Inside the thick walls of an ancient castle somewhere near the Swiss Alps, a group of predominately men meet in secret. Outside a private army keep all unwelcome eyes away. Between them, there are representatives from every major bank and financial institution in the World. Yet outside these walls very few are aware of this convention’s existence. A man with a strong Swiss accent presides over the assembly. “Sir Anthony Jones. The report from Britain if you will”.

“Thank you Mister President. I am pleased to report that despite a change of political leadership, the Government continue to rule. The destruction of the British manufacturing base is almost complete. The plan to destroy the IT industry is well underway”. The white haired man paused to allow the chuckles of amusement die down. “As you are no doubt aware importation of slave labour suffered a major set-back but normal service will be resumed shortly”. At this point Sir Anthony pauses to smile “I am especially pleased to announce that steps are being taken to retrieve the Smthye-Jones legacy. At long last the prize will be within our grasp”. The audience explode into applause.

My name is Jim Priest. A few months ago I had discovered the diary of Victorian explorer Lord Gerald Symthe-Jones that had been hidden for years at Bristlingdown Manor [JPECHO#1]. Bringing in the experts, it was determined that the diary had been written in an ancient Avestan language. Sections of the text had been encrypted by a long forgotten mechanism, although I had found the key on the base of a statue of a mysterious Indo-Iranian Amazon goddess [JIMP#17].

If Lord Gerald had gone to the trouble to build a secret room to hide his diary and the key, it would follow that he had also hidden the encoding device or code table elsewhere in his home. Keeping the encoder and the key separate being the safe thing to do. That had led me to my current tiring search of the large manor house. Have you any idea how many books there are in the library of an English stately home, how many paintings and pieces of artwork?

That’s when I started seeing more of Mary. I had first noticed her whenever I went to grab something to eat in the kitchens located in the basement. She was a slightly tough looking though attractive young woman in her early twenties, about 5’8” with a slightly plump medium build which some might have called boyish apart from a full bust which was usually hidden beneath an apron. As a member of the kitchen staff, she wore a light blue overall. Beneath this was a pair of nice calves clad in sheer black nylons, which appeared to be quite short possibly because she wore soft black flat shoes that looked a bit like ballet slippers. One outstanding asset, only seen outside of the kitchen, was her long wavy jet-black hair that flowed from a fringe above her eyes, over her ears and fell down her back almost to her waist. Mary had a small compact face with a clear slightly tanned complexion with sensual brown eyes surrounded by thick black lashes and low eyebrows. She had a slender nose and a compact chin with a small mouth that usually didn’t smile as she tried to look tough, although this came across quite sexy. Although fairly quiet, she was known as a biker babe, putting on her leather trousers and jacket to ride off on her motorbike on her days off.

At the time it didn’t strike me as odd, but I seemed to see Mary quite a lot when I was searching around. I had just assumed she was delivering tea or whatever to Sir Humphrey. I was in one of the old state rooms getting ready to go home for the day looking at the large tall elaborately carved Indian cabinet that occupied part of one wall, thinking that I wouldn’t like that in my house. The piece was dark and heavy although some of the carving was intricate and my eyes were drawn to the little three-dimensional temples near the top edge. It then struck me that the circular peak on the unit was a different colour and texture than the rest. I went off to find a stepladder to borrow. Upon my return I saw Mary in the corridor outside of the room. Smiling and saying hello, I passed and set up the ladder by the unit. I climbed the ladder and caught Mary watching. She blushed then asked “Whattca doing Jim?”. “Sir Humphrey won’t like you touching his stuff” she added. “Oh, just checking the humidity meters on these antiques” I lied. I don’t think she believed me but she walked away so I continued my inspection.

Slotted into a small metal bracket was a circular object standing vertically. Using a small screwdriver I carefully prised the object out of its holder. As I did so, I realised that it was made of metal that had been painted on the back to look like wood. The object was about 3” in diameter and an inch thick. The back of the piece, which had been facing forward, was solid and elaborated decorated. The front was equally decorated around its outer edge inside which was a concentric ring with about 50 symbols around it. This ring could be rotated and as I did so I could feel the slight resistance of some cog mechanism. At the centre of this ring was a central hub in which there was a rectangular cutaway revealing different symbols as the ring was rotated. I guessed that you selected the symbol to be encoded on the ring by aligning it with a raised marker on the outer edge then read off the cipher text symbol from the cutaway window. The mechanism was probably symmetric so that it could work in reverse - select the symbol to be decoded and read off the plaintext symbol from the window. Peering closer at the cutaway slot I could just make out an intricate system of cogs and rings. As I slowly rotated the ring I could make out symbols on different rings aligning themselves with the window. This was a very clever piece of high precision small-scale engineering that belied the apparent antiquity of the device. Along the side of the object there was a set of 4 recessed small metal levers that were difficult to set by hand. Along the top of the recess there was a sequence of tiny dots starting with a single dot at the top to a group of 9 dots at the bottom. These obviously controlled the key that changed the internal linkage of the cogs inside resulting in different encryptions.

