The Facts Of Death

by Raymond Benson

  M sat down. “He never mentioned anything to me. It’s not as if anyone were after his job. Manville, was there anything going on diplomatically that we should know about?”

  “I can’t think of a thing!” Duncan said. “He was … well, he was loved by everyone who met him!”

  “You ever play bridge with him?” Bond asked Duncan.

  “No. Why?”

  “Never mind.”

  There was silence in the room and everyone pondered the situation. Detective Inspector Howard came into the room with an overcoat.

  “Is this the overcoat Mr. Hutchinson was wearing tonight?” he asked M.

  “Yes.”

  “There’s something you should see. This was in the pocket.”

  He had a small white alabaster statuette in his gloved hand. It was the Greek god Ares.

  “That’s just like the statues found in Cyprus,” Bond said. “Anything else in the pockets?”

  “Just a coat check receipt,” Howard said. He held it out. It had been carefully placed in a clear evidence bag to protect it from contamination. Bond took it and saw that the receipt was from the Ritz Hotel, and the number “173” was printed on its face. He almost dismissed it, but as he handed the receipt back he turned it over. Scrawled in a red marker was the number “4.”

  “It’s the Number Killer,” Bond said. “Alfred Hutchinson was victim number four.”

  “The bastards have brought this a little too close to home,” Tanner said.

  “Would you please explain what’s going on?” Manville Duncan asked.

  Bond looked at M for approval.

  She nodded and said, “As his lawyer, Manville will be taking over for Alfred. I suppose it’s information he should be aware of. Manville, please understand this is all strictly confidential.”

  “Of course,” he said.

  “Mr. Duncan,” Bond said. “I have just returned from Cyprus. Over the past week, three separate incidents killed some British citizens. The first was one of our SIS people, in Athens. A fellow named Whitten. Did you know him?”

  “No.”

  “His body was found in the Ancient Agora with the number ‘1’ painted in red on a rock nearby. The second incident was on our Sovereign Base at Dhekelia in Cyprus. Several soldiers were killed—by poison. The number ‘2’ was painted nearby, and one of these Greek god statues was left at the site. Just the other day, another group of soldiers at Episkopi were killed by another chemical weapon. The number ‘3’ and another statue were left at the scene. This makes number ‘4.’ ”

  “You’re sure it’s the same killers?”

  “It seems obvious,” Bond said. “I wonder if he was silenced to keep him from telling us what he knew about the case? Ma’am, does Mr. Hutchinson have any family? Where are his former wives?”

  “His first wife is in Australia, I think,” she said. “The second one lives here in London.”

  “Any children?”

  “He has a son by his first wife. His name is Charles. He lives in America somewhere. In Texas, I think.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Charles is all I know about,” M said.

  “Then we’ll have to get in touch with him.”

  “I’ll do it,” Tanner said.

  “Oh hell,” Duncan said.

  “What?”

  “Alfred was due to fly to the Middle East tomorrow. He had an appointment in Syria!”

  “You’re his lawyer, Manville,” M said.

  Duncan nodded, realizing the implication of that remark. “I’ll have to go in his place.”

  “You’ll have to fill his shoes until the powers that be decide what to do about his position,” she said. “Are you up to it?”

  “I’ll have to be,” Duncan said. He looked at his watch. “I’d better go home and get some rest, if I can, then get up early and go to the office and get ready. He had …

  “A five o’clock flight,” M said. “I know.”

  “Look, uhm, Mr. Bond,” Duncan said. “Please, I want to help all I can. If you have any more questions for me or simply want to pick my brains, call me at the office. They can get a message to me and I’ll call you back.”

  “When will you be back in England?”

  “In two days, I think. I’ll have to check his schedule.”

  “Fine. Go on. Have a good trip. Don’t mention to anyone what really happened to Mr. Hutchinson. We’ll make sure that the public and the rest of the world believe that he died of a heart attack. Naturally.”

  “We’ll have to keep me out of it,” M said.

