“How are we gonna find her, boys?”
Stromberg lit a cigarette and blew smoke out with a look of bewilderment.
“Guess that’s down to the watch stations now. If the psychics can’t pick up the scent, I dunno what we can do.”
Charlie pulled a hipflask from his pocket and took a swig before passing it round.
“Isaac still out there in Africa babysitting one of those nerds?”
Usher took the hipflask and nodded.
“Yeah. About time Isaac got a nice break away. He’ll be sunning himself up and seducing the local honeys. Lucky fucker.”
5
JAKANNA: 35KM FROM BORDER WITH DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF CONGO;
Take the Africa mission Isaac, you’ll be drinking moonshine and sitting in the sun all day. Yadda yadda. Always the short straw.
The jeep thudded over a bone-juddering series of potholes, spattering mud onto the windscreen. Corporal Isaac Marlowe of the Special Threats Group struggled to keep control as the vehicle hurtled along the jungle path. He was one of the best drivers in the business but trying to avoid shaking a car on this excuse for a road was impossible. A thin cry rose up from the figure slumped across the rear seats. Isaac briefly turned his head to check on her condition. He was shocked at her appearance. Shivering, feverish, neck swollen in allergic reaction. Her usually elfin face twisted in pain.
God she’s not gonna make it. Drive Isaac, drive like the devil.
He tried to inject the usual charm into his voice but could barely convince himself.
“Sorry, I know this isn’t the top class ambulance service I usually provide. Slow isn’t really an option.”
A couple of sharp cracks and two bullet holes punched through the passenger side widescreen. Isaac flinched and nearly lost control of the speeding jeep.
Jesus! Even harder when they’re trying to shoot the ambulance.
The voice from the back seat hissed through gritted teeth.
“God Isaac, I can’t take much more of this. It hurts, it really hurts.”
“I know honey, but just grab onto something and ride it out. We’ll be on the road into town soon.”
If I slow down she’ll never make it to the UN base in time. If those rebels get any better at shooting, neither will I for that matter.
“Arianna we have a table booked at Inzia in Kinshasa a week on Friday and you are not gonna let me sit there eating breadsticks on my own. The grill is not to be missed so I expect you fighting fit and in your glad-rags. Don’t stand me up, girl.”
“Yeah you said….it was to die for…”
Don’t. You. Dare.
“Arianna...Arianna don’t go to sleep back there. You’ll only force me to hit more potholes.”
Isaac heard the beginnings of a laugh that morphed into a squeal of pain.
“Marlowe…you couldn’t possibly hit any more potholes.”
The jeep suddenly emerged from the dirt track of the jungle and bumped up onto sun-baked asphalt. Isaac shifted gear and took a sharp right turn onto a main road.
As the dust from the thick tyres puffed up around the jeep, Isaac stopped and twisted in his seat to look back the way they had come. The lush foliage hung undisturbed and only the cawing of a tropical bird and the background hum of the insects broke the silence. Isaac allowed himself to breathe. He reached out to the backseat and Arianna grasped his hand in her clammy palm. She smiled at him but he could see the fear in her eyes. Isaac nodded in reassurance.
“I think we’re out the woods. I don’t hear-“
The engines roared as their hunters burst through the trees and hurtled towards them. Each vehicle packed with shouting warriors, others hanging from the sides and holding AK47’s aloft. Even from a distance Isaac could see the inky black eyes of the Anansi Brotherhood. Dark gifts from a dark god. Isaac cranked the jeep into gear and punched the accelerator.
“Scrub that. Hang on tight.”
“Hanging by a thread, soldier. Do your stuff.”
The jeep screeched off down the road.
“Isaac we don’t even know if the town has been overrun. The UN building…everyone could be dead.”
They better not be. They need to keep pushing back the rebels until I contact the Boss.
