Hammer of the Witches (The Covenant Chronicles Book 2)

by Kai Wai Cheah

  “Agreed,” Ricky said. “Brandt will want to take all of us out at once. He can’t run the risk of us separating into smaller groups once we’re in-country. I don’t think he’ll want to meet us at an airport. At least, not a commercial one. He’ll want us to land on a property he controls out in the boonies, so his death squad can destroy the airship and us in one fell swoop without having to worry about the cops.”

  “Or he could just try to have us arrested,” Bob said. “We’re all technically terrorists, you know.”

  “Like I said: he can’t afford to have us alive to contradict the narrative,” I replied. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t have sent the death squad after Luigi and Frank.”

  Bob snorted. “You really believe Stepan?”

  I had briefed everyone on Stepan’s ramblings. The others digested it quietly. Bob was the only one who made his reservations known.

  “His theory fits best with what’s going on,” I said.

  “C’monI. It’s all Neo-Right conspiracy BS.”

  “Do you have an alternative hypothesis?” Eve asked. “One that explains what’s going on?”

  “Well…”

  “Exactly,” I said.

  “Wait a second,” Ricky said. “You guys are talking as if Brandt will set up a ground ambush and be physically present. You know what people say about assumptions, right? If he knows we’re on an airship, he could just ask his Air Force to shoot us down. Quick, clean and easy.”

  “Brandt doesn’t have those kinds of connections,” Eve said.

  “But his friends or assets might,” Ricky countered.

  “I’m going to speak with Captain Harding about changing our flight profile and identity,” I said. “We’ve been flying as the Kalypso for too long anyway. I don’t want to give Brandt any warning that we’re coming in. He’ll have to organize an ambush on the ground in case the Air Force misses us.”

  “He’s got no reason to be present at the ambush,” Bob said.

  “We can make him,” I said. “Eve can tell Brandt that she wants to meet him in person, and before the meet, she will call him to establish bona fides. We’ll set up nearby with signal intercept equipment. If Brandt is present, we snatch him. If not, we walk away.”

  “I suppose that could work,” Bob said. “But he’s got a squad of giants protecting him. We’ll have to fight through them.”

  “If we must fight them again, our gear is not going to cut it,” Pete said. “I do not want to take on giants armed with GPMGs when all we’ve got are forty-year-old AKs.”

  “Not to mention forty-year-old ammo,” Ricky said.

  “You did well at the Hagia Alethea,” Eve said.

  “Only ‘cause we caught them by surprise. It’s not going to happen here,” Keith said.

  “We need us some AK-122s,” Pete opined. “A pair of RPK-122s as well.”

  “And all the bells and whistles?” Ricky asked.

  Pete grinned. “Of course.”

  “And grenade launchers,” I said.

  “Do we even have those in our inventory?” Pete wondered.

  I shrugged. “Can’t hurt to ask.”

  “Next thing you know, he’ll be asking for rockets,” Keith muttered.

  “Can’t hurt to ask.”

  “…You’re kidding me, right?”

  “No. We have no idea what we’re up against. Better to be safe than sorry.”

  Alex shook his head. “We should just send in the Marines.”

  “If only we could,” Bob said.

  “And on that note…” I said. “Power armor. For everyone.”

  Eve perked up. “Even me?”

  “Of course.”

  “She’s a civilian,” Keith protested.

  “She proved herself at the Hagia Aletheia. And she’s the most powerful psion amongst us. If we’re fighting giants, we’ll need her.”

  “We could just bring in more operators,” Keith said.

  “That’s my first choice. But if we can’t…”

  “She’s not trained enough. She knows enough to defend herself but not nearly enough to run with us.”

  “Teach me,” she said.

  “We don’t have the facilities aboard to do that.”

  “Then we do what we can,” I said. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  Keith sighed. “It’s more than that. Once we’re in-country, we’ll live and die by our weakest link.”

