by John Moralee
“Don’t hold me in suspense,” he growled. “Tell me what it is before I die of old age.”
Old age? The irony of his words amused the man calling himself Robert Morgan, but he stopped himself from smiling.
The detective constable cleared his throat. “Sir, a ticket seller recalls serving a man whose description matches the suicide bomber. He paid in cash for a ticket to Edinburgh. CCTV footage confirms the man was the terrorist. I’ve already contacted the police in Edinburgh.”
Robert Morgan doubted the Alliance agent had gone all of the way to Edinburgh and back to London in the time frame available, but he didn’t say his thoughts to the detective. “That’s good work, DC -?”
“Ellaway, sir.”
“Keep me informed of any progress, DC Ellaway.”
“Yes, sir.”
Robert Morgan waited until the detective closed the door before pressing a button on his phone. It activated his scrambler. Now his voice was fully encrypted.
“Yes?” the voice said.
“We have a lead, sir. The Alliance agent was on a train to Edinburgh. I’ll have all CCTV footage of the stations on the line analysed for you in 24 hours. I’m getting close to identifying his point of contact.”
“Call me when you have it done,” his boss said, hanging up.
Robert Morgan knew he was on the right track, so to speak. He looked forward to viewing the CCTV footage, praying another lead would be caught on tape. The hours spent looking would give the painful wounds on his back some time to heal.
Four hours later, he had received all of the security tapes from the stations. They were transferred to digital so he could study them on his laptop computer. Five hours after that, he was reviewing the tapes from Hobley when -
“Eureka!” he cried out when he saw the familiar face on the CCTV picture. It wasn’t a great image – the security camera was not even in colour – but it was definitely the Alliance agent, filmed a few hours before his suicide.
Robert Morgan paused the image on the screen of his laptop. He stared at it closely. It showed the agent exiting the train carrying a briefcase. The next images – each captured in half-second jumps – showed him stopping on the platform while the other passengers continued towards the exit. Robert Morgan played the tape forward one frame at a time in jerky slow-motion, wishing the security camera had been more sophisticated, like the ones the Brotherhood used. The Alliance agent had waited for almost everyone to leave the platform before approaching another man, standing at the far end of the platform. The picture resolution was too grainy to see his face from that distance, unfortunately. Still, he did see them exchange their briefcases. Then the two men walked towards the camera. Morgan got a blurry close-up image of the other man as he passed under the camera that would need a few hours of image processing to be useful for identification.
Now here was something curious.
Unknown to the two men, a child wearing a hooded jacket had been hiding behind a pillar, watching. Interesting. What was the kid doing? The child followed them like a stalker. Morgan switched to the view from the only security tape filming the concourse. Again, the image quality was terrible. From thirty feet away, he saw the two men split up, the dead man going for another train. The second man, holding a walking cane, strolled out through the station’s exit. The child started followed him, but had some difficulty with the ticket collector. He could see the kid without the hood on from behind. The child looked like a girl, judging by her long black hair. He couldn’t see her face. The girl evidently didn’t have a ticket. When the collector tried to stop her, the girl ran past him out the exit. Very interesting. Why was the kid following the agent? Was there another organisation involved? Morgan wanted to see where they had gone next – but the station had no external cameras.
He called his boss on the scrambler phone. “Sir, I’ve traced the courier to a contact he met at Hobley station that afternoon. They swapped briefcases on the platform. A young girl was following them for some reason. I don’t know yet why she was doing that, but she could be a third player in our little game, sir.”
“Hobley?” his boss said. “Where’s that?”
“It’s a small town in North Yorkshire.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Nobody has, sir.”
“Hmmm. Sounds like the perfect hiding place. Do you have pictures of Russian’s contact?”
“I’m sending an encrypted video file to you now. The quality is poor, but with computer enhancement I should be able to get a good likeness.”
He clicked SEND on his computer. The images were sent to the Brotherhood’s secret headquarters. They were received in an instant.
“Good grief,” his boss said. “I know this man. He was supposed to be dead a real long time ago.”
“Sir, who is he?”
“You have just redeemed yourself without knowing it. Now I know who stole the Holy Grail – after all those years of speculating. The thief’s name is Lucas Ravencroft.”
“Lucas Ravencroft? That name sounds familiar, sir.”
“It should. You probably don’t remember – it was over 120 years ago - but he was once invited to be one of us. He was an old man then – so he doesn’t match this picture. But I knew him when he was just a teenager. This is Lucas as an adult – I’m sure. He was a mighty smart guy in his time. He could have helped us understand the gateways, but he failed the initiation test. Sly old devil must’ve faked his own death in that fire. Wish we’d had DNA tests in those days.” He heard his boss laugh with admiration. Then he was all seriousness. “Listen up.”
“I’m listening, sir.”
“Lucas Ravencroft will have the Holy Grail in his possession. Therefore catching him will bring down the Alliance. But you’ll have to be real cautious. He’ll be wary of us looking for him. We don’t want him getting away or destroying it. I want Hobley under a full surveillance net – but a discreet one. Don’t involve any of the local police forces. This must be a Brotherhood-only operation. Gather a team of your brothers for the mission. Find out where he is hiding – but do not make any moves to capture him without my permission. Your mission is just to locate the target. You are only to find him, not bring him in. I’ll catch him myself when the time is right, do you understand?”
