Path of the Tiger

by J M Hemmings

The General nodded with a sly grin.

  ‘And it was never mentioned to her again,’ he said. ‘Strange, is it not, how tunnel vision can capture a mortal’s attention so wholly. She knew after a while that my kind cannot fall ill, that we have no need of medical skills or medication. Yet she was so obsessed with escaping that it did not even seem to cross her mind that there may be another reason why I’d captured her. In truth, this was the weakest part of my plan. I was worried that she’d figure out her kidnapping had been done for another purpose, but thankfully she did not discover this.’

  The corners of Dr Ogilvy’s lips curled up into a subtle smile.

  ‘Thankfully indeed,’ she said. ‘Now, what about our Canadian friends in Bafa?’

  ‘They are ready to pull her from the river, and their Land Rover is ready to go. They will act, of course, as if they are shocked and surprised. It will be perfect; she will be taken through the border – the guards have already been paid off – to the American embassy in Uganda. And from there, after spending some time recovering in a medical institution of some sort, she will be flown straight back to the United States.’

  Dr Ogilvy’s eyes sparkled with savage delight.

  ‘And then everything we have been working toward these past few years can truly be realised. It’s all going to come to fruition.’

  ‘You are absolutely sure that the virus is undetectable?’ the General asked.

  ‘All of our trials have indicated that it is indeed completely undetectable. There’s no way they’ll pick it up, no matter what blood tests they run on her. And I don’t imagine they’ll be getting too advanced or digging too deep in whatever hospital they put her into in Uganda.’

  Now it was the General’s turn to smile eerily as he peered again through his binoculars.

  ‘She’s in the barrel now, and she’s pushing out into the river. There, yes … she’s caught the current, and is starting to move faster. That’s it! She’s going, going … gone.’

  ‘Well then, there we have it, General,’ Dr Ogilvy murmured. ‘We have just successfully launched what is going to be the greatest attack on the North American continent in all of recorded history.’

  59

  THE GENERAL

  8th October 2020. T’Kalanjathu

  The General emerged from his two hour deep meditation session with slow calm, like a butterfly easing itself from the warm confines of a gently broken cocoon. Seated in the lotus position, he was clad only in a white boxer briefs. He had meditated, as he usually did, in the centre of his small room, which was spartan in both décor and furnishings; the only items in the simple chamber of stone were a reed mat on the floor, on which he slept, a basic clothing rack, a large and well-stocked bookshelf, and a desk with a computer and writing equipment, where which he could work, conduct research and communicate with his agents across the world. On the floor next to his sleeping mat, within easy grasping reach, were his weapons of choice in case of an emergency: a single-handed war-hammer and a Glock 21 .45 pistol. On the clothes rack hung his dress uniform, camouflage fatigues, combat armour and some coveralls for manual labour. A pair of dress shoes, along with two pairs of boots – one for battle, one for fieldwork and maintenance – had been placed, neatly cleaned, next to the door.

  Standing in one corner, wrapped in a shroud of linen, though, was one more item in this sparsely furnished chamber. And when the General stood up after his meditation session, he headed over to this long, thin object and picked it up. He then carried it to the opposite corner of the room, where there was a ladder leading up to the ceiling, in which there was a trapdoor. Gripping the item in his left hand, he ascended the ladder, opened the trapdoor and climbed through it, emerging onto a flat roof.

  His room was one of the highest points in the whole city. Originally designed as a sentinel tower, it commanded an expansive view over both the interior of T’Kalanjathu and the landscape without. Now, at around four o’clock in the morning, the entire city was dark and silent, and since most of the bioluminescent fungi had stopped giving off their light, it reminded the General of when he had first returned to T’Kalanjathu many decades ago.

  I spent my first evening back here on this very spot, alone in the ruins, these ruins that had been almost entirely devoured by the jungle. Yes, this very spot where my mother used to take me as a boy all those centuries ago, showing me the constellations and telling me of all the galaxies and solar systems of which our wise women and astronomers had great knowledge. So much was lost, so much knowledge gone forever. So much fell because of war, because of lies, because of envy, jealousy and greed. And lust, oh yes, lust too … lust for power.

