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The classic team role-playing game of conspiracy and strangeness
Hidden Circles
Chapter 5
Crouched in the darkness, Celestina draws into herself, welcoming the
darkness and the shadows. She holds breathes very shallowly, wondering
if the footsteps and torch are the artless Tanya.
"Come on out! I know you're in there!" comes a sharp voice, as the torch
beam sweeps about. It is Nina King. "Don't bother trying to hide - I can
see exactly where you are!" Her tone is tense and edgy.
Michael exchanges a meaning glance with Tanzan, but the Japanese is
holding himself dead still, his gaze distant: he is hardly breathing. Swallowing,
Michael gets to his feet and moves out into the open, away from Celestina
and Tanzan. "Er, Nina - it's me, Michael."
"What are you doing down here?" Her voice is surprised and relieved,
as Michael walks towards her, the thin beam playing over his features.
"I'm sorry - I was looking for something - I guess I got lost..."
"You'd better come with me then!" Together they head back up the stairs
out of the cellar, leaving Celestina and Tanzan undiscovered.
Russell glances cautiously about himself, making sure that there is
no-one else nearby and that he is alone with the woman. He slowly approaches,
and pauses, ready to introduce himself from a distance. Then he realizes
that the woman is Tanya, rocking backwards and forward, sat in the middle
of the group of trees.
Russell quickens his step to join his comrade, but almost trips over
a tree root as he takes in that Tanya is completely naked, with her overalls
thrown carelessly a short distance away. She sobs loudly at the sound of
approaching footsteps, jarring Russell back to the reality of the scene.
"No! No, no please! No!" Tanya looks up through her tears, suddenly sees
that it is Russell standing over her, and throws her arms around his legs,
forcing him to clutch hold of a low branch to keep balance.
"Oh, Russell, it was horrible! Just horrible!... I felt so weak and
powerless I couldn't do a thing!... the Egyptian, he was just so terribly
strong!... it was just a complete nightmare."
Russell strokes her hair soothingly, trying to make sense out of her
garbled words.
When Tanya finally manages to pull herself together, she starts to explain
what happened. "I was just walking across the lawn, back to the house,
when the Egyptian - the one who arrived this afternoon - he appeared at
a window on the first floor of the house. He looked straight at me as though
shooting lasers from his eyes. All I could do was run. I ran and ran, but
my whole body felt as though it was on fire. All the time, I could feel
his eyes burning me from the inside out! I can't remember any more, I must
have fainted or something, but when I woke up I was here in this grove
all alone. All alone and so terribly cold. I must have been here for hours."
Russell is mystified by this account and scarcely knows what to make
of it. He continues to hold Tanya close, while draping the overalls awkwardly
about her. Suddenly, he realizes what has been the strangest element of
the experience - there has not been the hint of a French accent in Tanya's
voice during her account. Another unexplained factor is the presence of
a pentagram on the ground in front of Tanya: Russell recognizes it as a
symbol favoured by many modern-day witches.
Ross Myers thanks the driver cheerfully as he gets off the last bus
in sleepy Branston Parva. He is a tall, well-built man in his mid-thirties,
with close-cropped dark hair. He hefts his ex-Army kitbag, glancing about
him, wondering which of the four pubs surrounding the green to try. He
had been hoping for a motel, but the bus driver had told him there was
nothing of that sort this side of High Wycombe. He strolls easily towards
the Black Prince, which is nearest, and walks into the bar.
The pub is full of typical country types out for a Friday night beer
- farmers, commuters, schoolkids chancing it. Ross buys a pint of Brakspear's
and downs it appreciatively. "I'd like a room, please," he says, his East
London accent sounding out of place here in wildest Buckinghamshire.
"I suppose we may as well carry on and explore," says Celestina after
a little while has passed and it is apparent Nina is not returning with
any imminence. Tanzan nods silently, his expression unreadable. Together
they forage onwards into the cellar, threading their way between yards
of empty wine racks, with even a few old beer barrels among them. The cellar
shelves downwards as it heads away from the house, and it has a strong
smell of damp limestone about it: the walls are rougher and unclad here,
as though they have just been hollowed out from the living rock.
The large wine cellar rapidly breaks up into a series of passages which
wind in and out of each other, all full to a greater or lesser degree of
generalized household junk. Celestina and Tanzan spend some time searching
through it, but both have the feeling that they are not really making progress.
It would take a small army to search this place properly, and with the
two of them, in the dark, they can do little more than scratch the surface.
Tanya eventually stands up, pulling her overalls back on. "Alors, we
must retourner, before we ar' missed." She smiles weakly and kisses Russell
on the cheek. "Merci, chéri." She scoops up the pentagram and quickly
puts it into one of her deep pockets, and heads back to the Hall.