Robert Morgan understood his symbiont would be forcibly removed and he would die a True Death if he disobeyed orders. He had seen it happen to a member who had betrayed the Brotherhood. He shivered at the memory of the screams.
“Yes, sir. Nobody will be able to move in or out of Hobley without us knowing about it. The town will be placed under a Level 5 surveillance net.” Five was the highest level. “What about the girl watching them, sir?”
“The girl ... Yes, I want to know why she was there. Who is she? Why was she watching them? She could just be a pickpocket looking for any easy mark ... but she could be more. She could be working for the Alliance or someone else we don’t even know about. Put the local schools under a microscope. Find her.”
“Then what?”
“Bring her in for questioning.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Ryan, Saffron and Mira had barely warmed up in the cosy warmth of the greenhouse when Lucas Ravencroft came looking for them. His cold eyes stared at Ryan and Saffron. “There you are. I need to ask you both a question. You didn’t tell me the whole truth, did you?”
They looked at each other, wondering what he meant. He had the newspapers in his hands. He dropped them at their feet. “How did you know the story in the newspapers was connected to me? How did you know about my contact? The whole truth! Now!”
“I – er – I saw you meeting him,” Saffron admitted. “I followed you to the train station, and I saw you swapping briefcases.”
Ravencroft groaned. “Why didn’t you mention this before?”
“I – er –” Saffron stammered nervously.
Mira answered for Saffron. “Because they were frightened of you, grandfather. They were
afraid you’d brainwash them.”
“I see,” Ravencroft said. “Listen, it’s very important you don’t hide anything from me. After you went to the train station, what did you do to get here before I did?”
“I hurried back here in a taxi – like you.”
“In a taxi? I wish you had told me this earlier. I conditioned the driver of my taxi to forget me – so he can’t give out information - but your driver knows where he dropped you. He has memories. I don’t believe this! I will have to track him down and erase his memory before someone from the Brotherhood questions him. Is there anyone else who could lead them here?”
“No ... I swear.”
“You hesitated,” Ravencroft said. “There is someone else?”
Saffron sighed. “My brother Neal knows I wasn’t in school that day, but he doesn’t know why. He just thinks I skipped school. Mr Ravencroft, I know you could wipe his memory, but I don’t want you to. He’s my brother. I can deal with him.”
“I won’t condition your brother,” he said, “but this does complicate matters. The taxi driver knows I live on Willow Lane. With that information the Brotherhood ...” He didn’t finish the sentence. “I will have to go out to clean up this mess. What did the taxi driver look like? Do you know his name?”
Saffron didn’t know his name. But after Saffron had described him, Ravencroft said he was going out. It was time for Ryan and Saffron to leave, too. They said goodbye to Mira, promising they’d come back tomorrow.
Later, when Ryan was home, Mira emailed Ryan to let him know everything had gone well. Her grandfather had tracked down the taxi driver and made sure he couldn’t give the Brotherhood any information. He should have felt relieved, but he was worried about the Brotherhood.
What if the Brotherhood did come to Hobley? What could they do – except run for their lives?
*
When Saffron saw Neal waiting in her bedroom again, she inwardly groaned because she knew it wasn’t good news. Neal was so happy with the homework she’d done he showed her the marked paper – a B. “All I need is a few more grades like this and I’m sorted.”
“That’s good news,” she said warily.
“It sure is,” he said. He revealed he had more homework for her. “That’s for tomorrow, but the other stuff’s due on Monday, giving you like plenty of time, sis. Well, I leave you to do it.”
“Gee, thanks a lot.” She wanted to wipe his cheek grin off his face. “This is the lot, right? No more, right?”
He didn’t answer.
“Neal?” she said. “No more, right?”
“Right,” he answered with a smirk. “No more.”
Liar. Saffron knew he intended to blackmail her for as long as possible. He knew she knew it, but she was powerless to refuse. Smug and superior, her brother left her to do his homework. Angrily, she threw the homework sheets across her room where they fluttered down like autumn leaves. Shaking her head wearily, she picked them up one by one, muttering more than a few rude words.
“How am I going to end this?” she wondered out loud.
*
As much as Robert Morgan would have liked to set up roadblocks isolating the whole town of Hobley, then searched from house to house until they found Lucas Ravencroft, he knew he had to be discreet. Hunting for the Alliance agent Lucas Ravencroft would be a cat-and-mouse game – but the mouse had claws, too. The Brotherhood certainly had the power to do a house-to-house search, but it would risk exposing what they were doing to the Alliance.
So, the Brotherhood of Ascension moved into Hobley after dark, quietly, anonymously, setting up a base of operations in a disused warehouse. Several unremarkable-looking vans arrived packed with men and equipment. Soon the warehouse was filled with equipment that made the cockpit of a NASA shuttle look like a toy. Robert Morgan commanded a small army. From his new headquarters, he sent out a dozen teams of agents to set up their own surveillance systems.
