by Peter Ackers
93
To someone who expects to meet death in a dark, waterlogged cave, the sight of the sun in a warm sky is like being given a new lease of life. Jacky stared up at the hot yellow ball, blinking against the slowing rain, and vowed he would never again risk his life in search of adventure.
Who was he kidding?
He helped Leo towards Gabrielle’s chopper, which he recognised as the Bell Armed OH-58D, the Kiowa Warrior, one of the finest combat choppers on the market. James followed at a distance, like a man who is unsure of the dangers those ahead of him might be walking into. They were almost there when movement in the corner of his eye made Jacky look. Marcellus’ chest was moving, slowly, softly, but moving with life.
He put Leo in the cabin and rushed over as fast as his injuries would allow. James just watched. Marcellus was indeed alive, but bleeding badly.
“I sensed death,” he croaked.
Jacky bent to help him up. “Don’t give me any of that cheesy crap, Marcellus, I’ve -“
“And it wasn’t all that bad,” he cut in. “That’s why they were all insane, isn’t it? Not because they ate seeds when they were still alive. But because the average human lifespan is just enough for the mind to handle. Any more, you get bored . . .you start to lose it...”
“Yes,” Jacky said reassuringly, as he helped the older man walk.
“And any more than that drives you mad. I don’t want to be mad.”
“Stop babbling, Marcellus, or you might end up that way.”
“I just want to be dead.”
Jacky helped him into the fuselage and strapped the seatbelt on him. “A death wish from someone who wants to be immortal. That’s a first.”
Marcellus started to speak, but Jacky shut the door on him.
He checked Jameson. The man was quite dead.
Jacky went to check on Boyle next. Boyle was looking at the ground somewhat nervously, like a naughty child faced by a strict teacher in front of a whole class. Jacky just looked at him for a moment.
“Bad penny,” Jacky said at length.
Still looking down, James nodded. He kicked at an imaginary stone. “Gabrielle wanted someone close to you. For info. She found the closest.”
“I suppose you think you deserve thanks for kicking that gun away?”
“I suppose you think you deserve thanks for showing me my wife was a cheating bitch?”
Jacky laughed, but then Boyle's face became all serious.
"I don't really want you dead, Jacky. I know you too well. But it's probably going to happen, the risks you take. But a guy like you, and a guy like me, seems only fitting that we take our last breath because of a risk. A failed climb, or some boobytrap, something like that. Not a bullet. Not by some wanker with a gun. That's just wrong."
Jacky was taken aback by this. "Cheers. I think."
There was a short silence that followed. Then Boyle said, “Are you going to leave me here, Werewolf.”
“I’ve always hated that name, James. And don't you think missing in action on a dangerous treasure hunt in South America would be cool on your obituary?”
"I'd prefer dead of old age."
Their eyes met for a moment, and something uncomfortable passed between them. It was that feeling felt by very close friends who’ve had a silly argument that makes each party feel somewhat childish for their attitude. It did the same here. If nothing else, it served to remind them that at one time they had been inseparable friends. That at least counted for something. If never to be a re-established friendship, then at least a quiet ride home.
Jacky opened the door; James got in. “I have a new lead on the horseshoe, Werewolf. Jamaica of all places. Might need a partner.”
“Might consider it.”
Jacky got in the pilot’s seat. Behind him, a high-pitched growl.
Marcellus was holding Gabrielle’s baby tiger, twisting it this way and that like a man studying a strange object. Leo took the squirming animal from him.
“Aw, cute. I’m keeping him.”
“No,” Jacky said, twisting in his seat and taking the baby tiger from her. Then he broke into a grin. “He’s mine.”
Leo said, “Lawrence Marcellus. So they didn’t kill him?”
“Nobody killed anyone except the chap they knew as Patrick,” Jacky answered as he started the chopper’s engines. The baby tiger was in his lap, licking his paws, happy with life, it seemed. The chopper rose from the island. If there were any more bad guys out there, it was too late for them. It was all over. Time to go home.
“Patrick?” Leo prompted.
