– SB) surveillance for Webbie, you and Rupam must bring the documents and information to us here at the village church.
Be careful. Don’t try to come through the checkpoints.
Oh, and Maria says it will be like trying to get into Sleeping Beauty’s castle, so bring a sword. You know which one. Quick as you can.
Good luck.
Knight.
Although I suspect that by the time you receive this letter I shall not be in a position to offer much assistance, I remain, sir, your obedient servant,
Stephen Bircher
(Detective Chief Inspector)
The cellar was cold. Ben could feel the chill as soon as he started down the stone steps that led to the vault. He’d never been allowed through the huge circular metal door that sealed the vault off from the rest of the cellar. As it was, he didn’t relish coming here. He wished Sam was with him, but she had disappeared somewhere on the way from the library.
Outside the vault was a large area filled with computer equipment. This was where Webby worked. Where he lived too, though he insisted it was only for a few more months until his contract ended. No one believed him – Webby had been here for years. It was his job to set up and maintain all the computer and network systems. Agents of the School of Night could get online training, report sightings of ghosts and other paranormal phenomena, send in data gathered on their mobile phones … Webby’s systems monitored, collated and catalogued it all from his base down here in the cellar.
It was packed with computer equipment –monitors, system units, disk drives, keyboards and mouses. It also smelt.
‘Doesn’t he ever wash?’ Ben asked Rupam quietly as they descended the stairs.
‘Who knows? I’ve never seen him wash. But I’ve never seen him sleep either.’
‘Or eat?’ Ben mused, seeing a plate of sandwiches on a table at the bottom of the stairs. The bread had dried and was beginning to curl.
‘Busy man,’ Rupam said.
Webby was plugged into his music player, tapping out a beat on a computer keyboard. He saw Rupam and Ben and gave them a ‘just a minute’ wave.
‘Satellite’s in position, at last,’ Webby announced loudly, without removing his earphones. ‘Got Captain Morton to thank for that. Had to retask a satellite that was watching the French navy – don’t ask why. But anyway, we’ve been getting real-time images snapped every two minutes for a couple of hours now.’ He pointed to a screen on the other side of the cellar. ‘If you want proper video that costs more, apparently.’
The screen showed an aerial picture of Templeton. It looked as if it had been taken from a helicopter or a low-flying plane rather than a satellite high in orbit above the planet. Ben couldsee the church with its broken roof and separate, ruined tower. The road into the village forked close to what must be the pub.
‘Can you see any people?’ Rupam asked.
‘Could if anyone was there,’ Webby said, pulling out his earphones at last. ‘Couple of people about earlier. Went off the side, up the lane, then came back again. They’ve gone now. No sign of Knight’s car.’
‘You can see how overgrown the place is,’ Ben said, pointing to where a hedge seemed to be growing across the lane.
The village seemed to be hemmed in all round by a mass of green.
‘Sleeping Beauty’s castle,’ Rupam said.
Webby spun round on his chair. ‘Never mind that. There’s nothing much to see. I’ve pulled some data and documents off the web, if you want to take a look at what I’ve found.’
Nothing seemed that interesting to Ben. Webby had managed to find various bits and pieces. There were several old Ordnance Survey maps of the area, census data from 1841 through to 1901, and the records from the Domesday Book compiled in 1086.
‘Like that will help,’ Ben muttered.
There was also a scanned copy of a pamphlet aboutthe history of the church written by the local rector in 1937, which Rupam said might interest Growl.
‘I’d stick
Be careful. Don’t try to come through the checkpoints.
Oh, and Maria says it will be like trying to get into Sleeping Beauty’s castle, so bring a sword. You know which one. Quick as you can.
Good luck.
Knight.
Although I suspect that by the time you receive this letter I shall not be in a position to offer much assistance, I remain, sir, your obedient servant,
Stephen Bircher
(Detective Chief Inspector)
The cellar was cold. Ben could feel the chill as soon as he started down the stone steps that led to the vault. He’d never been allowed through the huge circular metal door that sealed the vault off from the rest of the cellar. As it was, he didn’t relish coming here. He wished Sam was with him, but she had disappeared somewhere on the way from the library.
Outside the vault was a large area filled with computer equipment. This was where Webby worked. Where he lived too, though he insisted it was only for a few more months until his contract ended. No one believed him – Webby had been here for years. It was his job to set up and maintain all the computer and network systems. Agents of the School of Night could get online training, report sightings of ghosts and other paranormal phenomena, send in data gathered on their mobile phones … Webby’s systems monitored, collated and catalogued it all from his base down here in the cellar.
It was packed with computer equipment –monitors, system units, disk drives, keyboards and mouses. It also smelt.
‘Doesn’t he ever wash?’ Ben asked Rupam quietly as they descended the stairs.
‘Who knows? I’ve never seen him wash. But I’ve never seen him sleep either.’
‘Or eat?’ Ben mused, seeing a plate of sandwiches on a table at the bottom of the stairs. The bread had dried and was beginning to curl.
‘Busy man,’ Rupam said.
Webby was plugged into his music player, tapping out a beat on a computer keyboard. He saw Rupam and Ben and gave them a ‘just a minute’ wave.
‘Satellite’s in position, at last,’ Webby announced loudly, without removing his earphones. ‘Got Captain Morton to thank for that. Had to retask a satellite that was watching the French navy – don’t ask why. But anyway, we’ve been getting real-time images snapped every two minutes for a couple of hours now.’ He pointed to a screen on the other side of the cellar. ‘If you want proper video that costs more, apparently.’
The screen showed an aerial picture of Templeton. It looked as if it had been taken from a helicopter or a low-flying plane rather than a satellite high in orbit above the planet. Ben couldsee the church with its broken roof and separate, ruined tower. The road into the village forked close to what must be the pub.
‘Can you see any people?’ Rupam asked.
‘Could if anyone was there,’ Webby said, pulling out his earphones at last. ‘Couple of people about earlier. Went off the side, up the lane, then came back again. They’ve gone now. No sign of Knight’s car.’
‘You can see how overgrown the place is,’ Ben said, pointing to where a hedge seemed to be growing across the lane.
The village seemed to be hemmed in all round by a mass of green.
‘Sleeping Beauty’s castle,’ Rupam said.
Webby spun round on his chair. ‘Never mind that. There’s nothing much to see. I’ve pulled some data and documents off the web, if you want to take a look at what I’ve found.’
Nothing seemed that interesting to Ben. Webby had managed to find various bits and pieces. There were several old Ordnance Survey maps of the area, census data from 1841 through to 1901, and the records from the Domesday Book compiled in 1086.
‘Like that will help,’ Ben muttered.
There was also a scanned copy of a pamphlet aboutthe history of the church written by the local rector in 1937, which Rupam said might interest Growl.
‘I’d stick
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