Raiders

CHAPTER SEVEN

Making contact with the Persian was always unpredictable and dangerous, because the Persian was unpredictable and dangerous, and Schelto Kranz knew it better than most. As he waited for the man to answer the Skype call, he realized he was wringing his hands in fear and fought hard to make them still. He controlled himself but the sensation had left him bereft of his confidence, and in awe of the sort of power held in the Persian’s hands.

“Kranz,” the Persian purred menacingly. “How good of you to call me.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The Persian studied his face for a moment. “You look nervous. I hope you’re not going to disappoint me today.”

“Not at all, Amadeus. I bring good news.” He swallowed with anxiety as his eyes crawled all over the silhouette image of the man on the iPad screen. Why did he always hide his face like this? Kranz was Dutch aristocracy, with enormous wealth and power, and yet the Persian put him on edge more than anyone else in this world. He supposed that was the way of things in the Order. The Hidden Hand moved around the world in the shadows, flitting in between the gaps of reality like phantoms. The making of their deeds was never seen, but always felt, and usually by millions of people.

“Then share this good news with me. I like good news.”

“Kiya and the others had a successful hunt.”

The Persian leaned back in his chair and the light behind him shone through into the camera, burning itself on Kranz’s eyes. He blinked and looked away, but then his superior resumed his normal position and blocked the light once more.

“We have the ankh?”

“Yes, sir — and there is more good news.”

The Persian breathed out slowly. “You have the woman?”

“Finn and the Spiders took her into their custody a few hours ago. She is already on her way to one of our temples.”

The Persian gave a low chuckle. “So, easier than we had anticipated. I am most impressed with your work, Kranz.”

“Thank you, sir. I hope you will find the time to mention my work to the Sun-runner…”

The Persian cut him off. “That is not the way of Occulta Manu, Kranz. The fact that you would even propose such a thing makes me question your suitability for promotion to higher offices.”

“I beg your apology, sir.”

Kranz cursed himself for mentioning such a stupid thing. He didn’t even know the identity of the Persian and here he was trying to use his superior as a messenger to curry favor with the Sun-runner, of all people. Was he insane? The Order had a strict hierarchy: Raven, Bride, Soldier, Lion, Persian, Sun-runner and then the Pater. He had to show he knew his place within it.

“You are to update me when we have the information from the ankh.”

“Yes, sir.”

After the Persian cut the call, Kranz sat for a long time and stared at the dead screen in silence. It felt good delivering such important news to him, but had he made a terrible mistake asking for his success to be taken to the Sun-runner? Lions never spoke with Sun-runners, and as for asking a Persian to do his bidding for him… he prayed he would not be a dead Lion for giving into his vanity and greed like this. They all knew what had happened to Morton Wade after his expulsion from the Order, and none of them wanted to be on the outside like that, in the cold… unprotected. Pushed away from the warm embrace of the Pater.

On his desk, a black plastic telephone rang. He licked his lips, took a deep breath and answered it.

“Mr Kranz?”

It was Matthias, his personal assistant.

“Yes?”

“The German Minister for Foreign Affairs is on the line, sir. He wants to discuss the up-coming trade summit.”

“He’ll have to wait,” Kranz said.

“But it’s the Minister himself, sir.”

“And I am the Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Netherlands and I am dealing with a more important matter at the moment.”

He cut the call. Matthias would deal with it. He was very good at that and he could trust him to keep Dieter happy. Kranz had more important things to consider than an international trade deal. That was child’s play compared with what the Persian was demanding of him.

He rose from his studded leather swivel-chair and stepped across the plush carpet of his office. Studying the skyline of The Hague beyond his tinted window, his mind began to dance around the joys — and fears — that a conversation with the Persian could bring. Insignificant men like Dieter Müller, the German foreign affairs minister, could not hope to understand the level on which men like the Persian moved around the world.

Kranz moved to his lavish drinks cabinet and poured himself a chunky Courvoisier. Downing the first in one, he breathed out hard as he poured number two. This second one he sipped more slowly as the brandy unleashed his mind from the fears that usually kept him in place. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was in the office — it was a ridiculous act of paranoia. He lowered his voice to a mumbled whisper in case someone in OM had bugged his office — not so paranoid this time — and started to mutter: “Raven, Bride, Soldier, Lion, Persian, Sun-runner…”

He reduced his voice now to almost nothing. “Pater… who are you, Father?”

He stopped.

This was dangerous territory.

He finished the brandy and opened the window of his office, allowing the warm summer air to blow over his face. He was being reckless. Talking to the Persian in that way, and now speculating about the identity of the Father… If he was not very careful indeed, he would surely be a dead Lion soon enough, and yet would that bring the peace he craved, or did the Father control the afterlife as well as the world around him?

He shook the thought from his mind. It was too dark to contemplate. It was time to bring his mind back to the hunt once again. Kiya had done well. She was solid, efficient and ruthless. She was a good Bride and would make a fine Soldier. That, at least, was one decision that as a Lion he was able to make for himself.

They had the ankh, and they had Starling, the one woman who could translate its ancient poetry. Now all he had to do was to persuade her to read the symbols and the ancient Egyptian ankh would lead them all the way to one of the greatest treasures imaginable. Surely then his efforts would be recognized by Amadeus and he would be nominated for elevation to Persian himself.

And anyone who got in the way of that would not be long for this world.