Hammer of the Witches (The Covenant Chronicles Book 2)

by Kai Wai Cheah

  Pete’s eyes lit up. “Can we take whatever we like?”

  “Be my guest.”

  “We should check the room for bugs and booby traps before we do anything else,” I said.

  “Yeah. We can’t be too careful,” Bob agreed.

  “We’ll take care of this,” I said. “Luigi, please stay upstairs with Eve until we give the all-clear.”

  He went back up. The Nemesis operators swept every inch of the room for tripwires, mercury switches, lasers, anything that might serve as a trigger. My RFID detector remained silent.

  The weapons in the cache were all Soviet issue. Forty, maybe fifty years old. There was a collection of assault rifles, carbines, pistols and even a few sniper rifles. If war broke out, the resistance would resupply themselves from the Soviets like vultures feeding on carrion.

  “Anybody see any PKMs here?” I asked.

  Rick pointed. “Over there.”

  There were two large crates on a shelf labeled “PKM GPMG, 7.62x54mmR.” As we approached, I saw long streaks of dust. They had been moved recently.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Pete said.

  We dragged out the crates and cracked them open.

  Empty.

  Keith looked at me, his eyebrow raised in silent inquiry.

  “Put the crates back,” I said. “Pete, on me. Let’s go look for seven six two by fifty-four.”

  Pete and I scoured the ammo shelves until we found the section dedicated to 7.62x54mmR. Finding it was easy: it was the only empty shelf.

  “Someone’s got a lot of explaining to do,” Pete whispered.

  “You guys done yet?” Eve called, poking her head through the door.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Come on down. Guys, let’s get to work. I want carbines, handguns and corresponding ammo.”

  Pete dashed to the gun shelves.

  “And he’s off!” I said.

  Luigi chuckled.

  Eve giggled. “You guys have fun. I’ll check the inventory.”

  Eve and Luigi dragged out a crate of AK assault rifles. As she opened it, she powered up her holobuds.

  “Eve,” I said, “we should strip and inspect everything here. We need to know if there are any missing parts. Or if someone added something extra.”

  “Paranoid,” Luigi said. “I like it.”

  The duo went to work, meticulously disassembling and examining every rifle. It bought us more time to do what we had to do.

  “Luke, how’s AKS-74Us sound?” Pete asked.

  “Exactly what the doctor ordered,” I replied.

  Pete lugged out a crate, gently set it on the floor and pulled off the top. There were five AKS-74U carbines inside the crate, nestled in an internal rack. As I eased one out, packets of silica gel tumbled to the floor. I pointed the weapon in a safe direction, thumbed the safety up, ejected the magazine, worked the action and held it up to the light. It was bone dry, but there were no signs of rust.

  The AKS-74U straddled the line between a submachine gun and a carbine. With the stock folded, it could be concealed inside a bag or under a coat. Scars streaked across the handguard and crude metal stock of the specimen I held. The rear sight had the original Soviet settings. I wondered where this weapon had come from. Perhaps a war trophy from one of the many dirty wars of the Cold War.

  “Let’s get sidearms while we’re at it,” Bob suggested.

  “There’s plenty of Makarovs to choose from,” Pete said.

  I glanced over their shoulders. Surrounded by the internals of five different weapons, Eve and Luigi were scrutinizing every little part. We had a bit of time.

  “How about Tokarevs?” I asked.

  “Nope, but there’s some CZ 52s,” Pete replied.

  I whistled. “Those are pretty rare. We’ll take them.”

  “We’ve got more nine by eighteen ammo available.”

  “It’s not going to defeat armor.”

  The Makarov was chambered for the 9x18mm round. Adequate, but ineffective against helmets. The CZ 52’s older but faster 7.62x25mm round would penetrate Kevlar.

  “That’s true,” he agreed.

  We hauled out two crates of AKS-74Us and another of pistols, placing them near the door. Pete, Alex and Rick volunteered to perform function tests. Returning to the ammo shelves, I studied the labels carefully, dredging up what I remembered of Soviet-era ammo.

