The Whitehall Syndicate: A time travel conspiracy thriller Read Online Free

Patting down rather than drying, she flung around the towel frantically and reached her legs quickly. Although not baby smooth, her legs were still silky to the touch. It was a good thing she had shaved before her shower.
    The knocking continued. Whoever was at the door appeared to be pretty agitated. “I'm coming, hang on,” she yelled, hoping to keep them at bay. Finishing off her legs she wrapped the towel around her head while getting out of the bathroom. As she sauntered to the door, she sighed a grumbling hot breath, annoyed that her shower was being cut short. The merciless assault on the door began again and she was starting to lose her patience  “One more second” she yelled.
    There was some kind of mumbled reply but the pale peach towel was too low over her ears to make anything from it. Slipping the robe on, she dried off the soles of her feet and headed for the door, reaching it just in time to hear yet more knocking. With a flustered yank, it flung open. “Hey, sorry about that Neesh, I was in the shower.”
     
    Disgruntled, Jack turned away. There was definitely no answer at the door. He wondered if he should go around the hotel and search for her. He conceded that it was a long shot, especially since he had no idea what she looked like. Just in case, he rhythmically plodded back to the lounge. There was only thirty minutes left. What was he going to do? Should he go back in case Jenny did turn up, and stalk her door? He didn't like that idea much but idly waiting around didn't suit him either; he was the sort of person who always aimed to be pro-active.
    Drifting over to the bar, he had an idea. It wasn't very good but it was worth a try. He stumbled into the cocktail lounge, his restless legs clearly showing his agitation and in his most casual voice, asked the bartender where Jenny was, to the west of the hotel. “You mean Jenny's?” Jack thought about it for at least a second.
    He got out the note, and feeling a stroke of paranoia, subtly angled it away from the bartender. BE AT JENNY'S, TO THE WEST OF THE HOTEL. “Yeah,” he said. “Jenny's to the west of the hotel.”
    “Jenny's café is about a hundred metres that way, down Bermondsey Street.” Jack's eyes lit up and he thanked the bartender before leaving hurriedly, afraid of the consequences of being late.
    As he walked, he thought to himself, 'Jenny's is a café. I'm such an idiot'. He found his mix-up to be stupid and embarrassing, and it was a relief to his pride that no one else knew about it. A little more nervous pacing followed until he tapered to a stop outside the building.
    It was atypical for a London café in that it had several seats outside. More like an American style coffee house. He decided to sit on one of the uncomfortable aluminium chairs, so that whoever wanted to meet him would have a clear view.
    Amidst the haze of the London smog and the whir of traffic speeding past the adjacent road, his eyes began wandering round. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary but then his gaze stopped on a man in a pale black pinstripe sitting a few tables away. He was in his late thirties but already had a receding hairline, and was watching his silver suitcase intently. It could’ve been the sender of the box but Jack didn’t want to jump to any conclusions; as he’d just proved, it usually wasn’t a good idea. Instead he turned his attention to the menu, wondering if the café served Vodka shots. He doubted it, but he could use a stiff drink.
    Looking up he saw a woman casually walk up to one of the tables, her face breaking into a soft smile. She had creamy skin and slightly chubby features but overall an attractive face. As she turned to sit down she revealed another woman behind her. This one had the same dark hair, but smooth mocha skin and could easily have been a model. He paused for a second. ‘Hang on a minute,” he thought, “she looks familiar.’
    At that same moment she spotted him too, and as their eyes locked, her