  “That goes without saying,” Bond said. “Let’s get you out of here. You had better get dressed before any reporters get wind of this.”

  M nodded, turning to accept Manville Duncan’s condolences before he left the flat.

  Just before fetching her clothes, M said to Bond, Tanner, and Inspector Howard, “MI5 will handle this investigation here in Great Britain. But as it is linked to the events in Greece and Cyprus, 007, you’re going to have to handle that end. This is obviously an international incident, and that gives MI6 full authority to act. Let’s meet at ten A.M. in my office and discuss strategy, shall we?” Without waiting for an answer, Barbara Mawdsley turned and went into the bedroom where her lover lay cold and stiff.

  Bond was relieved that she was beginning to sound like her old self again.

  FIVE

  RENDEZVOUS ON CHIOS

  APPROXIMATELY TWO DAYS LATER, A MEETING WAS CALLED TO ORDER IN A remote and secret fortress hidden away on the Greek island of Chios.

  The island is only eight kilometers from the Turkish peninsula of Karaburun, one of the closest of all Greek territories to the country with which Greece has had such a precarious relationship for centuries. Not one of the major tourist islands, Chios has several Greek Army bases and camouflaged enclaves of weaponry.

  Crescent-shaped, Chios is hilly and cultivated with olives, fruit, vines, and most important, gum trees. The capital, locally known as Chios Town, sits on the edge of a plain facing the Turkish coast on the site of its ancient ruins. Approximately twenty-six kilometers west of the capital, at the end of a winding, mountainous road that leads to nowhere, is a quiet, forsaken ancient village called Anavatos. It is built on a precipitous cliff, with narrow stepped pathways twisting between the houses to the summit—an empty, dilapidated medieval castle. Virtually a ghost town, Anavatos’s abandoned gray stone buildings stand as memorials to one of the island’s great tragedies. Nearly all of the inhabitants were killed in the atrocities committed by the Ottoman Empire in 1822, and today the village is inhabited only by a few elderly people at the base of the cliff. The villagers chose to throw themselves off the cliff rather than submit to capture and torture.

  At noon on this early-November weekday, there wasn’t a single tourist in sight. Anavatos never lured many sightseers, and those who did venture there to make the climb to the top never stayed long. Once visitors have seen the deserted ruins, there is nothing else to do. There are no shops, tavernas, or hotels. One restaurant at the base of the cliff serves its small population, every now and then enjoying the business of a tourist or two. Neither sightseers nor the current residents of Anavatos could ever have guessed that within the bowels of the decrepit medieval castle at the top of the lonely village were the sophisticated, modern headquarters of a peculiar group of people.

  Since many notable legendary figures such as Jason and Homer reportedly visited the island, it was entirely conceivable that the noted sixth-century-B.C. mathematician Pythagoras set foot on Chios. He came from neighboring Samos, where he founded a brotherhood called the Order of the Pythagoreans, or the Pythagorean Society. Pythagoras was a respected scholar of mathematics and philosophy, and his lecture rooms were often packed. Even women broke the law that prohibited them from attending public meetings, just to hear him speak. It wasn’t long before the Pythagoreans began to revere their leader as a demigod. They believed in, among other things, transmigration of soul
s, and followed moral and dietary practices in order to purify the soul for its next embodiment. According to the Pythagoreans, all relationships—even abstract concepts like justice—could be expressed numerically.

  Deep within the silent and desolate medieval castle at the top of Anavatos, Pythagoras was about to address his followers once again.

  The man who professed to be him was dressed in a white robe. He had dark, curly hair with traces of gray, cut short and neat. His large, round, dark brown eyes were set deeply into a handsome, chiseled face, with dark eyebrows and a hawk nose. He had a tanned Mediterranean complexion and ruddy lips that seemed to be permanently formed into a frown. The fifty-five-year-old man was clean-shaven, tall and broad-shouldered. He could have been a film star, a priest, or a politician. The man had an indefinable charisma that captivated those who knew him. When he spoke, everyone listened. When he explained, they all understood. When he commanded, no one dared to ignore his instructions.

