The Code War

by Ciaran Nagle

  'Very well,' he drew in a deep breath. 'Ruth, I want to know about Nancy. I want to know what she is capable of and under what circumstances. If she is shallow now, what is it that is going to trigger her hidden depths? How does the enemy see her? If you were them, what would you be doing now to manipulate her character and turn it to evil?' Jabez was looking directly at Ruth all the while he spoke. He felt calm and rational, not frightened. He felt power flowing through him, his authority growing even as he spoke. Confidence that had recently failed him was returning. Maybe he was the right angel for the job after all.

  'When and how do you want my report?' Ruth was equally business-like.

  'Good question,' replied Jabez. 'Let's say in two hours' time, if you can manage that. I'll have Luke available too. But I want to try and contact Agatha, who is a code breaker. If I can reach her in time and pull her into the team she can listen in to your briefing too.'

  'Very good, Sir. I'll be ready.' Wow, thought Jabez, no-one's ever called me 'Sir' before.

  He stood up and smiled at Ruth before side-stepping away from the rock and then stepping back sharply two paces. The enlarged globe was now in front of him. He had left its cosy environment behind. He clapped his hands once and the globe shrank to its 12 inch diameter.

  Not far in front of him the divide crackled and spat where the jagged edge of Inferno continually looked for a weakness in Paradise's defence and was continually repelled. To each side of him small beach cobbles sat among the shingle on the shore, perforated here and there by long reeds and grasses. Small flowers topped the grass stems, with two black dots on each petal like sentinels looking out, ready to give warning of an invasion. The atmosphere on the shore was peaceful and calm enough but there was a brooding tension there too as in the moment before a hurricane strikes.

  Jabez once again engaged his mind with the clouds of synthetic synapses inside the sphere in front of him.

  Swiftly they arranged themselves into biographies, faces, stories and facts in the same elegant pictogramic alphabet used by the neurons in his own brain. There was no need to translate clumsy letters and words into a form that his mind could process. The globe was designed to replicate his spiritual thought patterns and act as an extension to his memory.

  Luke was searching for him at the same time and beat him to it.

  'Jabez, you're looking intense. You need to relax, fellow.' Luke's face peered out from beneath the Stetson, his black cheeks framing a smile filled with white corn-fed teeth.

  'Ah yes, Luke. I am relaxed. Actually I'm so relaxed I'm bored. Intensely bored. I don't know what to do with my time. Why don't you come down here for a round of golf?'

  Luke sipped his roasted bean drink. 'I know just the place when this is all over,' he replied. 'Eighteen holes on eighteen mountains in the Celador range. Takes about a month. It's a par 968. There are snowy greens and red-moss greens and yellow lichen greens and evergreen greens. There are fairways that go right through mountains where deep-digging prairie cats steel your golf ball if they get a chance. You drive through mile-wide cilabuk trees whose roofs have age-rings that give off a stunning, pulsing light. You soar over some astonishing canyons with thermals that fling you up to the sky and suck you down to the rocks like a ball on a rubber band. And you drive and fly right through crystal waterfalls colder than ice. It's what wings are for.'

  'It's a deal. In the meantime…'

  'In the meantime,' agreed Luke, 'I've spoken to Agatha. She's new to Paradise, dewy-eyed and still finding her feathers but she's as keen as a knife and sharp as mustard.'

  'You're mingling your similes again.'

  'Mangling them more like. Why don't we have a triangular so you can meet her with me looking on and see if you like her?'

  'Enigma, huh?'

  'Yeah.'

  'She know Turing?'

  'Certainly did. She was his understudy and followed him around, learning all his ways. Few people could keep up with him. Agatha came closest. She said he could think around corners.'

  'Where's Turing now?'

  'He's up in the gods with Archangel Esther. You won't get him. He's turned away from code-breaking now and working on a prototype of the parallel lives stuff in the Eighth Dimension. You know, where you can watch yourself as you make different choices and then choose the one that has the best outcome. You need a heavyweight mathematician for that kind of thing.'

  'OK. Let's get back to Agatha. I've arranged with Ruth that she's going to brief me on Nancy in a short while. Why don't you and Agatha join us for that? That can be where Agatha makes her entrance to the team. I don't think I'll have time to make her acquaintance properly before then. She'll have to hit the ground running and we'll all get to know each other as we go forward.'

