Sun of the Sleepless (54 page)

'So?' Dale ejected with a petulant tone to his question.

Jackson took a deep breath and relaxed back into his chair, assuming his familiar air of a tutor educating his charges.

'There are traditionally three so-called pillars in any number of esoteric and religious belief systems,' he explained, 'and they can all basically be interpreted as relating to strategy, planning and deployment in modern parlance, although I admit that they are inexact analogies since they have an entirely spiritual objective and are not preoccupied solely with financial gain or power in a modern corporate sense. If you consider Freemasonry, these attributes are indicated as the three pillars named as beauty, wisdom and strength; beauty to adorn and aspire to, wisdom to contrive and conduct all undertakings and strength to support and assail in the face of all adversity.

'In this particular case, I would surmise that they also refer to three very specific vertical divisions within the Order. Beauty refers to a kind of priestly role, defining the very raison d'être of the whole group. Wisdom refers to a kind of civil service, providing the planning and administrative support for their ongoing activities. As for strength, well, that should be obvious enough; the dynamic interaction with the real world in pursuance of their aims. These roles have a clear spiritual and secular aspect and I would guess that the three Senators each lead a specific division of the Order, employing the ranks in tasks associated with the respective roles, much like a modern corporation has specific departments for finance, or marketing, or -'

'Terrorism?' interjected Dale.

Jolene frowned.

'Quite -'

'Anyhow,' continued Jackson, glossing over the interruption, 'this structure gives us many clues.'

Jolene was silent for a moment but her expression became thoughtful.

'What about the King or Queen, what does 'Sigulah' stand for?'

'The Sigulah,' said Jackson, becoming introspective for a moment, 'I would think that it is a corruption of the Hebrew word 'segulah', which can mean a treasure, or a force for change. It may be the root of the word 'sigil' which is a seal or a symbol created for a specific magical purpose. In this sense, I would think that it relates to the figurehead of the King or Queen who may act as a force for change during their perceived reign, also, perhaps the embodiment of the ultimate learning achieved through the ranks, the treasure of knowledge for instance.

'Although it is not mentioned here, I cannot help but think that there would be degrees of learning associated with each rank. You must have heard of the 'third degree', a euphemism for a particularly rough interrogation? It is possible that it derives from the traditional third degree of Freemasonry which is only achieved after passing a rigorous cross-examination of the knowledge of the Masonic rituals. I would suggest that the Sun of the Sleepless operates much the same kind of ritualised promotion where new esoteric knowledge is gained at each degree.'

'- and the other titles, Consul, Imperator, Tribune?'

'Almost certainly honorific titles for senior members of the ranks,' sniffed Jackson.

'Alright, alright,' sighed Dale with an exasperated tone, 'this is all very well, but what does it tell us that helps us right now? Are there any meeting places that it mentions, safe-houses, that kind of thing? Does it name names? Who is in charge? What is the name of the King or Queen?'

'Dale,' Jackson replied slowly, evincing his patience with a placatory tone, 'this list was typed up in 1928. I've only glanced at the intelligence summaries and appendices but even the most recent aspects of this information is outdated by around sixty years. There is a lot of intelligence on the war period, particularly 1940 to 1945, even some references that date back to alleged activities in the late eighteenth century in Europe and even in the US. This is the culmination of all of our historical intelligence, which isn't much considering current events. It does go into some detail of their activities in Germany during the Second World War but I'll leave Jolene to give you a précis of that information -'

He let the words hang and looked up.

Jolene shook her head irritably but did not look away from the screen as she spoke.

'There is no point going into the detail right now, you just need to know that it has been confirmed by the Deputy Director that the Sun of the Sleepless has a major WMD, capable of taking out whole cities. It changes nothing from our perspective; we just need to concentrate on finding them.'

Jackson shrugged, pursing his lips to indicate his acceptance of Jolene's dismissive assessment as he watched Dale roll his eyes.

'So is this intelligence useful?' Jolene asked directly to Jackson.

He grinned and sniggered.

'This is perfect from a research point of view. It details everything that has ever been known by our intelligence services. I just wish that we'd had this right from the start, it would have made my life much easier, but in terms of our current investigation, Dale is right, it tells us nothing that is really useful.'

'So no names?' Dale harrumphed.

'It only confirms the names of the Vrilerin women that I uncovered before,' Jackson responded easily, 'those psychic maidens who infiltrated the Vril Society, but don't forget that anybody mentioned in these documents would almost certainly be dead now anyway.'

Dale scowled and turned away, even as Jolene leaned into the laptop over Jackson's shoulder and started paging through the contents of the screen.

As he looked back towards Stanley still resting against the edge of the drainer board next to the sink, a phone started to trill from the hallway. The chirruping was quickly silenced as Oliver scurried from another room to answer the call, his mumbled responses unintelligible from around the corner of the door.

