The first floor was empty, he had checked all of the rooms and seen nothing untoward, but Pieter was sure that Gertrude was in the castle somewhere, he just had to check each floor. It was most probable that she had been locked up in an upstairs room; he could not quite believe that her abductors would have dumped her in the inevitable dungeons below ground level, but, he would have to check there if he could find nothing on the upper floors.
Briskly scooting up the next level of the main staircase, Pieter darted out onto the second floor landing and checked the corridor leading off in both directions. He would have to make another complete circuit of the floor plan and the castle was not exactly a small building. Feeling his hands starting to sweat around the butt of the pistol, he waggled his fingers to gain a better grip and started to walk quietly in an anti-clockwise sweep of the rooms.
Gertrude had reached the halfway point and could not believe how much her forearms were burning. They screamed at her to rest, to let go of the rope to ease the searing pain that made her want to weep. Only a glance down to the ground below made her hang on, tears starting to swell in her eyes as she realised that it was now just as far to go back as to keep going to the safety of the other side. She tried to ease her suffering by transferring her weight to the safety line and felt the gratitude in her arms, but, as she relaxed too much her jeans starting to dig into her flesh. Suddenly, her whole body jerked down as the front two belt hoops tore free from the denim of her waistband and she involuntarily let go of the rope and could only grab at the twisted fabric of the safety harness made from the strips she had torn from the dust-sheet. In an instant she was swinging wildly as the whole pulley rope oscillated in a gradually decreasing rhythm, her body acting as a pendulum as she rocked back and forth.
She took a moment of wide-eyed terror, breathing heavily and feeling slightly sea-sick as she caught sight of the walls and ground swaying around her, not daring to move a muscle in case she precipitated a further tear in her jeans, the prelude to a fall that would only end in her demise in a crumpled and broken heap at the bottom of the wall.
Pieter alighted the landing of the attic rooms on the third floor, and was starting to become a little anxious. He had not encountered anybody on the first two floors and he was beginning to think that he had made a mistake in assuming that the castle held the girl. Perhaps the van had taken her away? Perhaps they had seen him snooping around and decided to take her to another location? No, it did not matter. It had been the same van that she had been bundled into and there must be something in the castle to find, even if it consisted of empty pizza boxes and coffee cups. At least they could get some forensic evidence.
He turned left passed a small lift entrance and started down a narrow crooked corridor, testing the doors that led off from it as he went. As he reached the mid section where the corridor veered, he peeped round and saw a desk at the end next to a door. He could just about make out a monitor that showed an image split into four - a security monitor no doubt. A hunch urged him forward and he scurried to the desk, noting that the door next to it was unlocked and slightly ajar.
Pieter resettled his grip on his pistol and shoved the door inward with his foot, quickly dashing through and scanning the whole room as he arced his field of fire through all three corners that were immediately visible. He instantly checked around the back of the door and was satisfied that nobody was in the spacious room. He darted across to what was obviously an en-suite bathroom and checked there, nobody.
It was a faint smell of perfume that made him pause. The smell flooded back to him, the same scent that he remembered in Gertrude Verker's apartment. It was either a strange coincidence or she had been in the room. He looked around, the crumpled bed linen, the fashion magazines. Walking around to the seating area he glanced down - a pair of fluffy white towelling slippers was placed next to the sofa. He was sure he recognised them, it was not just coincidence and he was now certain that Gertrude had been there.
Racing back into the corridor, Pieter started scrabbling at the desk, looking for a control panel for the security monitor. He grinned to himself as he located a small keyboard and pressed some buttons to bring up a menu system on the screen. Within a few minutes, he was viewing footage of the room in which Gertrude had been held. He saw the girl sitting on her bed, then ripping up a magazine and crossing to the door. She was kneeling, the top of her head bobbing about as she did something to the door. He looked over at the entrance and wondered, seeing the key in the lock.
Staring intently at the screen, he watched as Gertrude disappeared from view for just a moment and then she jerked back up again. The door was opening and it was clear that she had just escaped. Pieter glanced at his watched and did some quick calculations. She had managed to get out of the room at roughly the same time as he was trying to work out how to get in! He fast forwarded the recording and suddenly saw the door to the bedroom swing open again as a man entered. The figure glanced around, turned about and then left. It must have been the guy in the Renault van, he had not even bothered to look for Gertrude, once he had seen that she was missing he had made his getaway as soon as possible.
Pieter stood up and thought, she was still in the compound somewhere, she must be, he had not seen her leave and he was certain that their paths would have crossed since the gatehouse was the only way in or out. Gertrude was still in the castle - somewhere. He snatched up his gun and ran down the corridor to the staircase; he needed to get to ground level again.