  After the several minutes of silence that traditionally began their meetings, he would begin. During this time, the man who believed that he was Pythagoras reincarnated gazed at the nine people reclining on cushions on the floor in front of him. They were also wearing robes. Nine men and women looked at their leader with anticipation. There was an American and an Englishman. Three of them were Greek, two Greek Cypriots. One was Italian and one was Russian. Number Ten was a brilliant physician and chemist; Number Nine was an expert in transportation—he could fly anything anywhere. There was Number Eight, the prestigious president of a Greek pharmaceutical company and a distinguished biologist and chemist; Number Seven, a man extremely close to the leader in that they were related by blood; and Number Six, a banker, someone who knew the ins and outs of stock markets, investments, and foreign exchange. Number Five was a loyal friend who normally wore a Greek officer’s military uniform; Number Four was a woman in charge of buying and selling on the black market. Number Three had been in charge of the first four strikes and normally handled overseas business, and the lovely Number Two was one of the most highly skilled assassins and terrorist soldiers on earth. The leader fondly gazed upon Number Two, whose work clothes included a gas mask and a protective suit.

  They were in a room designed to replicate an ancient Greek interior. The large square area was made entirely of stone. Benches lined the perimeters, but the middle of the floor was devoid of furniture. An archway with curtains the colors of the blue-and-white Greek flag led to a completely different room. It contained modern office equipment—workstations, computers, monitors, and machinery. Beyond that again were living quarters as elegant as those of a luxury hotel. Here group members slept if they needed to stay overnight in Anavatos. At a lower level lived the various personnel employed by the ten people in the Greek meeting room. These included personal bodyguards and trained, armed “soldiers” who were so well paid that their loyalty was without question.

  A cache of military weapons was stored in an armory. This consisted mainly of guns and ammunition stolen from Greek military bases. Some of the more sophisticated equipment had been stolen from NATO, or purchased from underground organizations operating in the Middle East and southern Europe. The most impressive device in the complex was an empty missile silo and launching pad. Its cover, which could be opened at the touch of a button, was cleverly disguised as a flat, dirt roof of the medieval castle that housed these unusual secret headquarters. The roof could easily be used as a helicopter pad. It had all been built under the noses of the villagers. They had been paid to turn their backs.

  The period of silence was over. The leader picked up a lyre and strummed a perfect fifth. The Pythagoreans knew that vibrating strings produced harmonious tones when the ratios of the lengths of the strings were whole numbers, and that these ratios could be extended to other instruments if desired.

  The meeting had begun. Pythagoras set down the lyre and smiled wryly at the nine people before him. They were ready. They leaned forward slightly, waiting for the soothing voice of reason. They were impatient to hear him speak, for he was the Monad, the One. And they were called the Decada.

  “Welcome,” he said. “I am happy to report that Mission Number Four was successful in preventing sensitive information concerning the Decada from reaching British intelligence. Unfortunately, the information the targeted man possessed is missing. Retrieval of it is essential. We cannot complete the Tetraktys without it. I have given Number Ten full responsibility for recovering it.”

  Number Ten nodded in acknowledgment.

  “In the meantime, the Decada will continue its goal of achieving worldwide recognition. The first four strikes were simply samples of what the Decada can do. We were testing the waters, getting our feet wet, so to speak. And thus we have successfully warned the British not to interfere in our future plans.”

  The Monad turned and moved toward the stone wall behind him. He slipped his index and middle fingers in between the edges of some stones and released a catch. The panel of fake stones slid across, revealing a metal square embedded with red light bulbs. The bulbs were positioned to form points in an equilateral triangle:

  The bottom four bulbs were lit.

  “The foundation of the holy Tetraktys is complete. Four base digits have been completed. Note the perfection of the triangle—how it can be rotated and it will remain the same. A base of four always leads to a line of three, then to a line of two, and finally to a single point. Ten points in all. Ten—the holy Tetraktys. The basis of the Decada. The creative connection between the Divine Mind and the manifest universe.”