  “Hey, I’m right here,” Eve said. “And I’ll have you know that when I started Hexenhammer, our members had the same questions. We procured training grounds and equipment and had veterans run us through basic training. I can do this.

  “Basic training,” Keith emphasized. “What we do ain’t basic. I’m only going to run with her if there’s no one else available.”

  I thought about the shootout aboard this airship. She’d acquitted herself well. She wasn’t as fluid, fast or accurate as we were, but that could be fixed with more training.

  But we didn’t have time to get her to our level.

  “There isn’t, right now. We’ll keep her in reserve,” I said. “If we can bring more operators aboard, we’ll deploy them instead. If not, she goes in with us. Until we know either way, we train her as hard as we can.”

  She nodded. “Thanks.”

  Keith sighed and shook his head. “Eve, I’m nowhere near the nice guy that Luke is. You’d better be ready.”

  “I am.”

  We spent the next half hour breaking down exactly what we needed: bullets, batteries, firearms, magazines, every single bit of equipment. After compiling the wish list, I sent it to O’Connor.

  The team dispersed to tend to their duties. But Keith lingered in the room.

  “Got something for me?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Eve’s not one of us. She’s not even a Hesperian. But you’re still making her a part of our ops.”

  His face was blank, his tone neutral. Was he concerned? Or was he jealous? I couldn’t tell yet.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, she’s the focal point of the enemy’s attention,”

  I replied. Whether we like it or not, she’s a key part of this mission.”

  “And what about the op we discussed just now? If it’s direct action, why the hell do we need her aboard? Sure, being a psion is nice, but training and manpower are even better. Any one of us could wipe her clock, and you know it.”

  “She pulled her weight, didn’t she? She helped us take this airship. You saw that yourself.”

  “Yeah, her involvement was necessary then. But for this? She’s not. Even a sixty-fifth percentile Nemesis psion is more suited for this than she is. And you know that.”

  “I–”

  “If I hadn’t brought it up, would you even have considered placing her in reserve?”

  No. But he didn’t need to know that.

  “Do you have a beef with her?” I asked.

  “Don’t dodge the question.”

  “Or do you doubt my judgment?” I continued.

  “You’re too close to her.”

  There it is. The clenched fists, the fire in his eyes, the low monotone.

  “There’s nothing between us,” I insisted.

  He snorted. “C’mon, Luke. We can all see she isn’t just an asset. Not to you.”

  “Are you saying my judgment is off?” I spread my arms. “Okay, tell me then. Where did I screw up? When did I place her above the mission?”

  “It’s not like that.” He sighed loudly, releasing his fists. “She’s a honeypot. She knows that Hexenhammer’s only viable option for long-term survival is to ally with us. Nobody, especially the Pantopians, is going to stand for a merry bunch of vigilantes running around knocking off bad guys and making them look stupid. The only way for her to keep doing what she does it to seek protection from a state power. From us.”

  “So?”

  “So she could be manipulating you.”

  “Is that your only concern?”

  He stared into my eyes.
His nostrils flared subtly.

  “Yes.”

  He was good.

  “Very well. I’ve considered that possibility, too. But you must admit, Hexenhammer could be a valuable asset. They hate DW as much as we do, and DW is at the top of both of our hit lists. If we save them now, they’ll repay the favor later. And we need as many allies as we can get.”

  Behind our secret war with Dawla Wahiyye and whoever this new faction was, there was another covert war: the war against the Unmaker, a war that uncannily intersected with my day job. I needed Eve on my side.

  Not that I could tell him that.

  “Enemy of my enemy, huh?” he said.

  “Exactly.”

  He sighed sharply. “Fine. I’ll do what I can to help bring her up to speed. But Fisher?

  “Yeah?”

  “The enemy of our enemy is merely the enemy of our enemy. She is not our friend.”

  “Message received.”

  ***

  Barely an hour after I sent the request, O’Connor demanded an audience. When the video call began, he greeted me with a scowl.

