by Ted Tayler
Married in Canterbury Cathedral (1973). Their children are Simon (39). Georgina (37) and Mungo (29). The Eliot family have occupied the Mill for centuries. The family home is surrounded by many acres of rolling countryside. Their bank statement indicates they are ‘rolling’ in old money.
“What do you think?” asked Phoenix.
“I think they’re an odd couple, but they’ve stuck together no matter what. I put them in the Olympian camp.”
“I agree,” said Phoenix, placing the two photographs into a folder. He set it on the table to his left-hand side.
Leopold Andrews (69) of Elmbridge, Surrey, (code name Poseidon)
Unmarried; educated at Trinity College, Cambridge in the mid-Sixties. Retired from the City aged fifty-five after a career in banking. His financials show him getting by on a pension pot that would make Donald Trump jealous.
“He lives in ‘Beverly Hills UK’ then? Just up the road from Elton by the look of things,” said Phoenix.
“Did Alastor find out who he mixed with during his time at Trinity?” asked Athena. “He may be a ‘cold fish’ emotionally, but several extreme societies existed back then. Did he associate with any political groups?”
“Alastor has highlighted one telling link. Young Leopold contributed to the long-running anarchist paper ‘Freedom’ from the age of eighteen. By 1966, he had severed all contact with them and was hard at work in a private merchant bank in Moorgate. Odd that someone who was so anti-establishment ended up ‘working for the man’ as soon as he left university.”
“I think we need to look into Leopold Andrews more closely, Phoenix,” said Athena, “place his photograph in a separate folder. Put it on top of the folder containing Zeus and Hera. We’re due to see Minos in a few minutes. I’ll take that large folder Alastor prepared and keep it from prying eyes. You and I can continue to dig into the detail on our suspects later. The Three Amigos aren’t stupid. If they see their work is being segregated into discrete groups, the penny will drop and they will realise we are dividing the actual Olympus hierarchy into factions. I want to shield that knowledge from them for as long as possible.”
Their final preparations were made and evidence that might have triggered concern in the mind of Minos, their next guest, removed. A knock at the door heralded his arrival.
“Come on in, Minos,” said Athena.
Sir Julian Langford, QC, was sixty years old. He had retired in 2005 after a lifetime in the legal profession. His time as a judge saw a steady rise in crime and a steady decline in the degree of justice meted out; something he regretted and railed against.
Minos, the judge of the dead in the Underworld, met Alastor at Larcombe on their first day with Olympus.
“Thank you for your efforts, Minos,” said Athena. “You and I have discussed one of the people you were tasked with investigating. Perhaps we can see everything you covered, so Phoenix can get up to speed.”
“Certainly, Athena,” said Minos, handing over his bulky folders for inspection.
“That will be all, Minos,” said Athena, “we’ll be in touch if we need any clarifications. If any of these people deserve deeper study, I’ll brief you after tomorrow morning’s meeting.”
“Understood,” said Minos.
Athena opened the folder and isolated the relevant items; she discarded the ‘dummy’ photographs and their backgrounds; then she placed the data on the true Olympians on the desk – they were for Apollo, Dionysus, Heracles and of course, Demeter.
Troy Gardner (50) of Salisbury, Wiltshire, (code name Apollo)
Born in the East End of London to a poor family. Left school at sixteen with very few qualifications. A former boxer, world champion for three years in the Eighties. Used the fortune he amassed from the fight game to build a huge property portfolio that has expanded his wealth to an estimated four billion pounds. Twice married. Several children both inside and outside those marriages.
He lives with a thirty-two-year-old model at present. His sporting pursuits following his retirement from the ring are golf and shooting.
“Any views?” asked Athena, after she finished reading.
“Was there anything in his youth that might point us in the right direction?” asked Phoenix, “before he found a way out of poverty with his fists.”
Athena scanned the details once more. She shook her head.
“I’m wary of placing Apollo in the ‘all-clear’ camp just yet; I’ll add him to Poseidon’s folder and get Minos to keep digging.”
