After passing through the checkpoint at the MI5 building in Brighton, James easily spotted McClain, the superintendent’s assistant, who approached him in the reception area. “Would you come upstairs for a minute? We’ve found something on the surveillance cameras,” said McLain.
James nodded and they headed towards the lift. James noticed that the young man’s eyes were swollen and red. “You’ve had a long night, I assume?” he asked.
“Yes, we’ve been working on the case non-stop. After the last round of job cuts, we’ve all had to step on the pedals. Not for more money though!”
The superintendent’s office was a small and untidy room filled with all kinds of computer equipment.
“You’ve come just at the right time,” the superintendent said. “McClain, start the show.”
McClain sat down and tapped on a keyboard. On the computer screen, a surveillance camera film began to play.
“These are recordings from the surveillance cameras on Costov’s floor,” McClain explained. He froze the film at the point where two well-dressed men were entering the hotel Altor’s lobby.
He then pointed to another screen, and after pressing another button on his keyboard, another surveillance film played, showing Stefan Costov, arm in arm with a pretty brunette, coming out of the lift on the third floor, followed by a young couple who were casually dressed in sportswear and carrying tennis rackets.
“Those are the killers. We’ve questioned everybody caught on camera that morning, except those five. We couldn’t find them. Everyone else has a solid alibi,” said McClain.
“Once they’ve finished with Costov they walk quietly through the main entrance into the street,” the superintendent added.
McClain continued, “All of them had been registered as guests at the hotel on the previous day, but not one of them slept there. The bookings were made using a stolen credit card’s data. Hotel reception has confirmed that the brunette spoke English with an accent. The others were English.”
“Watch carefully; something interesting happens now,” said the superintendent. He signalled to McClain to play another sequence, which showed the casually dressed couple entering a door leading to the stairwell.
McClain froze the image as the woman stretched out her arm to open the stairs door and her cropped top revealed her waist.
“Magnify,” said the superintendent.
“Pay attention to the difference in the skin tone between her face, her arms and her midriff. The skin at the waist is darker,” said McClain.
“Normally it should be the other way around,” said the superintendent.
James looked closer. “Indeed!” He was puzzled.
“We think that the killers wore flesh masks. The woman’s hands had been treated to match the skin tone of the flesh mask she wore. It’s clear that her waist had been missed,” said the superintendent.
“It’s strange. At first, we thought they didn’t sleep in the hotel because they were afraid of leaving hair and skin fibres behind. Yet they seemingly didn’t care about leaving traces in Costov’s place,” said McClain.
“I’ve got a question for you related to this.” The superintendent looked up at James.
“What is it?” James asked.
“In Costov’s apartment, four of the killers had positioned themselves in a pattern. We think, according to the four points of the globe. They knelt there for some time. Does that fit in with any theory you may have?”
“The four-point positioning may be connected to the symbolic protection of the ritual site,” said James.
“We’re dealing with complete nutcases,” said the superintendent. Repugnance could be detected in his voice.
“The organization of the gang was very professional. Apart from the traces in Costov’s apartment and that mistake…” McClain pointed to the frozen still of the woman.
“Amateur lapses in a very well-organized and professionally implemented murder. I hope we’ll soon find some further evidence,” said the superintendent.
* * *
On the desk in the office that the superintendent had had prepared for him, James found the report about the Sumerian note. He read it carefully and then sat back in his chair thinking.
This is how the superintendent found him more than half an hour later. He walked in holding a file and a copy of the report that James had open on his desk. “I’ve just finished reading that report too,” he said. “Do you mind if we talk about it, if you’ve finished reading it?”
“Sure, I’ve read it,” replied James.
The superintendent sat on the edge of James’ desk. “According to the experts, the shape and style of the writing used in this note resembles that used just before the middle of the third millennium BC. The translation of the note reads: ‘The Deprived of Light is a Gift for the Wisdom Keeper’. That, in my opinion, strengthens your hypothesis. The Wisdom Keeper could be another name for Ningishzida.”
James nodded in agreement. “There is one thing that could be useful for you to know. I’m certain now that the note was not part of the set ritual.”
“So, it might have been a whim thought up by one of the killers? Or could it have been meant for us?” asked the superintendent.
“I think it’s some sort of boasting. Something like: ‘We know how to achieve our goal and we can do it.”
“Yes. It fits. Fanatics think they have monopoly of the truth. That’s how they justify their actions.” The superintendent took a magnified photo of a spot from the crime scene and a piece of paper out of the file. He placed them on the desk and said, “Here’s the report about those two symbols, as you requested. The experts can’t connect them to any known pictogram or ideogram.
They’re considered to be non-identifiable. Do you think they’re of some special importance?”
“I wanted a second opinion on two symbols in particular, as they are the most unclear,” James explained.
“Maybe the drawings were bungled.”