  “Luke… is this LOGPAC for real?”

  The term meant “Logistics Package,” the official term for in-field supply operations.

  “What’s wrong with it?” I replied.

  O’Connor shook his head. “Are you seriously asking for rocket launchers?”

  “Yup.”

  “Did you get the memo saying that the Program is a covert operation?”

  “Hard to stay covert when the enemy is rolling out killer giants.” I raised an eyebrow. “You did get my reports on those, right?”

  “You handled them pretty well yourself.”

  I snorted. “Only because we got the drop on them. If we’re going to have to reverse a gigantic ambush on the ground, we will need gigantic firepower.”

  “You’re supposed to be benched. What are you doing fighting a war by yourself?”

  “This is our one shot at ending the chaos in Pantopia once and for all.”

  “You can’t guarantee that. Who’s to say Brandt is the mastermind behind everything?”

  “Even if he’s not, after we finish him, we can develop the situation. More importantly, if we are going to retain our credibility with Hexenhammer, we need to protect them. That means taking out the ones hunting them.”

  “I don’t disagree with that, but be reasonable here. You’re asking for enough firepower to fight a war. And you’re not supposed to be running ops.”

  “We saw what happened at the Hagia Aletheia. Are you saying we should let a death squad of daimon supersoldiers run around the continent?”

  “You can let the cops deal with them.”

  “Yeah, ‘cause they did so well in Amarantopolis.” I shook my head. “C’mon, cops aren’t trained to fight giants and we know it. We can take out the death squad, gain credibility with Hexenhammer, stop the terrorist attacks and figure out what the hell is really going on. We can to do this. We have to do this.”

  “What can you do that the police or the army can’t?”

  “We know what we’re up against. We know the enemy has assets in Interpol, and they control the flow of information between the police and the media; they may have assets inside local militaries, too. We don’t know if we can count on the local forces to take care of the giants. We know we can with the right firepower. And more manpower.”

  I had timed it deliberately, making it look like a spontaneous request.

  “Manpower is the one thing I absolutely can’t do. There’s no one left.”

  He didn’t fall for it. But he wasn’t objecting to us deploying either. Progress.

  “Where’s everybody else?”

  “It’s… Well, let’s just say our operational tempo has doubled over the last month.”

  “Fighting a war or getting ready for one?”

  O’Connor steepled his fingers. “Let’s just say there’s been a reason DW isn’t in the news much these days.”

  “And Berlin?”

  “Self-radicalized cell. Not much we could do about that. But we have plenty more customers on our dance card.”

  “Well, if everybody else is too busy, I will need everything on the list.”

  “That’s–”

  “Or we’re coming home in body bags, and the press will ask too many uncomfortable questions,” I continued.

  “They’re going to ask uncomfortable questions if you break out the rockets.”

  “It’s just worst-case scenario planning,” I said. “We’re not going to use them unless we absolutely have to.”

  He glowered at me. “And the same applies to the power armor, machine guns and other kit on this list?”

  “Absolutely. I don’t want a scene as much as you do, but if the opposition wants to party, we have to be able to go hard.”

  “Asa Phoster… You know, you’re developing a reputation for crazy ops in the Program.”

  “I can live with it if I live long enough.”

  “Ha-ha. I can say upfront that I can’t get you everything on this list.”

  “Why?”

  “If you’re going to invade a foreign country, we can’t have them pointing fingers at us.” He paused. “And there is the small matter of Eve’s presence.”

  “What about her?”

  “C’mon. I wasn’t born yesterday. Why would you ask for seven sets of power armor, one of them sized for a female?”

  “She’s one of us,” I said.

  “It’s your call, but I can’t give you everything. I need to preserve the Program’s secrecy as well.”

  “But we can arrange for alternative gear, yes?”

  He pursed his lips. Rapped his fingers against his desk.

  “You can’t use them except for the worst-case scenario.”

  “Sure.”

