by Ciaran Nagle
The
Code War
Ciaran Nagle
Copyright © 2015 Ciaran Nagle
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1507765290
ISBN-13: 978-1507765296
For Gill who has loved me twice as much as I deserve for half my life and Alex who has halved my worries and doubled my pride every year since he was born.
Cast of Characters
In alphabetical order, important characters in bold.
Very minor characters have been omitted.
Agatha - angel, specialist in code-breaking
Andy - student archaeologist
Bezejel - beautiful high caste demoness
Chan (and Jo) - engineer angels
Chopper Kwok - triad society leader
Dan Kelly - police inspector, Hong Kong
David - travel agency manager, Nancy's boss
Fatty Lo - triad society boss
Habib - Arab regional leader of crime gang
Hideki - Colonel of Intelligence in Inferno
Holzman - demon soldier
Jabez - angel in charge of rescue team
Jenny - triad hostess
Jo (and Chan) - engineer angels
Kodrob - captain of military squad in Inferno
Lafarge - demon soldier
Lafi - African drug-runner
Luke - angel and friend of Jabez
Mars Ma - triad gangster
Martin - student archaeologist
Mel - colleague of Nancy
Monkey (Fu Yip) - triad society boss
Mya Ling - 19th century Chinese princess
Nancy - London travel agent
Nescafé Mao - triad gangster
Pete - student archaeologist
Ruth - high-ranking angel
Shai - great uncle of Nancy
Wonton Chiang - triad gangster
Zhivkin - demon soldier
Prologue
China, 1859
Inferno's fallen angels basked in their achievement, circling the airs above the city and smirking and nudging while they watched the smoke plumes boil. Storm sprites hearkened to the crickle crackle of the burning bamboo roofs and flew in, casually whirling up a wind around a so-so fire and fanning it to a blaze. Home from home. Faces of weeping children, their tears making rivers through the grime of their cheeks gazed from the roadsides and searched the scurrying crowds for a homecoming ma or pa. They searched long. Orphans of three and four with celery-stick arms wailed beside babes in rags while table-carrying neighbours rushed for the city exits.
Still the artillery came in, arcing unseen with unpredictable destination. Lightning doesn't strike one place twice. But cannonballs do. And then don't, insolently pulverising a factory or slum that had lain unaccountably untouched as if blessed. No blessings today. Not for the poor who had not the means to leave Nanjing before now, believing their gods would yet intervene and save their starving skins. Not for the rich who fled with their gold while over their shoulders their opulent manors burned and their fountains erupted in shards of hot iron and brick.
Many stayed where they were, paralysed into inaction by the thought of worse horrors outside the city walls. They sought solace with their faith and waited for the gate of the hereafter to present its one-way arch towards them, beckoning them beneath it towards a land where rice bowls were never empty and ancestors came bearing gifts.
But the brave, the desperate and the young took their stoutest boots and headed down the blasted roads towards the river and the ocean. Talk of breakthroughs and breakouts brought men together in unlikely alliances and always there hovered in front of them the unspoken destination, the dream of dreams, the beautiful country across the seas, America. Rumours of relief ships and plucky captains sent by émigré sympathisers continued to circulate among the credulous. When all hope faded the human breast created hope anew. When that hope, too, died, the breast created more in a circle of phoenix-like perpetual motion that defied all reason.
If the infernal angels who wept in delight at the chaos beneath them had turned their misty eyes towards the south-west they would have seen a smaller procession. These few, outside the ring of uniforms that choked the city, had achieved the impossible, a landward flight. Three men, a woman and a mule. Their story should have been at an end. But it was not. It was stumbling towards its beginning.
The mule clopped slowly along the stony path below several terraces of destroyed rice paddies. Nanjing City lay behind, still on fire. Thick smoke and the smell of burning flesh filled the air for miles around. Ahead, Tsuen Liu's destination for the day, was a low farmhouse building at the centre of several pig fields. There were no pigs to be seen. The pig huts were smashed or burnt. A thick flock of magpies in a field beyond picked at some dead creature, leaping onto its ribs and jabbing inside its carcase with their hard beaks.