Moving closer to the entrance, Dale intended to listen in to the conversation that had ensued, however, Oliver's grunted mono-syllabic response gave away nothing and he felt a sudden surge of impatience, inspiring him to barge in and reach out to brusquely depress the loudspeaker button on the telephone. He could now hear every word that was being said and nonchalantly ignored Oliver's clear expression of umbrage caused by the intervention. Dale was growing very tired of being left out of the loop.

Oliver crisply marched back into the kitchen with Dale close at his heels, Stanley smartly standing up straight at the suggestion of the latest update from CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia.

'Ma'am -' Oliver pronounced before he was cut short.

'They've found Gertrude Verker!' Dale urgently exclaimed, beaming matter of factly. 'Inspector van Riel of the Dutch police managed to track her down and she is now safe with the authorities.'

Jolene slowly turned on her heel, a deadpan expression on her face.

'That is good news; it saves us the trouble of finding her.'

Dale nodded sullenly.

'- not that we made much effort in the first place.'

She ignored the remark and looked to Oliver.

'Has she provided any information that might be useful?'

It was Dale that spoke again, making an effort to keep his voice light but inevitably intoning a caustic implication.

'She was being kept in a castle right here in Germany, Burg Linn near a town called Krefeld. It seems that the place is a museum and conference centre and opens to the public during the tourist season. The top floor had apartments which were usually rented out to delegates and conference organisers but it appears that Gertrude was being held in one of them. She was a hundred miles from here.'

Jolene did not turn to face him.

'Do we have anything on who rented it?'

'Open-EZ,' Dale stated with a surly accusation.

'What about evidence?'

'The German police have secured the whole place,' Oliver managed to blabber before Dale could reply, 'after Inspector van Riel rescued the girl, the Dutch police in The Hague contacted the Germans and told them about our interest and so they've held off following up on the matter for the time being. Of course, they're very keen that somebody should go down there as soon as possible.'

Jackson stood up from the kitchen table.

'Could be useful for us all to go over there. Until the British authorities come back with anything we're kind of at a loose end. We may as well check it out and then decide where we go from there. Who knows, we may find something of interest.'

Jolene's expression had become thoughtful as she looked at Jackson, his eyebrows rising in acknowledgement and anticipation of her response before she nodded slowly in agreement.

'Seems like a good idea.'

She looked around the room.

'Sergeant, make preparations so that we can move out to Krefeld tomorrow morning, we also need a military transport flight to be put on standby just in case we need to go to the UK, landing destination unknown at the moment. In the mean time, I'll contact the Deputy Director and make sure that the Brits get a raid of Open-EZ's premises organised as soon as possible. That company is central to everything that has happened so far and we need to know exactly what is on their computer servers; financial transactions, travel records, the lot.'

Stanley snapped to and strode from the room as Dale sighed and slowly slid his hands into his trouser pockets. He watched Jolene and Jackson hurry from the room as if he was not even there and then spun round and saw Oliver still standing at the hall door, a quick empathetic smile creasing his face.

'She's safe now,' Oliver nodded, 'she'll be fine I'm sure. A quick look around this castle and after the raid we'll probably be able to close in on the people that took her.'

Dale snorted and grimaced disconsolately, keen for the weekend to finally end and for the coming Monday to promise some real developments.

Winter Wonderland

As Monday morning gradually grew lighter, the landscape of England nestled under a luxurious quilt of fluffy soft down. At least that is how it would have appeared to anybody rising a few metres from the freezing ground level. Not that there was much of anything rising above ground level on this particular morning; the birds were busier than usual trying to stay alive by scavenging as much food as possible from the meagre offerings nature could avail and airline traffic had been grounded by the majority of airports. As such, panoramic winter images were mainly enjoyed by those in tower blocks and high-rise offices.

Any weather commentator able to trudge their way into their television or radio studio was happy to state that the overnight snow falls and temperature extremes were of historic, if not biblical, proportions. Some breakfast news reports had gleefully classified it as the worst winter in a century while other more conservative assessments were still happy to highlight the significance of events in terms of decades. Whether the worst for one or one hundred years, the fact was that the snow was growing deeper and the temperature was dropping lower.

Patrick Weber ruminated on this thought as his eyes drifted and gazed at the clock on the toolbar of his laptop monitor. It was now precisely a half-past nine in the morning and he was eager to finish work as soon as possible, even though the working week had barely begun.

The weather had prevented most people from turning up to the office and those that had managed to arrive had soon come to a communal decision to turn around and leave almost immediately. Patrick had not actually been productively engaged in work since his arrival an hour and a half earlier, instead, idling away time and waiting for a respite in the incessant snowfall before attempting to depart.

Decisively, he closed his web browser and the BBC news site he had been half-heartedly digesting then leaned back in his chair. He looked across at Adrian Tizard, his lone colleague seated at a set of desks at the other side of the small office space.

