Attrition of the Gods: Book 1 of the Mystery Thriller series Gods Toys.

by P. G. Burns

  For years to come people would not understand how a skinny wretch like Shane could knock people out twice his size. They could not realise that every punch he landed came all the way from Ballymun and every opponent he fought was paying for what Patrick had done. By seventeen he was annihilating doormen in Manchester’s city centre. He was soon defined by his violent behaviour but to Shane it was a release valve for the pain he carried and the guilt he felt.

  Known as the ‘baby-faced assassin’ Shane was enticed by a local gym that had heard of his prowess and soon he built a name as a promising amateur boxer. Later a stint as a professional boxer was cut short when Shane disagreed with the ref’s decision and knocked him out of the ring before turning to his opponent and battering him to a pulp.

  At a loose end and with no decent job prospects, the army seemed to be his salvation and when he was packed off to Afghanistan everyone that knew him feared for the Taliban. But Shane’s lack of control saw him break Sergeant Stone’s jaw and led to his first stretch in military prison. His reliance on violent conflict resulted in him behaving in the same way as a junkie, except that he had an insatiable appetite for breaking bones and removing teeth just like a drug addict or alcoholic he was trying to fill a hole that had manifested deep inside him.

  But all this seemed to directly contradict another trait that defined Shane, one that was more difficult to analyse: his unwavering need for veracity and righteousness. Yes, Shane did commit many ferocious attacks but they were always linked to people who had a disregard or contempt for what was fair and right.

  The CO of Shane’s regiment fought hard to get him released, stating his bravery and popularity amongst his fellow soldiers as well as his ability and accuracy with a rifle. After promising to keep Shane under control, the CO got his wish and Shane was let loose on the Taliban once more. Unfortunately Shane soon found himself back in the slammer after he lost his temper with a new recruit who had jokingly asked Shane if he had a sister worth fucking. The new recruit’s war was cut short and Shane was back inside. After six years in the army, three of which were spent in the nick, Shane was finally dishonourably discharged.

  Back on Civvie Street, Shane became the scourge of doormen and licensees all over Manchester, abusing their hospitality and getting into fights all over the town. He had a group of friends who were more like hangers-on. They would start the fights and Shane would finish them. He thought of himself as a good guy. In his mind he never hit anyone that didn’t either deserve it or whose job it was to fight. When Shane discovered cocaine, he loved it and quickly realised most of the dealers were scared of him so he took what he wanted and never bothered to pay. Shane was revolting against the world but he was doing it in his own way. Anyone who chose to be involved in the underworld was a legitimate target. Bullies of any kind would get battered, although Shane’s definition of a bully sometimes got blurred.

  When Mickey Brown, the local drug baron, decided that Shane had gone too far he called his friends in Glasgow to sort him out. Although Shane was out every night, he still hit the gym every day. The skinny little lad who had been knocking big men out was now a big man himself. Every morning he would spend at least three hours either on the weights or at the bags. The Glasgow firm knew exactly where to find him and when he left the gym to find four burly meatheads waiting by his car, he knew what to expect. He was admitted to hospital with a broken jaw and two broken ribs: the guys did a good job on Shane. Only respect for his courage and their own painful wounds stopped them from causing more serious harm.

  Shane never held a grudge against his attackers. He knew from their accents they were brought in for the job and it was nothing personal. In fact, they did him a favour. While Shane was in hospital for three weeks the young doctor in attendance was Sara May, a kind and lovely-looking young woman. Shane had his pick of the type of girls who liked his troubled, hard-man reputation, but he had never spent any time with someone like Sara.

  They instantly shared a connection and soon after Shane had been discharged they began seeing each other. Within a few weeks Shane moved in. Things moved quickly and naturally and his world seemed to have taken a 360-degree turn. For the first time in his life things were going right, though he feared it was all too good to be true. The next six months were the happiest he had ever experienced. Unfortunately his joy would not last.

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  Leo knows all this about Shane and still Shane knows very little about him.

  “You’re late old man,” Shane says as Leo finally approaches the table.

  “Yes, I’m sorry, I have had a lot of things to prepare,” replies Leo.

  “We’re in prison. What the fuck do you need to prepare for in here?”

  Leo doesn’t answer the question and instead turns his attention to the chessboard, seeing that it is set up, ready to go.

  “Let’s hope you do better today,” mocks Shane good-naturedly.

  Over the last two months Leo and Shane have played over thirty games of chess. Leo won the first game in less than five moves. He won the second easily too. The third game took over an hour and Leo commented on how much Shane had improved in such a short time. Then, after a five-hour marathon for the fourth game, Shane had his first victory.

  At first Leo thought he had been hustled but he soon realised that Shane had barely known the rules of chess before the first game. As the days went by Shane beat Leo consistently and quite easily, with their last three games not lasting more than half an hour each. Even stranger was the fact that Johnny-No-Legs had played Shane only two days ago. Leo had watched the game and although Johnny was a competent player Leo hadn’t expected him to last more than five minutes with Shane. To Leo’s surprise Johnny beat Shane. How could this happen? As a lifelong member of the London Chess Society, Leo knew that luck played no part in chess. Shane assured him he didn’t let Johnny win. Leo had played Johnny and beaten him many times. It didn’t make sense, until Leo watched Shane play against Johnny for the second time. Shane had won with checkmate coming in less than eight moves.

