The Code War

by Ciaran Nagle

  A silence ensued while Bezejel studied Kodrob's face intently. The other Marauders remained rooted to the floor, only their eyes flicking nervously as they tried to see what was going on. At last she relaxed and the ends of her full lips turned up slightly.

  'Well, Kodrob,' she said, suddenly charming, though maintaining her steady gaze into his eyes. 'Maybe my sources were right and you and I will get along after all.'

  Then Bezejel's mood flipped as if someone had turned a switch. Kodrob would come to see this as one of her defining characteristics. She placed her hands lightly on her hips, swishing her elegant dress and taking in the figures of his squad who were standing as still as chess pieces.

  'All right, listen up all of you and pay attention. Bezejel is in a good mood today, thanks to your dashing captain. I can't be bothered with being grumpy when there's work on. It's not productive. It's time to have a fireside chat and get acquainted. We're going to do words and looks around the table, not burns and hooks on the wall. We'll be all cosy and matey-like, how does that sound?'

  She walked around the room, picking up fallen chairs and patting down the collars of relieved Marauders while administering gracious smiles to all. Gone was the killer wolf-mother and in had come the drawing room princess paying court to her favourite nobles.

  'So much to be done and so little time to do it,' she chatted amiably. 'I just don't know where the day has gone.'

  But no-one doubted that she could switch back just as easily.

  'Now sit down all of you while I explain what we're about.' She set herself in the most comfortable chair in the room and motioned them to gather round her in a semi-circle.

  Gog and Magog, who had remained impassive throughout, stood guarding the door. No-one was leaving.

  Kodrob and his subordinates took their seats awkwardly. They expected to be bullied by a senior red priestess like Bezejel, not seated with her as though almost equal.

  'You're all under orders to keep this information absolutely secret,' she began quietly but firmly. 'You don't share this with anyone. Not your mates and not your whores.'

  They all nodded in unison, 'Yes ma'am.'

  Bezejel took out a knife and tumbled it through her fingers. 'Every few hundred years on Earth someone comes along who's very special. Very special indeed. In Earth's twentieth century we got lucky and had a couple of great supporters. Both took a long time to get going. One was an uneducated peasant with a drunk for a dad. The other was a homeless orphan who often slept rough.'

  The Marauders nodded, knowing very well who she was speaking about. Kodrob looked around the table. This was a new experience for them. His boys were used to being treated like dogs by senior officers. But here they were being given the inside track, the full political philosophy of Hell from a female right at the top. This mission must be really important.

  Bezejel continued. 'Tyrants don't start out powerful. They become that way through circumstances. The important thing is this: both of those men came from shattered beginnings. Broken-down families are our friends. They bring us many recruits. Those men set out to piece the world together. Instead they broke the world in pieces and brought us many fortunate souls in the process.' Bezejel's eyes had gone black, like a cat before the pounce. 'Sadly, they overreached themselves and burnt out too quick.'

  She looked across at the wall. The charcoal Leader gazed back, inspiring her.

  'Civilisation recovered quickly and they've had peace and order on an appalling scale. It's distressing to watch so many children growing up without ever having to fight for their lives. We watch them being sold the emptiness of unadventurous prosperity and being told the lie that it's good to look after the weak. Look at me closely, while I spell this out.'

  The squad looked reluctantly into her intense, beautiful eyes. She held up the knife and shook it in front of them to reinforce her point.

  'Charity only helps the weak survive. It's the road to decline. What does it teach the strong about survival?' Bezejel paused for effect. 'Nothing. It was millions of years of fighting, kicking and dying that taught humanity how to survive, nothing else.'

  Now Kodrob understood her. None of the demons in Inferno were there by choice. If they opened the gates of Hell, every soul would choose to leave. But Bezejel was different. She was a true believer. No wonder the Leader liked her so much.

