“I am surrounded by fools and idiots, Gayle, except for you of course and this party looks like it will be very, very tedious.”
The invitation to the party was one which she would normally have declined, but she’d had information that an archaeologist named Frank Guthrie might be there, and he was someone that Mona urgently needed to see. She had recently found out that he was carrying out a dig in Egypt, in the Western Desert, near to the frontier with Libya. Mona knew that there was a possibility that there was something buried there that she didn’t want to be discovered. She had barely handed the phone back to Gayle when it rang again. Gayle recognized the number as one that she was authorized to answer and held the phone to her ear.
“It’s the office, Madam, they need to speak to you urgently,” Gayle announced handing the phone over to Mona again. Of course, ‘the office’ was a euphemism for an organisation even more secretive than the Rectifiers, called the Guardians.
“Speak,” Mona commanded. Mona listened intently to what was being said and then answered, “Have Morag put on standby, I’ll need to call on her services very soon.” Having ended the call, she handed the phone back to Gayle. “We won’t be stopping long,” Mona told her assistant. “I have things that I now need to arrange.”
Mona had just learned that Frank Guthrie had indeed found what she hoped that he wouldn’t. The alarm system which had been put in place to protect the small pyramid he’d uncovered, had just been triggered. Someone had obviously been left back at the dig site and Mona could not allow them, or anyone else to discover what was inside the pyramid. She also needed to find out whether or not anyone outside of his expedition, knew of the dig’s location. Mona doubted it, for Frank Guthrie was a very secretive man, paranoid that another archaeologist would make the discovery of a lifetime that he was always hoping to make himself. He had only taken his assistant to Egypt with him, recruiting locally once he arrived there. Not being a wealthy man, there would only be a small team of locals with him, to carry out the arduous work an expedition of that nature involved.
Mona knew all this of course, as she was an Aos Si and a very special one at that. She was a Leanan Sidhe, a genetically engineered and enhanced woman, who as well as having natural telepathic and other psychic powers, had the ability to use their powers of seduction to virtually enslave any men that they wished to. She was also the head of the Guardians, an organisation originally set up by the Aos Si Confederation. Androids had been left on Earth, to ensure that the location of the pyramids that each of the Triumvirate were imprisoned in remained a secret and that they were never released from captivity. The androids had monitored an elaborate security system which guarded the Triumvirate’s pyramid prisons, but Mona had eliminated all the androids and now had control of the security system herself. This was a secret that she had not even shared with her associate JT. His obsession with locating the pyramid that the Nemhain was incarcerated in had unsettled Mona and until she found out why he wanted to find it, she had decided to keep her secret to herself.
Also, and unbeknown to the humans, who had joined the extreme right-wing organisation, known as the Rectifiers, Mona was also their leader too. Of course, if they ever had cause to contact the Rectifiers, they didn’t know that they were speaking to a woman. Mona used a voice modifier, built into the especially adapted mobile phone and they only heard the icy cold voice that Detective Sergeant King knew only too well. The Rectifiers had been set up by Mona to eliminate any of her political opponents or business competitors who had fallen foul of her.
In the USA Mona was a very successful businesswoman who had founded the Aossi Corporation and Mona also had ambitions to be the first female President of the USA. Mona had competitors in the UK and therefore the Rectifiers had a British Branch of which King was a member. Penrose Healthcare Incorporated run by Catherine Penrose had come to Mona’s attention due to the remarkable advances in medical science that they were making. Mona intended to take the company over and had started to research all the members of the Penrose family, Kate Penrose being one of them. First however Mona needed to deal with the archaeologist and locating him on the other side of the room, she made her way towards him.
“So, Mr Guthrie,” Mona announced arriving by his side. “I hear that you’ve found a pyramid that no-one thought existed and, in a place that no other one has been found before. I’m Mona McBeolain and I’m fascinated by Egypt and the wonders of its archaeology,” Mona held her hand out to him.
“Oh, please call me Frank, Mona,” he stuttered, not having the slightest idea why he’d said that. He was usually very formal. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t used to talking to beautiful young women, in fact he wasn’t much used to talking to women at all. A balding bachelor, in his mid-fifties, he had devoted his life to archaeology and usually found social chit-chat very tiresome. This young woman however now had his avid attention and had done so from the moment that she’d sashayed up to him in the very revealing, low-cut, silver dress that she was wearing. To his surprise he was only too pleased to tell her all about his discovery. “Yes, it’s extraordinary and I would never have found it had it not been for the terrible sand storm which uncovered the very top of it.”
“So, do tell me all about it.”
Mona had a voice which had an almost hypnotic effect on Frank and before he knew what he was doing, he was telling her all about the very ancient small pyramid he’d found, buried deep in the Western Egyptian desert. Something he hadn’t told anyone else. In fact, only he and his assistant Joshua Freeman knew the dig’s exact location. He of course didn’t count the local workers he’d recruited to dig out the structure he’d found buried deep in the desert. Anyone who wasn’t an archaeologist didn’t count in his eyes.
“So, have you been able to gain entry to it yet?”