Ross approaches Branston Hall at around midnight, under cover of darkness,
carrying a heavy plastic zippable sack with a knife and torch inside. He
clambers over the wall and observes the sleeping estate: the squarish Hall,
outbuildings behind it, amid its rolling wooded grounds, which slope sharply
downwards to the river at one side. There are no lights on.
Ross chooses a suitable spot and buries his bag of equipment. He then
clambers back over the wall and heads back into the village.
The next morning is a fine one, and all the operatives at Branston Hall
wake feeling revitalized, although Tanya is still a little weak.
Russell and Celestina head out with the yawning Keepers to the dawn
ceremony, which again is much like the previous versions only with slightly
different wording. They both concentrate on other things, and are pleased
to note no repetition of the draining effect: it seems their minds have
learnt a way round it. Essawi is there, chanting away sonorously in his
jellabah, although Nina is for the first time conspicuous by her absence.
Frank seems a little more confident than last night, but still keeps looking
nervously at Essawi.
Russell by now has a good idea of most of the hieroglyphs, and has copied
them down onto a piece of paper. On the way back to the Hall he meets Michael,
who has just got up. Michael hands him a business card - a plain white
card, with the word MYSTERIA printed across the middle in bold black letters,
and a hologram above the word of a phoenix engulfed in flame. As Russell
tilts the card he sees the flames wavering around the bird's body. Russell
recognizes the name and logo as those of an underground magazine of the
paranormal.
"Head into the village," says Michael, "and parked behind the Cricketers'
Arms pub you'll find a black van. Knock three times on the back and show
this card to my friend Karyn Hart: tell her I sent you. She's been searching
the Net for information relating to this investigation, as well: I guess
you two should pool resources."
Russell manages to track down Jack in the billiard room, where the big
American is practising cannons. "Jack, why don't you check out the fireplace
in the room Tanya was working? - check for hidden panels, doors, that sort
of thing. And see if any large areas are inaccessible."
Jack amiably agrees.
Before lunch, Tanya takes Russell aside briefly. "Russell chéri,
ze lighter - can you find out to 'oo it belongs?"
She then files into the refectory with the other Keepers. Frank and
Essawi are stood near the door, talking quietly, and as Tanya walks past
Essawi glances sharply at her, frowning as though puzzled.
The meal passes uneventfully, but at its end Nina stands up and raps
on the table for silence. "I have serious news, brothers and sisters -
there is someone among us who is not what they seem!"
A general murmur of surprise runs around the room, and all the SITU
operatives get a vague guilty feeling. Frank looks up in puzzlement and
says "What's going on, Nina?"
"What's going on is that I've been looking after the security of the
group, together with the help of some of the really dedicated people here,
while you've been schmoozing!" Nina snaps. She points dramatically at Tanzan,
who remains expressionless. "That man - Tanzan Nangi - is in the pay of
a Daily Mail journalist!"
There are gasps of horror and amazement around the room, and Tanzan's
neighbours edge away from him. He blinks slowly. "This is not true."
"Nina, look, let's not jump to conclusions," says Frank worriedly, but
Nina ploughs on regardless, her face red with anger.
"Don't try and pretend! I've got witnesses! I know you've been speaking
to this journalist guy in the village, and here you are poking round our
cellars, spying on us, looking for dirty stories to carry back to your
boss!"
Tanzan knows better than to glance at his fellow operatives, merely
shaking his head.
Frank gets to his feet, saying worriedly "Dear me, dear me, Mr Nangi,
this is terrible - if what Nina says is true..."
"Of course it's true! And you'd know it if you were paying any attention
to what's going on here!"
One of Jenny Hammond's children starts to cry.
Tanzan rises to his feet with dignity. "If that is the way you feel,
Gupper-san, then I must leave at once." He walks out of the room.
At once there is an almost audible lessening of tension. Keepers start
to whisper excitedly to each other: it seems that penetration by tabloid
journalists is one of the things the cult most fears. Frank and Nina are
in heated discussion, Frank looking helpless. Essawi appears oblivious
to the whole affair, merely finishing his glass of water.
Ross walks up to the gates of Branston Hall in the morning sunlight,
and is greeted by a youngish man in pale yellow robes, with shaven head.
At Ross's approach he jumps eagerly to his feet. "Another new visitor!
Hi, how are you, I'm Richard - Richard Blood!"
Ross shakes him by the hand. "Ross Myers. I saw your ad in the paper.
I could use a bit of peace and quiet, I tell you - this seems like just
the place." He glances around appraisingly.
"Yes - it's wonderfully relaxing here. And you can find your inner spirituality
too - if you work at it! How long are you likely to stay?" As they talk,
they are heading down the drive towards the Hall.
"However long it takes, I guess. I've got a few things to deal with..."
"You look like a Forces type, if you don't mind me saying."
"That's right - I was out in the Gulf."
Richard purses his lips sympathetically. "Grim! We've had a few of you
guys here, actually - that Gulf War Syndrome."