  Bezejel pushed the knife deep into the table for effect. 'But now High Command have spotted someone who could re-cast Earth's social landscape and put it back the way it should be. The way it always was. A young female who has the skills and talents we need in abundance. Right now she's quite the little lady. But she also displays a promising ability to manipulate others. She knows how to use fear to achieve her aims. We've looked deep into her psychological profile and she has dark potential that's off the scale. She has an eye for detail and an organisational ability that most human leaders lack. We believe that with the right spiritual guidance and carefully-chosen experiences she can be turned. To our way of thinking. She has the power to take over and lead one of the few well-managed criminal organisations on Earth and turn it into an empire that will truly last a thousand years. It will get its claws into every government, corporation and military establishment. It will control them through fear, money and the kind of sex on demand they haven't seen since the days of the great harems. We'll have war on tap. Civil war, cold war, red hot nuclear war. We'll be able to turn them on and off whenever we like. Mostly on. Orphans will fill the Earth and grow up to become tyrants and warlords in their turn. Everything is coming nicely into place. The young woman is the last piece of the jigsaw we need. No-one suspects her and even if the angels knew of our plan, they wouldn't be able to stop it. We've run war games on this and there isn't any way they can prevent us.'

  Bezejel paused, looking for reaction.

  'This is very exciting, Madam Bezejel.' Kodrob looked around the table, showing he was speaking for all of them. 'It's the kind of plan we've all been yearning for since we arrived in Hades. What do we need to do?'

  'We've created a trail that the young woman needs to follow. It's a code trail that will lead her naturally to us. Once she gets to the end of the trail, she's ours and we will own both her and her future. My mission. Our mission,' she corrected herself looking meaningfully around the circle, 'is to make sure she stays on the trail and picks up each sequence in the code. That is our destructive purpose.'

  'Thank you ma'am we won't let you down,' said Kodrob earnestly.

  'Thank you ma'am,' they all muttered. The meeting seemed to be over.

  Bezejel reclaimed her knife and put it away. She stood up as if she was ready to go. Then she folded her arms across her chest and walked around the room till she stood beside the image of the Leader. She regarded it for a moment and then abruptly stepped in front of it.

  'There's one more thing.'

  Silence returned.

  'The young woman I have been describing has no family. She, too, is an orphan. And she has lost touch with her past. We must ensure she does not rediscover it.'

  Eilat, Israel

  The coach transporting Martin, Andy, Pete and Nancy from Tel Aviv airport arrived at the end of the lane that led to their rented apartment in Eilat. This small coastal town lying at one end of the Red Sea with its crystal clear waters and beaches of fine sand had offered excellent value accommodation. Only 200 kilometres from Jerusalem yet effectively a part of the desert, Eilat was a new town built on an ancient seaport.

  Now as they alighted from the air-conditioned vehicle into the open air, it felt like walking into a furnace. Nancy gazed at the low flat-roofed building indicated by the coach driver and compared it with the picture in the brochure she had brought with her.

  At the other end of the lane, only a few hundred metres away she could see the beach promenade where vacationers could saunter in the evening heat and soak up the atmosphere. Beyond that was the sea, as sparklingly blue as sun-lit topaz and as inviting as a new lover. It called
to them with forget-your-cares promises that said plunge in, explore me, let me take away your worries.

  'I can't wait to get to the beach,' called Nancy. 'I'm sure you're all the same. But, first things first, we must get settled in and unpack.'

  'Absolutely,' they all shouted.

  The driver handed them their baggage from the belly of the coach. Then he waved goodbye and drove off in a cloud of diesel smoke.

  It was a typical, hot end of summer day in the Middle East. A thin scattering of cloud did little to deflect the heat. Nancy could feel her blouse sticking to her skin.

  She reached for her sunglasses while the boys looked around them, squinting and blinking in the sun before donning their own shades.

  Nancy remembered the conversation she had had with Mel when she had revealed her plans.

  ‘You and those three boys all making house together in a cramped villa,’ she guffawed. ‘I know your sort Nancy, you’re too greedy by far.’

