by Tom Hunter
The doctor flushed, tugging at his collar as if needing more air. “If you do not feel that waterboarding would be a good approach, there are other alternatives. For example, you could use slivers of bamboo under her fingernails. It will not cause any life threatening injuries, but the sensation is excruciating. In my experience, those who are subjected to it become very willing to reveal all their secrets in next to no time.”
“You really are a wondrous creature,” Pin observed, fixing the medic with a mesmerising stare. The gold thread in the papal cap glittered and sparkled, almost seeming to have a life of its own as he spoke. “For one who professes to care so much about saving lives, you seem surprisingly willing to inflict lifelong psychological scars on a frail old lady. I suppose it is easy to make recommendations when you are not the one who’ll have to follow them through. But what if I asked you to carry out your suggestions? After all, you are the medical professional. I have no idea how much water to use or how deep a bamboo laceration can go. Could you bear the burden of the emotional toll resulting from your ideas? Could you look that innocent woman in the eyes? Could you face the very real psychological harm caused by your actions? Will you be there to mop her brow when she wakes screaming in the night, suffering from flashbacks? Will you hold her hand and tell her that everything will be all right, knowing full well that your words are a lie?”
“Stop it!” screamed the doctor, clutching at his temples as if to drive away the visions created by Pin’s words. “I can’t bear it. Please, Esteemed Master, forgive my terrible idea. You are right. It was foolish of me to recommend a different course of action. I will follow your lead and obey your orders in all respects. It is clear that you know best when it comes to dealing with this woman. I will go tend to your subject’s wounds and prepare her for what’s to come.”
He bowed deeply and backed out of the room, closing the door gently behind him.
“Well, well, well,” grinned Pin, as he removed the hat from his head. He looked at it, unable to wipe the broad beam from his face. “This could well come in handy tomorrow. It seems that I am starting to master your abilities after all. Perhaps Fatima is not as essential as I previously assumed.”
He patted the cap as if it were a puppy, ignoring the now slightly greasy feel of its material.
Eight
Samuel and his team shuffled down the aisle running along the middle of the small plane as they made their way to their seats.
“This is me,” Samuel announced, checking the seat number on his ticket against the row number. He moved to take the window seat, pulling out a small notebook from his backpack before stowing his bag underneath the seat in front of him. Shafira sat down next to him, while Basile and Josh were immediately behind. Waleed and Akhenaton carried on down the plane to reach their seats, which were right at the back of the plane.
As the aircraft taxied out to the runway, Samuel started flicking through his notebook.
“What are you reading?” asked Shafira.
“This?” Samuel held the pages open so she could see his scribbles. “These are just my notes on what I’ve learned so far. I’m a compulsive diarist. I guess that when you always have to write extensive reports on each dig’s progress, you get into the habit of writing down everything you’ve observed. I’ve carried on recording our mission, just in case something happens that might be important later. So much has happened that it’s impossible to remember it all, but the devil’s in the details. You never know when it’ll be important to recall something that seemed unimportant at the time.”
“You mean like when Fatima unlocked the car doors?”
“That’s exactly it.”
The plane suddenly accelerated, pushing Shafira back in her seat. Instinctively, she reached out for Samuel’s hand, needing some reassurance that the plane’s movement was completely normal.
“Sorry,” she blushed when she realized what she’d done, pulling away.
“That’s fine,” Samuel smiled, making her blush even more. “Do you fancy brainstorming what I’ve written? Maybe you’ll see something I missed.”
“I’d be honored,” Shafira nodded to hide her red cheeks, self-consciously tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“Let’s keep our voices down,” Samuel advised. “You never know who might be listening. In fact, it’s probably best if we write notes to each other. You know, for extra security.”
“Good idea,” whispered Shafira, the pair of them giggling at how silly it felt, like they were naughty schoolkids at the back of the class.