“We need to get this Intel back to Greystone. I don’t know about you, but I’ve always planned to die in a top class Paris brothel. You’re welcome to join me. I’m not checking out here and neither are you. Arianna Check the sat-phone again.”
She forced her shaking fingers to punch a hotkey on the device.
“Nothing, it’s too badly damaged.”
Isaac turned up the volume on the in car radio. The low drone of the BBC World Service became audible. The reporter’s Received Pronunciation was strained and gunfire could be heard in the background of the broadcast. Isaac shook his head.
“Well there’s our answer as to how things are going in town. We might need to fight our way through.”
Despite her pain, Arianna drew her pistol and checked the clip.
“Eight rounds and I have two frag grenades. You?”
Isaac shot her a wink.
“Sharp wit and thick skin. Got me this far.”
Now just get me a few miles further. Please.
The closer Isaac and Arianna got to town, the more abandoned cars they began to see on the road. Most were empty apart from the odd crate of chickens clucking on the roof rack but a few contained bodies slumped over steering wheels or half out of doors. A few vultures were circling above the road. Isaac stepped on the accelerator and began to expertly weave between the cars like a high speed slalom. Behind them shots rang out again as the pursuing vehicles got closer.
Isaac tried to tune out the frighteningly close sound of bullets whizzing past his head and focussed on the radio.
“Over the past three days the situation here in the border region of Jakanna has worsened to the point where the UN has declared it a humanitarian catastrophe. The rebel group calling itself Anansi’s Web have essentially annexed the small inaccessible region and claimed it as a sovereign state with their charismatic leader Uncle Good-Day as its new king. Little is known about the group’s affiliations or its manifesto for the new born region, but they are known to have links with both Boko Haram and ISIS. Response to dissent has been brutal, with reports of horrific mutilations occurring across the region as a warning to the thousands of ordinary families here, who so far, have received little external aid. The small UN contingent here is pulling out as we speak, leaving the region policed by no one except a few brave government troops.
The Red Cross has stated that the burden of the health crisis this ruling group has inherited is almost insurmountable for an essentially paramilitary organization with no inherent infrastructure in terms of government or healthcare.
The illness that has been sweeping this remote region has so far defied classification, but has the local people terrified to leave their homes at night. With people going missing from the local villages and no medicine being delivered, locals have turned to traditional superstitions and rituals to give them some hope in the face of terrible odds.
All foreign nationals are being evacuated and the satellite Embassy based in the region is due to close its doors and fly the last staff home within the next few hours. Journalists have also been advised by the Foreign and Commonwealth office to evacuate, leaving this poor and dangerous corner of the earth in the dark with the world essentially blind to its plight. A Spokesman from the government of neighbouring Zaire told the BBC yesterday that-”
The radio shattered with a crack and fizzle as a bullet ricocheted off the roll cage. Isaac heard the whistle and felt the heat as it passed his ear. He gritted his teeth.
Paris brothel Paris brothel Paris brothel.
The dust threw up by their speeding vehicle offered Isaac and Arianna a small measure of concealment against the rebels hunting them but Isaac knew that stray shots killed just as quick as aimed ones. He veered as fast as
he could, zig-zagging to avoid the automatic fire of their hunters and the cars abandoned all along the main road.
Up ahead a collection of smashed vehicles lay crunched up against a burning truck. Tyres were stacked up in the rear and black smoke billowed in a long trail across the road and out above the trees. The road after the truck was utterly obscured in the murk. Isaac clenched his jaw.
“Cover your face with your shemagh.”
Isaac pulled his own scarf up around his nose and hit the gas. He heard more shots behind them and the shouts of their pursuers. They sounded a lot closer now.
“Gimme one of your grenades.”
Isaac said a silent prayer then drove at full speed into the black smoke. His eyes stung and visibility was close to zero. With one finger he pulled the pin on the grenade and lobbed it into the back of the truck.
One. Two. Three seconds.