By the morning, hundreds of secret cameras had been installed all over the town from rooftops to sewer pipes. The live pictures were sent to a bank of monitors set up in the warehouse, but Robert Morgan wasn’t satisfied with just waiting there and watching for Ravencroft. All night Brotherhood agents worked on computers trawling the local computer network, gathering gigabytes of information on the town and its 67,342 residents.
When Robert Morgan woke up refreshed by a few hours of sleep, the information was waiting on his computer for his analysis. He hoped something would help locate Ravencroft and the mystery black-haired girl. His instinct was focus his initial search on the girl, not Ravencroft, who was unlikely to show himself in public without a disguise.
Morgan learnt Hobley contained thirteen schools where the girl could be enrolled. A few key taps revealed over two thousand girls of the right age lived in the area. His team could have gone to interrogate all of them one by one – but that would take a long time.
It was more efficient to narrow his search before he started.
First, he limited the list to the names of female pupils who had not been in school on the day Ravencroft met the courier. That list contained only 54 students. Robert Morgan was looking for a black-haired girl, so he called up photographs of the students kept in the schools’ databases, eliminating from his list the girls who didn’t fit the physical profile.
When Morgan came to Saffron’s picture, he passed over it with just a glance ... because he was looking for a dark-haired girl. He didn’t know Saffron had been wearing a wig in the station. He didn’t know her real hair colour was blonde. Her school photograph didn’t look like the girl on the surveillance tape. He ignored her, continuing his search.
It was a mistake that saved Saffron from the Brotherhood.
For now.
*
“Thomas Ryker?” the man said.
Thomas Ryker was closing his car door when he looked up at the stranger standing in the staff car park outside Hobley station. Thomas Ryker was wearing his ticket-inspector’s uniform, freshly cleaned by his wife. The other man was wearing a dark suit and sunglasses, which was odd because it wasn’t a bright morning. Another man was standing behind him, also wearing sunglasses, like a character out of the Matrix. They were near a white van parked between him and the entrance.
“Yes?” he said.
“My name’s Robert Morgan. I’m a detective.”
“A detective?” Thomas Ryker wondered what he had done wrong as the man approached his car. “I didn’t do anything. What’s this about?”
“There was a terrorist incident a few days ago on a train,” the detective said. “You probably saw it on the news.”
“Yeah – I did. What’s that got to do with me?”
“You may have seen one of our suspects. I just want to ask some routine questions.” The man offered his hand to shake. Thomas Ryker shook it with a nervous smile - but suddenly felt a pain shoot up his arm.
“Hey – what –”
That was all he said. In another second he was in a dreamy trance, the pain forgotten.
“Get in the van,” the man ordered.
Thomas Ryker obeyed. The men closed the doors once he was inside. There were more men inside, dressed in suits, armed with guns.
“I am going to ask you some questions,” the detective said. “You must tell me the truth. Do you remember seeing a man with a walking stick and a briefcase?”
Deep down, Thomas Ryker did remember it, but he had been told by the man to forget ever seeing him. Sweat ran down his face. I must say no, he thought. But I want to say yes. He strained to tell the truth, like the detective demanded. But -
“No,” he answered.
“He’s lying,” another man said. “How can he do that if he’s in a trance?”
“Because Ravencroft brainwashed him first,” the detective said. “I won’t be able to retrieve any memories of Ravencroft from him, but he will have memories of the girl because she went past after the brainwashing. He wasn’t made to forget her. Thomas Ryker, do
you remember a young ticket dodger wearing a hooded jacket?”
“Yes,” he said. The answer came easily. “It was a girl.”
“Describe her in as much detail as you can, Thomas.”
Morgan extracted a full description, which he could use to make an identikit picture. After he’d finished questioning the ticket inspector, Morgan wiped his mind of the interrogation, instructing him to forget all about the incident, the girl and especially them.
They left Thomas Ryker standing outside his car holding his car keys with no memory of the last fifteen minutes.
Using the same interrogation method, Robert Morgan questioned everyone who worked at the train station, hoping to learn more than what was on the security tapes. Under hypnosis, one cleaner recalled seeing the girl run outside. There, she had not gone in the direction of the zebra crossing – but had gone in the opposite direction, towards the taxi rank.
She had left in a taxi!
That was good news. Hobley only had three taxi companies. He eliminated two because they didn’t serve the station during the day. Twenty minutes later, Robert Morgan visited the main office of the Hobley Speedy Cabs. He put the dispatcher into a trance. The dispatcher told him about not one, but two of their taxis hired at roughly the same time from the train station, but the dispatcher didn’t have any record of their destinations, just the cost and mileage of the journeys. She obediently gave him the names and addresses of the drivers before he wiped her mind. The driver of the first taxi didn’t remember anything at all about the ride – just like the second driver – which made Robert Morgan angry. A dead end! All he had was a rough idea of how far the taxis had gone from the station. That was no good, no good at all. He wanted a specific address for the stolen Holy Grail.