  It was then that Leo really started to believe. When the Djinn named Simeon had prophesied to Leo that he would meet a unique man with the attributes to lead and protect the masses, Leo often wondered if this man would be a warrior, or a scholar, or maybe a great orator who could stir up the consciousness of the people and open their eyes to the truth. Now he was seeing that Shane was much more than this. When Leo asked Shane what he believed was his greatest virtue, Shane thought for a long time before answering.

  “I never tell lies. Well, not since I was a small boy. Oh, and I help old people like you and I am a great lover!”

  Not impressed by the other two answers, Leo questioned his first declaration. “You never tell lies?”

  “No. Maybe because I never felt the need to, or perhaps because of Chloe’s death. I know that bullies thrive because of lies. Sometimes I wish I had told lies. I mean, even in court my brief did everything to stop me testifying. Some child psychiatrist once told me I was most likely autistic or something, like it’s a disease to tell the truth.”

  When Shane says he never tells lies, he means never for his own personal gain. Leo was a good man brought up to believe in God and by honest, hard-working parents. He had worked in the Vatican, the epicentre of virtue. He had met many, many honest men and yet he had never met a man who wouldn’t tell a lie for his own benefit. Leo realised how unique this was. Watching Shane play chess brought another realisation: Shane was not a great chess player, in fact he was barely competent. So how was it he could beat Leo, a very accomplished player, so easily? Shane was not conscious of his ability to read people, it was an instinctive action. Simply put, after the first few games with Leo, Shane was able to predict what Leo would do and use his own moves against him. Eventually he was able to work out in his mind every move from start to finish that Leo would play just from the first couple of manoeuvres. The same happened with Johnny, who was more predictable and was not an
accomplished player.

  This ability to calculate an opponent’s moves had dictated events throughout Shane’s life. When he boxed he often lost the first round only to completely annihilate his opponent in the second. His commanding officer in Afghanistan was convinced he had a sixth sense. Often he would listen in awe as Shane would explain to him what the local rebels’ strategy would be next. One red-hot summer day Shane had lain out in the desert with no fear whatsoever of the enemy attacking him. “They won’t attack today,” he told Colonel Peter Quinn. He was always right and if the Colonel could have explained to his superiors about Shane’s insight into the enemy’s behaviour without sounding like a crackpot he would have. But what could he say?

  Truth was Shane educated himself on the origins of the local tribes. He learned that they derived from people known as the Pashtun. He read all he could about their culture and beliefs. He discovered that the creed of the Pashtun is called Pashtunwali and they abide by this code of conduct to the letter. This and knowledge of the Deobandi teachings that the Taliban follow gave Shane a unique insight into their formidable adversaries. No matter what the outside world thought of these people, Shane believed that they were an honourable people who never strayed from their creed. He may not have shared their ideals but he did admire the conviction with which these tribesmen honoured their code. It also made them predictable and on that hot day the Pashtun celebrated Sheshbeeyeh, a festival almost unique to the tribes in this region.

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  Leo concludes that Shane truly is an exceptional person and the reason Simeon had singled him out was not because of his physical abilities or his near-unique skill with weapons – it was because Shane is an autodidact with an unbelievable attention to detail.

  “What’s one of them?” asks Shane, when Leo tries to compliment him.

  “You told me you never went to school until you were eleven, yet you are obviously a clever man. You taught yourself to read Arabic. You beat me at chess, a game I am very good at. Your mind works differently from most peoples. An autodidact is self-taught, usually someone who sees things the collective doesn’t. The way you read people, situations, and even strategy in chess. No one is teaching you this, you are self-learning. I think this is why Simeon picked you.”

  “Who? Picked me? What are you on about?” Shane stares at Leo, feeling both suspicious and puzzled. He doesn’t know anybody called Simeon.

  “It is time to tell you the truth, Shane,” says Leo. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  London – before Leo’s enlightenment

  “The best place to hide is in plain sight.”

  Life had been good for Leo Verdi: good family, good education and good job. He and his wife had recently returned from two weeks spent at their dream retirement destination in the beautiful Italian city of Rimini. At 62 years old Leo had planned to retire two years early but the opportunity to work for one of the world’s most powerful leaders in the most iconic city in the world was too much temptation. Leo was not employed directly by the Vatican; instead the work he was required to do was outsourced to his company: the Verdi Accountancy Firm. His wife, Regina, understood why he continued but she was hoping that they could soon pack their bags and finally move to the Adriatic coast for good.

  When the very modern and smartly dressed man called Simeon had first approached Leo at his office in London, Leo assumed he was some sort of music mogul or perhaps a film director with his mop of well-groomed hair and the stylish sunglasses he wore even when inside. He was surprised to hear that he was, in fact, an envoy from the Vatican and was offering him the opportunity to work for the Pope. Leo was very excited. He rarely went into anything before dotting all the i’s and crossing all the t’s but Leo shook Simeon’s hand there and then, committing to work exclusively for the Pontiff and preparing a report on world economic strategy. Apparently the Pope had been invited to speak at the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland and wanted to brush up on his knowledge. Leo was curious why they didn’t use their own experts or at least a Catholic accountant. “His Holiness has his reasons,” was the only answer he received.

