*
In the drawing room the meeting continued with an air of excitement. Hades had almost concluded his speech, he had loved every moment of the address. His enthusiastic, loud voice reverberated around the room.
‘As I alluded to earlier, my search for the Biblos Aletheia has taken a most fascinating turn,’ he said with delight. ‘This may be the closest we’ve been to it since the Church stole it from us five hundred years ago. My plan appears to be working, but there is still much to be done, yet so little time.’
‘Is it really within our reach?’ Hermes asked with intrigue.
Hades nodded. ‘Someone else is looking for it. Someone who knows nothing of us. Why, I ask, why do they search for something that no one knows exists?’ Holding out his hands, Hades gazed in wonder around the table at their blank faces. ‘The only outsider ever suspected of having knowledge of it has died. A terrible accident I must say, very unfortunate.’ He acted out his disappointment. ‘It would have been so much simpler if only he had chosen to talk to us. But now it seems someone else wants to know what the Biblos Aletheia is. Coincidence? No, my friends. Someone has been entrusted with the secret and we are watching her.’
Poseidon frowned. Something about the story didn’t make sense. He plucked up the courage to speak. ‘Someone actually has it?’ he asked feigning pleasant surprise. ‘But would they not have used it by now? Academia would be buzzing all over it like flies. And the Church . . .’ He laughed mockingly. ‘The Church would be rushing to deny its very existence.’
‘Not if they didn’t know what it was,’ Hades replied smugly. ‘A key can be inherited, but if the secret of what it opens is lost, then it is worthless. Merely an ornament.’
‘You said, “watching her”?’ Aphrodite asked with narrowed eyes. ‘A woman has it? Who is she?’
‘A young student in Cambridge.’
Aphrodite laughed condescendingly. ‘So what are we waiting for?’ she questioned. ‘Take her in. I’m sure Cossack can make her talk.’ When she referred to Cossack it was as if a foul taste had formed in her mouth.
Hades shook his head. ‘No, my young friend. I need to know for sure that she has it before we take action. She may only have heard of it and may not be in actual possession of it. I have no way of knowing at this stage.’ He smiled and raised a finger. ‘But, be assured, I do have a plan to find out.’ It was all coming together, Hades thought. After years of careful planning it was finally going to happen. The truth of the matter was that they could still carry out their plan without the book, but it would make all the difference. It was evidence that they had done the right thing, proof that they were who they said they were. And to Hades, the book was everything.
‘Enough about the book for now,’ Hades said, he sat down and relaxed a little. ‘We have other matters to discuss. Zeus, my friend. I trust the resources we will need are ready?’
‘Indeed they are, tested and in place. The energy supply will last for generations, considerably longer than we will need it for. But it has not been easy suppressing the engineering works at the island. There were a few who had to be silenced,’ Zeus replied as a matter of fact. Despite being the oldest member of the group, Zeus looked much younger than his years should have allowed. His skin was soft and tanned, his long grey hair was tied back in a pony tail, and his smile boasted a dazzling set of perfect white teeth. Behind his dark, unassuming eyes was the mind of a genius, a product of good breeding and the best education money could buy. Although he had been born into old money, he had added to the family fortune significantly with his mining company. Having made his fortune initially in Australia, he rapidly and aggressively expanded around the globe. His empire mined everything from coal to diamonds, iron to uranium. Powerful and influential, he was a great asset to the organisation.
‘Soon, none of that will matter,’ Hades said callously. ‘You have done well Zeus, our survival is guaranteed.’
Hades directed his attention towards an elegant and attractive blonde woman dressed in an exquisite black ball gown. ‘Athena, my darling, you are as beautiful as ever,’ he said with a warm smile. ‘Your team has supplied us with some invaluable information. Without it we would be blind, deaf and ignorant of our enemies. None of this would be possible without you. What would we have done if the gods hadn’t delivered you to me?’
‘Flattery will get you everywhere,’ she replied gracefully, there was the slightest hint of Russian in her accent. When she smiled her luscious lip gloss shimmered a deep red in the candlelight.