Sir James Grant-Nicholls (62) of Musselburgh, Scotland, (code name Heracles)
Educated privately in Edinburgh, attended St. Andrew’s University. Worked in various management positions in industry. Became Chairman of a conglomerate spanning merchant banking, financial services, recruitment, marketing, business services and stockbroking in 1984. Knighted for his services to industry in 1988. He received the title of "Industrialist of the Year" on three occasions. Frequent appearances on television. Pilot’s licence. Married to Fiona for the past thirty-one years. No children.
“Loads of money and no-one to leave it to,” said Athena, thinking how lucky she was.
“Not really a motive for overthrowing the government, though,” said Phoenix. “I reckon Heracles is one of the good guys.”
There was no argument from Athena. Heracles was added to Zeus and Hera. They moved on to the next name on the list.
Sir Malcolm Reginald Montgomery Dunseith (58) of Bromham Grange, Moreton-in-Marsh, (code name Dionysus)
Attended Harrow school before going up to University College, Oxford. Double First in Classics. Married Louise Anne Frobisher in 1978. They have a son Gerard (31), and two daughters Corinne (29) and Madeleine (27). Dunseith had a high-profile career in the Civil Service from 1977 to 1997, serving as Private Secretary to three Prime Ministers. Took his seat in the House of Lords in 1997 and attends no more than half a dozen times a year.
“He’s from the upper classes and no mistake,” said Phoenix. “A very swift climb up the ladder and a nice soft landing once John Major got the elbow. Could he hold a grudge over being put out to grass at a relatively young age do you think?”
“Civil servants are devious by nature,” said Athena. “Looking through his background there’s not a single red flag that suggests he’s any more than a ‘nob worth a bob’.”
“We’re not finding the rotten apples as easily as we hoped are we?” said Phoenix.
Athena read out the next account: -
Philomena Victoria Jacinta de Beauchamp Alexander, (code name Demeter)
“Has anything been added to the information I read in here since I left for Chiswick?” asked Phoenix.
“Only that she’s on tour now until a day or two before the next Olympus meeting.”
“She may call herself Honey B these days, but in my book, she’s Queen Bee,” said Phoenix. The photograph of the sixty-three-year-old pop singer went into the folder with Poseidon and Apollo.
“I won’t ask what the B stands for; let’s break for lunch, darling,” said Athena. “I’ll contact Thanatos and we’ll meet him at two o’clock.”
“He’ll love being kept hanging around,” said Phoenix. “At least he’s well-balanced with a chip on each shoulder.”
“You’re too dismissive of those three,” Athena said as they made their way back to the apartment. “They do a considerable amount of work behind the scenes here at Larcombe. They beavered away here for four years before you suddenly appeared don’t forget. It’s only natural they might resent your promotion over their heads.”
“Let alone be miffed that Erebus picked you to succeed him.”
“Possibly,” Athena admitted, “but they had longer to get used to the idea; Erebus announced that ages ago.”
“That doesn’t mean they accepted the decision with good grace; no matter how long they had to come to terms with it.”
Athena called Thanatos and said they would see him after lunch. At two, all three met in the meeting room
ready to start. Thanatos slid his folder forcibly across the table.
“Not much here, I’m afraid. A bit of a mixed bag. High-flying people and ex-debutantes.”
He sat back in his chair waiting for Athena to pass comment on his hard work.
“That will do, Thanatos,” said Phoenix, “we’ll take it from here.”
Christopher Rathbone, ex-SAS, served in Northern Ireland during the Troubles. He spent too long undercover. After thirty years’ loyal service, the Army threw him on the scrap-heap. They gave him no protection from any future reprisals.
When he arrived at Larcombe Manor he was in the safest place he had been for over a decade. Every day he had expected a knock on the door from an IRA assassin.
Thanatos gave both Phoenix and Athena a thunderous look and stormed out of the room.
“He took it well,” said Phoenix.
“Let’s see what he’s got before we judge him too harshly,” said Athena.
She separated the three Olympians from the others and set them on the table. The photographs were of Aphrodite, Hermes, and Nemesis.