  ‘Rubbish. I’ll be like a big sister to them,’ Nancy had retorted. ‘The very idea of me seeing any one of them as boyfriend material is ridiculous. They’re barely out of nappies. Anyway they’ll be too busy with their studies during the day and writing up their notes in the evening. I’ll be perfectly happy with my own company.’

  But that was before she had worked out how she would get herself to the kibbutz where her Great Uncle Shai lived. Her plan to achieve this had changed everything.

  ‘Come on then, let’s take a look inside our palace,’ she urged the others cheerily.

  The boys too, were looking anxiously at the small property.

  ‘Pete, I think you might have to sleep with your legs hanging out the window,’ joked Andy. Pete was well over 6 feet tall.

  ‘Well, I doubt if you and Martin will be able to squeeze into the shower together like you normally do at college,’ Pete retorted.

  Andy had to have the last word. ‘He’s not the problem. It's you I worry about. Just don’t use it as an excuse to cuddle up to me on the sofa.’

  Why did boys always tease each other about being gay, Nancy wondered to herself?

  She plucked the front door key from underneath a flowerpot of blossoming bougainvillea. 'A burglar would never think of looking here,' she laughed to the boys. Then she unlocked the door and stepped back to let them enter before her.

  As the last of the three passed through the entrance in front of her, Nancy fumbled in her skirt pocket. Holding her case in one hand, she produced a tiny perfume atomiser, already with its cap off.

  'I'm right behind you,' she shouted as she squeezed a tiny jet of perfume behind one ear and then behind the other.

  Mustn't overdo it, need to be subtle, she said to herself as she put the atomiser away and prepared to enter.

  A hundred yards away, near the promenade, a man was watching Nancy and her charges while pretending to read an Arab language newspaper that he held out in front of him. He was sitting at a café table and an empty espresso cup lay before him. He stubbed out a cigarette and folded the paper twice before calling for another coffee.

  He remained watching until the four had closed the door behind them. Then he got up and walked to the promenade and got into the back of a black Mercedes which moved away smoothly and joined the traffic.

  Nancy stepped through the threshold into a short corridor. Andy returned and took her case from her as a gallant gentleman should. 'Let me take that for you, Nance, the corridor's a bit narrow.' He had a twinkle in his eye. Nancy watched him carefully. Maybe he was a gentleman. Or maybe it just part of the competitive ritual, to get ahead of the others.

  On the right of the corridor, two doors led into identical bedrooms. There were two single beds in each room.

  On the left of the corridor was a shower room and a small kitchenette and at the end was a TV lounge with a two-seater sofa and two easy chairs.

  Nancy walked into the TV room. The boys preceded her, dropping their bags in the corridor and taking off their sunglasses.

  They seemed reluctant to be presumptive about which beds or bedrooms should be theirs.

  Nancy felt the tension in the air immediately. She decided to allow it to build. It would make her job easier.

  The boys walked almost wordlessly from room to room getting their bearings and peering out of the windows. Gradually they returned from their meandering and gathered together awkwardly in the TV room. On the wall was a map of Israel. Andy was standing in front of it, tracing the route they had come with his finger.

  Nancy stood beside him. 'Ooh, there must be a lot of interesting places to visit nearby,' she remarked casually. 'Have you brought your driving licence with you, Andy?'

  'Yes, I brought it in case of emergencies. But I'm not planning to do any driving here. A hire car would cost a fortune. And anyway Professor Aaronovitch is going to drive us to the dig every day in his car. Why do you ask?'

  'Oh, I was just wondering.' Nancy's innocent smile wouldn't have fooled a child. But the boys' minds weren't on maps or driving. They were occupied by something far more primal. One girl among three men.

  The suitcases remained in the hall outside the bedrooms. Nancy noticed that the scent of her perfume had filled the room. It must be driving them crazy. She slowly inspected all the furnishings, dancing her fingers over the ornaments and swaying her hips as she went.