  The Monad indicated the line with three unlit bulbs.

  “Our next three strikes will build upon the first four. Two will follow these, and they will be the pivotal actions that will set up the Decada for its ultimate assault. After that, we will simply start again with a new Tetraktys of ten points. I can assure you that the world will be paying attention to us after the first Tetraktys is complete.”

  He turned to one of the followers sitting before him. “What is the Principle of Oneness, Number Four?” he asked.

  Number Four, a woman, replied by rote, “The Principle of Oneness is Unity, and that is represented by the Monad. Completeness, perfection, eternity, the unchanging and the permanent are all qualities of the Monad, the number One.”

  “And how can One become the Many?”

  “One can become the Many only through the manifestation of the Tetraktys, the Ten.”

  “And when One becomes the Many, what happens?” the Monad asked the entire group.

  As if in a trance, they all replied together, “The Limited will become Unlimited. Limit is a definite boundary. The Unlimited is indefinite and is therefore in need of Limit. We will meld with the Monad. We will all have the power.”

  The Monad nodded with pleasure. “Let us recite the Decada of Contraries. I’ll begin with Number One: Limited and Unlimited.”

  Number Two said, “Odd and Even.”

  Number Three said, “One and Many.”

  The remaining members of the Decada spoke in turn, repeating what they had learned from the Monad.

  The Monad continued, “The Ten points of the Tetraktys. They are the perfection of Number and the elements which comprise it. In one sense, we could say that the Tetraktys symbolizes, like a musical scale, an image of Unity starting at One, proceeding through four levels of manifestation, and returning to Unity. Ten. Everything comes to Ten. And who are the Ten?”

  “The Decada!” the group shouted.

  The Monad was pleased. His followers were totally under his control. He paused and looked at each of the other nine members. He stared into their eyes for a full minute, person by person. They could feel the man’s strength and power filling them as he looked into their souls. They felt invigorated and whole.

  “The gods are pleased,” he said. “Our first tribute was to the ancient Greeks, who built the Agora in Athens at the base of the holy Acropolis. We owe our allegiance to these ancestors of all
mankind. It was in Greece where true Western thought materialized. They built the Temple of Hephaisteion, where Zeus and the other gods of Mount Olympus were worshipped, and it was there that we left our little … sacrifice. Our second tribute was to Hera, queen of the gods. The third was to Poseidon, god of the sea and brother of Zeus. Our fourth was to Ares, the god of war.”

  The Monad smiled. “How fitting that Ares be associated with the final point of the first four strikes, for he was a bloodthirsty god. Yes, with Ares we have declared war on our enemies. The British have been marked. It is a pity that our attempt to eliminate the Greek Secret Service investigator in her shower failed. But now we turn our attention to the Turks and the Turkish Cypriots. Once we have completed our first set of goals, the ones that will make us a force to be reckoned with, the Turks will be run out of northern Cyprus forever. My friends, we will move through the holy Tetraktys like lightning! I am happy to report that Number Eight is progressing with her work in the laboratory and we are now ready to break all ties with our American soon-to-be-former partners. It will not be long before we strike with our own swords, and the world will remember us forever!”

  After the meeting, Number Two, Number Eight, and Number Ten huddled together in a private room in the complex. The three women spoke quietly.

  “Deaths have already been reported in Los Angeles,” Number Ten said.

  “How quickly does the virus gestate?” Number Two asked.

  “The quickest way is direct injection into the bloodstream,” Number Eight explained. “A person will get sick in about eight hours. It’s during these hours that the virus is most contagious. Otherwise, it takes ten to twenty-four hours for an onset of symptoms after exposure to someone who is already infected.”

  “Then it’s working,” Number Two said.

  “More or less.”

  Number Ten replied, “By the time we’ve completed the tenth mission of the Tetraktys, all the deliveries will have been made. It will be too late to stop the process.”