Gertrude was wheezing, each laboured breath billowing out like the smoke from a pistol shot in the biting cold air. Each swing from one hand to the other made her weep and she choked back a plangent wail every time the incendiary pain shot up her forearms. She was almost at the other side, she just had to monkey-swing over a couple more times and she would be there. It was so close, the pain was reaching a crescendo and she knew she had to blast through it; her life literally depended upon it.
She reached out a foot and flailed at the ledge of the walkway at the top of the curtain wall but lost her footing. The shift in her weight tore at her arms and her fingers screamed as they tried to contain her movement and maintain their faltering grip, the whole rope bouncing with her effort. Once more, her foot limply kicked out but this time her training shoe caught the edge and she could garner some leverage. The muscles of her thigh heaved and she tried to pull herself closer using her hamstrings whilst simultaneously trying to lift herself up using her quadriceps. Her arms were useless, her hands were still gripping but she could not pull herself up no matter how much she tried.
Gertrude started to swear, she started to get angry, she yelled at herself and made one final concerted effort to pull and raise herself with her left leg on the curtain wall. She was doing it, she was getting closer, one more heave and she let go with her left arm, grabbing at the small wooden safety fence that acted as a barrier to stop walkers around the parapet from falling over the edge. She locked her elbow down over the fence until the top handrail was wedged into her armpit. A wild grasp with her right hand gave her two arms to grip the fence with and with a wheeze and a grunted cough she heaved herself forwards, somehow tumbling over the fence to lay on the stone of the walkway, her safety harness ripping a couple more belt loops as she rolled to a stop.
Pieter skidded off the last step of the grand staircase and just caught his balance as he stood in the main reception hall where he had originally entered. He was suddenly taken by surprise by a voice that boomed out from his left.
'Was machen Sie
?'
He looked to where the voice that had enquired as to what he was doing had come from and saw three heavy set men in workmens' overalls staring at him. Straightening his arms, he showed his gun provocatively but did not aim at them, instead, pointing the pistol to the ground. At the sight of the weapon, all of the workmen took a step backwards, one of them immediately holding his hands up in a placatory defence to ward off any further action and without further delay Pieter turned from them to run to the main doors, shouldering the interior glass doors open and scuttling out into the courtyard.
Spinning around he began searching for Gertrude, squinting as he tried to gaze into the many dark recesses of the alcoves dotted about the walls, staring up at the towers and buildings of the castle, hoping for a glimpse of the girl.
Gertrude jogged down the stairwell of the main gatehouse having gained access via the curtain wall walkway. Her arms were practically crippled from her previous exertions but some feeling was starting to return, although she had to fumble with the latch of the door that she guessed led to the courtyard. Without pause, she burst through and turned to face the main gate, but let out and exasperated cry of dismay as she saw that the heavy wooden doors were shut tight, her exit was barred.
'Stop!'
The cry had come from behind her and she simply froze. All of her efforts had been for nothing, she had been caught.
'Gertrude, stop, it is me, Inspector van Riel!'
She was still frozen to the spot, but even more confused. Gertrude slowly started to turn and as she faced back toward the castle entrance she could hardly believe her eyes. The officer from her apartment, the man who had come to collect the book; it was the same policeman.
'Inspector van Riel? What are you - ?'
She could not finish her sentence and did not need to. Pieter fumbled to return his gun to his belt holster as he ran to her, finally grasping her and wrapping his arms about her to hold her tightly, listening to the sobs that started to break as he felt her whole body convulse with relief.
The Order
Wandering back from the main HQ buildings to their accommodation in the married quarters, it was clear that both Jolene and Jackson were thinking about their conversation with Stefan Kappel, their faces creased with somewhat pensive expressions.
'Do you think that he has lost it?' Jackson suddenly asked, his candid and slightly rhetorical question illustrating his opinion.
'I guess his nerves are frayed,' Jolene defended, 'he's trying to keep this whole thing under wraps until we're in a position to destroy the vortex weapon. I mean, it is a hell of a risk that he is taking but I think that we can both agree that we don't want anybody else getting their hands on this technology.'
'You're damn right about that,' Jackson chuckled, 'I can't think of anything worse, it is just that he seems to be losing the plot a little.'
Tilting her head back as she considered the situation, Jolene became even more contemplative.
'As long as he keeps everyone off our backs then it is fine by me, besides, he's given us a whole load of material to check out.'
She held up the secure memory stick on which she had stored a series of background documents that Kappel had sent to them after their conference call.
