by S. T. Boston
Over the next few months, she'd watched Lucie open her small bar,. She'd seen Adam a few times, but always and painfully from afar. Despite her longing to speak to him, she respected her orders and concentrated on the task in hand.
Then in the last six months, her cell began to pick up intelligence confirming their worst fears. Several Earth-Breeds they'd been tracking began to head to South America, taking various routes to the large continent, but it was a trend that reeked of something more sinister. There was a wealth of ancient cities which had been under Arkkadian supervision in that area during the old days, the days when they'd first returned to Earth. There were only a handful of places that fell under Asmodeous' rule, however. They'd waited patiently, wanting to gain the maximum amount of information possible before putting any plans into action – a plan that had fallen short during the last few hours. Now with five minutes to catch her breath, Oriyanna took painful stock of what had happened at their London base not an hour ago, and marvelled at how easily things could go wrong.
* * *
The house in Greenwich which had been Oriyanna's home for almost two years was a modest-sized four-bedroom property. It was one of several places owned by Euri Peterson, while he'd been alive and operating as a Watcher. The London residence had been vacant for nearly thirty months. Luckily, it had remained squatter free, and apart from needing a little dusting and airing, the place was in good shape. More than comfortable enough to house the small team which consisted of Oriyanna and three former male Watchers, who'd lived on Earth during the early years of the industrial revolution and through to the mid-twentieth century.
Rhesbon was a sturdy-looking man of broad build, with short cropped blonde hair. Bliegh was small and slight, the polar opposite of Rhesbon and the kind of person you'd pass in the street and forget within a few seconds. Taulass had the appearance of a young, dark-haired professional, despite his true age being closer to five hundred Earth years. Put together at a dinner table, the small quartet of Arkkadians would have seemed a little odd, not the kind of people you'd expect to see socialising together, but individually, there was nothing exceptionally memorable about any of them, other than Oriyanna who'd caught more than a few Earth-Human males glancing in her direction while out in public. Although all three were way out of touch with modern day society, they were far better placed to blend in than anyone else on the council.
Each of the team had a special element they brought to the mission. Taulass was very tech-savvy, despite having been absent from Earth for almost a hundred years, he'd kept himself appraised of man's developments, studying information fed back to him by those who'd followed in his footsteps. Rhesbon and Bleigh, whilst earning their spot on the team due to their previous service, were there as much for their fighting ability and physical presence as anything else. Although Bleigh was slight and unassuming, he was fast, and during his time on Earth he'd studied many variations of the martial arts. It was Oriyanna's place to oversee the team; as one of the oldest Elders on the council she had lived for longer than all three of her team mates put together.
Oriyanna had been carrying out an algorithmic style name and account number search of people they'd found to be on Integra Investments' payroll, comparing them against airline bookings and passenger lists, when she glanced away from the screen of the Apple Mac, to watch the TV broadcast with a troubled expression. U.S. President Hill was addressing a crowd of eager reporters in the press room at the White House; to Oriyanna, they looked like a hungry pack of hounds who'd just been shown the fox. Oriyanna studied the President's face, he looked as if he hadn't slept in days, and she was sure his normally dark hair had taken on some fresh grey. Usually a handsome man, his tired face seemed to be sporting a few extra deep lines across the forehead, making him look much older than his fifty odd years. His hands were tightly clutching the side of a lectern that sported the White House logo, drawing his gaze from the lights that were fixing him to the stage, he glanced down at whatever speech had been prepared for him by his people, swallowed hard and began to talk.
“Yesterday, the British Prime Minister and other European heads of states, as well as myself, were in talks with President Balashov, looking to resolve the stranglehold Russia is placing on oil supplies to the west. As industrial and domestic life is gradually restored to normal, it's important for us to secure our future and unfortunately, that future means we need to secure a certain quota of oil and fossil fuel supplies, something we've been unable to do. As you know, the original goal to be rid of vehicular fossil fuel dependency inside of ten years suffered a setback after the solar flares and virus which took so many of our friends, loved ones and colleagues.” President Hill paused for a moment as a mark of respect. Oriyanna watched him, transfixed, a worried expression on her face. “As you know,” President Hill continued, “Russian reserves which are now being mined in Eastern Siberia, as well as the ones they control in the Arctic region, represent around seventy percent of the remaining reserves, so you'll appreciate just how important it is for us to strike a deal with President Balashov. Unfortunately, it would seem there is no deal to be had.” The camera panned around the room; a female reporter in the third row had her hand in the air, and the camera angle changed to take in both President Hill and the waiting journalist. “Yes, Sally,” said the president, pointing to her – she was obviously a White House press room regular.
“Are you looking at military options, sir?” she asked in a heavy southern accent.
“Today, Russian naval forces were activated in the Bering Sea, it would appear they're heading south, toward the Pacific. It isn't yet clear what their objective is, however, as you already know, we've mobilised our Pacific fleet to counter any threat.” His face took on an even graver expression. “I suspect Russia is pre-empting some kind of action by us for their decision. While we do need to find an answer to this situation, I want to assure the American people as well as the people of the world that I have absolutely no intention of going down that route. We, as a race, have suffered enough over the last two and a half years.”