  “I mean it. You’re all supposed to be benched. I can’t get a LOGPAC down to you through regular channels. If things go wrong and the job is traced back to us, our asses are on the line.”

  “But you can get gear down to us through irregular channels.”

  “Well, you gentlemen need a refresher on foreign weapons, don’t you?”

  O’Connor liked to give the impression that he enjoys playing hardball, but when the chips were down, we knew where he really stood.

  “Of course.”

  “But emphasis on ‘foreign.’ None of the kit can be Hesperian. At least, none of the traceable kit.”

  Most of the items on our wish list weren’t Hesperian-exclusive gear. At least two dozen other countries used the same equipment. It seemed O’Connor insisted on absolute deniability.

  That meant we had to run gear that everybody but Hesperia used. Or at least could be traced to everywhere but Hesperia. I could live with that, but Pete would bitch. If only to keep up appearances.

  “I’ve got a list of alternative equipment right here,” I said, tapping my temple. “We could work with those instead.”

  “Tell me.”

  ***

  I wasn’t sure how he did it. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Lord of the World helped things along. When I prayed to Hakem for help, I received a mental impression of a smile and a single telepathic communication.

  DONE.

  The following morning, we landed at Amsterdam Airport. I dropped a frankly obscene amount of money and in return received the use of a private airship hangar for the day.

  Inside the hangar, aircrew swarmed all over the airship, racing to inspect, refuel and resupply her. As I stepped off the Kalypso, I spotted a group of four men in civilian attire in the corner of the hangar, watching a small mountain of crates.

  As I approached, the oldest man waved at me.

  “Fisher?” he asked.

  I nodded. “That’s me.”

  “Here’s your special delivery. Good luck.”

  We shook hands.

  “Thanks.”

  I directed the ground crew to bring the materiel aboard the starboard cargo ho
ld. Once the Kalypso was cleared for flight and the civilians were gone, I gathered Eve and the other operators in the hold.

  The crates were arranged in a neat pile on the deck. A few bore names—first names only, of course. Pete’s eye lit up like a child seeing a Phostermas tree laden with presents.

  “You seem happy,” Eve remarked.

  “Nothing warms the heart like a rifle and a full load of ammo,” Pete said.

  She shook her head. “Hesperians.”

  The guys began to protest. I cut off them.

  “Let’s get this stuff unpacked,” I said.

  Grabbing a crowbar, I pried off the cover of the nearest crate. The wooden sheathing was camouflage; inside were several smaller tough boxes, purpose designed for shipping weapons.

  We carried out the tough boxes and opened them. Eve fumbled with the catches, and I showed her how to open one.

  Inside were five AK-122s, racked and ready. The heavy metallic scent of gun oil wafted into my nostrils. The AK-122 was the youngest son of the venerable Kalashnikov line, sporting polymer furniture, accessory rails and a modular construction. These AKs all had short barrels, barely fourteen inches long. Smaller cut-outs held slings, weapon cleaning kits and suppressors. Pete practically drooled at the sight, but we kept working.

  Another box held two more AKs, and two RPK-122s. The latter were the light machine gun variant of the AKs, though these also had fourteen-inch barrels. Just what the doctor ordered for close-range high-intensity combat.

  Next to me, Alex popped open a crate and whistled. “Didn’t think they’d let us have these.”

  “These” were a pair of Bushmaster Multicaliber Precision Rifles. It was a Hesperian design, but by some quirk of fate, only Pantopians ever bought them in large quantities. MPRs were built on the ever-popular AR platform but were optimized for high-caliber long-range shooting. These rifles were chambered in .338 Lapua Magnum, the preferred Pantopian caliber for such applications.

  “Sniper rifles are nothing,” Pete called out. “Now this… this takes some doing.”

  There were six long tubes inside his crate, colored in olive drab. What looked like a flat elongated disk popped out of one end; on the other was a truncated bell. At the center of each tube, a series of simple pictures illustrated how to use it, captioned in Svensk.