The Code War

by Ciaran Nagle

  She stopped them at a point on the helter skelter where the vast finger of Slothmire lay stretched out into the distance. The land surface of the finger was barely visible. The entire plain heaved with a groaning mass of devilry, standing, stooping and crawling. Here and there a fight broke out over some tiny sod of shale or piece of coal. Dozens of lower caste trolls, mawls and pixies joined each deadly scrum, desperate to steal any trophy that would allow them to feel greater, richer, better than all the others - even if just for an instant.

  Further out still, near the end of the finger was a vast wall of slag and stone that stretched from one coast to the other. On the other side of this, the 'nail' of the finger, was where the vast majority of gurns eked out their miserable existences. Destitute and starving, they defended their territory with the force of their numbers, lest they all be captured and burnt in a short time.

  'They're all my people,' proclaimed Bezejel proudly, indicating the mobs below. 'The strong survive and the weak die out. We are gradually creating a powerful tribe. Eventually the weak will be gone and we will face Heaven and all its cosy, pampered angels on the battlefield and we will thrash them.'

  The lower levels of Husk Tower were open to upper caste demons both for motivational sightseeing and for Destructive Purpose meetings. From the helter skelter stairway, corridors led off into the interior of the building. Some of the rooms were for private debauchery. Others were dungeons where the Leader could interrogate any presumed malcontent who might lead an insurrection against him. Few were ever found to be innocent. Most were condemned. It wasn't called Husk Tower for nothing.

  Bezejel led them on till they reached a plateau in the spiral. Here the helical wall jutted out, overhanging the fall below. The incline had been levelled out to make an even deck. Bezejel had arranged for their meeting to be held here. A stone table and three chairs were set out on the small plateau. She motioned her accomplices to sit.

  'Let's talk,' she said. 'Let's make our plans while we look out on the cauldron below where the glorious future of Inferno is being pieced together right now.'

  Hideki sat and looked over the wall at the huddled masses below. He betrayed no thought or emotion. His habitual arrogance was his only expression.

  Bezejel regarded him with annoyance. It was time to talk business.

  'What was in those eyes, Hideki, the eyes of the Chinese lizard?' she demanded.

  'Nothing, Madam Bezejel.'

  'But Nancy stared into them. She saw something there. You must have planted something. Tiny images, maybe. Inside those reptilian windows. What were they?'

  Hideki looked away disdainfully, determined not to be hurried.

  Kodrob was feeling the intense heat that surged upwards from the plains. The thermal currents were attracted to the Tower and rose around it as if they were following the spiral stairway. It was too warm for Kodrob, though Bezejel and Hideki appeared comfortable. He carefully brushed his forehead and looked down with a frown at the slight dash of perspiration on his fingers. Sweat was a sign of weakness. Only new arrivals to Inferno displayed such intolerance for heat and they were roundly mocked and abused. Kodrob was sitting slightly behind his terrifying mistress. He shuffled his chair, taking the opportunity to wipe his hands on the underside of the seat.

  Pu Gash emerged unexpectedly from a door in the Tower beside them and walked onto the deck. Bezejel had planned ahead and arranged for the little imp to wait on them. He had been making drinks in a nearby 'petrol station' and now appeared bearing three flaming flagons of tar on a tray. He handed them to each of his three superiors in turn. Their bitter aroma and black smoke perfectly represented the malice of their little maker.

  For Pu Gash was not a kindly imp. In honour of the indentured slave-children that Nancy had helped on their journey to cocoa bean farms south of Gambia, Pu Gash had carefully decorated the outsides of the flagons with motifs of young children being prised away from feckless parents. The images of their flailing hands and wide-eyed fear at their separation were a welcome sight to the demons. Hell valued orphan societies as some of its best recruitment grounds. Kodrob shook Pu Gash's little hand. Bezejel patted him on the head. Hideki ignored him.

  Bezejel held up her flagon and inspected the images before nodding approvingly. 'There's a special place in hell for all of these young ones. The more they despise their fathers for selling them to people traffickers the more they'll understand that survival is only for the ruthless.'

  She stood and removed her coat, smoothing down her skin-tight red dress several times with her elegant fingers. She regained her seat and crossed her legs.

  'She saw what she wanted to see', Hideki eventually pronounced. 'The eyes of the dragon only opened her imagination. They created an empty space in Nancy's mind. She filled that space with her own desires. We will never know what she saw. We only opened the door.'

  'It was superb work, Hideki. It was exactly what I wanted from you,' exclaimed Bezejel. 'But now it is essential that you tell me more about the code. How long will it be until Nancy has received the entire coded message and we can extract all of Mya Ling's ambition and ruthlessness forward into her soul?'

  Hideki spoke carefully and deliberately. 'In Earth time, we go more slowly now. Nancy will enter a new world in Hong Kong and must be given time to settle into it. But it is permitted now to tell you how many code letters in whole code string.'

  Kodrob looked up and regarded Hideki with more than usual attentiveness. He noticed that Bezejel had stopped fidgeting and burning sugar in the flames of her drink.

  Hideki drew himself up and looked languidly over the wall at Slothmire. He was too important to actually look anyone else in the eye, thought Kodrob. The rivalry between Bezejel and Hideki was flaring up again, Hideki's arrogance continuing to scrape against Bezejel's raw temper.

  Kodrob realised that he was beginning to tire of the constant turbulence around him. Why couldn't he just retire somewhere quiet and let his fellow demons fight it out between themselves until there were none of them left? He realised that these were dangerous thoughts. If any of his squad realised he was thinking with such passivity he would be demoted in an instant and he knew what that would lead to. A gang assault with no mercy. In really severe cases it could lead to double-husking and he would re-emerge as a mere troll, fit only to clean latrines with his bare hands and lick splashes of petrol from the floor with his tongue.