Tsuen looked anxiously behind. These days an enemy was anyone who was hungry. Whether they were the Qing or the rebels meant little. And since everyone was hungry it meant there were enemies everywhere.
He turned to his fellow travellers and studied them while they caught him up.
Hong Li-Zhang the merchant had either hidden or thrown away his expensive cuff-links. Good.
Mya Ling's military coat covered most of her body. But he could see some silk around her ankles and wrists. And she still wore her pretty jade earrings, a magnet for robbers. That was pure foolishness. He must speak to her about that. Their fourth companion, Li, was stretched sideways over the mule. Tsuen slapped him on the back anxiously and the old man mustered a groan. Still alive then.
'Here we sleep the night. With their approval if the owners give it. Without their approval if they don't.' He took an old western flintlock pistol from the mule's saddle, underneath Li's leg, loaded a ball and primed it with powder from his pouch.
Using the mule as cover, the three approached the farmhouse. Tsuen kept the pistol ready, but out of sight.
There was no handle on the door and it swung open easily. No lights welcomed them in. No smell of barbecued meat beckoned them. The farm was deserted.
'Choose the driest room and lay out the leathers there,' called Tsuen. He and Hong pulled Li from the back of the mule and carried him indoors. Mya Ling lit a candle and placed it in the hearth. They carefully stretched Li out on the leather rain cover and Hong put a folded coat under his head. 'I'll get some firewood,' called Hong, going out into the dark. Tsuen Liu and Mya Ling unpacked the baggage, the cooking pots and their last half jar of brown rice.
An hour later while the pot of rice was heating up in the hearth, Li raised his head a little and opened his eyes. He called the three together. They gathered around him, fearfully, respectfully.
'I've eaten all the rice, pork and cabbage that were allotted to me on the day I came into this world,' Li began. 'I can't be bothered with the banquet of crab and beef you're preparing. Nor the oysters and sweet cakes you've laid out. I've had too much rich food these last months and it's rotting my teeth. Nor do I want your new rice wine or your old imported whisky, you can put them away.'
Mya Ling peeked underneath the bandage around his side. She'd pick out the maggots later with a clean wood splinter when he'd fallen asleep. The smell of the putrefying flesh whipped their noses but none of them showed any emotion or attempted to raise their scarf over their face.
Li raised himself up jerkily on one elbow, panting with the effort and pointing a shaky hand towards Hong. The skin hung off his arm like bedsheets on drying poles. But his eyes were bright and his voice became as strong and rich as if he'd suddenly mislaid three score of his winters.
'I am the Mountain Master, the Dragon Lord, the Brother of Brothers.'
His audience bowed their heads in renewed respect
and fear. These words were enough to have them all tongued, limb-amputated to the torso and chained in a rat-field if the ruling Qing should hear of them.
'But you all knew this moment would come and so it is good that you have pampered me and made me fat. But now I am going to promote you two Tsuen Liu and Hong Li-Zhang in the Fellowship of Brothers, for all my other marshals are dead, killed by one crowd of fools or the other. Who cares which? Henceforth you will both be equals and if you survive this war you will take over my contacts, my friendships, my holdings, my deals but most importantly you will take over Brother.'
The two men looked at each other.
Hong spoke for both. 'But Master Li, you must not leave us equal, that way we will be rivals.'
'Not so Ah Hong. Remember that in Brother you are now brothers. In brotherhood there is no rivalry for if one sibling prospers so does the other. You were not born with the ties of kinship. But I now bind you together as if you were flesh from flesh. In a moment you will both cut your hands and mingle your blood. As the blood is red, so will be your fraternity.'
Tsuen Liu was overtaken by the moment. 'Only give me your knife, master, and we will do this deed now.'
