by R D Shah
But it was Shroder who answered him. ‘Alex,’ Shroder said, kneeling next to him, ‘I wouldn’t blame you for pulling the trigger but, before you do, I ask that you just think about it. Firstly, if you pull that trigger those other sick bastards are going to come scurrying quick and fast, and the child which you, I and Claire want so much to protect won’t stand a chance. And secondly, killing someone changes you … and it’s a change that can never be reversed. I heard about that Magi operative you had to shoot at the Temple Mount, but you were clearly defending yourself and any sane person would have done exactly the same thing. But …’ Shroder paused for a moment and took deep breath, ‘… if you do this, it’s cold-blooded murder and you’re not a murderer, Professor Alex Harker, you are a good man.’ Shroder raised his open hand in front of him. ‘So how about now we make sure Claire Dwyer didn’t die for nothing and let’s get this child as far away from these creeps as possible?’
Shroder’s final plea had the desired effect, and Harker began to ease his grip on the automatic. With a shake of his head, he expelled a deep breath and dropped the gun into MI6 agent’s waiting palm.
‘You’re right,’ Harker said taking off the robe and dropping it to the floor, ‘but I’m doing it without this stinking thing.’ He turned his attention back to Claire’s still corpse as Shroder nodded and ripped a piece of cloth from the discarded garment and used it as a gag on the captive Skoptsy.
‘This should keep him quiet for a while.’
Harker knelt down beside Claire and closed her eyes with a brush of his hand. ‘I know you weren’t sorry, Claire, but I am,’ he whispered, ‘and I promise you I will find the child and make sure no one can ever get to him again.’
‘Are you ready?’ Shroder urged quietly after checking that the passage outside was clear.
‘As I’ll ever be,’ Harker replied, stepping into the lead as Shroder closed the door behind him and followed.
They navigated back to the junction of passages and then further on down the one they had previously decided upon. They were less cautious this time and whereas before Harker had been hoping to avoid coming face to face with one of the Skoptsy, he now found himself eager for a confrontation.
Harker’s thoughts of violent retribution were interrupted by the sinister sound of chanting coming from the end of the passage where it looked like it opened up into another wider area. Any other time he would have slowed but he now found himself speeding up. However, upon reaching it he was met with a sight that caused him to immediately halt and duck low. The narrow passageway opened up into a large cavern with a short walkway high above it, like a look-out post, and Harker crouched upon it, allowing him a vantage point of the area below. The cavern was split into three sections. The first, and largest part, consisted of what must have been living quarters, if you could call them that. There were no carpets or decorations but only a collection of grimy looking wooden huts, positioned in a circle and surrounding an area that must have been used as a communal kitchen/mess hall. A large soot-stained pot sat over an unlit pile of charcoal, surrounded by a selection of rickety tables and benches that looked as if they had been put together by a first grader.
The second part, on the farthest side of the cave, was enclosed by a low level fence which housed a couple of weary looking cows, complete with hay and water troughs, each animal adding their own aroma to the already stinky and claustrophobic ambience of the habitat. Things got a little cleaner in the third section, on the opposite side of the ‘neighbourhood’, where an open forum, not unlike a mini Greek amphitheatre, had been constructed, with curved walls. The walls only surrounded half of the stage, so it was possible to see the interior and, as well as being the least filthy structure in the cavern, it was also the source of the chanting. Inside, forty or so people lined the periphery of the room, all dressed in the same shabby brown robes as the earless freak they had left back in the cell.
Because of the robes, it was impossible to tell what other disfiguring acts they might have committed upon their bodies, but if their bared faces were anything to go by, it was likely to be substantial – and suddenly the mutilation of the one-eared man seemed pretty tame by comparison. Harker thought back to the masked individual back at Blackwater Asylum and now realised without a doubt he too had surely been a Skoptsy and, judging by the people down below, the mask he wore had been more of a necessity than a choice. Few of them even had hair and in many cases the scalp had been peeled away, leaving jagged white scars that had healed in uneven ridges of hardened skin. Many had both their ears missing, leaving only small dark holes visible in the sides of their heads, and a few were also missing their noses, with the cartilage beneath ground away and dark scars on top where the incisions had been cauterized with a red-hot instrument of some kind.