Athena was the only member of the inner circle not to have inherited her title. None of her ancestors had ever been part of the organisation, but there was no doubt that she had earned her place amongst them. For Athena was Hades’ protégée. As stunning as any model and as deadly as any assassin, her natural skills in seduction and manipulation were invaluable. She directed the intelligence gathering side of the organisation and provided them with invaluable information.
Despite her apparent success, Athena had not always been so fortunate. At the tender age of fourteen, on her way home from school in Pinsk, Belarus, she was abducted by a gang of Ukrainian sex traffickers. Raped and beaten into submission, she was eventually sold to an oil-rich Arabian Sheikh. Imprisoned in his remote desert mansion, the Sheikh, a greedy overweight man, kept her as one of his harem girls. He called her his Russian ballerina and made her dance for him. Always hateful of him, but powerless to retaliate, Athena found a way to survive the misery. Like a talented actress playing a part beautifully, she quickly gained his trust as an obedient and enthusiastic servant. She soon became his favourite.
Eventually, after deciding she could be trusted, the Sheikh took her away on a business trip to a luxury hotel in eastern Europe. Whenever he was out he had her closely watched by his security team. But thoughts of escape occupied her mind. Athena formulated an escape plan. One evening, after she had shared a few glasses of champagne alone with him, she seductively tied him to the bed with the promise of a wild night. His excitement was obvious through the white sheets, but it was short lived. She gagged him tightly. His excitement turned to confusion, then panic when he realised something was seriously amiss. He pulled frantically on his bindings, his flab wobbled like a grotesque jelly while he squirmed.
Methodically, and without rush or panic, Athena gathered all the valuables she could find: cash, jewellery, watches, his laptop, and placed them in a designer travel bag. Then, when she was ready, she slowly and calmly poured a bottle of very expensive brandy over the pig. Towering above him she took out a match from its little paper book and lit it. She waited only long enough to see the look of terror and disbelief on his face as the flames licked at him before leaving the room with her things. As the fire alarms boomed, hundreds of panicked guests rushed out of the hotel into the cold night, Athena coolly walked out onto the street and breathed in the sweet smell of freedom.
Although finally free, her ordeal did not end there. After pawning the stolen valuables, she travelled back to Pinsk hoping to find her family and dreamed of a fairytale reunion. But all she found there was poverty and misery. Her mother had killed herself soon after Athena’s disappearance. Her father, a heavy drinker even before she disappeared, had eventually drunk himself to the grave. There was nothing left for her. She was truly alone.
Vowing never to be a slave to any one again, but lacking in any formal education or skills, she used the only talent she had to survive. Picking a new name for herself, she quickly went to work seducing wealthy businessmen. By the end of her third marriage she was a millionaire and barely thirty years old.
One day, a few years later, her life reached a turning point. After ending her fifth marriage and assuming a new name once more, she moved to England. For her next unsuspecting victim she selected one of the country’s most eligible bachelors. But the victim turned out to be, in a serendipitous twist, herself. It took her by surprise, she never knew she was capable of the emotion, but she quickly fell in love w
ith him. The money ceased to matter and the guilt of her original intentions welled up and consumed her.
One evening, during a romantic meal in the Latin quarter of Paris, she took a huge risk and confessed everything to him. Her whole sorry life. Instead of rejecting her, as she thought he would, he admired her even more. For her lover was obsessed with the quality of a person, their sharpness of mind and, most importantly, their strength. There, right in front of him, was a perfect example of a survivor. And a beautiful one at that.
He told her that there was a reason for everything. Did she believe in fate, in a God? Taking a risk himself he told her about his secret society, not quite everything, but enough to whet her appetite. He asked her if she would join him. Without a second thought, Athena agreed. And she came to know him as Hades.
Finally, Athena had found meaning in her life. A purpose. Her devotion and loyalty were unwavering. After a position in the inner circle had become available with no obvious heir, they agreed that she was the best candidate they could ever hope for.