“So, I was wondering how the relic affects minds if its mechanism is based on the principles of déjà vu and the theory of deathless souls,” Samuel scribbled in the back of his book. “How could that work in practice? We don’t have enough information to figure it out yet.”
“So let’s set that to one side,” Shafira suggested. “Does it matter if we don’t understand how it works? Let’s accept that it does and figure out the implications of that.”
“I’m wondering about the significance of St. Augustine’s descendants,” Samuel said. “I mean, it’s possible that anyone can use the hat, but not everyone’s going to get the same results. If a descendant of St. Augustine can improve the impact of the cap’s powers, then maybe it affects minds based on their connection to the wielder.”
“What, like physical proximity you mean?” Shafira suggested. “Or are you talking about blood relatives?”
“The latter,” Samuel nodded. “I’m really curious about the importance of bloodlines. It clearly mattered to St. Augustine.”
“Well, he was a religious man,” Shafira observed. “And religiously speaking, as far as he was concerned, Man originated from the Garden of Eden. So in theory, that would mean that the relic could be used on anyone, since everyone is connected to humanity’s progenitor according to Christian theology.”
“Mmm.” Samuel shook his head. “Not so much. There’s the Other People theory, which St. Augustine would probably have been familiar with.”
“What’s that?”
“When Cain was banished from Eden for murdering his brother, he tells God that he’s worried about the other people killing him. God promises to protect him, but they both are clearly aware that Adam and Eve and their children aren’t the only people around. So in theory, you could be a descendant of these other people and not one of God’s chosen. Then of course you’ve got the fact that the existence of the Garden of Eden has never been proven. While St. Augustine was a devoutly religious man, he was also an intellectual. While I accept that the papal cap works in a mysterious fashion that we haven’t yet deciphered, I don’t believe that there’s anything magical about it. I think it’s completely scientific, even if we don’t understand the science. I’m wondering whether there’s something in St. Augustine’s DNA that linked into the hat and it’s this that amplifies its abilities for his descendants.”
“It’s possible,” Shafira agreed. “It would be useful if we could take blood samples, get them analyzed. That would give us some indication to whether you’re on the right track.”
“But that’ll take time, and time’s a luxury we can’t afford,” sighed Samuel.
“I still think that you’re onto something, though,” said Shafira. “I agree that there’s a solid scientific principle behind all of St. Augustine’s relics. After all, déjà vu has long been thought to be something mystical, but recent scientific research suggests that it has a mundane explanation. For example, many seizure victims have reported feeling a sensation of déjà vu right before they have a fit. That would suggest that it might be linked to the temporal lobe. Perhaps the relic somehow stimulates the temporal lobe to induce that feeling of familiarity.”
“Right. And familiarity equates comfort,” Samuel remarked. “We all know that people who feel comfortable in a particular situation are more likely to do something out of the ordinary. A gang of teenagers will throw rocks at windows or go shoplifting together because they
’ve got the support of their friends. Get one of them alone and it’s much harder for them to get up the courage to do that sort of thing.”
“Exactly,” Shafira agreed. “And that’s what really concerns me about St. Augustine’s hat. Let’s assume for a moment that it could be used to induce that comforting, familiar sensation on a global scale. Now combine that with a hypnotic suggestion that something is true, even if it’s mere propaganda. The Bruard could use that mind manipulation to devastating effect. Few people will speak out against them. It won’t be that they wouldn’t dare to; it wouldn’t even occur to them that something’s wrong.”
She grabbed Samuel’s forearm, her eyes widening in horror. “Samuel, this is even worse than we thought. And the Bruard already have the hat. Even without the other relics to unleash its full potential, they still have a powerful weapon in their possession.”
“Don’t worry.” Samuel put his hand over hers to reassure her. “We’ll make sure the Bruard don’t get a chance to use the hat against anyone.”
He reached out to brush that same stray strand of hair out of her face, smiling encouragingly. For a moment longer than was strictly necessary, his hand lingered against her cheek. Shafira closed her eyes to savor the sensation of his touch.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to commence our descent. Would you please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.”
