknown". "It looks like it" replied Corey. "What about the likes of Cobb, Fotheringay, The Colonel and others, plus the government minister?" she asked. "Perhaps they go voluntarily, after all they have come back" he replied. "Let's just concentrate on ZM73. Do you feel as I do, that ZM73's disappearance, possible abduction is connected to Roland Walter Dutton's disappearance and the missing periods of time of the others?" asked Corey. "Yes I do, but what that connection is I don't know" he replied. "Or who's behind it?" said Corey. Flynn looked at his watch; it said eight o'clock. "Look let's leave it for tonight, I'm getting confused and tired". "Okay, tomorrow's another day" replied Corey; "I could do with some sleep myself". They left the building together, but then went their separate ways. The driver of the hearse could not follow both of them so he tucked in behind the Lotus Cortina, following it to Flynn's flat in Chelsea.

The next morning, Mr Jones, who was head of 'Missing Persons' and creator of I.M.P. arrived at his office half an hour earlier than usual. He was a man of medium height, 55 years old with grey thinning hair. He settled himself down behind his large oak desk, he had a great deal of paperwork to catch up on, and having just started, he was annoyed when the blue phone on his desk rang. He left it, hoping the caller would give up. But the caller was persistent, so he picked up the receiver and put his pen down. A voice asked "Mr Jones?" "Yes" he replied. "I believe that Flynn and Corey are two of your operatives," the voice asked. "Yes they are" replied Mr Jones, "they are my best people in fact". "Do you know what they are working on at the moment?" the voice asked. "Roughly, they are due to have a report on my desk tomorrow" replied Mr Jones. "who are you?" he asked. "That is unimportant for the moment" the voice said, "what is important is, that Flynn and Corey stop their current activities and forget about any report". "What department are you from?" Mr Jones asked. "That too is unimportant, besides which you don't need to know" the voice went on, "all you do need to know is that the request for Flynn and Corey to stop their activities comes from the highest authority". "Request you say, more like an order" he replied. "Whatever, if you see it as such then it is" said the voice, "just make sure Flynn and Corey leave well alone". "That sounds like a threat," said Mr Jones. "Whatever" came the reply. "And if I don't?" asked Mr Jones, but the phone had gone dead. What had Flynn and Corey been up to, that was his first thought, his second thought was, whose toes had they been stepping on?

It was 9.30am when Flynn and Corey entered their office. There was a note on Corey's desk, it simply read, 'my office now' and signed 'Jones'. They knew better than to keep him waiting. Although they were given a free reign at times, Mr Jones was still their superior and they knew when they were in trouble, and this felt like one of those times.

There was a knock on the door. "Come in" said Mr Jones. The door opened and in walked Flynn and Corey. Two chairs were in front of Mr Jones' desk. Their superior was writing, he put his pen down. "You wanted to see us sir?" said Flynn. "Yes indeed I do" he replied, "what are you two working on at the moment?" "Well, we're doing what we do best. We're trying to trace someone" replied Flynn. "Who is it?" asked Mr Jones. "Does it matter?" Corey asked. "Not usually, but in this instance it seems to be extremely important, because I have been requested, no ordered to have you stop your current activities" said a very adamant Mr Jones, "so who are you trying to trace?" Flynn picked up the black file and papers. "ZM73" was all he said. Mr Jones started thumbing through the file. "He resigned from his job and has not been seen since" Corey said. "His body or what is supposedly his body was washed up on a beach on the west coast of Scotland". "So we have a body and I see it was positively identified by his fiancé Janet Portland" said Mr Jones who was reading through the papers of the case, he continued, "surely that should have been the end of your investigation, but I read that you do not believe that the body is the body of ZM73". "There are inconsistencies sir," said Flynn. "We think" said Corey, "that after ZM73 resigned he was abducted by person or persons unknown. And to stop people i.e. us, looking for him a body was made to look like ZM73". "I see," said Mr Jones. He put the file and papers down on his desk and sat back in his chair. "And where do you think he is?" asked Mr Jones. "The Village" replied Corey, "I saw a file titled 'The Village', it had a penny farthing on it, and there is no record of its existence". Flynn looked at Corey. "Why did you say that?" he asked. "I don't know, it just came out, I was just thinking of that file for some reason" replied Corey. "Look" said Mr Jones sternly, "you have a body which has been positively identified. The case is closed, you are to cease all activities with this case, this is an order which originated from the highest level" he said. "Who ordered the stop? And from which department?" asked Corey. Mr Jones was getting annoyed, "I have been told from the highest authority, and now I have told you. Leave it, do you understand!" he said almost shouting. "Yes sir" replied Flynn and Corey in unison. They stood up and walked to the door, Corey turned, "The file and papers, sir our notes?" she asked. "Will be sent on to the 'Central Filing Office'. I suggest that you both take two weeks holiday," said Mr Jones. Picking up a pen he returned to the papers in front of him. They returned to their office. "What do we do now Flynn? Asked Corey. "Go on holiday I suppose" he replied. "But did you notice that he made no comment about that remark of yours concerning that supposedly non-existent file called 'The Village'"? "Yes I did, I wonder why he didn't ask about my remark?" she replied. "Perhaps he knows more that we think," said Flynn. "Or then again perhaps Mr Jones doesn't want to know". "Whichever it is," said Corey "he is being put under pressure by someone. And that someone wants us out of the way". "Why" asked Flynn, "we only look into cases of missing people, more than half of them are never traced". "Do you want to go on holiday?" asked Flynn. "Not really" replied Corey. "Okay, let's go talk to the Colonel, and then back to the 'Central Filing Office'" said an excited Flynn. "Why back there?" she asked. "Don't you want to find that file that you said there was no record of?" asked Flynn. As they left their office she looked at Flynn and said, "I think we're heading for trouble". "So do I" he replied "so do I". As they walked down the short corridor, they did not look back. Had they done so, they would have seen two men, dressed in grey overalls enter their office.

The two men got to work immediately, one removed a 'bug' from each of the two phones, the other removed bugs from under a lamp shade and from under the shelf of a book case. And together they removed an 8mm-cine camera from behind a mirror, which hung on the far end wall of the office. The mirror of course being two-way. All of the cases which Flynn and Corey ever worked on, including their latest one have been classified 'eyes only'.

Oh yes, and three days later, Flynn and Corey disappeared. They have not been seen or heard of since.

©DA Stimpson/FFA