The professor looked from the manuscript to Virgil a few times before asking, “Where exactly did you get this? It is at least two thousand years old this paper. These symbols are well before the run of the mill hieroglyphics and symbols. It is, I feel, a musical symbol, a symbol of a certain note in a particular key”.
Virgil smiled, “yes, we feel that is so. I just need to know which one Professor for my thesis, and then I can return this paper to Rome, where it is housed in the vaults of the Vatican, secured forever for posterity”.
The Professor was writing and checking reference books to check and recheck his findings. He diligently wrote all results down and then gave the paper to Virgil.
“This is my finding and understanding, you may well wish to go and see Professor De Beney at the Sorbonne. However, I am confident that he would agree with me on this occasion”.
“Thank you so much for your time, Professor. I ask you to keep our business in confidence, as my thesis is not due out for another month or two, and I would like to keep all under wraps until then”. Virgil smiled as he delivered this request, although, deep down, he knew he had no real reason to hope that this man wouldn’t tell someone. Not necessarily anyone who could use the information. However, loose talk had always been a danger.
Virgil took his leave. The professor was magnanimous in his farewells and went back to his work after his visitor had left.
The hidden camera in the professor’s office swivelled around. Those who had been monitoring the interaction were frustrated, as try though they may, they couldn’t see what had been written on the piece of paper. And because the result hadn’t been voiced, they didn’t know what had been written down.
The elicit observers just needed to be able to report to their boss what had transpired, and there was no doubt that this guy had found what he was looking for, and the Boss wouldn’t be best pleased with that. The content was to be destroyed at all cost, and not reach the hands of those awaiting it in Scotland. At all costs they had been told - at all costs.
Virgil left the building and found his way to the nearest tube station. He must get to the station and get a train North as soon as he could. Marianna would be waiting and he knew it would be easier to get on a train than going through the bother of booking a flight etc. He arrived at Euston Station and scanned the boards.
He was totally aware that he was being followed. He had expected nothing less. The crowds seemed to swallow him up. He was adept at running circles around people, and he proceeded to do just that, as he went in and out of the toilets at different exits and entrances, and eventually managed to get to the train, fairly certain he had lost all the ‘clingons’.
The unfortunate thing for Virgil was that the ‘clingons’ knew where he was going. They were covering the airports, and as they knew his destination was Scotland they had already ensconced themselves on the train going north and were awaiting his arrival. He didn’t let them down. He passed by their windows in the first class section. They would pick him up later when he got off.
He sat in 2nd class, with a mother and her two children. They were fairly voluble and chatty. He had copied the note from the Professor. He needed some insurance that should something happen to him, then, at least the message would get through. He had a feeling, he couldn’t put his finger on it, but he felt instinctively that all was not well.
The mother had looked over a few times and smiled and offered him a sandwich from the large heap she had provided for her brood. He gratefully took one. They chatted. She was from Glasgow and had taken the children down to visit her sister and their family during the holidays. She told him where they lived, and about the lovely house they had, north of the city of Glasgow. Bearsden, she assured him, was a very desirable area to live within the commuter belt, which really suited her husband, who worked in the Merchant City of Glasgow.
After a while, Virgil plucked up the courage to give her the note, which he had placed in a sealed envelope addressed to Marianna at the Castle Buchan, and asked her if she would be good enough to post that for him, as he was having to rush immediately on arrival at his stop. He had decided to get off at Carlisle, to attend a meeting, and the information in the letter was needed next day. He gave her the money for a first class stamp. “Almost unheard of these days to post something snail mail”, she laughed, “I’ll make sure I get it done for you, no worries”.
He closed his eyes, secure in the knowledge that one way or another the message would be delivered and taken into the right hands. Even if he was taken out, and that, he was feeling more and more, was a distinct possibility, but then he had known, he had always known the risks of this endeavour.
Carlisle was announced as the next stop. He got up, grabbed his case, thanked the Glasgow mum once again for her kindness and stood ready to get off the train. He got off and walked down the platform. As he passed the first class carriage, the guys who had him on their radar saw him at the last moment, and, after a speedy exit from their carriage, trailed along behind him, intrigued that he should choose to disembark at this point. It didn’t really matter to them. As time wore on, they would have the benefit of the dark to hide their hideous purpose.
He hired a car and proceeded onto the M6 towards Glasgow as darkness was falling. Getting near the border, at Gretna Green, a car came alongside him, overtaking him, a thud made him slump forward onto the wheel, the bullet had entered his body ending his life instantly.
The car went out of control and smashed into the central barrier before careering off onto the verge and up the side of the motorway. It came to rest, lights angled up to the sky as Virgil’s spirit took leave of his physical body. He would still be able to help from the other side of the veil. He knew that it was not an issue. He was pleased with his work, and his guardian angels took him upward and onwards to the Light.
The car burst into flames. No other vehicle was involved. The police at first, didn’t realise they had a murder on their hands. They thought the poor guy had had a heart attack at the wheel, and it was fortunate that no one else had been involved. In days to come they discovered from the charred remains that a bullet had entered from the driver’s side and they began a fruitless murder enquiry. All culprits had long gone. There was no camera footage. There were no eyewitnesses or forensic evidence, except the embedded bullet. Yet another on-going pointless investigation for Police Scotland to add to the growing numbers back at Head Quarters.