Wayward Winds (3 page)

 2 
Plans and Schemes

Thirty minutes later the conversation in the lounge of the house with the red roof had resumed. Three members of the group held cups of tea, the lady a glass of light red wine, and a certain greying Welsh aristocrat, of ancient family with dubious links to the Continent, had decided to join McCrogher—who sat behind the others with pipe and brew paying little attention—with a glass of dark brown Guinness.

“Your comment, Barclay,” the final member of the coterie was saying, “about whether our activities are noticed, brings up one of our pressing needs.”

The eyes of the others remained focused on the Oxford professor of economics.

“It pinpoints the necessity,” he went on, “that we have eyes and ears everywhere. If the government perceives something as threatening, they will not advertise that fact in the
Times
. There are critical times ahead requiring redoubled efforts to expand the network. We must have sympathizers everywhere. Wherever word might leak out, possibly exposing us, we must have people who will learn of it, that we might respond swiftly and silently.”

“You are right, of course,” rejoined the other. “Many have been brought within the sway of our control in recent years without recognizing our influence. But as events move toward their climax, we in the Fountain of Light must widen our enlightening work over the
perspectives of yet many more, whether or not at first they apprehend our ultimate purpose.”

“I have hopes in that regard for my—” began the lady, then stopped herself. Barclay knew, of course, but it might not be best to divulge her personal plans to everyone just yet. “Let me just say,” she went on after a moment, “that I concur. We must infiltrate as many aspects of society as possible, as our counterparts in the east have successfully done.”

The conversation, as was not uncommon among them—especially when they retreated northward on the coast to gather in this comfortable setting—went on for some time, considering many possibilities and diverging in many directions. Abstract analysis was meat and drink to their collective spirits. Yet when it came to the dissemination of their unconventional philosophies, they could be devilishly cunning.

“We are a select few who have seen the truth in advance of the masses.” Again it was Barclay speaking. “Yet we have not been chosen to keep the mysteries of the cause to ourselves. We must spread them vigorously, though silently at present, as people are brought to us with hearts receptive to the new destined order which is to come.”

“What do you propose as our next step in this regard?” asked the ever practical Welshman.

“Science and the military are vital, as well as the political arena,” replied their leader. “Not only do we need eyes and ears, on a practical level we need expertise. Writers, economists, historians, of course, are all useful. My official position allows me great latitude to move abroad freely. I am constantly on the lookout for such individuals. I would especially like one familiar with modern invention. Such could greatly aid our efforts.”

Gazing outside as night slowly descended, the others pondered his statement. A silence fell among them.

 3 
A Name From the Past

You know,” said the professor at length, “an old acquaintance comes to my mind just now as we are talking, a fellow I knew years ago in the navy. He would bring a perfect combination of assets.”

“Why do you think so?” asked the lady.

“He is well known and highly thought of in political circles.”

“That would dovetail very nicely with my position. Anyone we would know?” asked Barclay.

“You won't believe it when I tell you,” smiled the professor. “Yes, I think you will all be familiar with the name. He became quite an important man after my acquaintance with him, although his recognition has fallen off in recent years.”

“Then get on with it,” said the Welshman.

“I'm talking about Sir Charles Rutherford.”

“You mean the Devonshire M.P. a few years back?”

“None other.”

Glances and nods went about the room.

“What were his politics?” asked the Welshman.

“A liberal when I knew him, with socialist leanings.”

Expressions of approval were voiced, punctuated by a few more affirmative nods.

“You may indeed have hit upon something, my friend,” said the leader. “As I recall, he once spoke up on behalf of positions decidedly in a direction, shall we say, that would suit our purposes
nicely. That, along with his being such a respected voice . . . yes, I like the possibility. Do you know if he had any connection with the intelligence community when he was in Parliament?”

“I have no idea.”

“His perspective on international affairs?”

“I never spoke to him about philosophical things, or the world situation. And, of course, it was all quite different back then.”

“Do you think he might be amenable to meeting with some of our Austrian friends, discreetly of course?”

“We certainly might make some overtures and see which way the wind is blowing in his thinking these days.”

“Now that I think of it, I read something about him not long ago,” said the Welshman, “something about being appointed chairman of a government commission to investigate the practicalities of taking electricity into rural areas. Bit of a whiz with technological things, isn't he—electricity, telephones, and all that?”

