by Ciaran Nagle
Ruth sat forward on her granite seat looking thoughtfully at the ground. She plucked her golden tiara from her forehead and contemplated its fluid stones for a moment before replacing it in her hair.
'Well, ah do declare that this is a mystery that just gets bigger. And more intriguing by the minute. I have to confess that up to now I've been concentrating on Nancy's character and personality. I've researched her personal history but not yet her ancestral history and that's where ah think I'm going to find some surprises.'
Ruth looked up and met all their eyes.
'So that'll have to follow later. First off I'd better tell ya what I know. Then I'm gonna tell y'all what I don't know but what I'm gonna find out. So here's the start. Nancy is a Jew. Her parents were not strong believers and she was not brought up with a religious faith. Then her parents died in a car crash and she was put in the care of an aunt who had been married to her mother's brother. The aunt, Mary, was a fallen-away catholic who never spoke about religion. Nancy grew up without any encouragement to do well at school. She was angry about the loss of her parents and didn't develop her talent. But here's the thing, Nancy is very smart. In fact she's far smarter than she knows. She's got an eye for detail but also sees the big picture. She could run the travel agent business she works in better than the current owners. But she doesn't have the self-confidence to realise it.'
Ruth paused and changed her position on her rock stool. Jabez decided that Ruth did not often find herself on such uncomfortable seats. It's good for her to endure some hardship, he thought. It'll build her character.
Ruth continued.
'Nancy won't ever put herself forward for a big task, because she doesn't believe in herself. She'll always try to play it safe. But if she's thrown by circumstances into a situation where she has to sink or swim, she'll swim. Like a seal. And if that happens she'll suddenly discover her potential and she'll take off. She's like a firework just waiting to be ignited. One moment she'll be passive and unremarkable, the next she'll take the world by storm. We see this sort of thing all the time in humans, they're so frightened of failure they don't really try to succeed.'
'And if the enemy are controlling her at the time she takes off…,' butted in Luke.
'…they'll make sure she uses all her new-found energy and ambition to do a whole lot of bad,' finished Agatha.
'Correct,' agreed Ruth. 'Right now they're calling the shots and we're struggling to catch up. Already they've managed to engineer Nancy onto the fringes of the criminal Brother organisation. Brother is involved in some very nasty stuff that's destroying a lot of families and taking many souls to Perdition. On the face of it, Nancy doesn't belong anywhere near Brother, she's just not that kinda girl. But that's why ah have to look into her background more. The enemy may have a plan to convert her to evil in a way that's currently unimaginable. There are a lot of dirty tricks they can use. Our challenge is to find out what they're up to and stop it before they can finish it. We may be running out of time.' Ruth paused in her flow, looking for a reaction.
'Stop it before they can finish it,' repeated Jabez. The others looked at him expectantly.
'If we were to pro-actively stop the enemy in their tracks, that might mean an intercession,' he continued. 'An intercession is a major event, a very serious event. You all know there are loads of rules against us interceding directly in human affairs when we haven't been asked.'
'I can help on this,' interjected Luke. 'Broadly there are two types of intercession. The first is when we tackle the enemy on his own ground in the Fifth. The second is getting directly involved with humans in the Fourth. There are different rules governing both. But in this situation there might be a third option. A hybrid.'
'We're listening.' Ruth.
'The code letters the enemy have put in front of Nancy…'
'You mean the R and e.' Agatha.
'…yes, the R and e. These are only visible in a window or mirror. But they have to be transmitted through a tiny fibre known as a filament. If we want to stop their code, we could try to find their filaments and cut them.'
A thoughtful silence followed. Jabez looked at Ruth. The blue female angel was looking back at him with a knowing smile on her face.
She has the answer, thought Jabez. But she won't come out with it herself. She's waiting for me to cotton on to it.
Suddenly it clicked. Jabez leaned forward.
'No,' he answered. 'We're not going to do that.'
Luke and Agatha looked at him quizzically. 'Surely it's a sensible idea?' said Luke.