One person had, amongst other disfigurations, dozens of cross-shaped symbols gouged into his face and neck but it was a man near the front of the audience that made Harker feel most queasy. He was clapping enthusiastically with a pair of hands that only retained a total of four fingers and one thumb, but it was his lack of ears, nose and lips that really made him stand out. He looked like a ghoul from a horror film, and Harker wondered how anyone could stand the pain of such brutal surgeries and surely even a branding iron could not always have prevented the many potential infections that would result. He thought back to Claire’s injuries and realised the answer. Not all of them did make it, but the few that did survive would have proved their faith immeasurably, and become worthy disciples in the eyes of the Skoptsy.
‘Damn,’ Harker muttered to himself at this display of lunacy and debasement. It was astonishing how warped the human mind could become, given the necessary indoctrination and being confined in such an enclosed and squalid environment.
Beneath him the faithful now held lit candles up in front of them with both hands as they chanted a melancholy and monotone series of notes in unison, all of them staring into the centre of the room where a man in dark purple-coloured vestments stood directly above an empty carved wooden crib and now began addressing the congregation in Russian.
‘Can you see the child?’ Harker whispered.
‘No,’ Shroder replied, having taken up a kneeling position next to him, ‘I can’t.’
‘Then maybe we should grab one of them and force him to talk.’
The belligerence in Harker’s tone received a deeply concerned glance from Shroder, who shook his head. ‘No, we wait,’ he insisted sternly, and Harker was immediately aware by the man’s tone that the MI6 agent was becoming alarmed by Harker’s increasingly hostile manner.
‘I’m calm, Michael,’ Harker said, turning to face his uneasy companion.
‘Are you, really?’ Shroder replied bluntly.
‘Yes,’ he replied with a sigh. ‘I know I lost it back there but I’m OK now.’ He raised his eyebrows in a show of sincerity and patted his chest lightly. ‘I’m OK.’
Shroder eyed him further for a few moments before finally nodding his head. ‘So what have you got in mind?’
Shroder’s restored faith in him was a great relief to Harker because for a moment, and because of the way his gun had been pointed directly at him, he feared the MI6 agent might even take a shot at him. ‘I’ll go back and fetch the robe, and then we figure out how to get down there and take a look around.’
Shroder was already shaking his head. ‘And what if they catch wind of what you’re doing? What do you expect me to do – hold them at bay with harsh language?’
‘Use the gun,’ Harker suggested, pointing to the Browning in Shroder’s hand.
‘This gun only holds ten rounds,’ Shroder replied and motioning to the crowd below, ‘and they seem like a pretty committed lot.’
This answer already had Harker shaking his head in bewilderment. ‘I thought you were an MI6 agent?’
‘I am, Alex,’ Shroder replied angrily, reminding him who the professional was, ‘but I deal in counter-intelligence and we only fight battles that are coordina
ted and therefore the cards are dealt in our favour. I’m not a bloody commando.’
Shroder’s incensed response had Harker raising his hands and glancing behind him to check no one else was close by. ‘OK, then,’ he replied as soothingly as possible, ‘what do you suggest?’
By the look in Shroder’s eyes, he had undoubtedly formulated his own plan and he was just about to deliver it, when something else drew his attention down below and he pushed Harker’s head down out of sight.
‘Stay down,’ he hissed and pointed towards the only individual in the room beneath who did not look like a hobo. Dressed in a clean-cut black suit, white shirt and black tie, the tall man made his way in past the gathered audience, who all parted in front of him to allow him access to the centre of the room, whereupon he shook hands with the preacher. With the newcomer’s back still to the audience, Harker couldn’t tell who he was, but one thing he was sure of was this new arrival didn’t fit in with crowd.