  Humankind has not changed, not at all. Not in the two thousand years that I have lived on this planet. These same dark urges continue to dominate, continue to blot out what little light there is, the light that struggles like a lone candle in the dark against a howling gale. But I must remain dedicated to keeping that flame alive, however horrendously the wind and darkness rage against the light. This is my purpose, this is why my soul was sent to this plane. The energies of the universe are deeply concerned about the great imbalances of light and dark in this place, and I, their servant and emissary, have been sent to champion the light, to rail against the dominance and heinous abuse of power perpetrated by humankind against the rest of the lifeforms who also inhabit this planet.

  The General gazed out over the sleeping city and then peered up at the starry sky, which, at this dark hour, devoid of light from sun or moon above or earth below, was at its most spectacular. He stared in silence at the stars for a while, projecting a cine-reel of accumulated memories through his head; recollections and experiences of such a vast array and of such boundless variety that to try to take all of them in, let alone even a fraction of them, would be both debilitating and incomprehensible to the mind of a mortal. Then the flickering projector in his mind settled, in the darkness, on one specific image, and on the cinema screen behind his eyes, this memory hovered.

  He unwrapped the item he held from its linen wrappings and dropped the cloth to the floor. He then held the object therein aloft: an ancient Gallic longsword, ornate in design and lovingly polished … a sword that had once belonged to one of his dearest friends.

  ‘Ah Viridovix, my brother,’ he whispered to the night breeze as it caressed his body with the gentle warmth of a new lover. ‘How I miss you. How I miss you so. The wound opened in my soul by your passing has never fully healed, even though your flesh and bones have long since returned to the dust whence they came … as will mine, when my work here is finally done. But Viridovix, my friend, oh! Oh how I wish I could look upon your face again, and see that smile and hear that laugh, that laugh that lives on here, inside my head, inside my heart, even though it was carried forever away on a long-gone wind. You would be proud of me, I think; proud of all I have achieved and how far I have come over the years. I hope you would be, at least, even though I never was able to keep that promise to you, the one I made all those years ago. I never did find hearth nor home, nor wife nor child, so I never could bury this sword of yours. And so I have kept it with me all these long, lonely centuries. It has served me well; not as a weapon but as a beacon, a flaming brand when the shadows have crowded too closely around my soul and threatened to snuff out my little candle flame. At those moments I gripped this blade tight, closed my eyes, and travelled back through the centuries to a different time, when you and I talked of simple dreams, simple hopes and simple pleasures.’

  The General paused here as he held the sword up, aiming its point at the evening star.

  ‘Brother! How I long to be with you again! How I long for it … oh, how I long for it. I hear your voice sometimes in the whispered secrets passed between trees in the wind, or your laughter in the gurgle of water rushing over rocks in a small stream as I kneel down to drink. I only wish that we could talk in the words of man once more, that I could have your guidance and wisdom as a lodestar by which to steer this vessel of mine
through the howling tempest that I must navigate. Guide me, brother, guide me! I know that your soul is still with me; I can feel your presence, so strongly sometimes that I must look around me with a focused gaze to verify that you are not, indeed, standing by my side. And now, more than ever, I need you.’ The General closed his eyes for a time, sifting through too many memories, and when he opened them again they were red and rimmed with tears; tears laden with undiluted emotion, and every one of those salty, glistening drops that ran down his cheeks was a swallowed razor blade, scoring a bloody passage through his innards.

  Without saying another word, he wrapped the sword in its cloth again, tucked it under his arm and climbed back down into his empty room.

  He was awake again at first light; over the years he had trained his body to function on absolutely minimal sleep, snatched at opportune moments between important engagements, strategizing, and the fighting of battles. As soon as he opened his eyes, from lying prone on his back on his reed mat he sprang in one acrobatic movement to his feet, and then dropped immediately down into a pushup position, whereby he started his gruelling morning callisthenics routine.