Deep in conversation, Samuel and Shafira didn’t fully appreciate the pilot’s announcement at first. It wasn’t until the air stewards came walking down the aisle, checking that everyone’s seatbelt was fastened, that Samuel snapped shut his notebook, tucking it into his shirt breast pocket. Meanwhile Shafira fumbled about in her purse, looking for a distraction rather than anything specific.
“Thanks for the discussion, Shafira,” Samuel finally remarked. “You’ve really helped me put a few things in perspective.”
“Any time,” came the reply.
As Samuel sat back in his seat, buckling up his lap belt in preparation for landing, he saw Basile heading down the aisle towards him, on his way back from the rest room. Basile glanced from Samuel to Shafira and back again, raising his eyebrows slightly at the body language between the two of them.
Samuel narrowed his eyes and shook his head slightly, warning his friend not to make any clever comments. Basile took the hint, and went to his seat, as their pilot flew them ever closer to their destination.
Nine
“Why did you have to bring an extra bag, Samuel?” complained Waleed as they waited for the luggage carousel to bring their suitcases round. “Why couldn’t you be like me and just have hand luggage? You’re the one that’s always going on about how we’re up against the clock. Think about how much time we could save if we didn’t have to wait to retrieve your things every time we flew somewhere.”
“Maybe I don’t want to smell like you,” Samuel retorted good naturedly, reaching out for his suitcase as it approached, while Basile helped Shafira with her things.
“You should be so lucky!” scoffed Basile. “Given how large your laundry pile was in your tent, I can’t believe that it’s so important to you to cart clean clothes around the world.”
“You’re right. It isn’t,” Samuel admitted. “However, while I might not have brought many clothes, there is essential equipment in my case. Wasn’t it you who was advising us on the importance of being prepared for all outcomes?”
He pulled his suitcase off the carousel and the group headed out towards the nearest car rental place. As they walked, Waleed grabbed Samuel by the elbow, pulling him to one side.
“Speaking of being prepared, now would be a good time for me to go and make some connections,” he hissed. “Give me a few hours, and I’ll have sourced the weaponry we need to protect ourselves.”
“You’re not still going on about that, are you?” Shafira rolled her eyes, coming to walk on the other side of Samuel. “Basile, get over here, will you? Talk some sense into your friend.”
“What’s up?” The Frenchman came to join the conversation, Josh and Akhenaton close behind.
“This was meant to be a discrete discussion between equals,” sighed Waleed. “A large group like us will only attract attention from the security guards if we stand around talking. Do you want me to go and get some firearms or not, Samuel?”
“Sûrement pas!” protested Basile. “Surely not, Samuel. You can’t seriously be entertaining this ridiculous notion? I thought we talked about this before the flight and agreed against it.”
“I didn’t make any decision,” Samuel pointed out. “I still haven’t. But I must admit that I’m inclined to prepare for the worst. We have no idea what information the Bruard have been able to get out of Fatima. They may be heading here right now. Wouldn’t you feel safer if we could defend ourselves against them?”
“But we’re talking about Waleed here,” Basile remonstrated. “Do you really want to trust him? And with a gun, no less?”
Samuel opened his mouth to answer, but Akhenaton stepped forward.
“I’ll go with him,” he offered. “I’ll make sure he stays out of trouble.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” grumbled Waleed, as Samuel nodded slowly.
“I insist,” Akhenaton said firmly. “Don’t think of me as a babysitter. Think of me as… backup.”
“I must admit that I’d feel better with you there,” Samuel agreed. “All right. Let’s do it. Shafira, can you do a search on your cell for the nearest hotel?”
“Sure.” Shafira took out her cell and started looking for somewhere for them to stay.
“While she’s doing that, Waleed, I seem to recall that you mentioned needing the funds to buy the weapons,” Samuel went on. “How much do you think you’ll need?”