Jabez continued looking at Ruth. 'It's the wrong answer,' he said carefully, 'because we'll waste our resources trying to stop them instead of formulating our own plan. We'll just be playing their game and eventually they'll get their message through when we miss one of the filaments. No, we must find a strategy of our own. That's the way to win.'
Ruth's smile had broadened and there was a twinkle in her eye.
Nailed it, thought Jabez.
He continued. 'Let's reconvene this time tomorrow. That'll give us all time to get some more facts so we can move on to a plan of action. Agatha, can we meet at your pad? You've all been very polite but I guess you might like to enjoy a context with some more comfortable seating next time. That is..I presume your place is a little nicer than this, Aggy?'
'It's jolly nice, actually,' replied Agatha, laying on the cut-glass accent. 'So long as you like sitting on bean bags and cushions on the floor. I'll send some furniture over so you can join in too, Jabez. And yes, you may call me Aggy.'
Jabez nodded his head and smiled to show he accepted the rebuke. Even angels needed time to build relationships and work through the social protocols.
'Good,' he said and then quickly changed the subject back to where he had left off. 'I need to know what kind of action we can take in all sets of circumstances. The way things are going we might have to leave the safety of Paradise for a while and go on an active mission into enemy territory. Or down to Earth. If Ruth is right and the enemy are using dirty tricks we might have to behave in a way they don't expect. That's uncomfortable I know, but this is an extraordinary situation.'
Agatha and Ruth both looked shocked at the suggestion of a direct confrontation with the enemy. Ruth's face in particular had lost its colour and she was sitting awkwardly, her wings wrapped tightly around her.
Jabez noticed her body language and sought to reassure her. 'Don't worry Ruth,' he said gently, 'nobody will be asked to do anything they're not trained for. We have lots of highly experienced combat angels for this kind of stuff.'
But as Ruth noticeably relaxed, Jabez was forced to ask himself: who? Who could he send on a dangerous mission against Infernal forces on Earth that he would not go on himself? There were indeed angels who knew how to fight, but they were mostly used as guards and convoy escorts. He couldn't just co-opt them into a hastily-organised clandestine mission of his own and place them at risk.
Ruth and Agatha signed out of the globe meeting. Jabez and Luke were still connected.
'Well, I'm glad we have 'lots of experienced combat angels for this kind of stuff',' said Luke, pushing his swing again.
'Oh, you saw through that, did you?' Jabez ran his hand over his face and squeezed his eyes.
'Well, you said the right thing. No sense in those two worrying how they'd face a volley of imp spears.' Luke's down swing took him so close to Jabez that he almost thought he could feel a rush of air. 'I'm pretty handy in a fight. If we have to confront the enemy, send me in first. They won't know what hit them.'
Jabez drew a fish bone out of his mouth and threw it on the fire. He gazed into the flames. 'Thanks Luke. You're a trooper.' He looked at Luke and took in the thoughtful face, the languid movements, the kindly eyes. He couldn't imagine Luke hurting anyone. Not even a demon. Unless maybe he hugged one too tightly.
Jabez was starting to feel that a direct confrontation with the forces of Inferno was inevitable at some point. Maybe with Bezejel hers
elf. He hoped it wouldn't come to it. But if it did, he knew that such an encounter would be one that he could not delegate. He would have to do it himself.
Naxela's Squawhouse, Outer Pentacurse region, Inferno
Kodrob pushed his nose as far inside the tankard as it would go. He drew in a deep breath and held it. The petroleum vapour scalded the mucous linings of his nostrils and thrashed the delicate wall of his windpipe before burning its way into his lungs. His brain clouded deliciously. He took a gulp of the liquid and felt it splash against the back of his throat inflicting pain and relief in equal quantities. As it trickled down inside him his chest burnt like a bonfire. Ecstasy. He cradled the tankard with both hands.
Naxela's Squawhouse and Bar was busy and the din was atrocious. It was a rougher joint than Navaho's with no drums beating and no art on the walls. There were no upper-castes here. Just several hundred rank and file soldiers and a few non-uniformed buccaneers.
'Jet fuel. My baby. Where have you been hiding till now?' cooed Holzman, sitting beside Kodrob, guarding his own jug.