'Let me be the one to cut myself first, only say the word.' Hong was not to be outdone.
'Patience Ah Tsuen and Ah Hong. For I have not finished. You know that in the matter of physic, the triangle is the strongest form, moreso than a square or any other. The foreigners have embodied this in their mystical god, he with the three heads. Here in China we have our own triangle, the triad of heaven, earth and man. Conveniently, fate has arranged matters that as I prepare to leave this Earth and go to my ancestors, I also am able to hand over Brother to a triad.'
The rice was cooked and Li paused while Hong took the pan from its iron stand in the fire and placed it on the brick hearth to rest. Li's breath was rattling through his chest, the phlegm bubbling and scraping like a spade in wet gravel. His blood had become septic and the poison was spreading rapidly through his body. He began speaking again, his face composed as if he knew his time was short.
'Mya Ling, I have watched you these last few months as you have travelled with us. The emperor was cruel to expel you, princess. But his foolishness is my joy. You say little, but I know you are possessed of a fierce mind and even fiercer ambition. I cannot force this upon you but, if you will it, I would bind you to your new brothers. Give me your hand.'
Mya Ling edged forward on her knees, head low, eyes fiercely concentrated. She grasped Li's hand and held it tight.
'Mya Ling, is it your will that you take Tsuen Liu and Hong Li-Zhang as your brothers and they take you as their sister until the end of your days and that the bond you three make here will be stronger than any bond of friendship, love or marriage that you may make hereafter?'
Mya Ling answered immediately with her clear upper-class intonation. 'It is my will, Master Li. It is my most urgent will.' Li smiled, pleased at Mya Ling's emphatic reply.
'Then, Mya Ling, you are no longer a lonely butterfly, free to the air. You have tied yourself to your new brothers. You three are now family. You are triad. You are Brother. Take my knife from my side and all of you cut your hands and let your blood join and become one in symbol of what your hearts have agreed.'
The knife was passed from one to the next. Magenta droplets fell to the ground as palms were taken and pressed together and eyes met around the new-born circle of triplets.
'The deed is done. You are family. You are Brother.' Li coughed again and a glob of red-streaked phlegm oozed from his mouth and crept down his chin like a wounded slug. Mya Ling pressed her arm to his face, wiping away the phlegm with her silken cuff.
'When I am gone your new names must be named,' Li continued, wheezing. 'But by you, not by me. You must swear to each other and take the names that belong to you. You know what they are.'
Steam rose weakly from the rice. There was nothing to add to it, not even salt or a few wild grasshoppers. Outside, a wind arose and blew down the Yangtze River valley, fanning the flames in the once great city of Nanjing. Change was coming. The old order was being destroyed and a new era was awakening.
They sat back and ate the cool rice, not bothering to wash their hands. Li told tales of Old Cathay, of warriors and traitors and kings and sailors. As his mind began to ramble his stories described dragons and spirits and charms and magic. They tucked him up and wiped the droplets from his brow. And while they slept, his spirit stole away and in the morning they awoke and buried his body, deep, where neither magpie nor fox would despoil it.
Then they stood solemnly and took their new secret names and re-affirmed their oath. They resolved that the House of Brother would endure and bring prosperity so that they and their children and their childrens' children would never be poor again.
And they swore that no-one outside of Brother would ever be allowed to stand in their way.
Summer 1978
Ealing Holidays, Ealing Broadway, London
It was 11am and the sales hubbub in the travel shop was nearing its peak. Telexes came in simultaneously from Majorca and Crete, chattering their sandy promises and spilling out their urgent tapes on the floor. Families pored over brochures, wondering what unmissable holiday bargain to buy. Their fingers in their pockets were already fondling their overloaded credit cards. Agents watched their clients' delirious eyes and waited for the moment to strike. That villa in Corfu, sir? It might be gone by tomorrow. Maybe this afternoon. It's a great offer. Want to grab it while you can? Shame to let it go. All right then, let's see if it's still available, shall we?