  The report was quite simple for a man of Leo’s ability and he received a letter from the Pope himself thanking him for the accurate and easy-to-follow format. The report translated the global economy and its economic systems into layman’s terms. The Pope addressed some of the world’s leading industry and business academics and the general consensus was surprise at His Holiness’ knowledge of current global finance. Leo was well paid for his work and treated Regina to a new sports car, ready for their retirement to the Adriatic coast in six months. Then Simeon visited Leo at his London office a second time.

  “His Holiness wishes to employ your services once more,” remarked the dapper, thirty-something Italian who, as on the previous time they met, was wearing sunglasses inside?

  “That’s great but I must tell you I will not be able to work on any reports myself; my nephew Fredo is taking over the firm from next week. I will, of course, make sure he follows the exact format I used for the previous report and…”

  Simeon held his hand up to stop Leo mid-sentence. “The Pontiff wishes for you to fulfil this task. It is not a report he needs this time.” Simeon pulled out a sealed envelope and handed it to Leo. “The Bishop of Rome asks that if you decide to accept this commission all correspondence should go through him only via myself or face-to-face.”

  Leo’s curiosity was aroused. “Face-to-face with the Pope? You mean I will be meeting with His Holiness himself?”

  “That is his wish, yes,” replied Simeon.

  Even though Leo was a devout Jew he had always been fascinated with the pomp and ceremony of the Roman Church. The chance to meet the top man himself was very intriguing and most likely the job would be fruitful financially and very exciting.

  Although Leo moved to London with his parents when he was a young boy, he was born in Venice. He was fluent in his father’s tongue and still thought of himself as an Italian; maybe this was why he was favoured by the Pope. Then Leo reminded himself that the Pope was a German.

  Leo opened the envelope and read, quickly needing to sit down. “He wants me to audit the Vatican accounts?”

  “Well, if you read carefully, the required task is to audit the books from the last millennium or so.”

  Leo stared at the letter. He shook his head in disbelief. How could he turn this down? The job entailed five months working at the Institute for Works of Religion. It included an apartment in Rome and all expenses paid and a very generous financial package. He was to have access to all areas. For someone like Leo this was like a backstage pass to the best gig ever. Of course he would have to discuss it with Regina. She was expecting to be moving to Rimini next month so she had the last say. After all the late nights and missed holidays she’d had to put up with over the last thirty years, that was the least she deserved. It was far too big a decision to make without asking her…

  “So, will you accept?” asked Simeon.

  “Yes.”

  Two years on and Leo was still trailing through different ledgers and ancient records. By now he knew that the Pope was looking for something specific but he was not told what. He’d realised very quickly that the Vatican Bank or IOR was a very complex organisation; the Vatican itself was a unique state. Leo discovered that it’s only real declared earnings or financial support came from a voluntary payment dating back over a thousand years. These donations were called ‘Peter’s pence’. The IOR’s remit is to serve the global mission of the Catholic Church by safeguarding the assets of institutions and individuals related to the Holy See. However, its profits and assets are not the property of the Holy See.

  In plain English, it has all the benefits of a charitable organisation, the authority of self-regulation and the opportunity for officials to hide behind diplomatic immunity if the need arises – and all these things were an invitation to corruption and fraud. If the Pope was looking to clean up his house then
Leo was the man. After the first couple of months exposing one indiscretion after another Leo was called for an audience with the Pope. This both excited and worried him. He was aware of the privilege and status that came with working for the high priest of the Romans but to be called to the court was to follow in the footsteps of Michelangelo. His worry, however, was that perhaps he had failed in this puzzling assignment, an assignment that he did not really understand and so led him to constantly doubt his performance.

  Leo was escorted by two guards to the Pope’s private office. He waited by the entrance as the guards assumed a stance of honour then the doors opened and a middle-aged, stern-looking nun appeared.

  “The Holy Father will see you know, Senior Verdi.”

  Leo walked in, looking around like a child entering a Disney shop. He realised beads of sweat had involuntarily appeared on his forehead. Pope Benedict was sitting behind a large, hand-carved wooden desk. He was dressed in his papal robes, leaning over while writing a letter. Without looking up, he addressed Leo.

  “Please, Señor Verdi, sit.”

  Leo hesitated.

  The Pope continued to speak as he wrote his letters. “I am aware that the institute I am head of is riddled with corruption, money laundering and numerous other misdemeanours. What I wish you to find is something far more important.”

  His tone was punitive and Leo instinctively adopted a defensive tone.

  “It would help if I knew what I was looking for.” Leo took a deep breath, trying to both assert and calm himself before continuing. “I mean, if I am not here to keep you informed on such things as theft or fraud, why do you want me to investigate the finances of the state?”

  The Pope finally placed his pen down on the oak desk, looked up and gestured to the still standing Leo to sit. His face had softened as he began to explain himself.