Ross nods, smiling.
There is the hoot of a car horn behind them, and they both have to jump
to one side as a Renault Clio tears down the drive, coming to a sudden
halt in front of the main doors. A woman in her late thirties with an elegant
perm gets out.
Richard calls out "Hello! Can I help you? Have you come looking for
inner peace?"
She turns to him as he approaches, and Ross is shocked at the distress
on her face. "No, I haven't - I've come looking for my husband. Tony Morris
- is he here?"
Richard is just starting to say, with a puzzled expression, "No..."
when Frank comes out of the door, looking pale.
"Sheila! What are you doing here?"
"I could ask the same of you, Frank Gupper - you look a right berk in
those robes, I can tell you! I'm looking for Tony - have you seen him?"
Frank gulps and opens and shuts his mouth silently. Then he notices
Richard and Ross in the background. "Sheila, love, why don't you just come
in here, into my office." He takes her by the elbow and leads her within.
As she disappears, Ross can just about hear her saying "Now don't flannel
me, Frank, I know he's here."
Frank faintly replies "Honestly, love, I've not seen him..."
Tanzan does not take long to put his few belongings into his case. Now
that his cover has been blown, he recognizes himself a liability to the
investigation. If the Buddha is merciful, his departure will divert suspicion
from those who remain. He still has no real idea how he was found out,
but that is irrelevant now. He permits himself a small frown as he walks
away from the Hall: something is wrong here, but he is not quite sure what.
He will report what he has learnt so far to SITU: from this point it is
up to the others to carry the investigation forward.
Russell spends a while wandering around the house, looking for phone
points. There are telephones in Frank's and Nina's offices, but there do
not seem to be any others: clearly the old Branstons were not great believers
in modern communications technology.
He collars Nina as she strides across the hallway, lips pressed tightly
together. "Nina, I wonder if I could possibly use your telephone socket
for a little while - just to check my email?"
Nina, hands on hips, considers for a moment, looking Russell up and
down. Not terribly prepossessing at the best of times, he does his utmost
to appear inoffensive and harmless. It seems as though the hours spent
peeling carrots have paid off, for eventually she nods in permission. "As
long as you pay for the calls!"
Ross allows Richard to show him around the Hall: the dormitories, one
for men and one for women, the kitchens, the dining hall, the vegetable
gardens. He makes no attempt to contact the other SITU operatives, merely
noting them and putting faces to the names he was given in his briefing.
Celestina Mirande, small, dark-skinned, exotically dressed. Tanya Hyde,
tall, blonde, sexy. Michael Williamson, American Goth. Russell Osbourne,
British Goth. Jack Callaghan, Top Gun. Tanzan Nangi - but there is no sign
of the Japanese operative. Ross shrugs.
Jack, first making sure that Jack Garrison is otherwise occupied, goes
to the upstairs room with the purported dodgy fireplace. He assesses the
adjoining rooms, and decides that there cannot be a very large space concealed
behind it: big enough for a person, though. He taps on the fireplace surround,
listening carefully, and to the left finds a hollow sound.
Squatting down, he attempts to manipulate the panelling, and after a
few minutes' struggle is able to detach it. Behind, in a recess, is a large,
brand-new looking Samsonite suitcase. He pulls out the suitcase, with some
difficulty as it is extremely heavy, and, glancing about once more to make
sure he is alone, cracks it open. He is startled to find that it is absolutely
crammed with low-denomination British banknotes.
Celestina notices Essawi talking to George Windsor after lunch, and
as she heads out into the corridor she finds him approaching her, his tread
fast but soft. "Mademoiselle Mirande? May I take the liberty of introducing
myself? Abdul Essawi, at your service - may the blessings of a thousand
suns shine upon you, as we say in my country. Or, si vous préférez,
on peut parler en Français?" His French is good, although it carries
the same Middle Eastern accent as his English.
"English will be fine," says Celestina, offering her hand, which Essawi
kisses delicately.
"Can you possibly spare me a few minutes? To aid the enlightenment of
another is the greatest good, or so it is written. I am seeking to learn
what I can about the personal beliefs of each of the Keepers here - can
you tell me what drew you to this group, and what faith you profess?"
Secret Actions
Michael: you explain to Nina that you were in the cellar after Tanzan,
and she nods approvingly. "We'll settle his hash in the morning," she says
crisply. She tells you that Essawi is an Egyptian who wants to join the
Keepers: neither her nor Frank had met him before yesterday. She believes
him a wealthy dilettante who just wants to buy serenity, like so many of
the 'weekend cultists'.
Tanya: you make your mental approach to Essawi. You do not feel, though,
that you have made any contact at all. It is strange: he does not seem
to have anything like the same capability or power today as he did last
night, if indeed it was him you saw. He does not respond in any way.
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