“I thought about that. The sign on the left looks like a stick figure of a humble man offering something. Some kind of gift, probably. He’s facing the group of signs that symbolize Ningishzida, so the gift is being given to the god.”
The superintendent smiled. “You’ve got a sharp eye. The gift to the god might be the light they mentioned in the note. That’s to say, the life of Costov is the light,” he elaborated.
“That interpretation does seem to match the message on the note,” James pointed out.
“You’re right. It’s improbable that the killers would plant the same message twice in the crime scene.” The superintendent paused for thought.
“The giving man most probably symbolizes the world as they feel it should be: a world of order and hierarchy in which people worship the old gods. This interrelates with the V sign on the right. It depicts the world as it is: a world of separations and individualism,” explained James.
“That sounds about right to me. That description definitely matches the characteristics the cult has demonstrated so far. The note in the mouth of the corpse is the only thing which stands apart.
“That’s because the note wasn’t part of the ritual.”
“An act of vanity, perhaps.”
“It could be.”
The superintendent drew nearer to the picture on the desk and peered at it. “If this is a Sumerian cult why did they draw non-Sumerian signs?”
“You’re talking about those two symbols?”
The superintendent nodded.
“I’d define them as an afterthought of the killers’ imagination,” said James.
“This may give us clue about who they are.”
“Bear in mind that these people imitate a culture which both we and they will never actually know about in full. This is why they may feel compelled to make up their own additions to the ritual. They may even use their own interpretations of the old symbolism.”
“I’ll leave it in your hands. You’re doing good job. I’ll wait for your
report,” said the superintendent.
“Let me first check my theory against the last lab tests and the autopsy results.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Still feeling excited from her rapid driving, Irina Bellin, a detective from the Bulgarian Interpol Bureau, rushed into MI5’s building in Brighton. She had covered the distance from London almost twice as fast than if she had driven in accord with the speed limit. She was late for her meeting with superintendent Peter Oliver and she blamed her delay on the bureaucracy of the British security services. They needed hours to acquire extra verification and prepare the necessary papers before she could begin the new mission she had been assigned to by Interpol.
The police officer at the entrance of the building knew about her arrival and directed her immediately to the second floor, where superintendent Peter Oliver was waiting for her.
Rather than waiting for the lift, Irina quickly climbed the back stairs, finally reaching the almost deserted office space she had been told to report to. The standard working shift had ended two hours before and only a skeleton staff of the scientific department remained on duty. Irina knew that some members of staff were only working overtime because of the importance of the Costov case. Stefan Costov had worked on some significant research projects financed by the US government. His murder had startled a number of high-ranking politicians and executives in Washington. She knew that officers from the US State Secretary’s department had already contacted the British security services about his death.
The superintendent’s office was at the end of a corridor right next to the crime lab. As Irina walked along the corridor, two young men dressed in suits stopped chatting and stared at her. She was aware of the effect she had on men. She was an attractive woman with a curvaceous and athletic body, and she also refused to conform to the usual decorous office dress code. However, the coldness of her look as she met their eyes seemed to embarrass the men and they soon looked away and began to chat between themselves again.
She knocked on the superintendent’s door and entered without waiting to be called in. Peter Oliver jumped up in surprise, reaching out across his untidy desk to shake her hand. He quickly offered her a chair.
“I’m sorry you’ve had to stay late because of me,” Irina apologized.
“Not at all,” replied the superintendent. “I’ve not been spending more than four hours a day at home recently. Just about enough time for the kids not to forget me! I’ve not really been briefed fully about the reason for your visit. What can I do for you?”
Irina rolled her eyes in disbelief that the superintendent hadn’t been briefed properly in spite of the problems she had experienced getting security clearance. “It’s not just a visit. I’ve been instructed to work with you and your people on the Stefan Costov case.”
The superintendent cast a surprised sideways glance at her. “With all due respect, that isn’t possible,” he replied. “The case is completely under the jurisdiction of my department, but of course we’ll collaborate.”
“Well, the jurisdiction on the case has recently been expanded. Interpol has become involved and that’s why I’m here.” She took an envelope from her handbag and handed it to him. “Here’s the new information, as well as a letter of authority from your State Security Cabinet outlining the context of how we need to work together.”
The superintendent sheepishly took the papers and started reading them. Irina waited patiently.
After a pause, but without enthusiasm, the superintendent looked up, “Well, welcome to the team. However, I feel a bit uneasy about what I’ve just read … It’s going to be time-consuming getting you up to speed on the case. It will also mean I have to assign more resources to do this… Are you sure that a similar murder took place a couple of years ago in Algeria?”
“That’s the working hypothesis. I found the Algerian case on Interpol’s database. It was listed as a short report made by a local Interpol officer. It’s in the file marked as appendix one. The initial resemblance between the two cases is not to be disregarded,” Irina replied politely.
