Free Department 19: Zero Hour by Will Hill Page B

United Kingdom. Justin pasted the coordinates into the search field at the top of the page and watched as the results were returned almost instantly.
    REGISTERED TO: MINISTRY OF DEFENCE (UK) TERRITORIAL LIST
    ACQUIRED: 12.4.52
    PREVIOUS REGISTRAR: LUX E TENEBRIS FOUNDATION (REG. CHARITY 23494583)
    NOTES: NONE
    “MOD,” breathed Simon, his eyes glued to the screen.
    “Doesn’t mean anything,” said Justin, copying the number of the charity to his clipboard. “I told you they own most of East Anglia.”
    “I know, but …”
    “Just hang on, all right. Let me do this.”
    Simon fell silent as Justin pasted the number into a search engine and hit ENTER. The results were minimal; the Lux E Tenebris Foundation was apparently concerned with architectural preservation, was indeed a listed charity, and had a registered address on Piccadilly in Central London. There was nothing else – no website, no contact information. Justin took the Piccadilly address back to the Land Registry and hit SEARCH.
    “Holy shit,” said Simon.
    “Bingo,” said Justin.
    REGISTERED TO: LUX E TENEBRIS FOUNDATION (REG. CHARITY 23494583)
    ACQUIRED: 5.7.24
    PREVIOUS REGISTRAR: ESTATE OF ARTHUR HOLMWOOD, LORD GODALMING
    NOTES: NONE
    “Arthur Holmwood,” said Simon. “He was in
Dracula
. Supposedly Bram Stoker knew him. McKenna named him in his article, mate. Said he was one of the founders of Blacklight.”
    “See the name of the charity?”
    “
Light out of darkness,
” translated Simon.
    “Right. Fits, doesn’t it?”
    “Yeah,” said Simon. “Makes sense, mate. If McKenna was right, and they’ve been keeping this whole thing a secret since the nineteenth century, then why wouldn’t that be how they see it? Them in the light, the rest of us in the dark.”
    “Like kids,” said Justin, his voice low. “Like children who can’t think for ourselves. Who need
them
to look after us.”
    “Well, screw that,” said Simon, and grinned at his friend. “Let’s send this to a few people. Then we’ll see how in control of everything they really are. Because, if
they’re
real, then that means there’s a good chance everything else McKenna wrote was true as well. Which means vampires, mate. Actual vampires, out there right now.”
    “It’s all true,” said Justin, tearing his gaze away from the screen and fixing Simon with a solemn expression. “I’m sure of it. It fits together too well to be anything else. Blacklight are real, just like Kevin McKenna said they were, before someone killed him. They’re real, and we found them.”
    “Send it,” said Simon. “The images, the links, the whole thing. Send it and let’s see what happens.”
    Justin opened an email and began copying and pasting the images and URLs, feeling a trickle of excitement make its way up from his stomach, a trickle that felt like it was on the verge of exploding into a roaring torrent. When the attachments and links were in place, he wrote three words in the subject line.
    Check this out
    Justin clicked on the RECIPIENTS field. “Who should I send it to?” he asked.
    Simon smiled. “I think everyone in the PhD programme would be a good start.”
    “Every PhD candidate in the college?” asked Justin.
    “In the university,” said Simon. “The entire university.”
    Justin reached for the keyboard, then paused. “I’m logged in as me,” he said. “They’re going to know I sent it.”
    Simon shrugged. “Log out and send it from a public access account. But you did the searches from your login, so I reckon you’re already screwed if someone decides to take a close look.”
    “Thanks,” said Justin. “That’s really reassuring.”
    “Just send it, you pussy,” said Simon, and clapped his friend hard on the back. “Do you want to live forever?”
    “That was the plan,” said Justin, forcing a weak smile. He loaded an email group called CAM_EDU/PHD/ALL, took a deep breath, and clicked SEND.
    “Done,” he said, and exhaled loudly. “It’s