From the rear of the shop came a slender, willowy figure, stepping over the serpentine phone lines. Nancy's skirt bounced high as she lifted her legs, daintily avoiding the telephonic trip wires and skipping her way between the two rows of desks. She cast bright smiles at the children and mums, her radiance in perfect harmony with their dreams of sun and sea. Dads noticed only the softness of her knees and the dash of her hips as she sped by. Their credit cards edged another centimetre out of their pockets as they contemplated lazy afternoons, starry nights, children in bed and the prospect of more sex in a week than they normally got in an entire school term. They breathed in deeply as they concentrated afresh on the blue pools and palmed hotels in front of them. They exchanged looks with their wives. Looks became nods as doubts began to be erased. Nods became yesses. Yesses became credit cards openly displayed in hands. Nancy had sold three holidays without saying a word. Other agents' holidays.
Her colleagues lost no time in reaping the reward of her timely sally through the shop. They beamed at their new customers like old friends as they sealed the deal with ballpoints on dotted lines. And while they slipped flexible plastic into unforgiving card machines and zik-zakked the slider back and forth, Nancy regained her desk at the front and patted her blank booking forms.
The space in front of her was empty. There was no affluent family itching to spend their winter salary on a spring break. No elderly couple celebrating retirement with a cruise. Her phone didn't ring. The noise behind her was deafening. The silence around her was even louder.
She looked sideways at Mel on the next desk and smiled.
'I'm going to get rich customers today, I can just feel it,' she called out cheerfully. 'Probably a retired couple who want a yacht in Turkey. And a millionaire who needs a villa in Tuscany. And a party of eight wanting to go skiing in Chamonix next winter.'
'Not a chance, Nance. Not with your luck,' retorted Mel in derision. 'Knowing you, you'll get a Chelsea pensioner wanting a weekend in Torquay. And that's if you're lucky. I think we should call you 'not a chance, Nance', that's your new nickname.'
'No, it's definitely millionaire week. I can feel it,' replied Nancy, stretching her hands up into the air as though she could change her fortune by reaching for the stars. 'My usual magnetic attraction to the permanently penniless is over. Done for. Consigned to the grave.' And she washed her hands in the air over her waste paper b
in with a sideways grin to Mel before shaking off the imaginary water.
'Anyway, talking of luck, how's yours?' Nancy went on the offensive. 'Any sign of the boyfriend situation improving? You can't go on getting rejected by every chap you fancy. Your bad luck can't last for ever.' Nancy gave Mel a victorious smile.
Revenge was sweet.
'Oh, don't talk to me about it,' conceded Mel. 'If I show a boy I like him, it frightens him off. And if I play it cool they think I'm hard work. Then they go and chat up someone else. It's so long since I've had any male attention, it's hardly worth putting on make-up.'
'Oh, do you put on make-up?' And Nancy looked at Mel with such innocence that for a moment her workmate went pale and her face fell like a drooping ghost. But a moment later a ruler flew past Nancy's ear and as she took cover Mel called out 'Nancy Kay, I'll get you for that. I'll put chilli in your sandwiches. I'll put itching powder on the toilet seat before you go. I'll…'
But by now both girls were laughing too hard to continue the threats and they both looked behind them to see if they were being watched.
'Listen,' said Mel eventually, putting her hand to her cheek. 'Actually, I am getting some attention. Of that sort. But it's from the wrong person.'
'Oh?' said Nancy, now intrigued.
Mel looked behind her, guardedly. She turned back to Nancy and then began pointing to the back of the shop with her left hand which only Nancy could see. 'David,' she said. 'He keeps asking me out.'
Nancy's eyes opened wide. 'David,' she whispered back. 'Our manager? But he's married.'
'I don't think that's ever stopped him. Rumour has it a girl left here last year because she was pregnant. And it wasn't the fairies.' She gave a meaningful look.
'That's terrible,' agreed Nancy.
