Chapter 3

They'd never given themselves a name. If they referred to themselves collectively, it was as 'The Group'. The group had begun back in the nineteenth century – the last founder member died in 1959. Most, but by no means all, members were descended from founders though the closest relatives to founders were grandsons. Some members, a few, had been introduced, carefully, because they were friends of members, others, perhaps strangely, had been victims of the group's activities but had been absorbed – often by marriage.

So ... what were they? If pressed, members might say they were Satanists (if, of course they could be got to admit the existence of the group at all or their membership of it) but that would not be entirely accurate. Truthfully, most of them didn't believe in anything beyond this life, either good or bad. No ... the raison d'etre of the group was simply the sexual exploitation of young women.

The young women – girls really – had always been easy enough to acquire. Once, it had been orphanages; nowadays, Central Europe, or runaways. There had always been chemical methods of management, from opiates, through barbiturates to benzodiazepines. The group had experimented with hypnosis from time to time with varying degrees of success. Drugs were much easier, however.

Their base was a large house, originally the property of one of the founder members. Like many mansions it had had a chapel; actually quite a large one, but which had been allowed to fall into disrepair long before, leaving only the masonry shell, with a grassy floor and a stone altar. Sensibly, at some point, ownership had been transferred to a company; the Board of which, coincidentally, consisted of senior members of 'The Group'. The property was now managed mainly as a conference centre. Somehow it was never available around the times of the old pagan festivals, however ... not that anyone would make that connection. Or would they?

Peter and Dulcie had been in Maldon less than a year as 'All Souls and all Saints' approached. That's 'All Hallows Eve' – Hallowe'en ... Samhain; a lot had happened in a short time. While they had been doing what they could to build up the church, to protect themselves and their people, of course they could not know what preparations were being made elsewhere.

The group were collecting the ... victims ... for their next meeting. Very respectable youngish couples identified runaway girls at stations in London; approached them, offering a meal and short-term accommodation, suggesting the girl contact her parents or guardian ... or at least think about doing so.

Susan was feeling very foolish. Her reason for storming out of her home in a temper ... what was it? Something so trivial she couldn't remember what had triggered her outburst. The apparently kindly couple talked to her, suggested sleeping on her problem;

"Ring them in the morning. I'm sure they'd be relieved to hear from you."

It had been a long, trying day. She was not too surprised to be very sleepy after a supper of soup and fresh bread. The sedative in her meal ensured she was oblivious to the very intimate examination she was subjected to by her hosts ... who were delighted to find she was a virgin; there was no way this one was going to be going home in the morning.

Of the other girls, five chose not to ring home; the others were taken back to the station where they'd been picked up. Five were ample for the purposes of the group.

None of the girls had seen Susan, who was surprised to be brought tea in bed. She wondered at the slightly odd taste, but assumed it was just the different water. The tea was laced with a phenothiazine normally used to control the behaviour of a violent psychotic; Susan drifted into a hazy existence where she felt unable to worry or make meaningful decisions. She was served meals in her room. Actually, she had to be fed, escorted to the en-suite bathroom, bathed and dressed ... she lost all motivation, her attention focussed on a television showing endless episodes of various soap-operas ... aware of nothing more than a vague sense of unease.

Any organisation that participates in illegal or otherwise unacceptable practices, relying on the discretion of the participants, is only as safe as the least discreet member. The group had remained secret for over one hundred and twenty years despite the enslavement, abuse and, sometimes, murder of many young women. They were very careful about the introduction of new members. Once initiated, a member had a great deal to lose by revealing the truth since they were implicated in the offences; that had been enough.