  'Isn't this menorah lovely? Such elegant arms it has. And they've left us some fruit.' She picked up an apple and turned it in her hand.

  Martin planted himself in one of the chairs. The other two boys took the sofa.

  They were all waiting for Nancy to make the first move. In truth, since Nancy had organised the travel and accommodation it naturally fell to her to make the decisions about the sleeping arrangements. None of the boys showed the slightest inclination to relieve her of this responsibility.

  Also she was the girl. She had to pick her roomshare companion. It couldn’t be the other way round.

  The silences were getting longer.

  It was time. Nancy placed the apple on a sideboard then leant back against it. She knew precisely what she wanted to achieve. But she had to pitch it just right. She folded her arms and looked from one boy to the next. Poise and timing were everything. But while she had a delicate job to do, she also knew she had the time to enjoy it. The moment was delicious and she intended to squeeze every last drop from it.

  Eventually her lips parted and she wet them slightly with her tongue. ‘Look,’ she began, flashing her eyes quickly at all three boys before looking down faux-demurely at the ground. ‘These are obviously awkward times and I think we’re going to have to make do and compromise as best we can.’ She paused. ‘What I mean is, I think we’re going to have to be grown up about this.’

  The boys looked at her, saying nothing.

  ‘The thing is,’ she continued slowly, ‘there are only two bedrooms and I was rather hoping that we’d be able to get three beds in one room so I could have one bed in the other. But that would just make your room too cramped. Or have one person sleep in the lounge. But that seems unfair. Especially as we've all paid the same price.

  So it means that we’re going to have to think of something different. Something radical. We're going to have to improvise and adapt ourselves to the circumstances. That's the intelligent thing to do, isn't it?’

  The boys were trying hard not to look too intently at Nancy but each one’s antenna were straining to pick up any kind of a clue to confirm where she was heading. No one moved or said a word.

  ‘So you see, one of you is going to have to sleep. With me. I mean, in my room, with me. One of you will have to sleep in the other bed in my room.’ Again she flashed her eyes at them, enjoying their obvious discomfort and her own sense of control.

  ‘But even that’s not going to work because it’s just going to be …awkward.’

  Nancy was standing with her right foot crossed over and slightly in front of her left. She was wearing a close-fitting white lacy blouse wh
ich revealed just a hint of her small cleavage. Her plain cotton skirt halted a few inches above her knees. Now she stretched her foot forward and scraped the floor absent-mindedly, side to side, with the front of her open-toed shoe.

  ‘So I think if you’ll all promise to keep this just between us then I see no reason why it shouldn’t work.' A short pause. 'OK?’

  The boys were now staring openly at Nancy, all attempts at trying to look nonchalant had disappeared. They were breathing more deeply than a few minutes before.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Pete ventured at last, almost stammering.

  ‘What are you trying to say?’ chimed in Andy who wanted to encourage her where he thought she was heading.

  ‘Oh, I'm sure you understand,' she chided. 'It just seems to me,’ Nancy was speaking very slowly and deliberately now, ‘that if we can all share, I mean if you can share, that is, all three of you, then we’ll all get on well and there’ll be no reason for fights and there’ll be no tension around the place.’

  She stopped, in no rush to get to the point and put them out of their misery.

  ‘But it’ll be our secret OK? I mean, I don’t want the whole of London knowing about this.’

  Nancy was confident, looking at the boys’ faces, that her speech was going down quite well. She was increasingly sure of the response she would get when she finally made her offer.

  ‘Look, what I’m trying to say is that sharing is good. And I think you’d continue to be good friends, better friends in fact, if you could find a way to share….’

  Her voice trailed off.

  ‘….me.’

  Andy was the first to speak.

  ‘Yeah, well, er, that sounds really fair,’ he said. ‘I mean, if you’re absolutely sure.’

  All three boys were nodding their heads slowly while maintaining very serious expressions. They could have just been listening to a wise statesman making an insightful talk at a conference on world peace. Only Martin wore a slight frown.