‘Now then, enough of business, time to feast,’ Hades said. ‘I have arranged some entertainment that I know you will all enjoy.’
As the room exploded into excited conversation, the double doors to the drawing room opened wide and several men and women walked in. Each was dressed in a pure white silk toga. A large white hood concealed their faces. But it was clear which sex each person was from their figures. To emphasise the fact, on the front of each toga was a symbol. For the women it was a thick black triangle, and for the men, a pentagram. The men held plates of food, while the women had trays of cutlery and wine.
In single file the hooded figures walked around the room until they surrounded the table, then stopped once each person was in position. The women laid out the cutlery. Once done they stood back and waited for the next order with their heads bowed.
The room quietened with anticipation. The guests eagerly cast their eyes upon the new arrivals whose loose togas occasionally, and teasingly, exposed their tight, naked flesh beneath.
In unison, and from the right of each guest, the men leaned down and placed their plates on the table with the starters. The women servers then stepped forward and poured each guest a generous glass of Dom Perignon Oenotheque, the 1969 vintage. Once done, all silent servers retreated to the walls of the room and waited.
Hades stood up and beamed, he could barely hold in his excitement. ‘You are about to embark on a culinary odyssey. There will be six delightful taster courses followed by a dessert which I know you will all thoroughly enjoy. Please begin.’
After the starter of scallops, amaranth and black corns, the servers cleared the cleaned plates and brought out four further courses in well paced succession. First, there was fresh langoustine served with foie gras and watermelon. This was followed by exquisite quail and duck dishes that listened with sweet sauces. A crisp tea sorbet cleansed their palates before they indulged in an oyster risotto. The servers ensured that a superbly complementing wine was served with each course. The penultimate course was a delicious lamb crepinette.
The table was cleared and then prepared for the dessert, trays of exotic fruit were placed down. There was rambutan from Asia, Indian jackfruit, passion fruit, and mangosteen. Once set, the servers took a step back and waited.
One of the males clapped his hands together. The obedient team responded immediately. Each of them pulled down their hoods to reveal their faces. They looked straight ahead like well trained soldiers. Another clap and they removed their togas, the silk gowns fell soundlessly to the floor.
The women were simply astonishing. They had large darkened eyes, playful lips and thick long hair of various shades. Each was dressed in designer black and red lingerie.
The men were dressed only in black shorts, their naked torsos bulged with muscles which glistened in the candlelight. Each man was as handsome as the next. Like troops on parade, they stood perfectly still and waited.
Hades rose from his seat and addressed the room. ‘In the ways of our ancestors, we shall now worship the beauty of life and the beauty of the Gods. We shall join as one and together we will commune with the Gods.’
One of the girls, a tall, slim exquisite woman with long red hair, broke from the ranks and picked up a section of fruit. Seductively, she put it half in her mouth, then draped her tanned arm around Hades’ neck and shoulder. Slowly, she slid down onto him, her long slender naked legs draped over his. Her firm breasts pressed up against his chest. Looking into his eyes she pulled his head towards her and offered the food to him. Hades took a bite of the manna and the embrace quickly became a passionate kiss. The room quickly erupted into applause and laughter, and the party began.
Athena enjoyed the attention of two muscular young men, while Zeus selected a delightful blonde with breasts that were bursting out of her dark red bra. Apollo tucked into the fruit and champagne with enthusiasm while an Iranian beauty satisfied him with her skills in fellatio. Bodies writhed on chairs, some took to the walls, while one girl perched on the table with her legs spread, waiting for the next communion with a partner.
After he had completed his own worship with his favourite beauty and her Malaysian friend, Hades sent the two girls to his room and dressed himself. He checked his phone for messages, grabbed Cossack’s jamming device and quietly slipped out of the drawing room.
*
Beginning to feel weary, William peered cautiously over the wall and scanned the windows with the laser once more. It had proved to be a disappointing evening. Since the chefs had left, nothing more had happened. There had been no conversations in any of the rooms he scanned. His phone was still jammed.