Malcolm Stevenson was sixteen and was about to be initiated. His father's words were shocking; he would never have guessed that the dour, straight-laced man, who insisted Malcolm attend church regularly, if not weekly, could possibly have been involved in anything so ... weird. However, he was not enamoured of the church, which he considered boring (less so since the arrival of the new Rector and his pretty wife) and, like many sixteen-year-old lads, very horny. The picture his father painted was very attractive to him. Of course, certain aspects were skated over or minimised. He didn't think too deeply about it, though, and displayed sufficient enthusiasm to dispel any doubts his father may have had ... the father he didn't realise was a leader and would be acting as high priest at his initiation...

Like most pagan festivals, Samhain was assimilated into the Christian calendar, becoming 'All Souls' Day', and is followed by 'All Saints' – hence All Hallows Eve – Hallowe'en. Another name for it is 'The Night of the Dead'. In Britain, however, it is only recently that 'Hallowe'en' has been a popular event, and the church never made much of it. Dulcie and Peter, however, their awareness raised, decided to hold a prayer vigil, with a celebration of Holy Communion at the beginning and the end. Being a week-day, very few of the congregation were able to remain throughout, but there was a respectable turnout for the service, a handful remaining until the small hours, and a similar handful coming in to replace them, remaining until the Communion at eight o'clock. Those few were surprised at how awake and energised they were through the day, though they were very glad to fall into bed early the following evening!

Malcolm was required to help set up the ... temple? When he saw the furnishings, limited to the stone altar and some padded metal frames that fitted into sockets in the ground, he started to be aware that some of the ... participants might be ... less than willing. However, he was not ready to challenge his father and suspected he would not be permitted to leave freely anyway. Not to mention the physical drives that any teenage lad has...

With a clear sky, the evening was cool; a half-moon gave considerable light. The medieval atmosphere was enhanced by torches (not yet lit) in sconces on the walls. In Maldon, at St. Mary's, Peter was celebrating communion. Malcolm felt strange. His physical arousal diminished and he felt a longing, a yearning for something, though he could not have said what it was.

Time wore on and Malcolm was told to undress and put on a long, loose-fitting robe; of plain white linen - it was not very warm and he shivered. Men and women around him removed everyday clothes, and put on robes too – different colours, but all dark – embroidered, patterned, subtly wrong in form or execution though he could not have put a finger on what it was. In fact, he barely registered the wrongness, except as discomfort.

He didn't know it was approaching midnight, just that five girls were brought in. One of the men said to him,

"Watch."

Four of the girls were taken to frames each side of the altar; whimpering, they were stripped, bent over the frames and strapped to them facing the altar. Clearly, the idea was that they were to be used sexually at some point; equally clearly, they were frightened and not consenting.

The fifth girl was brought to Malcolm.

"This is your initiation test, don't fail. We will help you, but you must strip her and strap her to the central frame, facing the altar."

He looked at her and their eyes met. Her eyes were dark brown, her hair a dark brown, (in the poor light he couldn't see the red lights in it) framing a face he thought quite perfect; oval though with a slightly pointed chin. Malcolm's discomfort coalesced into knowledge. He could not go through with this. She looked at him steadily but did not speak. Looking at the couple who were holding her arms he nodded and waved at the last remaining frame.

Somewhat awkwardly – undressing girls wasn't something he had any previous experience of – he removed each item of clothing. She was bent over the frame and he buckled her wrists. Looking up at the couple, he told them he could manage the rest. They nodded, smiled, and walked away.

Moving to her ankles, he managed to force the tongues of the buckles to the side and through so they wouldn't catch in the straps, then went back to the wrists.

"What's your name?" He kept his voice low and looked up into her eyes.

Her eyebrows raised and she looked at him steadily for several seconds before making up her mind.

"Sasha," she said quietly.

"I can't do much," he said, his eyes flicking around, "but the straps should slide. Wait for a chance, or someone else will strap you down properly."

"Why? Why are you doing this? Aren't you one of them?"

"I'm..." he didn't want to explain, "I'm supposed to be ... but I can't." He turned away.

About that moment, or a little before, Dulcie felt compelled to leave the church.

Crossing the chancel to Peter, she said quietly, "I have to go."