“If that is the case, Mr. President,” came a voice from the back, and the camera swung around quickly, searching for the heckler, “then why are you intending on bringing our nuclear defence systems and strike capability back online inside the next forty-eight hours?” The camera's operator found the owner of the voice. A guy in a cheap suit stood at the back of the room, he had a small digital recording device clutched in his hand and thrust it forward eagerly, getting it as close to the scrutinised president as possible.
“These are uncertain times, we need to be able to defend this nation if necessary. As you well know, North Korea and China are on the brink of coming back online. Our sources indicate that Russia will have their systems back in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. If I hadn't followed suit, we'd have been left defenceless. Within that naval fleet currently steaming toward the Pacific there are three K-class cruiser subs and one B-class submarine; all four will have nuclear launch capabilities when their systems go online.” There was no retort from the floor, just a pensive and frightened silence. Oriyanna wondered how John Remy would have handled this situation, but she admired President Hill for his brutal honesty. The fact that President Hill and President Balashov would have their fingers on the trigger in the next forty-eight hours didn't trouble her too much. Nor was she overly concerned about China or North Korea. Earth-Humans had been capable of wiping themselves off the face of the planet in a hail of nuclear fire for many years, and despite some very tense and close calls, they hadn't done it.
“Another match?” asked Rhesbon, as he walked into the room carrying a bottle of water. Oriyanna studied the screen intently.
“It is, but I suspect we won't need to worry too much about this one.” She pointed at the screen as Rhesbon crouched beside her.
“Mathis Laurett,” he said with interest. “I'm guessing he won't be making the flight.
“No, but this points toward the fac
t that Asmodeous is somewhere in South America. I'm concerned they're going to use this oil situation to their advantage.” She added in a worried voice, “I told the council we needed more resources.”
“We still don't know for sure.”
“No, we don't,” replied Oriyanna. “But we've been here for almost two years and for the majority of that time, we've been scratching around in the dirt. Over the last six months, we've seen a number of suspected Earth-Breed, who were getting hefty pay-outs from Integra when they had no real link to the company, migrating to South America. We don't know much about many of them, but one of the first we tracked, Benjamin Hawker, used to work in defence systems for the U.S. Government. This guy worries me. Now Laurett was planning to fly the nest, too.” She pointed at the screen and thought of Sam, who would, as they spoke, be heading to France to execute Laurett. She switched screens, bringing up a map of southern England and northern France, locating a small red dot which sat half a mile off the French coast. It represented the modest-sized cabin cruiser they'd chartered for Sam to cross the channel. Prior to him arriving to collect it, Taulass had fitted a small GPS tracker to the vessel. She hoped the red dot would be on the move again soon, heading back toward Portsmouth. “It has to be Asmodeous,” she insisted. “Why else would they all be heading that way?”
“I don't know,” Rhesbon answered, as the door burst open.
Bliegh rushed in, his usually pale complexion flushed with panic. “We need to move, now!” he demanded, rushing to the screen Oriyanna was using. “They know where we are.” He glanced at their confused faces, pushed Oriyanna to one side and sat down at the terminal.
“Okay, explain,” she said, trying to stay calm.
“We have been running this program for the past eighteen months,” Bliegh began, pointing at the screen. “Taulass upgraded it to search for travel patterns of those on our radar, so we could see who was travelling where and possibly associating with who.”
“That's right,” cut in Oriyanna. “Without it, we'd never have identified the travel pattern 'we've been seeing of late.”
“I've been helping him to develop a program to hide our activities, but it would seem someone out there on the 'net is using a seeker-style program.” He glanced at them both, looking from one confused face to the other. “Basically, there's a program on the 'net searching for a program that's running our kind of searches. As in, persons financially linked to Integra Investments and those who continued to be paid by their accounts, years after the business officially ceased trading. I'm guessing that after Sam took out a few of their own they got twitchy, and started looking for ways to uncover where the information was coming from. It must be a new program, as we have alerts built in to the system to detect this kind of thing.”
“When did you find out?” quizzed Oriyanna, flicking the screen back to the red dot, which still flashed frustratingly, half a mile off the French coast.
“I wasn't sure until just now,” Bliegh defended, his face locked in a scowl. “The lines of code are very subtle, once I smelt a rat it took some time to figure out just what it was; whoever wrote the program is good, they almost got around our counter measures. It could have been pinging us for a few hours, maybe longer, I just—”
“Grab what you need,” Oriyanna cut in, getting to her feet. “Where is Taulass?”
“In bed, sleeping,” answered Bliegh. “He was in front of that screen for ten hours straight earlier, he's likely fatigued.”
“Wake him, we can brief him on the move, we don't—” Before she could finish telling Bliegh that there was no time to brief Taulass, a red dot appeared on his forehead. Glancing quickly at Rhesbon, she saw an identical dot decorating his head. She didn't need a mirror to know she also had one of her own. “Get down!” she screamed, hitting the deck. As she fell the sound of three high velocity rounds penetrating the glass sounded in the room. Pizzinkk, pizzinkk, pizzinkk. The round that had been intended for her slammed into an antique oil painting which hung over the ornate fireplace. Twisting as she fell, she was horrified to see that the other two rounds had found their intended targets. Bliegh and Rhesbon were slumped on the cream coloured carpet, bright red stains spreading out from the backs of their heads.
