To the consecration

Laila kept turning the pages.

Another article speculated on the motives and intentions of the sect.

It was in this case Satanic followers who rallied around a charismatic leader.

The sect has been repeatedly in the crossfire of the press and even been the focus of various investigations by federal agencies and the FBI.

But you would never have been able to prove criminal activities.

The chief was particularly intelligent and cunning.

Laila looked at Anita.

"How did you get this file?"

"Tamara's godfather and I attended the same private school, he is a successful computer scientist who erased the words 'give up' and 'helpless' from his life - as he always says, oh yes - I told him about you and We are both convinced that it is your destiny to find Tamara and punish her torturers."

Laila looked at Anita irritated.

"My destiny?"

"Yes, look, this is Tamara's full name: Tamara Sibille Jossick, my school friend typed that name into the computer and randomised the letters, which came out the first time." Anita pulled a sheet of white paper from the file and held it out to Laila.

There was a single line in large letters: JESSICASAMKILLATIBOR

Laila spoke the word in a low voice in the room. "What's that supposed to be? That's nonsense."

Anita jumped up and hurried to the large desk in the corner.

She fished a pen from the massive furniture and sat next to Laila on the sofa.

"Look here." Anita drew three quick strokes with the pen.

Laila stared dumbfounded at the sheet.

"Do you see the message, do you suspect, what significance this has for you?" Laila was still staring stunned at the words.

A message? There were four words through Anita's hyphens: JESSICA SAM KILL ATIBOR

"Laila, Jessica sends you a message, the leader of the sect is called Atibor, do you understand what Jessica wants to tell you?"

Laila was cold.

A message from the hereafter, that was crazy.

The computer program had run only a random letter combination. And yet ... "That, that's amazing!" stammered Laila Anita grabbed her shoulders and turned her around.

She took her face in her hands.

Laila saw the feverish glow in her eyes and heard the evocative tone resonating in her words.

"Jessica wants you to fulfil your oath, you promised her, Laila, your soul will never find peace as long as you do not follow your words with deeds, you're the tool, I'm the engine, God is the judge."

Laila was in shock as Anita lifted the two glasses off the table, squeezing one in her hand and looking her in the eye.

"Are we a team?" Laila thought of Jessica, her vow, and Tamara, who was hopefully still alive, but trapped in the clutches of a Satan leader.

What did you take everything for? To cowardly deprive you of your responsibility?

For Jessica, Laila had failed, Tamara would not happen to her.

Softly, Laila pushed her glass against Anita's.

The crystal rang softly, a solemn sound.

Laila nodded to Anita.

"We are a team."

At night, Laila was in her four-poster bed, unable to sleep.

Her thoughts constantly revolved around the conversation with Anita.

Anita, with the help of her fortune and her relationships, supported by Tamara's godfather, had done everything she could to gather as much information as she needed about the sect and its leader, Atibor.

Atibor's real name was Jonathan Taylor.

The followers of his sect were a regular guest in a well-known restaurant Downtown.

The address had found Tamara's uncle on the Internet.

The sect called itself 'Symbolia'.

Their trademark was three intertwined 6s.

The sign of the devil.

Laila knew it from the old 'Omen' movies.

Rumours said that interested visitors to the site who were standing up to an in-depth review were invited to secret meetings.

At these meetings, black masses were held, graves were blighted, and animal sacrifices were made. These meetings usually ended in a wild orgy.

Anita had suggested that Laila should recover from the past strains by the weekend.

Her only job is to participate on the website of 'Symbolia' as an interested newcomer to the numerous forums and chat's.

Tomorrow Tamara's godfather would set up a corresponding technical condition for this.

Laila should spend no more than three hours daily with 'Symbolia'.

If everything went according to plan, they would invite her to the restaurant 'To the consecration' on Friday and in the best case, Laila was already a participant in a secret meeting on Saturday.

Anita would travel back to Mexico on Saturday to settle her family affairs with Miguel.

Tamara's godfather would be at her side during this time.

Laila was looking forward to the next four days.

She would spend a lot of time at the lake and in the spa department of the estate.

She was sure that she would soon be a member of Symbolia.

With Atibor, aka Jonathan Taylor, there would probably be no major difficulties.

Laila was confident that he would soon be able to take him for himself, after all, he was only a man. She thought of the peacemakers in jail, but the orgies of the satanic sect would seem more like a walk.

Tamara's godfather arrived early the next morning.

Laila did not like him.

He was tall, thin, almost gaunt, reminding her of Lapuente with his long, lanky limbs.

Laila guessed him in his early 30s.

The back of his bald head was framed by a wreath of thin, blond hair tied into a ponytail.

The hair was dull and looked as if mice had gnawed on the ends.

He had the same pale complexion as Tamara.

He probably spent his entire life in front of a glowing screen and never sat out the light of day.

Next to narrow, piercing eyes, his narrow, curved nose dominated his face.

She looked like the sharp beak of an eagle.

The top trembled slightly as he spoke.

His voice was low and squeaky, as if he was not used to using it frequently.

So Laila was not surprised that a conversation with him turned out to be very monosyllabic.

But Anita babbled uninterruptedly and Laila was glad that Anita fired enough words per minute that it was enough for all three.

After a cup of coffee Benedict, Tamara's uncle, carried three huge silver Rimowa suitcases into the house.

Laila saw Benedict lift the first up the stairs to her room.

Laila hurried to bring the remaining suitcases upstairs.

She feared that Benedict, who seemed to have only the strength to lower the buttons on a keyboard, could collapse under the weight.

As Benedict began to wire all sorts of technical equipment together and made it functional, a miraculous transformation took place.

He danced elegantly among the implements with his tongue tip, flushed face, and sparkling eyes.

He moved safely and agile.

His fingers flew over the keyboard so fast that Laila was dizzy from watching.

When Benedict was satisfied with the result, he tenderly stroked the 20-inch flat screen that sat on her coffee table.

A sigh came over his lips.

"Nice." Laila leaned in the doorway and looked at him amused.

A real freak.

He motioned Laila to sit next to him.

Together, they stared at the dark screen.

Their outlines were reflected in the smooth surface.

Without looking at Laila , he silently addressed her.

"Will you bring Tamara back?"