by Ted Tayler
By half-past four, Gonzo had turned into the minor road that led to the Manor. His map showed the winding lane ending at a farm which in the past must have been part of a large sprawling country estate. Halfway along the road, he found the gateway to Larcombe Manor. Gonzo stopped his bike by the stone pillars. There were no high walls or secure gates, only a cattle-grid a few metres beyond the gate before you entered a curved driveway to the Georgian house.
He made a note of the registered number of the charity under the Olympus Project sign on the left-hand pillar. Visitors were discouraged. The cordoned-off areas by the gates on either side reinforced the Private signs on both pillars. Gas, electric, and water companies accessed meters on the left using their keys. Waste bins were sited securely on the right. Gonzo imagined that the milkman, postman, and paperboy were redundant. Someone from the charity collected what had to cross this cattle-grid.
There were outbuildings visible from the lane. The spire of a church was almost hidden from view as the ground fell away into a valley. What lay in the distance remained a mystery for now. The map showed an estate bounded by a series of wooded areas, which meant that this was the only vehicular access. Men on foot could enter from the sides or the rear, but their approach would be detected well before they got near to the main building.
It was time to deploy the drone. Gonzo had it aloft within minutes, and he sent it in a large loop around the perimeter of the estate. He studied the ground below on his laptop, searching for men and machines, more outbuildings, and signs of activity that would interest Tyrone.
The lawns and the wooded areas looked deserted. As Gonzo tightened the circle the drone was flying, he saw a walled vegetable garden with several men at work. That made sense if these men were recovering from PTSD. Gardening was supposed to be good therapy. Maybe, Tyrone had got it wrong.
A converted stable block next appeared under the drone’s camera. An odd-shaped mound came into view which the hacker couldn’t identify. Beyond that stood a row of terraced cottages. The drone flew over the woods now, and suddenly the little church appeared. Gonzo soon had a great view of the rear of the central Georgian building. It was certainly impressive.
He decided on one more spin around the grounds to get a closer look at that shape on the rear left-hand side. What could it be?
There was a bang, and his screen went blank. The drone wasn’t responding to his controls. Gonzo realised it had crashed to earth. Had someone shot it from the sky? If he had doubts about whether Tyrone was right to suspect this place, they disappeared.
It was time to get the bicycle to the nearest dropping-off point. As Gonzo cycled along the lane as fast as his legs would carry him, he glanced back over his shoulder. He saw a small, white van on the driveway heading for the stone pillars. He kept going. At the end of the lane, he turned left and rode deeper into the countryside. He gambled his pursuers would follow him towards the city. When he reached the top of a small incline, he found himself looking down at a steep hill. The long, winding road ahead brought him close to the next village.
When he reached the bottom, he threw the bicycle over a stone wall into a field and walked the rest of the way. Despite the risk, he then phoned for a taxi to pick him up outside the only pub and take him to Bath Spa station. He had plenty to show Tyrone O’Riordan on his laptop when he got back to London. Who said it was the streets of the capital that were dangerous? It was bandit country out here.
*****
Monday 20th October 2014
Tyrone had received a brief message from Simon Gonzalez late last night. The computer hacker wanted to meet. As he made his way to the Glencairn at lunchtime, Tyrone sensed someone shadowing him. He didn’t turn around. He waited until he climbed the steps to the large glass doors of the bank. The man behind him was in his early twenties. The ubiquitous hoodie, jeans and baseball cap signified he wasn’t a client. He didn’t look much of a threat either.
Tyrone told Gonzo to follow him to his office. Once inside, Gonzo confirmed he had established the link between the Olympus Project and the moped gang attack. He also showed Tyrone the drone film he had captured. When it suddenly stopped, Tyrone looked at him.
“What happened? Is that it?” he asked.
“That’s when someone shot down the drone,” said Gonzo. “I got the hell out as soon as I spotted the van heading up the drive. If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“They’re as secretive as we suspected,” said Tyrone, “what more have they got to hide, I wonder?”