  He had been at it for about fifteen minutes when there was a knock on his door. An electrical tingling in his nerves told him that it was one of his beastwalker troops.

  ‘Come in,’ he grunted between hard but controlled breaths.

  The soldier who entered the room was a short, compactly built man of around twenty or twenty-one years of age, and he had a round face with unremarkable features. His shaved head was polished to a bright, gleaming sheen. He saluted the General with his left arm, because his right was missing – hacked off with a machete as a child.

  ‘General N’jalabenadou, sir!’

  The General rose from his crouched position and saluted the youth.

  ‘Captain Biko, good morning. What news do you bring?’

  He shook out the tension from his limbs and then strode briskly over to his clothes rack, from which he took a towel to mop the sweat from his glistening muscles.

  ‘Our scouts have sighted the mercenaries moving through the jungle,’ the young man replied. ‘As of now, they are four kilometres from the stronghold at T’Kalagelellerani, and they are moving in battle formation. Colonels Hubble and Mandela are awaiting your orders as we speak. They have not asked for reinforcements, but would you permit me to speak my mind, sir?’

  The General nodded as he continued dabbing at the beading perspiration.

  ‘Go ahead, soldier.’

  ‘General, in my opinion we should send a company over to support them. If we drop two squadrons of troops in via chopper, we could crush the mercenaries in a pincer movement, trapping them between two attacking forces on either flank, and the defenders, who will be entrenched and covered by the thick walls of T’Kalagelellerani. They would not survive such a manoeuvre. They do not know the lay of the land as we do, and will be ill-prepared to dig in defensively. Right now they are moving as a guerrilla strike force; their strength lies in blitzkrieg attacks. I do not think that they are able to defend nearly as well as they are able to attack.’

  The General put down his towel, now that he had dried himself off, and changed into clean camouflage fatigues.

  ‘Yes,’ he said after careful consideration of everything Captain Biko had told him. ‘I think the same thing myself. However, I imagine that they may well be expecting us to take such a course of action; after all, it is only logical. Furthermore, we would be risking a great loss of life in fighting these mercenaries in the open right now. You may well be correct in the assumption that they are not familiar with our territory, but remember, the area around T’Kalagelellerani is steeply hilly and mountainous, thickly forested and full of hidden valleys, crevasses and ravines. We must go on the assumption that these soldiers we are up against are highly trained fighters and expert strategists, who know how to make the most of any terrain’s natural advantages. There are plenty of places for them to dig in around T’Kalagelellerani, and if they do set up a defensive position, we can expect stiff resistance. I do believe that our troops would ultimately prevail, but at what cost? We want to crush these invaders with a minimum of life lost on our part. Your suggestion makes perfect sense, but I fear that because of that, it will be exactly what they expect us to do. No, I think that we must approach this in a different manner.’

  ‘So, what orders should we send Colonels Mandela and Hubble?’

  The General looked away, uncertainty writ plain across his face.

  ‘I am not sure yet. I will decide within the next hour, though. Report back to me then.’

  Just after Captain Biko left, another visitor entered the General’s room. The General nodded a subdued greeting to Ricardo Teixeira as he shuffled through the door.

  ‘General,’ he said, his words densely coloured with his Latin American accent, ‘I have heard about the mercenaries.’

  The General nodded, his brow furrowed with concentration, and his fingers drumming on his thighs with contemplation.

  ‘Yes, Dr Teixeira. They have arrived sooner than anticipated, unfortunately.’

  ‘It is unfortunate indeed. However, there is another matter of importance that we must discuss.’

  ‘It is about the Rebels and their hope to launch an attack on Sigurd and the Huntsmen, is it not?’

  Teixeira nodded.

  ‘Yes. My sources have discovered that some of the Rebels are mobilising for an attack as we speak.’

