Thule to the Fire

"We must meet. Make sure you have a full tank of fuel and I'll see you at eight."

The call ended. Jack placed the phone onto the receiver. After making his excuses, to leave work early, he headed for the car park. Jack had gotten to know his contact well over the past few months and even if he had no information to sell on, they would still share a beer or two and discuss how wonderful the new world would look.

This felt different. The brief discussion felt cold and coded. There was a bank of dark cloud rolling in. Something loomed, as the sun dissolved in to the horizon, and Jack knew he had no choice but to brave the beyond.

Minutes later, he'd pulled into a fuelling station. Brimming the tank, Jack headed home to attempt to eat, and see his wife, before heading out to the local. Being fully aware of the source of extra income, Una felt it reassuring to know where he was, as the Party were known to be brutal. Both were sympathetic to the cause, but chances could not be taken in these times.

Jack, ready to depart, felt on edge. Not since the first meeting with van Ralt did he feel this way. He foresaw the journey to be a long one, and it was.

Upon entering the Lyttelton Arms, Jack spied his contact at the bar. Jack scanned the room and then went to the toilet - to relieve himself and check for unfamiliar faces - before heading to their designated table. View's of both entrance and exit were essential.

"Jack. Good of you to come. Drink?" Van Ralt looked like he'd been swimming in a beer barrel. His skin was pasty and his shirt and blazer, in large patches, were sodden.

Even before his lips moved, van Ralt had pushed a jug of ale along the table towards him, spilling a mouthful. "Cheers," was Jack's dry throated reply. But before sitting, Jack noticed the woman sitting opposite van Ralt. They were both looking at him. Jack felt his bowels move.

Looking back at each other, the conversation continued: "So, we get you out the country. Big deal. However, it has to be tonight. With Josef being... well, you know, and all our other friends staying in and away from the heat, we cannot take risks. You will be taken home, via a couple of stop's, and then, when the time is right, return."

"No, I know the locals. I will be safe. The Society were clear that I had to perform my duty before our people were made welcome, here, and we have months, perhaps weeks, before this happens."

Van Ralt huffed and then took out a handkerchief to mop his face.

"Take a seat, Jack, we may be here a little while longer than expected," van Ralt said whilst checking the contents of the handkerchief, "this is Clarabella. Isn't she a picture..."

Before Jack could brake in to the ice, the conversation continued.

"Have you not thought that Josef will tell them about you? He is in prison, Clara. His life will no doubt be at risk, and to comply may save him."

"He is in love with me!" Snapped Clara.

Van Ralt slammed his palm on to the table surface, rattling the glasses: "He is in love with himself. He'll rat you out and then see out the time while the eagle soars across the seas, hearing word of your hanging on the day he is free'd as a hero."

"Josef wouldn't do that..." Clara sat back in her chair and stared into her drink.

"Do you love him? Well? If you do then you wont mind dying for him, will you?"

Van Ralt yanked a tin from his jacket pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and cut Clara a crooked glance before trudging towards the bar. Clara stared over her whisky at him. Jack sat cradling his frothy ale, scanning the room. He may not have been comfortable but he still liked playing spy. Looking at Clara, her chest became noticeable, but for a different reason: A silver pentagram hung from her neck.