“I can hack into their systems to get personal files, so you can identify the men you’re after,” offered Gonzo. “Those men at work in the garden could have PTSD. Maybe they have a few on-site as part of their cover.”
“It was quiet yesterday afternoon. I expected to see more people.”
“I didn’t anticipate losing the drone,” said Gonzo, “but we could try again at night? If we use a thermal imaging camera, we can gauge how many live and work on the estate. It will give us something to compare to the charity’s published personnel numbers.”
“Good idea,” said Tyrone, “but if they have security systems that can spot and neutralise a drone, surely they’ll realise someone has hacked into their systems?”
Simon Gonzalez reacted as if Tyrone had slapped him.
“I can hack into the Department of Defense in Virginia, stay inside for three hours, and then leave by the back door I created without them being any the wiser. Do you think this system will be anything but a walkover?”
“You could have a great future with the Grid, Simon,” said Tyrone, “cybercrime will be the biggest earner for organised crime in the future. Why burgle a property for a few hundred pounds worth of stuff you then need to fence when you can scam them out of thousands via their phone or computer?”
“I’ll start on the administration systems, for the personnel files,” said Gonzo, “and then I’ll see what other systems they operate. I noticed there were no high walls, or electrified fences guarding the perimeter. To an untrained eye, it looks normal. But I suspect they have high-tech security equipment somewhere in one of those buildings.”
“I can’t wait to learn what you find there, Gonzo. Well done. Keep it up but watch your back.”
*****
“Henry,” said Athena, “what happened yesterday?”
“I visited Sarah Gough,” replied the security officer, “we’ve had the news we were waiting for that Sarah’s new parish has been agreed. She can transfer from Surrey in a month. St Mary’s has been without a vicar for a period, and her group of parishes can cover her departure until they find a permanent replacement.”
“St Marys? That’s north of Bath, isn’t it?” asked Minos.
Henry nodded.
“I didn’t return to Larcombe until this morning,” he continued. “I read the report from the team on duty yesterday just before I came to the meeting. It appears someone flew a drone over the estate yesterday afternoon. Kelly Dexter and Hayden Vincent were alerted when it crossed by the stable block.”
“Why did they decide to shoot at it?” asked Athena.
Henry cleared his throat.
“I believe Kelly to be out of sorts at present. I would have said hormonal, but that might be unwise.”
“She’s pregnant, and plagued by morning sickness,” said Artemis, “I would have been mad if a kid buzzed my apartment on a Sunday afternoon.”
“Are we sure it was a kid?” asked Rusty.
“Kelly blasted it out of the sky as it hovered over the ice-house,” said Henry. “There wasn’t enough left to learn the purpose of the flight, or who controlled it. The security team patrolled the perimeter, and a van went to intercept an intruder, but they found no-one.”
“Increase the patrols and review our security protocols, Henry,” said Athena, “this may have been a one-off, but we mustn’t underestimate the Grid.”
“Understood, Athena,” said Henry.
“Before we
move on, Henry, will this earlier move influence your wedding plans?”
Henry cleared his throat again.
“Sarah is phoning you tonight. Athena,” he said, “I believe the twenty-second of November is her preferred date. She starts at St Mary’s on the first of December.”
“Sarah wants to avoid her congregation finding out she’s living in sin at Larcombe by becoming Mrs Case before she starts work,” said Phoenix, “is that what you mean?”
“Straight to the point, as usual, Phoenix,” said Henry.
“I see no problem, Henry,” said Athena. “When we chat this evening, I’ll get the number of the friend who will perform the ceremony. I can arrange for the banns to be read here in the church.”
Athena moved on to Giles Burke. He looked tired. The poor soul had been working double shifts in the ice-house this weekend. Artemis was in Hampshire, and Maria Elena had returned to Estepona to visit her family.
“How did your weekend go?” she asked.