  'Sure if that's what you want. I'll make sure we're both there.'

  'Done.'

  Serrekunda, Gambia, West Africa.

  Lafi Touray gunned the engine on the ten-ton troop truck one more time and swore loudly in dialect. The huge vehicle lunged forward out of the hole in the dirt road that had virtually swallowed his front wheel.

  'Ah bah raka' - 'Thank you,' he shouted through the open window in Mandinka to the three young men who had come to his aid, pushing the rear of the vehicle with all their might. Lafi threw a few coins out of the window in parting. Not too many that they would talk about him to others and not too few that they might harbour a grievance against him. It didn't do to make unnecessary enemies in his line of business. He had enough enemies already.

  He checked his wing mirror and was relieved to see that the three men were casually walking back to their compound-cum-drink store, a hundred yards back down the road. They showed no body language that might indicate they had discovered what cargo he was carrying and were rushing to call the police.

  A hundred yards later and the dirt road became tarmac, a huge relief after the constant lurching of the last forty miles.

  Up ahead Lafi could see lights. Within minutes he found himself approaching Serrekunda market, only a couple of miles from Banjul. It was Friday evening and the market was closed and virtually deserted. That suited him perfectly.

  He pulled into the dusty lorry park that was used by all the meat and produce sellers, found himself a spot in the shadows and reversed the lorry into it. Then he killed the lights and switched off the engine. So far so good, but the next few hours would be critical. Would Brother deliver?

  Lafi opened the door of his cab, swung himself out onto the metal step and descended to the ground. He shook his arms out and arched his back, using the stretching exercise as a cover to look around and see if anyone was watching him. When he was sure he was not being observed he moved slowly to the rear. The canvas sides of the vehicle bore the huge logo of the tour company, GambiSafari.

  The truck was designed to carry soldiers. This was an old model and had been sold off by the country's military to the tourist trade. Now it mostly carried visiting westerners such as birdwatchers and wildlife photographers, eager to explore the lush forests in the east of the country with their startling rollers, hornbills and jacanas. Today however, Lafi's truck had a different cargo.

  He pulled at the four tie ropes that secured the canvas cover to the rear tailboard, still looking about him as he did so. Then pulling back the cover just a little he brought his head up close to the opening. He recoiled immediately and turned his head away, coughing and screwing up his eyes. When he had recovered he took a deep breath of fresh air and held it while he returned and pulled the canvas back again. As he peered in cautiously thirty-five pairs of eyes gazed back at him. They barely moved as Lafi looked left to right and front to back, counting the heads. The thirty-five children were clearly terrified and their frozen attitudes betrayed their fear. One little girl held another in her arms who sobbed and wiped her face with a tiny hand. Lafi breathed out through his nose..

  'Give me the bucket,' he ordered. A boy stood and lifted the handle of a large plastic bucket. The handle was soiled wi
th human waste but Lafi couldn't worry about that now. He would wash his hands later. It was more important to keep his charges where they were than to worry about minor matters like child shit.

  Lafi took the bucket and swung it over the tailboard and placed it by his feet.

  'Stay where you are,' he ordered roughly. 'I'll be back in a minute and then we'll see about some food.'

  As he took the waste bucket away to empty it, Lafi contemplated his next major challenge.

  Westerners could be gullible and credulous. But they could also be sceptical and savvy. He might have to use all of his powers of persuasion to convince the man - for a man it would surely be - that his southward mission was noble and humanitarian. If persuasion failed, what then?

  Lafi's nostrils picked up the delicious aroma of spiced meat roasting over a barbecue at an eating-house on the road nearby. He walked over.

  'Hey,' he called. 'You got steak? How much for a steak?'

  A middle-aged man turning the meat on the rack looked at him cautiously, eyeing the bucket. 'Yeah, we got steak. And hot rice and peas. And cold beer. How many for?'

  'One,' replied Lafi with a winning smile. 'Just one. I'm by myself.'

  'When?'

  'About quarter hour. Just got to get myself a wash.' He held up the bucket.