Waleed grinned in victory, as Josh tutted and shook his head.
“You’ve made a wise decision, my friend,” he observed. “If we had more time, I could negotiate a good price for us. As it is, we’ll be paying a premium for a quick result with no questions asked. Two thousand US dollars ought to cover it.”
“Two thousand dollars?” gasped Basile loudly, making one of the guards look over at them suspiciously.
“Keep your voice down,” scolded Waleed. “Yes, two thousand dollars. And it’ll be pushing it at that price.”
“Samuel, you mustn’t give him a dime,” Basile advised. “It would appear that he’s just been biding his time to get money out of you another way. Give him two thousand dollars and you’ll never see it again. He’ll just run off and spend it on himself.”
Akhenaton glared at Basile. “Are you telling me that I can’t be trusted to keep Waleed on track? Because I’m more than happy to prove my ability. Samuel may have bested me in battle, but I highly doubt you’ll be able to repeat his performance.”
“Heavens save me from the egos of men!” exclaimed Shafira. “Will you all just quit arguing? Samuel, I’ve found a hotel. Unfortunately, when I do a search for hotels near the airport, most of the results are hundreds of miles away. I have found a guest house not far from here though and it’s got easy access to the railway as well. It looks like it would make a good base for us to plan our next step.”
She turned her cell around so that everyone could see the screen.
“Hotel Nubiatbara,” Akhenaton read, making a mental note of the address. “Even though it says ‘guest house’ below. Got it.”
“Good.” Shafira gazed around at the men she was traveling with, looking each of them in the eye. “Now I want you all to listen to me and listen carefully. We have to stop arguing like this. We have to start trusting each other. Otherwise we might as well give up and go home now. Now, if a couple of guns means that we can protect ourselves from the Bruard, then I don’t mind paying for them. I trust Akhenaton to keep to his word, which means that, by extension, I trust Waleed. All I ask is that you get the best price you can and give any leftover cash back to me. Working for the Department doesn’t pay that well.”
“I swear that I won’t spend anything that I don’t have to,” Waleed promised. “And thank you for your faith in me. The rest of you would do well to follow her example.”
Josh looked like he was about to argue, but Shafira glared at him. He left his thoughts unsaid.
“There’s an ATM over there.” Shafira pointed to it. “Waleed, Akhenaton, come with me. I’m willing to dip into my savings to fund your endeavor.”
“Thanks.” Akhenaton nodded and the three of them turned to leave, but Samuel spoke up.
“You shouldn’t have to do that, Shafira,” he told her. “Let me give them the cash. You shouldn’t have to squander your savings like this.”
“No.” Shafira shook her head firmly. “I want to do it. We’re a team, remember? Which means that we all share the load.” She softened her tone. “It’s really important to me that I do this, Samuel. Please. Let me give them the money.”
“Fine.” Samuel threw up his hands in surrender. “Do what you must.”
He watched as Shafira led the two men over to the ATM before turning to Josh and Basile. “All right, you two. Let’s go and see if we can get an off road vehicle from the car rental.”
He stalked off, forcing Josh and Basile to hurry to keep up with him.
“I can’t say I agree with your decision, but at least you’re keeping Waleed on a short leash,” Basile observed. “That much I can approve of, even though it goes against all that BS Shafira’s been spouting about us being a team.”
“Yeah, well, she had a point, but it’s going to take me a while before I can feel comfortable letting Waleed out on his own,” Samuel confessed. “I listened to him talking to Akhenaton the other night and he seemed sincere in his wish to help us defeat the Bruard. If what he was saying is true, he deserves a shot at proving himself. And if he was stringing us along…” He shrugged. “Akhenaton’s more than capable of keeping him out of trouble. I suggest that we get to the rendezvous point and wait for them there. If nothing else, it’ll give us a chance to get a few hours’ sleep, freshen up a little.” He held his nose, pretending to waft away a smell. “You could certainly do with a shower.”