The truck exploded in a ball of flame, sending molten rubber out the back and doubling the acrid smoke in an instant. Isaac heard the screams then the screech of crumpling metal as their hunters lost control and ploughed into wreckage of the truck.
Isaac stole a quick glance behind. Just smoke and flame.
Well, at least they burn like normal humans.
He shouted into the back seat.
“You ok?”
Arianna sat painfully up in the back seat and looked behind them. Her face was slick with sweat but she attempted a smile.
“It’s moves like that, Corporal Marlowe, that will get you laid after dinner.”
Isaac flashed her his wolfish grin.
“It’s comments like that Corporal Levrey, that’ll get you a second date.”
Isaac felt her trembling hand on his shoulder then he heard her begin to choke.
Twisting his head, he saw Arianna spasm and fall back into the seat, hit with some form of seizure.
“Christ, hang on love, we’re nearly there.”
Isaac sped through the outskirts of the town. It was absolute chaos. Civilians were gathering what few possessions they had and abandoning their homes. Cars were overloaded with every family member that could fit. The few scattered pockets of government troops were haphazardly barricading roads and piling sandbags up in makeshift defences. They looked lost, leaderless, confused. One tall thin soldier in torn khaki fatigues flagged down the jeep. A carbine was slung loosely across his chest. As he got closer, Isaac could see the fear in the young man’s eyes. In his best attempt at authority the soldier spoke.
“You are journalists? The roads are not safe here, you must follow the convoy West across the border, there is armed escort to safety.”
Isaac flashed an ID at the soldier.
“UN attaché. We’re military observers and we need to get to the UN Headquarters. Is the road still clear?”
The soldier straightened his back a little.
“Yes sir, but they are also being evacuated. The rebel soldiers are heading here now and we are not enough men to fight them. You should go to safety.”
For a moment Isaac thought of home. He thought of sitting in the local pub of a Sunday, sinking a few pints with the rest of Empire One and telling tall stories. He thought of the teammates that were closer to him than most families. He thought of the dying girl in the back seat, burning up from the horrible infection of dark magic in her blood. A virus she contracted saving him. He thought of the grey streaked drizzly skies of Britain and he longed to see them one more time.
If I don’t get this information back to the STG, all of that will be gone anyway.
“I know. But I’ve still got a job to do here.”
The soldier glanced at the feverish young woman in the back seat. His eyes went wide and he took a step back, almost fumbled for his gun.
“She is sick? She has the spider sickness?”
“She’s fine.”
The soldier shook his head.
“She is bad magic she cannot be near us. She must be with doctor in quarantine.”
Usher shifted the car into gear.
“What she has, doctors can’t fix. Not that kind anyway. Like you say, bad magic. Let us through?”
The soldier regarded Arianna for a long moment, then nodded and waved them through. As Isaac drove past he nodded to the soldier in gratitude.
“I’m sorry it ended up like this here. It can get better. I promise.”
The young soldier seemed like he was about to reply but only nodded and waved them on. As Isaac drove off into the town he heard the soldier call after him.
“You must kill her before she turns.”
Isaac twisted his mouth and sped on through the town.
It won’t come to that. I won’t allow it.
Isaac spent the next ten minutes negotiating through the crowds and chaos. Driving in Jakanna was an interesting experience at the best of times but with all the evacuating refugees the pace was infuriating. Twice Isaac almost hit a pedestrian and once he nudged a goat with the bumper until it moved on. In the distance there was the faint constant report of gunfire as the rebels drew closer to the town. Finally he pulled up in the car park of the temporary UN Headquarters.
It was an old whitewashed colonial building that had previously been used as the town hall and before that was one of the region’s few hotels. Three stories high with faded blue shutters on the windows, it had the crumbling glamour of a shady and bygone age.
Isaac had been on detachment here for two months, assigned to the West African watch station.
Such watch stations had cropped up all across the world since the Necromancer Cornelius Fortune had stolen the Bones of Lilith with a view to resurrecting her.