'This stuff is good. Where'd it come from?' asked Lafarge who had just arrived and was sipping his drink carefully like a true bourgeois.
Holzman nodded to the other side of the bar. A demon with slicked back hair, almost as good looking as Lafarge but twice the Frenchman's size was talking to a pair of squaws. 'Zhivkin. His haul. Got lucky probably.'
The big slick demon heard his name being mentioned and looked across. Seeing Kodrob, he got up from his seat and made to come over. The two squaws pulled him back. 'Stay with us,' they begged. 'Two for the price of one.'
Zhivkin unhooked himself from their vixen arms. 'Later, you beautiful sisters,' he assured them. 'I just got to talk to this guy and then you'll have my undivided attention. OK, divided attention. But only between you two. Promise.'
Leaving his bogof offer behind he walked around the bar keeping his eye on Kodrob. 'Captain,' he shouted above the din. Kodrob was the only officer in the bar.
'Captain Kodrob, I've always wanted to meet you.' Kodrob allowed Zhivkin to take his hand and pump it. 'I'm honoured. I've heard a lot about your unit. I want to join a unit like yours. I've heard yours is the best. I asked around.'
Kodrob nodded at the jet fuel in his tankard. 'This your doing?'
'Sure is,' grinned the giant Russian. 'And there was nothing lucky about it.' He looked Holzman in the eye.
'Tell me about it,' said Kodrob, taking another glug and swilling it around his mouth.
Zhivkin eagerly forced his way to the bar, pushing his bulk between Kodrob and Holzman. 'Well, I was down around the Black Sea. Just loafing. Looking for trouble. Using my wits, you know?' Zhivkin was leaning closely into Kodrob's face, staring intently into his eyes. 'And there was this airliner taking off from Crimea. Straight into a storm. Only, I knew that it would beat the storm. It would be safe. Unless I did something fast.'
Zhivkin's body rocked forward. He turned around. 'Hey, do you mind?' he said to Holzman. 'I'm trying to talk to your boss.'
'Get on with your story, buccaneer.' Kodrob didn't want trouble.
Zhivkin turned back and held his head only inches from Kodrob's face. 'And near the runway there was a farm, with lots of horses.' 'So I found a gap in the fence and led a horse onto the runway. Just for a few minutes. To delay the plane. And when the plane eventually took off it flew right into the storm. And a lightning bolt got it right in the engine and set it on fire. And the airliner came down in the sea. Couldn't make it back. Sunk right down to the bottom. Nearly two hundred souls on board and more than a hundred of them came straight here. Communist Party. Beautiful.'
Kodrob was sceptical. 'So, how did you commandeer the haul. There are rules. You're not allowed to interfere.'
'The tanks,' leered Zhivkin. 'I bust them open. Made it look like it happened when the plane hit the water. Doesn't matter if they bring that bird up tomorrow or in a hundred years. They'll never wonder why the fuel isn't there. It was the perfect crime.'
'What about the Confiscations Unit. How come they didn't take it off you?'
'That bunch of criminals?' Zhivkin was beaming widely, enjoying himself. 'Even they couldn't find a good reason to disallow it. There were no infringements. None they could find, anyway.' He gave Kodrob a knowing look.
'That's quite an achievement.'
'What? Crashing the plane? Or fooling the goons in Confiscation?'
'Both.'
Holzman had been listening in. 'You were lucky, Zhivkin, just lucky. You happened to be in the right place at the right time. But you're a loner, you don't know how to work as part of a team. That's why we can't let you in.'
Zhivkin turned slowly around and looked Holzman up and down. Kodrob was worried now. Both demons were large. Very large. They were equal in everything but looks. Beauty versus the Beast. If there was a fight it would be a devil of a job to separate them.
'That's a bit rich coming from someone like you, Holzman. I heard about you. You don't take orders too well.'
'That was a long time ago,' replied the warty German, instantly defensive. 'And anyway, no-one knows the true story.'
'So why don't you tell us?'
A crowd had gathered, sensing a rumble. Zhivkin looked around at the score of faces in various stages of drunkenness. He smiled cruelly, knowing he had them on his side.