“Lachesis, remember?" Jacky said. "Patrick thought he was something special. Lachesis decided the length of human life. Patrick likened himself to her. I realised that in his cell. I think he was the one who volunteered to test the magical nectar first. It brought him back after death and that, I guess, made him think he was some kind of deity with control over life and death. He was letting his ego play in that cell when he scribbled the name ‘Lachesis’. That was one of the biggest clues, a giveaway. The prison period in French Guiana didn’t even begin until almost a hundred years after Lawrence Marcellus and the others found the tomb. I thought it was one of his descendants in that prison, because of the years gone by. But it was Patrick himself. How could Patrick have lived for so long unless he’d used the magic? By the time he was imprisoned, a hundred years later, Patrick was the only one of the original group still living, apart from Lawrence, buried in a tomb, where he’d obviously found some remnants of that magic nectar. Patrick had killed the man who paid him off, Henry Wren, and all his men. Killed them and fabricated their suicides, blaming it on poisoning at the hands of Lawrence Marcellus. He wanted the power alone. And it had been planned all along. Weeks earlier, while Lawrence and Wren had been here in South America, Patrick had been in Nova Scotia, setting up the Money Pit decoy. It was Patrick alone who killed those people. Maybe Lawrence Marcellus and Henry Wren didn’t even know. It had all been planned from the start.”
“What people?”
Jacky remembered that Leo didn’t know about what he’d found at the bottom of the Money Pit. He avoided the question. “That left Patrick himself the only remaining player, an immortal.”
“But he went insane?”
“Insane enough to get arrested a hundred years later. But even that was many, many years ago. I dare say he’s a raving lunatic now.”
Leo looked shocked. “You think he’s still alive?”
“He’s immortal. Alive and insane and probably hiding in another cave in France. Or London, or anywhere. And all we know about him is one name. Hang on.” He banked the chopper, turning half-circle, heading back towards the island. Leo looked down at it, all barren and burned.
“How could he become like that? That thing in there? It was . . .”
“Since apes stopped living in trees, look how they’ve changed. They became us. More walking created flatter feet. That's evolution. Adaptation. Evolution is about learning and adapting. Lawrence Marcellus did nothing but scratching and biting and diving at that door, for years and years. Hence the claws, teeth and wings.”
Leo’s mouth moved. She sort of understood this, Jacky realised, but her brain was having a hard time accepting it - even after all it had witnessed.
“What happens now?” she said, changing the subject before she went insane herself. Can this thing get us the hell away from here?”
“Well, it does roughly 230 kph and 270 nautical miles. It’ll certainly get us away from here, but we won’t be reaching home too quickly.”
“I could do with a few toilet stops after today’s adventures. What happens with that tomb now.”
“Well, in a few dozen years the trees will have all grown back. I dare say there’s still magic in there. They grew back after Lawrence Marcellus and Henry Wren destroyed them. The Babylonians made this thing to last. Unless we pull another lever.”
“What?”
Jacky tapped the lever in question. It was small and
red and used to pre-fire activate the seven-tube rocket launcher located on the side of the chopper.
“Two Hellfires, seven Hydra 70s, and two air-to-air Stingers, complete with laser designator for faultless targeting. We have enough firepower to smash the surface of that island enough to allow the river to flood the cave. sure. Bury the tomb. Marcellus here can invent a cover story. What do you say?”
He smiled at Leo. Leo smiled back. “You and your levers, Jacky!”
“You’re not wrong!” James said. “He's been doing it for years. Even nice, helpful levers turn dangerous when he touches them. The coffee machine in the library at university, ask him about that. Pulled the lever right off. Water everywhere. Or ask him about the Mahavira thing. That lever in Thandidin Temple in India. ”
Leo looked round at James. “Yeah?”
Jacky just groaned. "No, no, James, I tripped and fell into that one. That was an accident."
"Hell no," James said, laughing. "'Allow me,'" you said. Allow me. Allow you to trip? You went right over and pulled it after I said you really shouldn't."
"I meant allow me to go first. First into the chamber. I sensed the danger ahead. And you were so scared that day."
"My knight in shining armour. How about that false book in that bookcase in Japan, you remember that? The Lady Murasaki thing."
"That wasn't a trapdoor, man, it was a loose bit of floor..."
Leo sat back with a smile and listened to the two men bicker as the helicopter took them home.