  Covenanters in the Alliance military were extremely rare, limited mainly to top secret units specializing in deep reconnaissance and raids. Stavka was confident that Private Ivan Ivanovich would not have to fight daimons in open combat, and if he did, that was why Soviet infantry religiously carried RPGs and rode to glory on armored fighting vehicles. Instead of making aethertips general-issue like we did, the Soviets preferred issuing aetherium ammo only to special purpose units.

  Soviet aetherium ammo was extremely rare in the West, but Gladio had somehow gotten its hands on some. An entire shelf was designated for 7N26 ammo. Four hundred-round cans of 5.45mm ammo. As Bob carried them away, I located a single can of 7.62x25mm aetherium. Other crates held spare AK and CZ 52 magazines.

  Eve and Luigi were almost done with the AKs. One more crate, and they’d move on to the PKMs.

  I hustled the crates over to the other operators by the door. Eve and Luigi reassembled the AKs. Their next stop would be the PKMs. Keith cocked his head at the Hexenhammer members and then pointed at the weapons laid out on the floor. I nodded.

  Opening the ammo cans, I extracted silicon packets and checked the rounds with my flashlight. No obvious signs of rust or decay. As Bob distributed magazines all around, I grabbed an AK mag and thumbed thirty 5.45mm rounds into it as fast as I could.

  Pete silently handed me an AKS-74U. I slipped in the magazine. Touched the charging handle and then held back. I didn’t want to spook Eve and Luigi. Not yet.

  I looked up. The men were waiting for me. They’d gone with the lower-capacity CZ 52s.

  I nodded. They nodded. Behind them, Eve and Luigi hauled out a PKM crate.

  “It’s feels too light,” Eve said.

  I approached them from behind, moving on the balls of my feet, letting the soles of my shoes capture what little sound I made. The men followed.

  Luigi opened the crate.

  “Sancto Cielo!” he exclaimed.

  “Luigi…” Eve whispered.

  I racked the AK’s charging handle. The men chambered their pistols.

  The Hexenhammer operatives startled and turned around.

  I kept my AK carefully pointed at the floor.

  “We noticed the empty PKM crates when we came in,” I said, mustering as much calm as I could. “The cans of seven point six two by fifty-four are missing, too. I want an explanation.”

  I kept my eyes trained on Luigi’s collarbone but kept Eve in my peripheral vision. She was uncomfortably close—fewer than ten feet away. Well within knife range. If she got too close, if her hands dipped, if she flared her charagma…

  Luigi slowly rose his hands. “Let’s slow things down.”

  “We can do that,” I said, “but I need–”

  Eve pounced on Luigi, grabbing his collar and shoving him against the wall.

  “Luigi, what the hell is going on?” she demanded.

  Behind her, Keith raised his pistol.

  I placed a hand on his arm and shook my head. He frowned and reluctantly lowered the weapon.

  “Please, I can explain!” Luigi yelled.

  “What happened to the guns!” she shouted. “You were responsible for them!”

  Stepping to her side, I latched on to her shoulder. “Eve. Enough.”

  “Luke! Luigi is–”

  “Release him now, or I will have to separate you two. You are not going to like that.”

  “But–”

  “Let him go. Now.”

  She clicked her tongue and released him. Muttering under her breath, she stepped away from him and crossed her arms.

  “Thank you,” I said. �
��Luigi, start talking.”

  He wiped sweat off his brow. “I inspected our cache last month. Everything was intact. Someone must have stolen the weapons and ammo.”

  “Who knows about this cache?”

  “Very few. There are no records of this property on any government database. As far as I know, only Eve, myself and Hexenhammer’s senior operations team know what is stored here. The Krakens and the co-founders.”

  “Most of the Krakens are arrested or dead,” Eve said. “This means Mike, Vidar or Hans.”

  “Not Stepan?” Pete asked.

  She shook her head. “He’s not an operations guy. He didn’t want anything to do with ops.”