“No, not yet,” Frank answered shaking his head, “I’ve left my assistant to try and figure a way in whilst I’m over here, though I doubt that he’ll succeed. I think that it could be similar to the Queen’s pyramids like the one near to the Pyramid of Mycerinus, but I can’t understand why we’ve found no evidence of any larger structures in the area.” No and you won’t find any, because there aren’t any, Mona thought to herself, knowing exactly what Frank Guthrie’s expedition had found.
“So, there’s only your assistant at the dig at present?” Mona asked.
“The Egyptian workers are there of course, but we had difficulty in recruiting many. They don’t like the fact that the dig is very near to the border with Libya and there’s also a local legend, that that part of the desert is cursed.” Frank Guthrie answered Mona, trying hard not to stare down her cleavage, but realising to his dismay that he was failing miserably.
“When are you planning to go back to Egypt, Frank?”
“I fly back tomorrow,” Guthrie told her, “to Cairo and then it’s a long overland trip to the excavation site. Then when I get back there, we’ll see if we can find a way into the pyramid.”
Well, Mona thought to herself, we’ll have to make very sure that that never happens.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
St Just, Cornwall, July 1985
Detective Sergeant King had driven to St Just after his phone call to the Rectifiers and arrived there in the early evening. It was a small town, much smaller than Penzance and having booked out of the hotel that he’d been staying in at Truro, he thought that he’d better find some accommodation for the night. He tried the hotels, but they were fully booked, but he eventually managed to get bed and breakfast for the night at one of the pubs.
“You’re lucky,” the landlord told him. “I’ve just had a cancellation from a couple on a walking holiday. The wife apparently sprained her ankle and so they’re cutting their holiday short.”
“Any chance of a meal, I’m famished,” King told him.
“Well we’re fully booked in the restaurant, but if you don’t mind having a meal in the bar, I’ll get you the menu.” King didn’t normally like eating in a smoky bar
, but he’d not eaten since early that morning and so nodded his acceptance. The landlord returned with a menu and handed it to King.
“Ever heard of a family called Penrose in these parts?” King asked nonchalantly as he perused it.
“I can’t say that I have, but then I’m not from these parts,” the landlord answered, “I’m from Bristol, I’ve only been landlord here since May,” he thought for a moment and then said. “Some of the locals might know however, they tend to get in here for the last hour. You’ll soon know who they are. They’re a whinging lot, especially since I put my prices up. The tourists don’t complain, I’m cheaper than the other pubs, but the old codger who used to be landlord here, charged the locals a special lower rate for a pint and I don’t agree with that.”
“Right, thanks for that, I’ll keep an eye out for them.”
King had his meal, which was not bad for pub food he supposed and waited for the locals to arrive. After nine o’clock as the landlord had told him the locals started to drift in, in ones and twos. The first couple of them he spoke to weren’t any help, but the third man he spoke to, an old grey bearded man with a huge beer belly was more forthcoming, especially after King had bought him a pint.
“I’m trying to trace some distant relatives of mine,” King told him. “Penrose is their name. Second cousins of my grandfather.”
“You one of them that does that Jeanie whatsit, what’s it called?”
“Genealogy?” King hazarded a guess.
“Aye that’s the word I’m looking for,” the man replied turning his head to look anew at King.
“Well, I’m trying to put a family tree together for my dad,” King answered, realising that the old man wasn’t as daft as he’d thought he was. The old man emptied his glass.
“That wasn’t bad. I’ve got a terrible thirst tonight.” King took that as a hint.
“Can I get you another pint?”
“Thank you, thank you kindly.”
As King went to the bar to get him another pint, Walter Trenoweth wondered why this stranger with the London accent was asking about the Penroses. Walter guessed that he was a cop, for he could tell them a mile off being no saint and having sailed close to the wind on many an occasion and not just in his little fishing boat. He also knew Cath Penrose and had a soft spot for her if the truth be known. They were about the same age and he had known her for years. More importantly, Walter’s family had served the Penrose’s since God knows when and had worked at the tin mine that they owned. It had long since been closed, but the Penrose family had made sure that all their former employees had been well looked after. Those who hadn’t taken up the offer of a job in their other firms had been given a very good redundancy settlement and pension. That’s how Walter had been able to afford his boat. Well, Walter thought, I think I’d better let Cath know about this nosey London copper.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
London, England, July 1985
Frank Guthrie had had a very pleasant evening at the US Ambassador’s residence and was quite tired and rather drunk when the car dropped him off outside his hotel. He was still thinking about the beautiful young woman he had met there, what was her name? Mona something, ah yes Mona McBeolain, funny name, must be of Scottish ancestry he thought. When he got out of the lift at his floor, he had to think for a moment or two where his room was. Yes, it’s just along here he thought, walking unsteadily along the corridor. Arriving at his room he fumbled with the key, but eventually managed to open the door. He switched on the light, but the room remained in darkness, something must be wrong with it he thought.
He could feel a draught coming from somewhere and as his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw that the double doors leading out onto the balcony were wide open. Frank couldn’t remember leaving them open, but then, he couldn’t remember much at all. Must be jet lag still affecting him. The Embassy had done him proud with the room though, and he did remember going out onto the balcony when he first arrived at the hotel, to look at the views over the River Thames and London. Frank couldn’t put up with the draught now though and went to close the doors.