'Adrian? Are you ready to go?'

As it was, Patrick and Adrian were the only two workers left in their office, probably the whole building considering that the exodus was already well under way with the snowfall providing a legitimate reason rather than just an excellent excuse for leaving early. Adrian was concentrating on his monitor as he distractedly replied.

'Umm, yeah, just - just got to finish this logical design document for Spain and then I'm done - Uhh, are you coming down the pub?'

'Yeah, I may as well, my flat will be freezing so there is no point going straight home,' said Patrick as he clicked to shut-down his machine, 'why do you think I asked if you were ready? Anyway, where are we going? The Eagle's Court?'

'Umm, yeah -' Adrian paused as he traced an exaggerated arc with his mouse on the desk to relocate his pointer on screen and then resumed his reply, 'yeah, if you're finished, go and see if Becky is coming down there as well, she mentioned earlier to let her know if we were going for a drink after we left.'

Patrick stood up and waited a moment as his computer completed its shut-down and then, in a self-satisfactory act of finality, slammed the laptop monitor closed. Disappearing beneath the desk to unplug his power cable he grinned to himself and replied, somewhat muted by his closeted position.

'Alright, I'll just get this packed away and then go and see her.'

By popular opinion among the male majority and quite possibly a female minority, Rebecca Gregory performed the function of resident eye candy alongside her more official role of 'Junior Receptionist' at Excalibur House, a modern business park office block playing host to a number of diverse small businesses and situated in a relatively rural oasis just south of Reading and the scar of the M4. The reception area was a shared amenity and its locale provided a metaphoric watering hole offering an opportunity for idle chit-chat en route to the coffee bar and dining facilities.

At eighteen years of age and in spite of her politically incorrect unofficial title, Rebecca was very capable and respected for her novice abilities as concierge, administrator and general gofer. Certainly, she displayed a level of professionalism to business visitors and residents alike in marked contrast to the brash but flirtatious side of her character that she would present to those workmates she choose to be most familiar with.

Patrick had been smitten by her the first time he saw her. Being only four years older than her, he was of an age where aspirations of a relationship were at least more realistic than the unapologetic drooling of some of the men in the building. He had moved from his native Germany to England a couple of months previously to start work at Excalibur House but in spite of their regular exchange of banter almost from the first day, he still had not plucked up the courage to ask her out on a real date.

'Hiya Patrick', Rebecca sang as she glanced up and saw his tall lanky figure approaching the reception rotunda. She continued arranging assorted paperwork and files into drawers, clearing the desk surface as protocol required.

'Hi Becky, are you coming down the pub? Adrian and I will be off soon, we can give you a lift if you want?' he offered with a suitably subdued tone of hopefulness.

'Umm, what's the time?' she casually asked as she checked her wristwatch. 'I can't leave until ten when we're officially shutting up the building, I have to wait until security arrives anyway. I'll come down in about half an hour or so and meet you. Where are you going?'

'The Eagle's Court.'

'Alright, sounds good, I'll see you down there,' she replied as she riffled some paperwork.

Patrick hesitated, their conversation had reached a natural conclusion and to prolong it he needed to say something proactive, bring up another subject.

'How was your morning?'

'What, all ninety minutes of it?' she snickered. 'A bit boring really, it's been really quiet around here even though it's usually buzzing at this time of the morning. Everybody bunking off to work from home I reckon. What about you?'

'Damn, I've been bored since I arrived, the people I needed to speak to this morning couldn't get into work because of the snow so I've been surfing the web most of the time,' he paused, he was conscious that this was a moment he had been waiting for, nobody around to witness his imminent failure, he could not skirt the issue any longer.

'Umm, what are you doing later this evening? Maybe we can get something to eat?' Damn, was that obvious enough?

Rebecca smiled.

'We'll see, I can't be too late 'cos I've gotta look after my brother tonight, my mum is supposed to be going out and I'm on guard to make sure he behaves,' she laughed.

Patrick tried to maintain the momentum, pretending that the offer was as casual to him as it was to her.

'Oh? You have a brother? How old is he?'

'He's eleven, he's a right geek, he'd spend all night on his computer if he was allowed to and so I've got to make sure he does as he's told. My mum said that he has to be in bed by eleven, and she is due to go out at half eight so I've gotta be back by then.'

Patrick could see no way of getting her alone to try again in that short a time.

'Oh, alright, well, maybe another time?'

'Well -', she looked at him and was obviously aware of his dejection, 'we could always meet up to get a take-away later and eat it back at mine.'

'Yeah, sure!' Patrick stuttered.

He tried to contain his elation at her suggestion and the fact that she had obviously let him off the hook.

'Right, well, I'll see you down the pub in a bit,' she smiled.