Holzman succumbed to the pressure. 'All right then, I'll tell you.'
'I was a slave. A slave gladiator. In Rome. My people were captured. They made us slaves. But I was big so I got trained to be a gladiator. I was fighting for my freedom. And then I joined Spartacus and his rebellion. 'Cause those Romans, they didn't want us to go free, never. They were cruel. They…'
'Get on with it,' shouted a number of demons.
Holzman had a hunted look on his face. He licked his lips and continued. 'My unit captured ten legionaries. In the fighting. We had these ten guys, proper front-line men. Rome's finest. So we decided to kill them, 'cause there was nothing else to do. But I thought killing them's too easy. They had hurt us bad. So I wanted to hurt them bad. That's why I did what I done.'
'You mean that's why you disobeyed orders. What you just accused me of.' Zhivkin made sure his voice carried across the swell of demons pressing in to watch the entertainment.
'I didn't disobey. I just did it my own way, that's all.'
'Spartacus told you to kill them quick. But you killed them slow. Come on, Holzman, tell us what you did.' Zhivkin was keeping the pressure on.
'Come on. Tell us. What happened?' shouted a chorus of throats.
Kodrob looked around uneasily. There was no way of stopping this. Officer or not, he couldn't control a mob.
But Holzman was warming to his task. His story would show them all that he wasn't to be taken lightly.
'I got the ten men and I sat them in a circle on the ground. I put wooden blocks in front of them. Then I put tourniquets around their wrists and began to chop off bits of their fingers on the blocks, an inch at a time. The tourniquets were to stop them from bleeding out too quick. Keep them alive longer. Let them suffer. When their finger pieces were lying all over the ground I moved the tourniquets further up their arms. I cut through their hands and forearms.' Holzman stopped and looked around at the crowd. He was trying to smile confidently but Kodrob could see he was nervous.
'Then they died. That was it.' Holzman finished defiantly.
The crowd was quiet. They were expecting more.
'No it wasn't.' A thin voice piped up from the front of the crowd. A small imp had forced his way through the mass of legs and now stood defiantly in front of Holzman. 'There was something else. Tell them what you made them say,' shouted the imp. 'Tell them Holzman. Tell them what you made those legionaries say.'
Holzman's hunted expression had returned. 'I don't remember. It was a long time ago.'
The imp was undaunted. 'Well I'll tell them. 'Cause I can remember, Holzman. I can remember what you made them say. 'Cause I was th
ere. I was one of the legionaries. I was one of the ten.'
A buzz went through the crowd. 'Lift him up,' shouted someone at the back. 'Let's see him.'
A burly figure at the front picked up the little imp and stood him on the bar.
Holzman gulped his drink. Lafarge sipped his. Kodrob sat still. It was important to look calm and unflappable, even if he didn't feel that way. If the crowd turned against Holzman, the entire squad was in danger.
'When we'd all lost our fingers,' shouted the imp to the crowd in his high pitched voice, 'he told us to look at each other and say things like 'pluck the nit from my head, brother, and I will pluck the louse from yours' and 'are you taking part in the archery contest this year, comrade'?'
Sniggers of laughter rippled out around the crowd. The imp was looking for sympathy. He'd waited through two thousand years and several huskings to tell his story and gain revenge on the man who had tortured him and his mates to death. But it wasn't going as he thought. Instead of earning himself some understanding, the mass of demons found the story of Holzman's cruelty quite funny. Many of them had seen or done things that were almost as bad. Holzman's gallows humour was going down well.
Kodrob seized the moment. 'Barman, get the imp a drink. A big one. On me.' He turned to Lafarge. 'Get him down from there.' Lafarge understood the urgency. He grabbed the imp around the legs and pulled him off the bar. 'Well done little fella,' he said, patting him on the head. 'Now take your drink over the other side of the bar.'
The imp looked around him at the crowd which was already breaking up and moving away and at Kodrob who was ignoring him. Holzman had turned his back. His moment had come and gone. Lafarge handed him a huge tankard off the bar. 'Go on now. Don't spill it.' After a moment the imp walked off disconsolately, holding the huge tankard close to his chest in case anyone should prise it from him.