‘Brothers and sisters,’ the preacher announced in Russian, ‘we are blessed to have with us our brother in arms, a defender of the true faith. He is here today to place in our possession that which will allow the Skoptsy to attain true salvation in these final days before the heavenly apocalypse begins.’
Harker glanced towards Shroder who was following the words closely, and it was obvious he too understood Russian, as the preacher continued with his welcoming of the new guest.
‘Our faith and our dedication to God have never waned in over two hundred years, nor our resolute belief that the Day of Judgment will arrive and that the death of Jesus Christ, reborn to this world as a cloned and therefore false prophet, would ensure that the Skoptsy receive the salvation they so much deserve by placing us as rulers of the new world to come. Now, please,’ the preacher continued, ‘hear what our benefactor, friend and ally has to say.’
The visitor was greeted by a clapping of hands to show their support and only when the applause had died did he raise his hands and turn around slowly in a circle, making eye contact with each of the audience members. It was only then that Harker finally got to see the man standing in front of the empty wooden crib.
Captain Donald McCray offered a wide smile to the people of the Skoptsy as he stretched out his arms in a victorious pose and waited for the clapping to fully subside.
From up above Harker watched as the killer continued to receive a rapturous welcome and his look of surprise must have caught Shroder’s attention, because the agent reached over and tapped him on the arm.
‘Do you know him?’ Shroder asked, scarcely audible over the hand-clapping.
‘It’s McCray,’ Harker replied, but the blank expression on Shroder’s face suggested the MI6 agent had never heard that name before. ‘He’s an assassin with Magi connections.’
Harker glanced back down at McCray, who still had his hands raised high, then leaned over to Shroder anxiously. ‘How many shots did you say you had?’
‘Ten,’ Shroder hissed in a whisper.
‘Only ten!’ Harker gritted his teeth. ‘We’re going to need more bullets.’
Chapter 30
‘Thank you all for such a warm welcome on this holiest of days that has been foretold since the dawn of mankind,’ McCray proclaimed as he addressed the rows of eager eyes all fixed upon him. ‘The world outside has long decided that it has no need for the truth that sustains the faith of everyone in this room, choosing instead to submit to the animalistic urges that have polluted their souls for too long. Even now those sinners scurry to find earthly reasons for the events that are now unfolding across the globe but, as with Sodom and Gomorrah, they will realise too late that their lives are forfeit and the end of days is truly upon us. But for us this end of days represents the beginning of divine enlightenment and a new chapter in the Lord’s plan.’
His words were met by a murmur of approval and he reached over to rest a hand on the preacher’s shoulder. ‘Your leader has served you well, as you have served me well during all these years in preparation for the day of reckoning that awaits us, and my promise to deliver the Christ child will now be upheld.’
McCray turned his attention to the rear of the large room, where a group of eight men had appeared, all dressed in similar black suits to his own. He beckoned to the one holding a bundle in his arms wrapped in a blanket and the crowd instantly fell back, allowing the summoned man to make his way over and place the linen parcel in McCray’s arms. He then retreated to the rear as Harker and Shroder exchanged glances up above.
‘The trumpets of heaven and the harps of angels will soon ring out and deafen the non-believers with their truth, like the roar of the demons that you already saw with your own eyes smite that whore of a priest who dared venture into this place of worship only a few weeks ago.’ McCray clasped the bundle more tightly in his arms. ‘As the Lord rides his chariot down from the heavens he will embrace his true disciples in a warmth that will last forever.’
McCray now gestured for the congregation to join him, and the crowd of ghouls edged closer. Meanwhile the eight dark-suited men at the back formed a semicircle round them, wanting to gain for themselves a better view, even if it was at a distance from the foul-smelling crowd.
‘With the sacrificing of this false prophet,’ McCray continued, ‘we will prove our worth to God and after he graces us with the true second coming, in the days and weeks that follow he will allow us to rule over his new kingdom and stand by his side in the subsequent banishment of evil that has plagued this world he created for too long.’