  ‘Zakaria Alwa and those under his command, yes? Then they do intend to attack Sigurd at his brothel in Bangkok?’

  ‘They do.’

  The General smiled subtly.

  ‘I would most likely have done the same myself, were in I command. Is Gisborne with them?’

  ‘He is.’

  ‘Ah, so, he has returned from the figurative wilderness. The prodigal son…’

  ‘It would appear so, General. The question now is this: do we assist the Rebels?’

  The General looked up and fixed a probing gaze into Teixeira’s eyes.

  ‘And reveal ourselves at this vulnerable moment? One small victory on their part, aided by us, may result in all these decades of planning and work we’ve put into the Antidote falling to pieces. Can we really afford to take that risk?’

  Teixeira clasped his hands together and sighed.

  ‘I know. The timing is just terrible.’

  ‘How much of a chance do they stand against Sigurd and his forces without our aid?’

  Dr Teixeira shook his head sadly.

  ‘Not much. The odds are maybe … seventy thirty, if we’re being extremely optimistic. Probably more like eighty twenty, even ninety ten.’

  ‘I do understand, Doctor, that if they defeat Sigurd and his Huntsmen allies they will be striking a great blow against our own enemies. Even if their aims and ours are … very different … and we cannot ally ourselves with them, it would nonetheless be beneficial to assist the Rebels on certain occasions. Believe me, if you had asked me this two days ago, I would already have made plans to help them. However, we now have a war coming to us, and it has arrived much sooner than I thought. Can we honestly afford to involve ourselves in two wars, on two separate fronts?’

  Teixeira pushed his soda-bottle spectacles up his nose, and exhaled a long, slow sigh while shaking his head and staring at the ground.

  ‘I don’t think we can, General, because there is more news that my sources have unearthed, news that does not bode well for anyone.’

  ‘And what might that be?’

  Teixeira looked up, and the General saw at once that a deep anxiety had entered his eyes.

  ‘Yaotl.’

  The General’s own eyes widened and his nostrils flared; there was both fear and intense loathing in the contracting of his facial muscles.

  ‘He lives?!’

  Teixeira nodded slowly, licking his dry lips.

  ‘He lives. And, from what my sources tell me, his powers are returning.’

/>   The General shook his head and let out a slow whistle through his teeth as he did.

  ‘Then we have far more pressing concerns to worry about,’ he muttered eventually. ‘We cannot help the Rebels, as much as I’d like to. No, not now, it is simply out of the question.’

  ‘I concur.’

  ‘Thank you for bringing me this news, Dr Teixeira. We will discuss it in more depth with the others, for it is a matter of grave concern. However, for the present, I must deal with the enemies who are quite literally on our doorstep. I have much to think about in the next hour, so, if you will excuse me…’

  Teixeira nodded.

  ‘I will be off, General. We will talk of this later.’

  With that Dr Teixeira shuffled out of the room, leaving the General to his planning and strategizing.

  ***

  When Captain Biko knocked on the door again the General was already online, communicating via satellite link with Colonels Mandela and Hubble, who were discussing the situation and awaiting his orders. He paused his conversation with them to answer Captain Biko’s knock on the door.

  ‘Enter, soldier,’ he grunted.

  Captain Biko marched into the room and saluted the General with a stiff left hand.

  ‘Come Captain Biko,’ the General said. ‘Sit next me here at the desk. I have decided what needs to be done. It has been a difficult choice to make, and I have had to think long and hard on it, but I know, ultimately, that I have made the right decision.’

  ‘I am sure you have, General N’jalabenadou, sir.’

  ‘I’m going to turn the mic back on now, but I first need to tell you something: you may not like what I’m going to do, and indeed, it may seem to fly in the face of common sense. You will probably be shocked, but you are to stay off screen and stay silent; do not say anything, as much as you may want to, and do not interrupt what I am saying to the colonels, even if it may seem like madness to you. Is that clear, soldier?’

  Captain Biko saluted again.

  ‘I understand completely, sir!’