  The man nodded and Lafi continued on towards the public latrine.

  Further along, a gate in a stone wall opened and a young woman came out onto the pot-holed road and looked at him. She leant against the wall and remained there, showing that she had no other errand. She continued to hold his eyes. Lafi nodded at her, acknowledging her offer.

  What would he have first? The woman? Or his dinner? Difficult choice. At least he could afford both.

  He smiled at her. 'Don't you go away, now. I'll be back for you. See you in an hour.'

  He continued on, smiling to himself. Good decision. Eat first. Then relax with the woman. Got to pass the time somehow.

  Another thought intruded and Lafi glanced back anxiously at the lorry he could still see behind him. Brother had better bring that driver. And he'd better do exactly as Lafi told him. Or else he might have to ditch the children. In a ditch. That would be bloody. And unprofitable.

  Near Kodrob's Squadroom, Pentacurse, Inferno. 4 levels underground.

  The corridor walls were hot and glowed slightly red. There was no other light source this far underground so the overall effect was like being on the inside of a coal furnace. Kodrob and Lafarge picked their way along in the semi-darkness towards Bezejel's temporary private quarters.

  A siren demoness of Bezejel's rank demanded - and got - the best rooms in any part of Inferno that she visited. Even demons needed to rest and it was known that Bezejel loved her bed, though not always for sleeping.

  Kodrob approached her room, a large hollowed-out cavern. Strings of amber were hung around the doorway and mother-of-pearl shells had been recently pressed into the lintel. Femininity continued beyond the grave.

  He stepped over the first satyr husk slumped in the passageway. The demon's bare feet were clearly visible protruding from one end of the husk and the top of the head from the other. Then he saw the second husk and then a third. Scattered items of uniform lay strewn around, some intact and some torn. Unit badges and stripes were visible on some of the battleshirts. A fourth satyr lay in the threshold of her open door, its back broken and its neck twisted at a wrong angle. This one was a recent kill. The husk bonds - reed-like fibres as tough as flax - were still growing. He could see them stretching out from the skin and tightening as they wrapped around the body, cocooning it.

  Kodrob felt a tap on the shoulder. 'Four, guv'nor,' whispered Lafarge throatily. 'Four good lads. Done for. She's doing the angels' job for them.'

  'Shut up,' hissed Kodrob. 'If she or her shadows hear you, you'll be a husk too. And so will I. So shut yer gob.'

  'So what happened?' persisted Lafarge, cupping his hand over his mouth and leaning in to Kodrob's ear.

  'I recognise the unit,' replied Kodrob heavily, pulling Lafarge back into an alcove in the corridor wall. 'They're from the 5th Ambush Regiment. It's an all-satyr outfit. Been away for years. Just got back. I reckon Bezejel met this lot when they'd just been let out on leave and heading for a squawhouse. She'd have promised them lots of drink and as much action with her as they could manage. Too tempting by far, offer like that.'

  'So the Ambushers got ambushed.'

  'Something like that,' sighed Kodrob. 'Dropped their guard. They see a pretty female like Bezejel and their brains sink three feet. She takes them home and charms them one by one while the others play cards with GogMagog. She's done it before. Got form. She dulls them with diesel then settles them in between her knees and they think it's happy hour in Hades. They've no idea how deadly she is. Once she's used them she gets all nervy and agitated. Then she crushes them.'

  'And now they're husks.'

  'Yep. They've taken one step on the long slide to final death. This lot will probably come back as jager imps. Hunters. Time after that they'll be charnel imps. Then sprites, gremlins, trolls, mawls, pixies and finally gurns.

  You been to many gurn burns?'

  'No, never been to one.'

  'You've never been to a gurn burn? You're kidding me? How come? You've been in Inferno a couple of hundred years or more, haven't you?'

  'Well..not exactly.' The French demon was suddenly reticent. 'OK, I admit I pretended I had more experience when I joined your unit. In fact I only arrived in Inferno a short time before.'

  'That's a sackable offence, Lafarge. What were you doing between dying and arriving here?'

  'Oh, the usual.'

  'Go on.'

  'Well, after I died, I knew I was destined for Hell. Only I didn't want to come. So I hung around my chateau for a long time, resisting the pull.'