  She was calm now—so utterly dispassionate. It was like she was a human resources executive discussing who to hire and who to fire. Bob and Ricky exchanged knowing glances. Keith looked at her and then looked at me.

  “There’s no signs of forced entry,” Pete said. “Either the thieves have a good B&E man, or it’s an inside job.”

  “I say it’s the latter,” Eve enunciated slowly, “and I’m not convinced you didn’t do it.”

  “Please, we can be rational about this,” Luigi said. “I know our procedures. I knew you’d come calling to inspect our weapons; I’d been waiting for you since the attack on Chios.

  “If I were the one responsible, I’d have shipped the weapons back here and marked the missing rounds as damaged or expended for training. And you’d be none the wiser.”

  “Or maybe you want us to think someone else did it,” Keith said.

  Luigi clenched his fists. “The enemy attacked me, too. They fired on me and my cell. I had bullets fly past my ear when the shooting started. If I were a traitor, why would I allow that?”

  “It could just be for show,” Eve said. “After the first few seconds, the giants were too focused on the Hesperians to fire on the house.”

  “If Luigi wanted to set us up, he had plenty of opportunities on the way here,” I said.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Eve insisted. “The fact remains that the terrorists used World War Three weapons and ammo, and the same weapons and ammo are missing from this cache.”

  Luigi’s eyes were wide open, and he struggled to remain calm. “Eve, please remember what you told me when we founded Hexenhammer? No Nazis, no terrorists, no mass murderers. We must be better than our enemies. We are. None of us would even dream of attacking refugees. Attacking the refugee camps is easy; you and I discussed this before. But we’d never do it because it’s not the right thing to do. If I wanted to massacre civilians, you know I wouldn’t have supported the more difficult and surgical jobs. And you know I would have shot up the camps myself.”

  Eve pursed her lips and said nothing.

  “The enemy wants this to happen,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “They know your procedures. They know that you’d turn on anyone who couldn’t account for missing weapons and ammo. They stole the PKMs and ammo from here to turn us against each other. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if they rigged things so that when, not if, when the missing munitions are recovered, they’ll point right back at Luigi.”

  “I don’t know anything about conspiracy stuff,” Pete said, “but I know the death squad has top tier kit. Modern submachine guns, radios, plate carriers… If they have access to that kind of hardware, why would they bother with Soviet World War Three surplus?”

  “Exactly,” I said. “This is the reason. They want us to do their work for them.”

  Silence reigned.

  Eve flexed her fists, staring at me, at Luigi, at the rest of the team. Luigi’s eyes flitted back and forth between her and me. The other operators continued watching the scene, looking for signs of trouble.

  Silence.

  I raised an eyebrow. Eve looked away. Pete glanced at me. I shrugged subtly. Finally, Keith spoke.

  “I’m not saying Luigi didn’t do it, but there’s no evidence he did do it. And, as Luke said, if he were a black hat, the enemy could have ambushed us a long time ago.”

  “Innocent until proven guilty,” I said. “That’s how we roll.”

  Eve lowered her gaze. Shook her head. Sighed. “Fine.”

  I nodded. “Luigi, while we appreciate your cooperation, we have to take you into protective custody until this blows over.”

  “I understand.”

  Eve looked back up. “Luigi… I’m… sorry. For what I said just now.”

  He smiled gently. “These are difficult times. We must stand together.”

  We spent the next three hours checking and re-checking the rest of the cache. Everything that was supposed to be here was present, and there was nothing that wasn’t.

  “How many weapons are you taking?” Eve asked.

  “Six AKS-74Us and six CZ 52s,” Keith said.

  “Seven,” Eve said.

  “Eve, seriously?” I said.

  She crossed her arms. “I’m in this as much as you.”

  “You’re a civilian.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t have gotten this far without me. And I’m sure you saw me handling those weapons earlier.”

  “Were you military or police?” Ricky asked.

  “No, but–”

  “But nothing. If you haven’t been trained in small unit tactics, there are too many things that can go wrong.”

  “I know how to handle firearms. I can help,” she insisted.