'Yeah,' Jackson retorted drily, 'at last we can find out exactly what the intelligence services know about the history of the Sun of the Sleepless, I've been after this material since we arrived but look how long it has taken to get hold of it! At least it explains why some of the text is available on the internet. It was us all along, posting material as bait. I really think he could have told us sooner though, all this cloak and dagger stuff is beyond me.
'Really?' Jolene smirked. 'I'd have thought it was right up your street? Besides, we've only been here a couple of days.'
Jackson shrugged.
'A weekend is a weekend, but I suppose that you're right, this should be right up my street. I guess that I'm running out of patience now that retirement is looming. I just want to get it over and done with.'
'Just as well then,' Jolene smiled, 'it'll all be over soon enough!'
Jackson hummed cynically and nodded.
'Ma'am!'
Sergeant Stanley rose quickly from his seat at the kitchen table as Jolene entered through the front door, pocketing her mobile telephone as Jackson trailed in behind her.
'We've received some intelligence from Langley,' Stanley announced as she crossed the threshold, 'a significant breakthrough.'
'Langley?' Jolene frowned. 'We've just been talking to the Deputy Director but he never mentioned any breakthrough.'
'It has literally just been phoned through; they have news on a charter flight delivery that was scheduled right at the last minute from Midden-Zeeland Airport in The Netherlands to Bristol Airport in England. It was supposed to be carrying computer server spares on behalf of Open-EZ. Ma'am, Faber and Akosua were almost certainly on that flight, they're in the UK.'
Jolene glanced back at Jackson and then rushed forwards to stand at the table.
'This all checks out?'
Stanley nodded.
'- and the pilot has been interviewed?'
'Yes,' affirmed Stanley, 'he was picked up by the UK Border Agency almost as soon as he landed due to a major discrepancy in his flight path. The charter all pans out and the server equipment was on board but when he was pressed he admitted that he'd been carrying a couple of passengers who bailed out.'
'He knew who they were?' Jolene asked eagerly.
Stanley shook his head.
'He says not, he says that they presented themselves as Open-EZ employees who wanted to hitch a ride along with the equipment. They flashed British passports so he didn't think much of it. When he was over England, they apparently grabbed a couple of parachutes that he keeps for sport and just jumped out. He says that he had no idea what their intentions were and couldn't do anything to stop them, but, he had to slow down and descend so that they wouldn't kill themselves. He put it down to them being a couple of thrill seekers. Apparently he didn't want to report it in case he became mixed up in something. To be honest, there is no way to prove it either way.'
Frowning and with her eyes darting, Jolene tensed her jaw.
'They must have gone to England for a good reason, otherwise, why risk it? Do we have anything else to go on?'
Stanley expressed a grimace.
'Not much, Langley picked up on it as part of our search but it was just chatter at first. We made a formal request for more information as part of the Deputy Director's approach but we've received no further updates as to where they went, however, we did managed to track some reports of flares seen in a field near to a town called Colchester. Assuming that it may have been a landing signal, I asked Langley to follow up with the British authorities on traffic cameras. We know when they passed over the area from flight records and it all fits. It is just a case of seeing where they went.'
A grin appeared on Jolene's face.
'This is great, this is exactly what we needed. Gentlemen, we may need to fly to England, we should be ready to move if necessary.'
'The Sun of the Sleepless - a neo-chivalric order of obscure origins.'
Jackson read the words aloud as Jolene and Dale made themselves comfortable at the kitchen table. Stanley and Oliver stood at the sink, washing and drying some crockery between them, idly listening to the oration.
'Possibly originating as a schismatic splinter-group from late sixteenth to early seventeenth century Freemasonry, the Order alludes to eleventh century chivalric structures based on the military orders of the crusades and possibly to the pre-Christian Roman hierarchies although any direct links are unsubstantiated at this time.'
Jackson looked up and adjusted his glasses.
'Written in 1928 by our own intelligence services. What do you make of that?'
'Not exactly incisive in its detail of history is it?' snorted Jolene. 'That could refer to the Shriners and the Daughters of the Nile.'
A chortle wheezed from Jackson as he looked back at the laptop screen on which he was examining the documents provided by Stefan Kappel.
'That was just the opening paragraph, there is a lot more, let's see -'
He started paging through the documents as Dale sighed irritably.
'Is this getting us anywhere? It doesn't exactly lead us to their door does it?'
'So it is said that if you know your enemies and know yourself, you can win a hundred battles without a single loss,' Jackson pronounced solemnly, quoting from the sixth century BC text of 'The Art of War' attributed to the Chinese military strategist Sun Tzu.