Elizabeth McLaren, Duchess of Lochalsh (54) of Glenfinnan Castle in the north-west of Scotland, (code name Aphrodite)
Tutored at home then attended finishing schools in Geneva and Paris. Way down the list in line of succession to the throne of England. Vast family fortunes have never discouraged her from finding charitable works to occupy her time. Widow. One son, Rory (32), went travelling at twenty and lives on a commune in the Brecon Beacons.
“I’ve seen enough,” said Phoenix, “one rebel in this family is probably the limit.”
“Agreed,” said Athena, “let’s move on to the next person.”
Dominic Perkins (31) of Knightsbridge, London, (code name Hermes)
Born in London. Parents travelled extensively. Educated at boarding schools in various parts of the Home Counties. Very bright. Moved to London at eighteen. Successful entrepreneur. CEO of the third-largest mobile phone company in Europe. Popular media personality.
“Is that it?” asked Athena.
“Well, that’s the synopsis Thanatos has provided. We need to dig further into the data to glean more. Do you know how this reads? Hermes struck me as the type of young businessman who trampled on dozens of people in his scramble to the top of the pile. He’s in a market that’s cutthroat and highly technical. I bet he was one of the first in the queue when this European ‘right to be forgotten’ legislation became a hot topic. His history seems to have been scrubbed clean.”
“There is another explanation,” said Athena. “Thanatos has deliberately sanitised the data for Hermes.”
“That’s a possibility,” admitted Phoenix, “either way we’ve been alerted to something suspicious in young Dominic’s past. I think we should ask Giles and Artemis to take his file to pieces. I want to learn who his parents are and where they live. Where did Hermes get his start-up money to set him on a journey resulting in him being so filthy rich? This was always the easy one to allocate. We know he’s a killer; but who is he working with and why?”
“Only one Olympian left,” said Athena, “the curious character, Nemesis.”
Lady Primrose Alice Louise Charmbury, (52) of South Kensington, London, (code name Nemesis)
Educated at Broomwood Hall, Grey Coat Hospital School and Lady Margaret Hall, Oxford. Lives alone in a mews house with her cats. Shut herself off from society after leaving university. Wealthy father lives alone on the edge of the New Forest. Lady Primrose is an only child. In the 2011 Census, she listed her occupation as ‘Artist’. Her work has never been exhibited. Every few weeks she delivers a painting to Lot’s Road Auction House. Her work reflects a very dark and tortured image of the world. Prices fetched have ranged between six hundred and a thousand pounds.
“I wonder what happened at Oxford that turned a refined young lady into a recluse?” asked Phoenix. “Why does she need to sell a few paintings? She can’t be short of money. Her contributions to the Project were substantial back in 2007 when she joined. There’s no sign she’s been disowned by Daddy. They just live separate lives.”
“I’ll double-check, but I couldn’t spot any reference in the file on what happened at university. She gave me the creeps. I don’t remember her speaking in Curzon Street. She just twitched at the mention of the ‘little black book’.”
“Another one to hand to Artemis to hunt the real truth,” said Phoenix. “It’s going to be busy in the ice-house.”
Athena got up and walked around to the side of the table where Phoenix sat. She took hold of the top folder.
“Demeter and Poseidon; and maybe Hermes, Nemesis and Apollo.”
Phoenix opened the other folder.
“Zeus, Hera, Heracles, Dionysus and Aphrodite. The O Team.”
“I’m happy to run with that for now. We definitely need to trawl for more detail on Hermes. I agree that Apollo and Nemesis leave room for doubt. I’m not going to speculate into which camp they will finally fall. Time is of the essence. Our meeting is only nine days away. I want to be aware of the make-up of the Titans when we sit around the table with them in Nottingham.”
“Dolos - the spirit of trickery and guile,” said Phoenix, “a master of cunning deception, and treachery. Erebus left a significant clue as he sat dying in Ibiza. With a single word, he told us of the existence of the Titans. He intimated that one of these names was his killer. Could it have been a woman, though, not a man? Is it possible a woman sailed ‘Elizabeth’ home with Hermes and they both disposed of Gavin?”