To say the Special Threats Group was on high alert was an understatement.
The standard operating procedure of the watch stations was to team up one field operative like Isaac with one psychic sensitive from the research teams. They were then covertly inserted into an existing UN Mission or embassy abroad and tasked with monitoring background thaumaturgic activity in the region. Other than the political upheaval escalating in the small densely jungled area, the work had been banal. Isaac was essentially a babysitter and bodyguard for the non-combat operator they were assigned to. Operation Geekwatch they had called it back in Hereford.
The role mainly involved sitting in a small room beneath and overhead fan in stifling heat, watching the psychic sitting in a trance and tuning in to the background magical ‘radio’ to look for anomalies. During the long humid days surrounded by bizarre occult equipment and bottled water in their tiny whitewashed room in the UN building, there were two things Isaac had not expected to happen;
Firstly, he had not expected to fall for the psychic he was here to protect.
Secondly, he had not expected the staggering surge in thaumaturgy that had spiked three days ago and literally knocked Arianna off her feet. When it happened Isaac actually thought a stray bullet had flown through the window and clipped her. When she came around she told him that she had never felt a rise in background thaumaturgy so dramatic. She was stunned and weak but to her credit could still pinpoint the direction of the surge. Her visions were patchwork and confused but one thing she was certain of. There was something incredibly powerful happening deep in the jungle to the West.
They had set off early next morning into some of the most dense, unexplored rainforest in the world. It was one of the few regions on Earth with unclassified fauna and flora, and tribes of pygmies that had received little contact with the outside world. Isaac was a veteran of jungle warfare and had hacked his way through some of the most stubborn country in South America and Asia, but even he had to admit he had never been challenged by terrain to such a degree.
What they had discovered on the third day made the jungle seem like a safari park.
They had barely made it out alive, and now Isaac had to convey what they had discovered back to his people in the UK.
Isaac killed the engine and rushed around to the back seat. Arianna was barely conscious, her fa
ce lashed with sweat. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her in a half run towards the main entrance. A single UN soldier in familiar blue ballistic helmet stood at the door. There was a steady procession of staff hurriedly leaving the building carrying boxes of files and laptops. The soldier started to raise his weapon.
“Halt. Identify yourself!”
Isaac fumbled for his identification. He knew this sentry by name but couldn’t recall it. Isaac wondered why the young soldier had not recognized him in turn and then he caught a glimpse of himself in the window beside the soldier. Isaac was caked in mud and dried blood from head to toe, his hair was a matted mess, his uniform torn, blackened and unrecognizable. He sported three days of peppered stubble and his face was haggard and gaunt. As slowly and gracefully as he could without dropping Arianna Isaac held up his ID.
“Johan? No, Johannes, isn’t it? From Cape Town?”
The sentry hesitated for a moment, his rifle dipped. He stared at them with dawning recognition.
“Mr Marlowe sir! My apologies I didn’t recognize you. You look-”
“I call it windswept and interesting Jo, listen we need to get inside, are the uplinks still live?”
Johannes gestured to the fleeing UN staff.
“Yeah but only for a few more minutes. Everyone is getting the fuck out of here, me included. Those Anansi’s Web boys are on their way right now and there’s no one in this shithole capable of stopping them. If they don’t get you the fucking spider sickness will…is she-”
“She’s gonna be fine Jo, but we don’t have time. The Anansi’s Web boys may be here sooner than we think. I kinda pissed them off.”
Johannes drew in close to Isaac and spoke with hushed voice.
“Mr Marlowe. You know I’m a god fearing man. I know you STG boys are into all sorts of spooky stuff I don’t always approve of. But you know what’s going on here don’t you, in this country? It’s those Unseelie things we hear rumours about, isn’t it?”
Isaac hated keeping secrets from good men fighting a good fight, but he was indoctrinated to secrecy.
The Last Line Series One Page 63