Staying low, she clawed her way to the door as another round slammed into one of the walls. She had to reach Taulass; there was a chance he was still alive, likely asleep and unaware. Then the automatic gunfire began, as if those in charge of the assault wanted to make sure the only thing coming out of the house was dead bodies. Burying her face in the carpet, teasingly close to the door to the entrance hall, Oriyanna covered her ears with her hands and clenched her teeth, waiting to feel the searing pain as the melee of slugs found her body. Through her covered ears, she heard glass smashing, as if every window in the building were being broken simultaneously. The air zinged with ricocheting bullets, but she still felt no pain. Filled with adrenalin she lifted her face, finding the acrid smell of gunpowder clogged the atmosphere. Staying lower to the floor than a snake's belly, she rolled through the door into the hall. This was an old house, the walls at its heart were solid brick, not plaster like some of the others which had been added years after it had been built. Downstairs, the rapid gunfire continued, unabated. Reaching the landing she stayed low, as the shooters turned their attentions to the first-floor windows. The odd round found its way through the door frame, or a post-renovation plasterboard wall. One came frighteningly close to her ear, the air displacement feeling like a light hand wafting over her blonde hair as it sped past. She could see Taulass' room, just a few feet away.
“T!” she screamed, opting to use the shortened version of his name she'd come up with. It wasn't a thing they did on Arkkadia, but it was an earth trait she liked and used, much to Taulass' annoyance. The gunfire stopped as abruptly as it'd begun, and what remained was an eerie silence, so quiet it seemed unnatural. Not wanting to risk being heard, Oriyanna scrambled to the door, reaching up to open it and sliding inside. The room was dark, but there was a street light just outside the window, still lit before curfew. It gave enough dim glow to see his body in the blood-soaked sheets. Panicked, she stripped them back, confirming the automatic fire had found him; the left side of his torso was a mess. The sound of the front door being broken down kick-started her into action. Replacing the covers, she bolted from the room and hurried to the back of the house, hating herself for being unable to check Taulass properly and confirm if he was alive or dead. Once in her room, she crouched below the sill and with a cautionary hand, slid the sash open. Not wanting to find herself in the sights of a sniper she risked a quick look, surveying the back garden. It seemed clear, but snipers weren't in the habit of advertising their positions.
“Two dead down here!” A male voice called, the accent confirming it was an Earth-Breed.
“What about the girl!” This voice didn't carry a local dialect, it was harsh, perhaps Eastern European.
“No sign yet, sir.” The accomplice didn't sound quite so confident in his reply. “I had her in my sights, I'm not sure what happened.”
“Find her!” the Eastern European voice snapped.
It was all Oriyanna needed to hear – taking her chances she slid the sash window open to its fullest extent, climbed out onto the ledge and stopped. Cursing herself for not thinking of it sooner, she quickly climbed back into the room and rushed to the dresser. Opening the top drawer, she removed the Glock semi-automatic hidden there. The sound of footsteps were literally outside her door when she climbed back out onto the ledge and pushed away. There was the briefest sensation of falling before her feet hit damp grass, sending a current of pain through her ankles. Ignoring it, she sprinted across the lawn, cursing her failure to close the window. Her escape route would be obvious to the intruders, still, what was it she'd heard Adam say once? Beggars can't be choosers. With the peculiar Earth idiom ringing in her mind, she reached the neighbour's wall and vaulted it swiftly, landing in a dishevelled-looking flowerbed. Hurrying
to the side gate, she burst out onto a back road. The night was cold and she immediately regretted not grabbing a warmer jumper when she'd retrieved the gun. The thin, long-sleeved tee would have to do; at least it was black. What mattered most was the gun she'd retrieved from her drawer. It might save her, and in the meantime, she could put up with a little cold.
Heading away from the house, she finally reached the main road. If they'd located Oriyanna's hideout so easily, it wasn't a stretch to believe they knew Sam, Lucie and Adam's whereabouts. The two boys were well out of Oriyanna's reach, but Lucie would be at work in her bar. She had no way to warn the men, but she could reach Adam's sister and in turn, Lucie might be able to contact Adam,. Having made the short trip on several occasions to check on them covertly and deliver kill packages to Sam, she knew exactly where to go. Lucie's bar was no more than five miles away; only a few minutes' drive on the quiet roads. The VW Golf they'd hired was waiting in a side street, a minute's jog away from the house. It was locked of course, and the key was back in the kitchen, but hidden a spare inside the car for emergencies. Oriyanna rammed an elbow through the driver's window. The sound of breaking glass seemed far too loud in the quiet street, and she could hear sirens from not too far away, yet another good reason to clear the area. Climbing into the driver's seat she snatched the spare keys from beneath the passenger side floor mat. Gunning the engine, she slammed the car into drive and hit the accelerator, leaving the nightmare behind her, but knowing in her heart she was likely heading straight into another.