“I gave up the hunt for the car, I’m afraid. I wasted at least six hours on Saturday, trawling through camera footage. If the car with the three robbers was on that main road, they must have removed their disguises before they left the scene. I concentrated on make-up artists instead. Their work volume is intermittent. They both had short periods of high activity with money transferred into their bank accounts, followed by weeks when they seem to do next to nothing. Julian Kneiss, a forty-six-year-old, native New Yorker, moved to London in 2001. His last celebrity assignment was for a music video featuring one of the top girl groups back in 2013. Last month, with no fanfare on his social media advertising which firm he worked for, JK as he is known, had a sudden twenty-five thousand pounds credited to his account.”
“Nothing out of the ordinary on the other candidate?” asked Athena.
“No,” said Giles, “she has been flying to and from the continent working with catwalk models in Paris and Milan. Her income has been more regular. When I dug into her background, the occasions when she appeared to be out of work coincided with spells in rehab.”
“Time for a talk with JK,” said Phoenix, “who do we have that can collect him?”
“I’ll send a team,” said Athena, “Henry, you can expect a guest tomorrow.”
Henry nodded.
“This morning we have learned that Henry and Sarah will marry in November,” said Athena, “over the weekend there was another pleasant surprise. I’m sure you will want to congratulate Rusty and Artemis on their engagement.”
Minos, Alastor, and Henry accepted the news was pleasant, but it didn’t come as a surprise.
“I think we’ve hoped you would make an honest man of him before much longer, Artemis,” said Alastor.
“Is this likely to be a long engagement, Rusty?” asked Minos.
“Certainly not,” said Artemis, “in fact, when Henry started to share his and Sarah’s news, I feared the worst. I talked with my parents last night, and we’re hoping to get them to Larcombe for the twenty-ninth of November.”
“Is Sarah available to do the honours?” asked Rusty, “or are you whisking her away on honeymoon, Henry?”
“We’ll be moving her stuff into our new apartment here during the week following the wedding. The honeymoon has been postponed until next Spring when we originally planned to marry.”
“Giles, you’re quiet,” said Phoenix.
“I’m pleased for the four of you,” he said, “but something disrupted our wedding plans.”
“What happened?” asked Athena.
“Maria Elena flew home to see her family, as you know. Her grandmother’s condition was worse than her father told her on the phone. She is unlikely to make it to Christmas. Her family wish her to return to Spain. Maria Elena is desperate for her grandmother to see her get married.”
“How sad,” said Artemis, “does this mean you will leave soon?”
“They have procedures to go through in Spain much as we do here in the UK,” said Giles, “the earliest practical date will be the fifteenth of next month.”
“I don’t believe this,” said Phoenix, “it reminds me of London buses. Nothing for ages, and then three arrive at once.”
“It will be difficult for any of you to attend,” said Giles.
“I shall fly out to join you,” said Henry, “we agreed to be one another’s best man. I’m not backing out.”
“We’ll return by the following Saturday for your wedding,” said Giles. His concerns eased by the minute.
“We should like to celebrate your wedding with you in some way,” said Athena, “have you considered a blessing here at Larcombe? I’m sure Sarah would love to be involved.”
“Planning is supposed to be my strong point,” said Phoenix, “and my social calendar is suddenly more crowded than it’s ever been. Why don’t we have a blessing for Giles and Maria Elena in the morning, and Artemis and Rusty’s wedding in the afternoon of the twenty-ninth?”
“It fits into the calendar,” said Minos. “Is there anyone we’ve missed out?”
“I think we’ve exhausted our supply of eligible couples,” said Athena. “Several of us have got personal matters to arrange, on top of our Olympus duties. I suggest we close this meeting today.”
As they made their way along the corridor to their apartment, Athena grabbed Phoenix by the arm.
“Isn’t it wonderful the others are getting settled at last? Despite the number of ceremonies, that means we’ll have in our little church?”