He was just approaching the doors when someone grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. Before he could scream out however, he felt a sharp prick at the side of his neck and was immediately paralysed, as a very powerful and quick acting poison entered his blood system. The next moment, he was being propelled forward and with great force through the air and over the balcony. Legs flailing, he plunged downward, eventually hitting the ground with a sickening thud. His room was seven stories up and so the fall alone killed him and no trace of the Aos Si poison would be found when the eventual post mortem was carried out.
Morag, the Siabhra that Mona McBeolain had put on standby, looked dispassionately down to where Frank Guthrie’s body lay in a pool of blood on the road. Then the Siabhra vanished, teleporting out of the hotel and into a room in a flat some miles away from it. The Siabhra had been used as assassins by the Aos Si Empire and after the Empire had ceased to exist at the end of the Civil War, the remaining Siabhra had been cast adrift and many like Morag had become freelance assassins taking on contracts. Many left the Aos Si home worlds and went to other parts of the galaxy, or even to other galaxies where their services were much in demand. Morag had chosen to remain on Earth where she’d been based, and Mona McBeolain was now one of her main clients.
Chapter 9
London April 1973
“I’ve lot of explaining to do John,” his grandfather said, “but first I think that we all need a good tot of that excellent brandy that you have in your drinks cabinet, Samuel. If you’re not loath to part with it.”
“No of course not,” Mr Snodgrass looked over at Morann. “Brandy for you too, madam?”
“I don’t drink,” Morann answered, “but please go ahead. You have something to celebrate Mr Trevaskis. You too, John.”
“I’m assuming brandy is ok with you, John,” Mr Snodgrass enquired.
“Yes, brandy will be fine with me.” John wasn’t usually a drinker of spirits, but he did like an occasional brandy, usually at Christmas time. He’d tried whisky but couldn’t say that he was all that partial to it.
The man went over to the antique drinks cabinet and got out a bottle of very fine brandy and three brandy glasses. He poured a generous amount into all three and then handed one of them to John, another to John’s grandfather and took the other for himself.
“Pleased to meet you John,” the man said. “I’m Samuel Snodgrass by the way and my apologies for not introducing myself earlier.”
“That’s my fault, John,” John’s grandfather apologized. “I asked Samuel, not to say too much in case you weren’t who you said you were. You haven’t introduced your charming lady friend, John.”
“I’m Morann, John’s business associate,” Morann announced, stepping forward and holding her hand out. John’s grandfather shook Morann’s hand and John noticed that his grandfather gave her an appraising look. “I know all about John’s ancestry, Mr Trevaskis and have been to the Sol 6 base with John.”
“Ah,” a strange look both of enlightenment and something like fear came into John’s grandfather’s eyes. “Could I be as bold as to ask whether you are an android, Morann?”
“I am, Mr Trevaskis and assigned to John as his bodyguard.” That was news to John, who realised that his grandfather was talking openly in front of Samuel. He glanced at his grandfather, but he didn’t seem to be at all concerned. Seeing John looking at Samuel with concern however, John’s grandfather nodded and smiled.
“It’s all right John, Samuel knows all about us and our Aos Si ancestry. We have always been helped by some humans whilst we’ve lived on Earth,” John’s grandfather explained, “and it has always been a reciprocal arrangement, for we in turn have helped them. Samuel’s family have served our family well, for hundreds of years now, since the English Civil War.”
“I see.”
“Yes, my six times great grandfather was a soldier in the i
nfantry, in the Parliamentarian army led by the Earl of Essex, who lost the battle of Lostwithiel, in Cornwall,” Samuel explained, “After the infantry had surrendered and been disarmed, they were allowed to make their way east to Portsmouth. Unfortunately, the locals who were loyal to the Royalist cause, harassed the survivors and my ancestor was set upon by ruffians near to Liskeard and left for dead. Fortunately, your ancestor, John, came across mine as he was riding home in his carriage to St Buryan from Plymouth. They took him to Trevaskis House and nursed him back to health and we’ve been in the service of the Trevaskis family ever since.”
“So, as you see, you can feel free to say anything in front of Samuel,” John’s grandfather said.
“I still can’t get over you the fact that you are alive and well, grandfather. You look exactly like you do in this photo,” John told him, looking at the photo of his grandfather that he’d now taken out of his wallet, “You haven’t aged at all. I thought that you were dead, so where have you been and what happened?”
“It’s a long story, but all will be revealed in good time. For the time being, here’s a toast to you, John.” Samuel and John Senior both raised their glasses. John took only a sip of his brandy, it was excellent, but he wanted to stay sober as he had a lot of questions to ask. Besides which, he’d not eaten since they’d left Cath’s house early that morning.
“Medb obviously doesn’t know that you were still alive,” John then told his grandfather. “In fact, she said that the letter I had from you would help me to take over your companies and Catherine Penrose, she doesn’t know that you’re alive either.”
The Sol 3 Agenda Page 9