  “Yeah? Do you even know how to move in a stack? Or down a lane? How about handling weapons in a firefight? There’s a world of difference between range shooting and combat shooting, lady.”

  “Guys,” I said quietly, “Eve has to be able to defend herself.”

  “What,” Ricky said flatly.

  “She did fine when we had to take the airship,” I said. “If the giants come for her again, I’d really like her to have more options at her disposal than a flask of ambrosia.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Keith said. “She’s a civilian! She should not get involved in direction action! It’s too dangerous!”

  I nodded. “I agree. I don’t intend to send Eve into combat either. But you saw the kind of firepower the bad guys had. You really think ambrosia is enough? You saw what happened in Rome. There are only six of us and who knows how many giants. At the very least, with an AK Eve can pull security for us.”

  Bob facepalmed. “Listen to yourself. This is how friendly fire happens!”

  “It’s a training issue. It can be solved.”

  “How?”

  “Plenty of room aboard the airship,” I said. “Hell, the gym is practically empty.”

  “This isn’t going to end well,” Keith said. “You know that.”

  “Guys, the main objection I’m hearing from you all has to do with Eve’s training, or lack thereof, correct?” I asked.

  Pete nodded. “I’m not saying she’s not one of us, but there’s a world of difference between our capabilities.”

  “And if we can bring her up to speed?”

  Keith sighed. “If, and that’s a damn big if, she can carry. But only for self-defense and static security.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Alex said. “I saw her at work. She saved our asses in the airship. We can always use another armed psion.”

  “Oh, come on,” Ricky said. “You, too?”

  Alex folded his arms. “I saw her cut up a bunch of daimons warping in right in front of us. She’s good in my books… if she can shoot straight.”

  “Asa… I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Keith muttered.

  “I can help,” Eve said. “I can fight. Give me a chance.”

  “Here’s the deal,” I said. “Eve, if you want to use those weapons, you will train with them. You will not carry them on ops until we are satisfied you can meet our minimum standards. You will not participate in combat except in self-defense or static security without my express orders. Am I clear?”

  “Clear,” she said.

/>   “People, any objections?”

  Keith sighed. “And who’s going to take care of training?”

  “I will,” I said.

  “Fine. Your funeral.”

  Eve nodded at me. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me. Remember: I’m the one training you. If you don’t live up to my standards…”

  She smiled. “I will.”

  Pete snickered. “I have no doubt about that.”

  I grimaced. “You. Head. Gutter. Out.”

  Luigi smiled. “You’ve seen Eve at work. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”

  The Nemesis operators looked skeptically at Luigi. And me.

  “We will see,” I replied.

  Epsilon: True Believers

  The handler was middle management. Usually, he received his orders via secure email or in person from a cutout. If he had to speak with his employers on his secure line, things had gone magnificently well or horribly wrong.

  This was most definitely the latter.

  “Your operations are getting messier. The bloodshed is spilling onto the streets. People are starting to notice. The media cannot cover it up forever. Explain yourself.”

  “It is inevitable,” the handler replied. “We wiped out the soft targets in Hexenhammer. The ones who remain are hard targets with the skills and equipment to survive. To fight back.”

  “You are not paid to make excuses.”

  The caller’s voice was a harsh digital monotone, doubtlessly enhanced by a voice changer. Even so, the handler heard the implicit threat loud and clear.

  “I’m not making excuses. I’m saying that going forward, the rest of the operation will not go as smoothly or easily as before, which I explained to you when I initiated it. Besides, the perception of chaos serves our ends.”

  “How?”

  “People are afraid. Their lives are being turned upside down. They want nothing more than to return to their everyday lives. It’s normalcy bias at work, see? They’ll buy into any narrative that explains the situation and provides a neat and easily understandable solution. It’s how the Neo-Right became so popular.”

  “And all we need to do is seize the narrative before Hexenhammer does.”

  “Yes, like we’ve been doing already. We’re already attained a measure of success. People are openly discussing the need for greater government control and repudiating the Neo-Right. We just need to finish the job.”