The Skoptsy crowd were still applauding him, with what was left of their hands, as McCray began to lift away the top fold concealing the bundle in his arms. ‘My only regret is that none of you here will get the chance to witness it.’
He let the bundle drop to the floor, revealing the slim hunter’s knife he held in his hand and, before anyone could react, he plunged it deep into the preacher’s neck.
It all happened so quickly that it took a moment for even the preacher to realise what had occurred. He gripped at the protruding handle with a look of sheer disbelief, then hunched over as his body reacted to the impact of the wound, before collapsing to the floor in a heap.
The Skoptsy members didn’t move, each and every one of them unsure how to respond, as all around them the eight suited men pulled compact Uzi sub-machine-guns from inside their suits and began to fire indiscriminately into the crowd.
Harker and Shroder watched from above as blinding flashes and the thunderous sound of automatic gunfire echoed around the dome. The entire huddle of Skoptsy reacted like domesticated cattle, not knowing what to do except glance around at each other wildly in panic as they dropped, one by one, on to the hard stone floor.
While McCray’s men stood over and executed the remaining and wounded Skoptsy, with a double tap to their heads, Harker was overcome by a feeling of numbness and only a solitary thought preoccupied him as the last victim was summarily murdered down below. Justice. The complete lack of empathy he was feeling unnerved him, but regardless he couldn’t suppress the belief that these vile, pathetic, self-inflicting butchers had got exactly what was coming to them.
He felt a tug on his shoulder and turned to find Shroder looking remarkably calm, given the bloodbath they had both just witnessed.
‘This is over,’ Shroder whispered as the last gunshot rang out. ‘We have to go.’
Harker was already shaking his head. ‘But they must know where the child is.’
‘We can’t take on eight heavily armed gunmen,’ Shroder replied forcefully. ‘So instead we follow them.’
‘Agreed,’ Harker concurred and pointed down the passageway they had come through. ‘Let’s get back to the car and see where they go next.’
Shroder was already heading into the passageway when behind them a voice called out from below.
‘Alex Harker … is that really you?’
Harker swivelled around to see McCray staring up at him with a look of astonishment in his eyes
.
‘It is you!’ McCray exclaimed as Harker’s face came into full view over the side of the walkway. ‘My God,’ the killer exclaimed, still stunned by his presence. ‘For a mongrel, you seem to have the nose of a pedigree bloodhound.’
‘And you’re a murderous bloodsucking parasite, McCray,’ Harker yelled back with disdain, as Shroder crouched out of sight behind him.
The insult elicited a wide smile from McCray even as his men encircled their boss protectively and prepared for any attack that might be launched from the walkway overhead. ‘I assume you’re here looking for the child?’
Harker remained silent as McCray stood on tiptoe, trying to get a better look at him.
‘He’s not here, I am afraid, but there is an old friend of yours somewhere in this dump and I am sure she would love to catch up.’
McCray had to be referring to Claire Dwyer and the very mention of her name had Harker clenching his fists. ‘I’ve seen her,’ he seethed.
‘Oh, good. How is she?’
Harker said nothing and a smile spread across McCray’s lips. ‘I’ll take it from your silence that she’s not doing very well. Shame about that but, after intercepting her intended meeting with the Magi, we had to keep her drugged up for a while. And when the Skoptsy grew impatient for the child, we offered her to them as a way of keeping them preoccupied and giving us the extra time we needed.’ McCray glanced down at the corpses strewn all about him. ‘They do … I mean they did love a chance to redeem a sinner.’
‘Time for what?’ Harker yelled back and unwilling to get dragged into the horror of Claire’s demise.
McCray ignored him and continued to peer up at the walkway. ‘Anyone else up there with you, Alex?’
‘Well, the place is surrounded if that’s what you mean.’ Harker’s response had the assassin glancing around the upper levels for a moment, before returning his attention back to the walkway.
