Captain Taylor Turn 7

You package up your notes and send them off to Quantico. The clerk nods as you hand him the package and you then head out into the gently falling snow. The sidewalks are slippery and encrusted in dark, grimy snow. Traffic hammers past, under the stark fluorescent lights. Being somewhere else seems very attractive right now. “Vampire” - Agent schwarzkopf - said that the rest of the group were in San Francisco at the moment. Temperatures in the mid fifties. Still, the job’s the thing. With that thought, you hail a taxi and head for your rendezvous.

The hotel foyer is plush, and you are obviously expected as the receptionist points you towards the lift without question. You step out onto the fifth floor and head for the room. The door opens promptly when you knock, and a gentleman introduces himself as Henry Larsen. Behind him you can see a second man waving some sort of electronic device at the wall.

“Come in and have a seat” instructs Larsen. You do so, and he offers you something from the mini bar. While he is getting a couple of beers out you unlock your briefcase and produce the manual and chip. Larsen turns round and his eyes light up. He questions you about the chip, and you manage to side step the question of exactly how you acquired it. While Larsen is talking to you, the second guy has attached the chip to a PC set up in the corner of the room and appears to be running some sort of diagnostic program.

Larsen shifts the direction of the conversation and you find yourself fielding questions about the Review’s work, and your own beliefs, You recognise some of the techniques and deftly field them, making yourself out to be the archetypal “concerned citizen”. Larsen seems satisfied and excuses himself. He talks briefly, and quietly, to the other man, who nods several times in response to murmured questions. Larsen then turns and picks up the phone. He speaks briefly in a language you don’t speak. German, probably. He looks round.

“Captain Taylor, one of my superiors would like to speak to you…”

You collect the handset. A very “correct” voice speaks…

“Captain Taylor, a pleasure to finally speak to you. I have read your work in the Review’s newsletter with some interest. I consider you to be a fine citizen. Your work to restore truth to historical accounts is creditable. I think that you can help us to restore the pre-eminence of naturally superior racial strains; your position in the Government could be very useful to us.

“I’d like you to attend a special seminar I am arranging later this month. For security reasons I cannot yet say where it will be held, but it will last for several days and cover a number of topics of mutual interest.”

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