“Don’t go there, Phoenix,” chided Athena. “Several names are embedded in our nation’s sailing history that demonstrates how perfectly capable a female yachtswoman can be. We mustn’t assume anything. We must delve deeper into each of our suspects and find the truth. Something ties these suspects together. We need to trace that very quickly. Whether Hermes sailed alone or with an accomplice is of little importance. Hermes is aligned with the Titans and will pay the price.”
Phoenix closed the folders and thought for a while.
“Everything we ask Giles and Artemis to investigate has to be done in secret. We cannot discount a link between the names in this folder and at least one of our own. When we are trying to find that missing link, we need to see whether any other names fit into the chain.”
“I hope you’re mistaken, Phoenix,” sighed Athena, “but I fear we have more enemies than we at first thought.”
“We only have just over a week to get all of their names,” said Phoenix, “we must not strike until we are sure of the extent of their treachery.”
“We must clean our own house first. We must get Olympus back on the right track; the track Erebus set us on at the beginning. Then Olympus can uncover how many more Titans are there if they exist across the country. How far along the road towards a dictatorship is this nation of ours?”
Athena appeared more concerned than Phoenix had seen her in the past three years.
“Things look dark at the present, Athena,” he said, trying to comfort her, “but we won’t be beaten. There’s too much at stake. I won’t let these people achieve their goal. Our child will be born into a country free of the evils that the Titan’s wish to impose on it.”
CHAPTER 11
Tuesday, October 1st, 2013
Phoenix and Athena chatted over a quick coffee before going to the meeting room.
“Every second is vital,” said Athena “Giles and Artemis need to be working on these files twenty-four seven.”
“I can rely on you to speed things along so that Henry and Giles don’t hang around too long.”
“What do we do about Thanatos?” she asked.
“Nothing yet. We need to be certain who is with us and who is against us. I’ll ask Rusty to keep an eye on things for now.”
When they arrived in the meeting room, the three senior agents were already in position. Alastor and Minos acknowledged their arrival; Thanatos hurriedly finished a text message on his mobile phone
and sent it.
Giles, Rusty, and Henry barged through the door together. Everyone appeared to be in a good mood. They were going to be brought to earth with a bump.
“Giles, I want you to go with Phoenix to the orangery. He has a job for you. Henry, please go back to the ice-house and ask Artemis to delegate tasks she has on her desk to another agent. Then I want you to find people on this list and interview them. Those interviews can be carried out in their own homes, or place of work. It won’t be necessary to bring them here for interrogation. We need answers to a few questions, that’s all. So be gentle with them.”
“Of course, Athena,” said ‘Head’ Case, “may I ask what we’re looking at?”
“I can’t tell you at this stage. It’s of the utmost urgency; so please take this folder and get cracking. Don’t discuss the contents with anyone except myself and Phoenix.”
“Yes, Athena; understood,” said Henry. He took the folder and headed off for the ice-house.
“Is there something we can be doing to help?” asked Minos.
“Follow the agenda I gave you for today and keep your reports brief, please,” said Athena.
Rusty sat alone on his side of the table and held his tongue. He had never seen Athena so focused. Although Alastor, Minos, and Thanatos gave their reports it was clear their hearts weren’t in it.
They were all wondering, just as he was himself, what the heck was happening.
The Three Stooges were soon sent packing and Rusty was alone with Athena.
“Rusty,” she said. “My apologies for the mad rush and the secrecy, but we have a mountain of work to get through before next Wednesday. Phoenix and I have uncovered a faction with the Olympus Project we believe are plotting to take the organisation in a far more sinister direction. What is definite is that they are planning to eliminate a significant number of important people. The Project has a so-called ‘black book.’ Members of this faction have persuaded Zeus to add names to the dozen or so it contained to date. The original list emanated from Yewtree. Olympus identified former MP’s, celebrities and priests who in the distant past carried out dreadful acts against children. We had no qualms over direct actions being taken against these contemptible individuals. This extended list though is of greater concern. It now includes people who we believe have been added by members of the hierarchy to settle personal scores. A number of new names they have added are less easy to fathom when taken individually. However, if your ultimate aim was to overthrow the elected government, then these people could be a huge stumbling block if you wished to be successful. We believe these killings are a precursor to an eventual takeover.”