  'Haunting.'

  'That's what they call it. But I was just frightened. I hung on. Then one day I lost my concentration and the pull took me unexpectedly. I lost my grip. Next moment I was here. Then I met your guys and they persuaded you to hire me.'

  'Because of your way with the ladies.'

  'Yeah. The boys have had a lot more fun since I joined. The vixen fixer, they call me. But so have you, Captain. You've got to admit that.'

  Kodrob was silent, staring at the opposite wall. 'Quiet a moment.' He lifted a finger to his lips and strained his ears towards Bezejel's door.

  'What?'

  'If Bezejel is sleeping off her killing spree I don't really want to disturb her till she's ready.'

  'How did she manage to kill guys? Soldiers like that? They're much bigger than her.'

  'She's a lot stronger than she looks. The Leader gave her special strength. He likes her.' Kodrob paused, thinking. 'Come on Lafarge, let's get us a brew. We'll come back for Bezejel a bit later. It's too dangerous to go in now.'

  He pulled Lafarge by the shoulder and the two demons walked back down the corridor. Kodrob led them further underground to the soldiers' canteen, a large square hall with a continuous stone seat all around its walls.

  'Barman, get my tab,' he ordered. 'Two regular diesels.' Around the room twenty or so uniformed soldiers of different castes were gathered in dour groups, talking in hushed tones. A few acknowledged Kodrob with a nod. He was a captain and they might need his help some day.

  Kodrob and Lafarge found themselves a length of seat away from others and installed themselves.

  'Are you going to sack me Guv'nor?'

  Kodrob gave him a long hard look. 'Not now, Lafarge. Not in the middle of a major project. But if you want to stay part of the team you'd better work hard. It's not enough to pull cheap vixens. You need to pull your weight. Understand?'

  'Yes Guv. I'll work harder Guv. Thank you. I really appreciate the opportunity…'

  'Shut up.'

  'Yes Guv.'

  The drinks arrived and Kodrob drank deep on his diesel. Its volatile fluids immediately sent his brain spinning, relaxing him. 'So,
you never been to a gurn burn?'

  'No, Guv.'

  'Well, it's probably the most fun you can have in Inferno. Apart from being the steak in a siren sandwich.'

  'I've done that a few times,' grinned Lafarge. He caught Kodrob's look. That wasn't what his captain wanted to talk about.

  'So, how do gurns catch fire, Captain?'

  'They don't just catch fire, Lafarge. They burn because other demons catch them and set fire to them.'

  'Why? Just because they're ugly?'

  'Because they're ugly. Because they gang up like rats. Because they attack others in packs. Because of their twisted faces. Because they're the size of footballs and you just want to kick them. All of those. But mostly, Lafarge, because it's fun. No-one likes gurns and when some clean-up squad or Finger Force corners a group of them and captures them without losing too many of their own in the process, it makes for a great spectacle.'

  'So what do they do with them?'

  'First they hunt down a sewer-full of gurns and throw them into wire cages. The gurns stare out, snarling and twisting their faces into a rendition of whoever is looking at them. This causes hilarity, naturally, among the guys watching. Sometimes they goad them to see which one can make the ugliest face. You should be careful, Lafarge, when you go to a gurn burn. Your handsome face will make them go wild. They always try to take down the good-looking ones.'

  'I don't see how they could impersonate me in an ugly way. Impossible.'

  'Anyway,' Kodrob continued, 'when their captors get bored of that game they pluck them from the cage one by one, holding them between tongs. Then they impale them onto barbed spikes in the ground and set them alight.'

  'That sounds more fun than getting drunk.'

  'They squeal like wild pigs. Tortures your ears. But the thing is, the gurns become squinting squibs. The ugly beasts burn furiously. They burn like petrol and hot fat combined. For hours. Then just at the end, as the flesh is burning out, the gurn's soul shoots up into the sky. It pulses out all its energy in all directions, like a lighthouse. Purples, mauves, violets. A stroboscopic firework display. When that goes out the soul is finally dead. Extinct. No husk. No coming back. Nothing. Then they get the next gurn and burn him too. And the next and so on until they're all gone. Gurn burns can go on for days.'