Elated, I carefully descended the ladder then put the object on a side table while I collapsed the ladder. When I turned around the object had gone!. Cursing my luck I ran into the corridor outside the room just spotting a flash of black nyloned calves and soft shoes disappearing through a door at the end. I ran to catch up only to bump into Mrs Jones, the old fashioned housekeeper. “Mister Priest! There will be no running in Bristlingdown Manor!” she reprimanded me. “I’m chasing a thief...” I tried to explain. “What is more, this is a staircase for female servants only. You are not allowed here” she interrupted. Mrs Jones still believed in strict segregation of male and female servants. “One of your girls has just stolen a valuable object belonging to Sir Humphrey. I need to follow”. “Be off with you!” she swung a wooden bristle brush at me, forcing me back through the door. I didn’t have time for this; I raced for the male servant’s staircase ignoring the reprimand that followed. “No running!”. Fortunately I knew how to get to the women’s staircase on the next floor, hoping that Mrs Jones hadn’t the same idea. I almost bumped into John, one of Sir Humphrey’s bodyguards. “John, I found the encoder but think Mary took it. Tell security not to let anyone leave,” I panted as I rushed by. As I climbed the steep narrow uncarpeted staircase, I was hoping Mary had gone to her room in the attic, where the women servants lived.

Fortunately the women’s bedrooms had their names on the doors, so it wasn’t long before I knocked on Mary’s door. As she opened it I don’t know who was the more surprised. “Jim! You shouldn’t be up here. If Mrs Jones catches you,” she said not needing to voice the dire consequences of a man getting caught in the women’s quarters. I was completely taken aback by the sight of the quiet kitchen girl wearing a white gi top tied with a black belt. Her legs were bare as was her chest between the V of the neck. I had never seen her thighs before and I wasn’t disappointed, they were thick and shapely, but it was her upper body, which really grabbed my attention. Standing like an idiot staring at the white wraparound jacket and black belt, I was lost for words. Feeling both nervous and exhilarated at how supremely confidant she looked, my brain signalled danger and the urge to flee whilst my loins twitched with lust at the powerful image she projected.

“Come in quick” she ushered me into her room and closed the door. The room was small with just a single bed, a small wardrobe and a chest of drawers. Closing the door Mary faced me with her arms by her side. She looked so tough and dangerous that I was both jittery and turned on. “What’s the matter Jim? you look nervous. Do I frighten you dressed like this?” she asked softly. I had to swallow looking at this attractive but tough young woman in her combat clothes. “Um well it’s a bit intimidating but ur at the same time I find it quite exciting” I admitted, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. It was true, that simple white top and black belt had transformed an ordinary kitchen girl into the vision of a deadly fighting machine against which I knew had no chance. Yet at the same time I was very turned on by the raw female power this implied. It wouldn’t have mattered what she looked like, she could have been plain or ugly, young or old; I still would have been turned on badly. Well maybe not too young, that would be perverse. As it was Mary was attractive. “Exciting?” she asked softy and stepped closer until our chests were almost touching. At that moment I found Mary to be incredibly seductive with her long hair tumbling freely and the gi making her seem strong and sexy. “Most men run a mile when they see me like this. You look like you want to run to. Don’t run Jim. Stay and play with me”. She added a wicked smile that made my groin twitch. I swallowed again and slowly raised my hands to her shoulders and started to stroke the fabric of her gi. “I um find you powerful ... scary and yet...”. I paused too embarrassed to admit my feelings. “Yes?” she asked softly. “Incredibly sexy”. A smile appeared on her lips. “Sexy? Thank you, I’ve never been called that before. Most men I’ve met are scared of women who do Judo” she said. I continued to run my hands over her jacket “The idea of what you could do to me both scares me and ... turns me on. I don’t know whether to run away or...”. I got lost looking into her penetrating brown-eyed gaze. “Yes?” she queried. “Worship you” I whispered and was immediately embarrassed that I had said it. The smile got wider and there seemed to be a twinkle in her eye “I’ve never been worshipped before”. I felt her ample chest press against mine “why don’t you show me how”. I moved my hands with more confidence down her arms and around her shoulders, feeling the heavy crude material. “This uniform makes you seem so powerful”. I felt the black belt. “This makes you seem invincible. Too much for me to handle and that really turns me on” I gushed.