'Besides,' interjected Jolene, 'we can't do anything until we hear from the British. We'll be moving quickly enough once we know where Faber and Akosua are.'
'- and if we don't know where they are,' emphasised Jackson without looking up, 'we can at least know what they are!'
He paused and leaned back in his chair.
'Look at this, a summary of what is known of the ranks and titles of the Sun of the Sleepless.'
He spun the laptop round for Jolene and Dale to get a better view. A typewritten list had been scanned into the document, which provided an overview of the structure of the organisation.
3.2.1 - Powers
King/Queen x1
(x1 Sigulah)
Senator x3
(x1 Cipher of Aphrodite)
(x1 Cipher of Minerva)
(x1 Cipher of Artemis)
Cardinal x9
(x1 Consul)
3.2.2 - Dominions
Knight Elector x27
(x3 Imperator)
Knight Commander x81
(x9 Tribune)
Knight Errant x243
(x27 Patrician)
3.2.3 - Principalities
Brother/Sister x729
(i) Master/Mistress
(ii) Adept
(iii) Novice
Apprentice x2187
(i) Companion
(ii) Attendant
(iii) Initiate
Candidate x6561
(i) Applicant
(ii) Postulant
(iii) Supplicant
3.2.4 - Retired veterans (Evocati) - Unknown distribution
3.2.5 - Inactive associates? - Unknown distribution
3.2.5 - External resources (Banyan) - Unknown distribution
'Kings and Queens?' Dale snorted. 'Knights? What is wrong with these people? Do they think that they're still in the medieval ages? Why do grown men and women get into these fantasy games?'
The statement elicited a deep sigh from Jackson.
'These are a mixture of traditional roles that attract different kinds of authority. From this alone we can speculate on their process of initiation and promotion. We see exactly the same kind of titles in any number of perfectly legitimate fraternal societies. Anyway, the numbers of each rank are rather telling, see how each successive rank has three times as many members as the previous one; one King or Queen, three Senators, nine Cardinals, twenty-seven Knight Electors and so on. If all the ranks were filled this organisation would number almost ten thousand.'
'Ten thousand?' Dale barked incredulously. 'No way! There is just no way that there can be that many of these fanatics running around, there can't be.'
Jackson raised his hands to stop the outburst.
'I don't think that this reflects actual numbers, rather, the maximum number of positions within each rank. This structure clearly demonstrates a ritual significance assigned to the power of three, see how there are three groups of three main ranks and a further subdivision of three within each - three sets of three on three levels. I would suggest that the Powers and Dominions are probably fully stocked, however, the Principalities are most likely a kind of feeder group, with new members rising through the ranks until they can prove that they are worthy of trust and responsibility. It is typical of this kind of organisation.'
'It is the same for some terrorist groups and certainly was a system used for spy networks during the Cold War,' suggested Jolene, 'they often use a triadic system of cells of three individuals reporting to a single contact point. It may be that each group of three in any of these ranks reports to a single member of the rank immediately above them, all the way from the Candidates at the bottom right up to the Senators near the top.'
She paused and then pointed a finger at the screen.
'What is this?'
Adjusting his glasses, Jackson loomed closer to the laptop, the bright light from the screen casting a glow onto his face.
'Evocati and Banyan. That is interesting. The 'Evocati' was a term used in the Roman army for men who had been discharged but who re-enlisted voluntarily. I suppose that it could be some kind of group of retired members of the Order, after all, they can't just wait to die at their posts if the numbers for each level are capped. The word 'Banyan' is also unusual in this context. I believe that it is associated with Gujarati and generally pertains to a merchant. Let me see -'
He mumbled to himself as he paged down and read further.
'Yes, they use the term 'Banyan' to refer to non-members who are used for specific tasks, providing information and skills in the outside world. These people know nothing of the organisation itself but are simply engaged to fulfil a specific requirement. I would guess that the companies contracted to create the components for the vortex cannon could be termed as 'Banyan'. They wouldn't know what they were doing or who they were really doing it for, their work being compartmented to hide its true purpose.'
As Jolene nodded at the explanation, Dale sneered slightly, squinting as he reread the page on the screen.
'What about the 'Cipher' stuff, what is that all about?'
Jackson glanced up and then refocused on the text, humming quietly to himself.
'Ahh, now that is interesting! Very interesting in fact. Aphrodite, Minerva and Artemis. Remember my earlier presentations when I mentioned Venus?'
'Venus being the Roman equivalent of the Greek Aphrodite?' proffered Jolene.
'Exactly so! Aphrodite was the Greek goddess of love and beauty, Minerva stands for wisdom and knowledge and Artemis was the Hellenic goddess of the hunt.'