He was about to leave when he noticed a dim glow appear in a window on one of the ground floor corners. He pointed the laser at it and tweaked the squelch until he could make out voices.
‘ . . .glad I caught you . . . have an urgent job for you . . .,’ one man said, the voice was grainy and difficult to make out. But the accent was undoubtedly English. Posh, upper class.
‘Yes boss,’ a gruff, less refined voice replied.
‘I have the address for you. Go there first thing tomorrow, wait until the flat is empty then have a discreet look around for the . . .’ William couldn’t make out the words. ‘You know what to look for?’
‘Yes boss.’
‘It’s unlikely to be there but there may be clues as to where it is. Don’t follow the girl, don’t intercept her, the policeman will attend to that. He’ll meet you later for the transfer. Bring her to me unharmed. You can do what is required to extract the information after I’ve spoken to her.’
‘Yes boss, of course. I’ll leave at first light.’ The accent could have been eastern European or Russian. It probably belonged to the blond man from earlier, William guessed.
After a couple of hours more without any movement from the house, William carefully made his way back to his car. He considered his options for the morning. He didn’t have enough GPS trackers for all the cars that were parked at the mansion and it would have been too dangerous to go that close to the house anyway. There was another option, though. From the car boot he took out a small briefcase sized object. In the darkness he proceeded to the only exit road from the mansion and hid the briefcase in the undergrowth. The Portable Cell Site Emulator acted like a mobile phone mast. When any mobile phones came within its fifty meter range, they would automatically log on to it for a signal. The device would simply scoop up all the phone details that were required to track it remotely.
Back in his car, William checked his phone, he had a signal. He emailed the photos to the lab and sent Ollie and Sarah instructions for the morning. He set his alarm for sunrise and tried to sleep. It was going to be another long day.
Wednesday
Hemera Hermu ‘day of Hermes’
Chapter 12
0557hrs – Bedfordshire
In his small bedroom in the house, Cossack packed his tools into a blue rucksack and slung it over
his shoulder. He made his way down through the dimly lit hall to the empty drawing room. Checking that there was no one else around to see him, he entered it. The fun and games of the night before had ended, the room was empty and silent, a musty smell hung in the air. Leftovers of food and empty wine bottles were strewn all over the table. On the floor and over the chairs were some items of clothing. Cossack could only imagine what debauchery had gone on only a few hours beforehand. His employer had promised him similar rewards on the island.
Walking around the table, he ran his fingers along the edge until he felt a barely noticeable notch. At which point he reached under it to a hidden crevice. From there he retrieved a tiny black square object, about the size of a small coin. He placed it in his wallet. Cossack didn’t like to be kept in the dark, a survival trait that had served him well in the past. He’d listen to the tiny digital recorder in the car. From the table he picked up an almost empty bottle of champagne and raised a toast to himself.
‘Knowledge is power,’ he said and downed the remaining liquid in one.
After making his way to the double garage behind the mansion, Cossack jumped into one of the two green Range Rovers, fired up the sat-nav and typed in the address of his target. He turned the ignition and set off on his new mission.
*
The early morning motorway traffic was light and Cossack made good time. He arrived in Cambridge just before the fearsome morning rush. The sat-nav led him straight to the street he was after, a long avenue with two and three storey terraced houses on each side of the narrow road. As he drove down it slowly, he spotted the door of the flat he was looking for. Finding a suitable parking space with a good view, he pulled up and waited.
It wasn’t long before the street was busy with the morning commuters. A long queue of traffic crawled past him. Cossack watched their tired and frustrated faces as they went. Cyclists whizzed along precariously close to the sides of the cars, weaving in and out. Students and professionals alike left their flats and walked towards the town with their satchels and briefcases in hand. Cossack watched them go past with an element of resentment. He hated students. But then he hated most people.
The Secret of Hades' Eden Page 11