The superintendent looked up at the ceiling for a while, thinking. “Well, we know that four of Costov’s killers were English. The report here reads that the killers in Algeria were all locals?”
“Yes, the police caught them at the crime scene. One of them was shot dead and the rest managed to flee. The man who was killed turned out to be deeply religious.”
“Religious? Do you mean there may have been a religious motive linked to this crime?” the superintendent asked thoughtfully.
“I’d rather not speculate at this stage. Let’s get more details from my Algerian colleagues first.”
The superintendent started to examine the papers in the file in more detail, reading the report of the Algerian Interpol officer closely. “Have you had any word about evidence collected through operative police work?” he asked.
“We’re lucky that this case was even recorded at all,” replied Irina. “It wasn’t really an Interpol matter. The reason it was entered onto the database was because the victim was a foreigner.”
The superintendent frowned. He took a piece of paper out of the file and cast a look at it. “The last month hasn’t been Mr Costov’s luckiest one. The report states that he was victim of a burglary recently.”
“I got myself acquainted with the police investigation on the burglary. It’s not related with his murder.”
“I see. Look …” the superintendent began, trying to restrain his increasing annoyance about another person being unexpectedly added to his team, “Costov’s murder was characterized by unusual circumstances. He’d been drugged. A unique narcotic was used made partly from hashish, but its other ingredients remain a mystery. The lab can’t identify them. Costov’s blood was slowly drained and symbols were drawn on the carpet with it. A swastika was carved on his chest and he was stabbed in the heart with a horn. The horn comes from a kind of mountain goat.” He rummaged through the papers on the desk in front of him. “A Siberian Goat – Capra Ibex Siberica ... My point is that we need confirmation that something similar happened in Algeria before we can treat your case seriously.”
Irina raised her eyebrows. “Well, the link for now is that the two victims were marked with swastikas.”
“Right,” the superintendent looked interested.
“I already tried to obtain more details from the Algerian police with no success. The people there are cautious about giving out any information,” Irina explained.
“Bearing in mind the German nationality of the Algerian victim, it’s possible that the swastika could have been an expression of some Nazi hatred,” the superintendent said.
“It’s possible. Yet I’m obliged to check the line of enquiry here also.”
“Okay. I’m sure you can find a way of getting the right information through to Interpol.” The superintendent smiled.
This time Irina rolled her eyes. “The official way of doing things could take months. So I’ve got a better idea. I’m going to Algeria. I’ve already booked a ticket, but I want to get acquainted with the evidence you have here beforehand,” she said assertively.
Slightly taken aback by the quickness of this response, the superintendent replied, “It sounds like a good plan.” He paused. “But now that you’re part of this team, I don’t need to tell you that you need to inform us immediately of anything you find out.”
“There’s no need to tell me. Our co-operation will be a two-way street,” Irina replied with a smile.
“I hope so. I’ll give you copies of everything. If you need anything else—”
“Just to be able to get on with the job, if you don’t mind,” Irina interrupted.
The superintendent looked up to meet Irina’s eyes and saw that she was still smiling. “Of course. You need to take a look at the report of our religious expert. You may find it interesting.”
Irina nodded and turned to leave. The superintendent watched her open the door and strode out int
o the corridor
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The next day, James found superintendent Peter Oliver sitting in his office in the company of an attractive woman of about thirty, whose long brown hair was tied back in a ponytail. She was wearing dark-blue trousers and a tight sky-blue blouse that outlined her muscular torso. Her fashionable jacket was hung on the back of her chair. He noticed that her skin was almost pure-white, which emphasized her dark-blue eyes.
After a brief introduction, the superintendent said, “Irina works for the Bulgarian Interpol Bureau. She’s teamed up with us now.”
James was amused by the superintendent’s obvious annoyance about the arrival of a new team member and by the effect the attractive Irina clearly had on him.
Irina spoke, addressing James. “I’ve read your report. It’s quite informative, but it’s a bit controversial.”
James wondered if he should take offence at this remark, or just accept the comment as Irina’s own way of beginning a working discussion. “Well, I can explain it,” he said with a hint of sarcasm.
Irina smiled but continued as though he had not interrupted her. “You believe that the crime is linked to a Sumerian cult. You also say that there’s no evidence for the existence of that particular cult at all.”
“That’s correct. Although it does appear to be a contradiction.”
“James, the reference points you’ve given us at this early stage of the investigation are very good,” the superintendent jumped in. “Now we just need to do some more police work!”
“On that I agree with you completely,” said Irina.
“James, I’ve got news for you anyway,” the superintendent continued. “Interpol knows about another similar murder. Unfortunately, their data is insufficient.” He stared at Irina.
“It happened in Algeria a couple of years ago. I’m flying out there tomorrow to get acquainted with the details. My office in Sofia has negotiated with the Algerian police to collaborate,” Irina explained.
“Here’s what we have.” The superintendent handed James a piece of paper.
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