“Terrific,” said Phoenix, “my worry is the drone on Sunday, and what that means for the future. If the Grid plans to attack Larcombe, several of us may not survive next year. Is that the real reason for this rush to the altar?”
A sombre couple arrived at the door to their apartment. When Phoenix and Athena entered, Geoffrey sat with Hope and Maria Elena. The nanny looked up to see if she could learn something from their faces. She misinterpreted their mood.
“You are unhappy that Giles and I must go to Spain soon,” she said.
“That’s not true,” said Athena, hugging the young girl, “we wish you both all the best. We were sorry to hear your grandmother is so ill. Henry will be Giles’s best man as arranged. He will be free to fly out to Estepona for the weekend of your wedding. Giles will tell you later of other celebrations ahead when you return as Senora Burke. I won’t spoil the surprise. Run along now and see your fiancée. We’ll look after Hope this afternoon. You have much to do, I know.”
Maria Elena left the family on their own. Athena told her father the new arrangement.
Hope watched and listened.
Everyone had gone mad around here. Love was in the air.
CHAPTER 13
Orion had travelled north to Musselburgh on an overnight train from Temple Meads to Edinburgh Haymarket. The twelve-hour journey involved only one change. It necessitated a detour from Waverley due to ongoing reconstruction work following the devastating bomb attack in September.
Orion explained to Hayden what his mission entailed on Friday morning. He asked for assistance from Olympus operatives in the area. Hayden took him along the corridor and introduced him to Hugh Fraser. Hugh was a Logistics Officer, a role that would never be clear to Orion, but it helped to have someone different to engage in conversation.
Hayden told him that before transferring to Larcombe, Hugh had worked out of Edinburgh. His old team would be at his disposal while in Scotland. Whatever he needed was available. Orion thought Hugh seemed one of those super-efficient military types with a permanent can-do mentality. A typical Olympus agent from head to foot.
Orion was met at the station by Dougal McLeish, the new Edinburgh team leader. Dougal asked how Hugh was faring in his new role.
Orion shrugged, “I’m the mushroom guy, Dougal. They keep me in the dark.”
Dougal had smiled at that and took Orion to meet the other three team members. Dougal drove the dark blue van to Whitecraig, a few miles from Musselburgh. As they stopped by an es
tate agent’s board by a gateway, Dougal said: -
“James Grant-Nicholls owns this sprawling forty-acre country estate. The main house is late-Victorian, a seven-bedroomed affair extended to provide a large conservatory and an indoor swimming pool. He put it up for sale when he married last month. It’s on the market for two million. The locals believe someone is interested in buying the place to develop it as an equestrian centre. We’ve got plenty of ground to search, Orion.”
“We have to start somewhere, Dougal. Fiona disappeared a decade ago. I reckon her body has been on this estate since then. We aren’t looking for recent signs someone dug a shallow grave. It’s almost lunchtime. Let’s find a pub, get a meal inside us, and come up with ideas on where he buried her.”
The reaction inside the van told Orion he had found common ground. The world looked brighter when they returned to start the search. The five men split up, and three agents checked patches of land hidden from the nearby roads and tracks. Orion and Dougal avoided areas visible from the house. Nobody believed Sir James vindictive enough to want to look out on his wife’s grave every morning.
There was no disputing the couple argued. All four agents agreed with Orion that James had lost his temper, hit out once too often and Fiona had died. It may have been deliberate, more likely accidental. He wanted to hide the body and then stick to his guns when people asked what happened to her. To this day, James said Fiona never returned to the house after she left the off-licence.
It was dusk before Orion heard a shout from an agent in the distance.
“There’s something here,”
Orion and Dougal joined the others under an oak tree by a dry-stone wall. There was a sunken spot that looked out of place when compared to the surrounding grassland.
“What do you think?” asked Dougal.
“We dig but take it steady,” said Orion.
In less than ten minutes, they uncovered small bones near the surface.