Bernard - August 2024
Bernard knew that whatever he did next would affect the rest of his life. If his grandfather had gone to the lengths of creating an entrance to a secret space it had to be of huge significance. But what it was and why it had to be hidden was knowledge Bernard feared he should keep his distance from.
He thought of Pierce rampaging through the main office. And Lowry-Law in the hospital, telling him about his grandfather.
Whatever was behind this door had to be the secrets she was talking about.
Heart thundering in his chest, mouth dry, he turned the key and pushed.
With a groan of protest, the door moved - an inch, two, and then stopped. Foul, chill air seeped out. Bernard debated pulling the door shut, locking it and throwing away the key. Did he really want to know what was in there?
You're too passive at times, he heard his grandfather say, but when you get started on something, you see it through, my boy.
He leaned, hard, and the door swung open to reveal a space so dark he thought it might well hold an entire universe within its walls. He stretched a hand inside and searched around for a light switch. He felt a cord, and pulled.
A naked bulb burst into life, and he could see what was facing him was a room almost the same size as his own office. The walls on either side held heavy bookcases filled with leather-bound volumes. There was a small desk, with two large files sitting on top, and a wooden chair, and ahead of him there was a recess in the wall - where something stared back at him.
His fright had him take a backward step. He collected himself and took three steps forward to examine a horned skull, with glinting eyes, and a row of squat, melted candles that made him think this could only be some sort of altar.
Grandfather, he thought, what were you hiding from me?
He looked again at the ranks of files.
With trembling hands, he picked one off the shelf and read the first page. There was a name he didn't recognise, and an address in Marylebone, London. The first page showed a list of annual contributions, then there were pages of notes about a son of the family who'd been found in bed with another boy at a prestigious school. The note-taker had finally suggested that this discovery meant the boy's family might be ripe for more payments if they ever dared to distance themselves from the Order. But more disturbing than what was written was the identity of the writer: he immediately recognised his grandfather's hand. Lowry-Law was right.
Stomach a swirl, part of his mind numb with reluctance to fully accept what was in front of his eyes, he scanned the room once more. This had been here the entire time he'd known his grandfather? How many times had he sat on that windowsill just beyond the bookcase, blithely unaware that all of this was just inches away?
The Order.
It sounded like some sort of secret organisation. An organisation his grandfather had clearly been working for, and - he examined the ranks of files once more - if all these were full of such details, such secrets, was this an organisation his grandfather had been protecting himself against?
If Grandfather thought he needed protection from this organisation, what did that say about them?
Something caught his attention, under the little desk. A battered, brown, leather satchel. The sound of the leather scraping against the stone floor echoed in the small space as he dragged it out. He lifted it, noting its weight. It gave a thunk as he placed it on the table. What might be in here? More papers?
He clicked the clasp, pulled the mouth of the bag open wide, and looked in to see that it was full of bank notes. He dipped a hand in and pulled some out. Skin prickling with worry, he saw they were all fifty-pound notes. He had to have several hundred pounds alone in his hand. Exactly how much was in here? It had to be thousands. Tens of thousands.
He looked closer at the money, at Queen Elizabeth's image, and noted the corner of one note was coloured red. Could that be blood? He dropped the cash back into the bag as if it might be contaminated and dropped the bag onto the floor.
The eyes of the horned goat glinted in the weak light, as if it was staring at him. He shivered and looked down at the files on top of the desk.
He picked up the file on the left and opened it. It was for the Purbeck family. A name that meant nothing to him, so he set it aside for the moment.
The name on the other file sounded a note of familiarity.
Lyons. One of the foremost families in Scotland. Were they involved in this organisation?
The notes his grandfather had added to the front page of the Lyons file gave him chills. The old man was sure that the only surviving child, Gavin, had killed his older siblings so that he could take charge of the family and all of its assets. As yet, his grandfather had recorded, there was no actionable proof of murder, but he considered the man a very real threat - he had no boundaries and had to be kept on a very tight leash, so he'd continue to investigate. Nevertheless, his grandfather went on to say, the images in the link below would be enough to ruin Mr Lyons if they ever came to light. The shockwaves, he was certain, would reach into every home in Scotland, and the wider union. Business empires would fall - the Lyons' Corporation owned huge stakes in oil and gas, and likely, billions of dollars would be lost.
Below this statement his grandfather had written out a hyperlink, and wondering what on earth it could lead to, Bernard fished out his phone, and diligently copied the link into his search engine. Nothing happened.
He reconsidered his actions. If he looked at whatever this was, might it alert someone? But the need to know drove him on. If his grandfather wanted him to take over his work then he had to know as much as the old man did.
He carefully and slowly typed out the link in case he'd made an error the first time. And the result was the same frozen screen. Perhaps another search engine might work better? This was not his area of expertise so he googled alternative search engines. An online tech magazine gave him some. One called Lor was being hyped as being best for privacy, so he downloaded that one, and again, typed in the link.
A film appeared on the screen of his phone, and he heard screams, saw boys and naked men, and a close-up of a man's face, eyes closed in some sort of orgasmic bliss.
Bernard slammed the phone face down on the desk.
But it was too late: those terrible images and sounds would be burned into his mind forever.
Aware he was shaking, he steadied himself against the desk. And then he thought of Pierce, and the mess Mrs Torrans said he had made of the main office. Was this what Pierce had been looking for?
Pierce.
Lyons.
Were they somehow linked?
Given the nature of this information, perhaps Pierce was searching for it on behalf of this man. Perhaps he wanted to destroy it before it got into the wrong hands.
Grandfather, he thought, looking skyward, you may have been trying to protect me by keeping me away from all of this stuff, but you've really left me in it now.
Shaking, uncertain of what he should do, he tidied away the bag of money, placed the files back on the shelves and locked the little room up.
He moved to his office, to use the computer on his desk. He needed a full screen to search the internet for mention of the Lyons family.
Their current wealth was impressive, thanks to Gavin being the one to accede to the family throne, according to an article in Forbes magazine. Before he took control they were mainly living off ancient memories and a fading reputation, their family assets at risk of going the same way as many of the ruined castles on their land.
A quick look at Companies House, then a search of the Financial Times online, and he could see that the Lyons family had their fingers in every meaningful source of profit one could think of. He continued to read, scrolling through every online article he could find about this family and its current head, Gavin Lyons.
There were several images of the man, at various functions and charity events, and although he looked a little older, it was clear to see that he was the same man as the one who was naked with those boys in that film clip.
Dear God, thought Bernard. Did he want to get involved with any of this?
But how could he not expose someone like that? Gavin Lyons was clearly a vile human being.
Bernard stood. Rolled his neck and shoulders. They were stiff after being hunched over his computer for so long. His stomach was growling, and he was shivering - the office had grown cold now that the heating had been off for a few hours. He looked at the time. It was almost 9.00 pm. He really should pack up for the evening and go home.
The moment Bernard...