“Sounds like he could be an ideal addition, just as you said earlier,” added Barclay. “What about family?”

“Actually, I've lost track of him since our navy days,” replied the professor. “I really don't know. Married, that's all I know, to the daughter of old Colonel Wildecott, who spent most of his career in India.”

“Any other family?”

“There was a sister, I believe.”

“Whose sister?”

“The Wildecott girl's.”

“You mean Rutherford's sister-in-law?”

“Right—the colonel's younger daughter.”

“Are the two women in touch?”

“I really don't know.”

“What about Sir Charles and Lady Rutherford themselves?”

“Now that I think of it, there is a Rutherford chap at university, bright young boy.”

“Relation?”

“I'd never considered it. I suppose it's possible.”

“There are Rutherfords everywhere—I know one high up in the Bank of London.”

A few more glances went around.

“There is also a daughter,” said the woman at length, offering her first remark in some time.

“You speak as one who knows. Do you have more information on the Rutherford family than you are telling us?”

“I know only that there is a daughter, eighteen or twenty, who is presently in London, and
not
on close terms with her family.”

“An interesting fact. It might prove useful.”

“Should we make preliminary contact?”

“Leave that to me,” said the professor.

 4 
Hidden Dangers

High above the English coastline, storms swirled far more turbulent than the one presently coming from Scandinavia across the north sea. Indeed, the silent clouds moving steadily but inexorably westward from the regions of Serbia, Romania, and Bulgaria were thick and black and worldwide in their scope.

Few, however, apprehended the threat.

For millennia it was in the nature of things for the nations of Europe to mistrust, even hate one another. The English, the French, the Germans, and the Russians had been natural enemies longer than anyone could remember, despite the numerous family alliances of the ruling classes. They were four distinct cultures, with distinct histories, languages, and ethnic backgrounds, all attempting to dwell beside one another on a continent which any of the four would have been happy to dominate.

They would thus, as they had for centuries, be constantly antagonistic, constantly suspicious, constantly trying to protect and defend themselves. If in this present age the Kaiser was the greater menace to England, it was not so long ago that Napoleon had sought to bring all of Europe under his dominion.

However, it was not only nationalism, liberalism, the rising expectation of the middle class, and the political instability of the European power structure that made this a dangerous time. There were unseen currents of deceit and deception lurking silent but lethal
beneath the surface of European affairs, such as the recent naval invention called in England the submarine, in Germany the U-boat.

Masquerading under a cloak of truth and enlightenment, one of the most secretive of those forces dedicated to the undermining of existing powers was the underground network which called itself the Fountain of Light. The obscure philosophy of its adherents concerned itself not with governments but with a new order they believed would arise in time out of all nations and would transcend national loyalties. They were not revolutionists as such, as were their counterparts in Russia, yet they found the overthrow of autocratic and monarchal systems necessary to pave the way for this new order. Those who were not prepared to sell their souls for the cause were considered the enemy. Their origins had roots eastward, and thus their sympathies lay also in that direction. Their number had now spread and infiltrated into all the nations of Europe.

Their sleepers had been in place throughout the Continent and Great Britain for years, in some cases even for decades, silently wooing loyalties and affections toward their cause. Some had been implanted from outside. Others were recruits from native populations, whose mannerisms, habits, and occupations gave no hint of subversive loyalties. These “moles” occupied ordinary roles and came from every element of society, blending in with their surroundings so as to be politically invisible. Politicians, students, men and women of the working class—anyone might be recruited. Especially prevalent in England were Austrian sympathizers from the intelligentsia and the aristocracy.

Certain select individuals of its number had for years moved back and forth on the Continent and to England, planting seeds, making contacts, and subtly courting new loyalists, while at the same time establishing a smooth-functioning communications network between its various branches. Luring by friendship, they won over many who had no inkling what would ultimately be demanded of them.

Always new recruits were sought. In numbers was power. They would use whoever suited their purposes, but were especially on the lookout for persons of stature, reputation, and influence. Such could advance their cause most readily.

The opening decade of the twentieth century, therefore—notwithstanding its prosperity, modernity, and the free flow of new
ideas which filled it with challenge and optimism—was in many unseen ways a dangerous age.

And as England and the rest of the world approached a climax when the world would be changed forever, the Rutherfords of Devonshire stood, too, in a peril they could have no way to foresee.