With his booming telephone voice preceding him, Adrian ambled from around the corridor corner, talking into the mobile phone pressed against his ear and shrugging his laptop rucksack into a more comfortable position on his shoulder.

'Yeah, hang on Sonny, I'm at reception now, I'll ask them.'

He moved the phone away and looked at Rebecca and Patrick.

'Are you two ready?'

'I've gotta stay until about ten o'clock,' piped up Rebecca.

Adrian turned to the phone.

'Ten - Yeah, she has to stay another half hour - Well, me and Patrick can get going and if you're driving down anyway you can pop in and give her a lift, some of the buses have been cancelled anyway - Alright - see you later, cheers.'

Adrian hung up.

'Right, Sonny is driving down in a bit so he'll pick you up in half an hour and we'll see you down there. Come on Patrick, I've had enough.'

'See ya in a bit,' she called after them, limply waving a plastic rule in farewell.

Adrian led the way out to the snow covered car park, holding the door open behind him as Patrick caught up and trudged after him, looking back with a wistful glance to Rebecca as she resumed her desk clearing.

Adrian groaned in exaggerated exhaustion.

'I've had enough already and its not even lunchtime, I didn't finish that Spanish design document but I just can't be arsed.'

'Well, it will wait until tomorrow won't it?' Patrick suggested, distracted by his own lingering thoughts.

'Yeah, but if this snow keeps up I'll probably be driving back home to Dorset tomorrow morning and working from home for the rest of the week. Anyway, fuck it, let's go get a pint!'

The last two employees of Open-EZ (UK) Ltd. had left the building.

Ultimately enunciated by a rather self-aware E-Zee, the name was an Americanised inheritance from the US parent company Open-EZ Inc., one of the last dot.com boom start-ups still operating and dealing in 'Supply Chain Solutions - From point of origin to point of consumption' as their marketing blurb would have it.

The name was supposed to conjure up an image of an accessible and straightforward solutions provider, with an implicit promise to remove the obstructions in highly automated supply chains with a capitalised pun on a lack of complexity and effort; something that did not necessarily translate to European pronunciation.

Adrian had quipped that the name sounded more like a manufacturer of milk cartons guaranteed not spill their contents when the spout was ripped off.

What the vast majority of the workforce of Open-EZ did not know was that the company was yet another business interest of the Sun of the Sleepless, not only providing an excellent financial return for their monetary investment but also an ideal opportunity to insert personnel into roles which would enable them to legitimately travel the world and gain access to other companies that were of interest to the Order.

Sonny Parker strode into the foyer of Excalibur House just after ten o'clock, barging open the internal glass doors.

'Hey Becky, you ready to hit the road before we're snowed in?' he drawled as he entered.

'You're here at last,' she smiled with false exasperation, swivelling in her office chair to face him, 'security turned up ten minutes ago and I've had to sit here twiddling my thumbs waiting for you.'

'Awww, come on girl, have you seen the weather out there? I got here when I said I'd be here so let's get going.'

Rebecca leant down and grabbed her handbag, locking the high heels that she had just swapped for trainer shoes into her desk drawer.

'See ya Bernie!' she called to the guard as he ambled back from the coffee machine with the first dose of caffeine of his shift.

She quickly followed Sonny as he led the way out, eager to meet the others and wipe out the boredom that had plagued her all morning as a result of most of the building occupants being unable to actually make it in to work. They had to practically wade through the snow in the car-park and as Sonny blipped his car keys twice, the lights of his BMW 4x4 flashed in obedience as the central locking solenoids uttered a muted but heavy clunk to allow entry to the driver and passenger sides.

'Whoooo, new car,' Rebecca intoned in a sing-song, 'you know that Beamers are tarts' cars don't you?'

She smiled mischievously.

'Yeah,' Sonny grinned back, 'tarts that have just spent twenty quid on having it cleaned inside and out so don't leave any mess. Make sure you kick off the snow on your shoes.'

They climbed in, Sonny starting the car and needlessly revving the engine to hear the burble of the exhausts. The leather of Rebecca's seat squeaked as she turned to feed her seatbelt down to the socket, fixing it in with a satisfying click-clunk. Sonny notched the gear selector into drive and moved the car off, accelerating slowly to avoid skidding the car in spite of having four wheel drive.

'So have the guys been round chatting to you all morning instead of working?' Sonny asked with a laugh, leaning forward to check the traffic before pulling out onto the main road.

'Nahh, they only popped round before they left, obviously they had better things to do!'

Sonny pushed the car along.

'I'd bet Adrian has downed a pint already,' he chided as he accelerated across a mini-roundabout that had been fully cleared of snow and gritted with salt, shaking his head at memories of past exploits.

'He's driving though!' she reproached.

'Yeah, but he rents a place about ten minutes from the pub so he probably dropped his car off and then walked back, he usually does anyway. He'll have made Patrick get the first round in so it was waiting for him on the bar when he got there.'