  He realised Hideki was looking at him and there was contempt in his eyes.

  'Are you with us, Captain Kodrob, or are you thinking about your next visit to a squawhouse?' said Hideki acidly. 'We don't want to hold you up if you'd prefer to be somewhere else.'

  Bezejel turned around and glared at Kodrob. For now he was her protégé and what he did reflected on her. Kodrob couldn't afford to lose her patronage.

  'I'm delighted that you trust us with this important information, Colonel Hideki,' said Kodrob, recovering quickly. 'I was just reflecting on the gallant work you have done and how it has paid off.'

  Hideki gave him a sour look. Bezejel kept up the pressure. 'Colonel Hideki, you were talking about the code.'

  'Indeed,' continued Hideki trying to recover his air of superiority and looking coolly at Bezejel. 'I believe it will help the cause of our mission if you know that there are nine letters in the code.' He looked at them to gauge the effect of what he clearly considered to be a hugely important piece of information. 'We must deliver all nine before we can connect Nancy to her ancestor. So far we have delivered four and if I may say so, the last one was the most sophisticated and the most important. As you correctly perceived, Bezejel, the eyes of the dragon, which I designed myself, had a most profound effect on the young woman.'

  'Indeed Hideki, I witnessed it myself,' retorted Bezejel. 'But it would not have been possible to deliver the code letter safely without my team members in place. We did all the hard work.'

  'I see,' replied Hideki non-committally. 'But what are your team doing about the messages fr
om the winged imperialists? There was another triple digit number from them in the harbour. And what about her visit to the relative in the kibbutz? What are you doing to stop them, Bezejel?'

  Bezejel was defiant. 'Her great uncle encouraged her to continue on the path we have set out for her. That may not have been his intention. But it was the result. I am well pleased with that meeting. We were right to let it go ahead.'

  'But Nancy is now searching for her roots,' countered Hideki. 'She is a Jew. What if she rediscovers her Jewish roots?'

  But Bezejel was ready for this. 'Calm down Hideki. You worry too much. She has no family in Hong Kong. There are few of her faith in the British imperialists' colony. Not a single synagogue. In Hong Kong she will be completely isolated. It is the perfect place to deliver the rest of the code to her. Paradise will be powerless to intervene.' Bezejel now had Hideki's full attention and she paused for a moment before delivering her knockout punch.

  'There is no place on Earth where Nancy is less likely to find her roots.'

  Heaven's Shore

  'I've received permission to go to Earth,' announced Jabez proudly. 'That is, really go there, not just watch from above.'

  'You mean, like, walk on the ground and drink tea?' asked Agatha.

  The four angels were at Jabez's lonely command post, three of them by globe.

  'Yes, I'll be drinking tea definitely. But it'll be Chinese tea.'

  'That's great news,' shouted Luke. So you're going to Hong Kong?'

  'Yes, my sponsors were impressed that we made the right call in anticipating the Hong Kong connection. They also approve our strategy to work with the friend that Agatha identified. But there's more.' Jabez was clearly excited. 'First, I'm going to familiarise myself with things on the ground, understand the local conditions. But later, if all goes well, I may need some or all of you to join me. It's voluntary of course. There are dangers. But I think it could really help us to support Nancy better when the time comes. What do you all think?'

  'I hate to take the air from your sail, Jabez,' put in Ruth, 'but I'm not really sure it's such a great idea. I think the risks, frankly, are too great and we'd be better working more closely together from Paradise. In fact, if y'all want to come and move into my place there's plenty of space here. Then we can work from the side of the pool.'

  'Ruth, that's very generous of you, and I may well take you up on your offer. Though I'm not sure too much comfort and easy living will help us focus better on the task. But I think I will go ahead and spec out Hong Kong myself to begin with. I want to get a feel for the place. I've only viewed the twentieth century from Paradise before. I've never been there. And this mission needs wings on the ground. I'll be undercover of course, for the most part. No-one'll know I'm there.'

  'They'll know,' said Agatha.

  'Yes, they will,' agreed Jabez. 'Though humans won't notice me. But maybe it'll be a good thing if they do see me. It might slow them down a bit. Make them more cautious and wary.'

  'Or it might make them more careful and more effective,' said Luke. 'Look, I agree you should go. But you should go in the Fundial lightcraft and keep it close by you. Just in case you need a quick exit.'

  'Thanks Luke,' said Jabez. 'I appreciate the vote of approval.'

  'Can you use chopsticks?' asked Agatha, supportively.

  'I need to practice,' admitted Jabez. 'But first I need to brush up my Cantonese tones, I'm a bit rusty on those.'

  'Jan hai la' - Definitely - agreed Luke in perfect sing-song Cantonese dialect.

  'Yes. Jan hai. Quite right. I'll be in touch as soon as I know more and I've found more places to put the 1.11 code in front of Nancy's eyes. Agatha, that was a touch of genius placing it on that sail.'

  'Thank you,' said Agatha. 'I can't wait until the moment of Nancy's revelation, when she learns what it means. But she will need to see it many more times before then so that it really sinks in. We've got our work cut out to increase its visibility.'

  'Ah'm inclined to agree,' cut in Ruth, her Texan tones acrobatting through the air like cowboys on mustangs. 'The enemy has got a clever code, but we've got somethin' better. Next time we speak I hope to be able to tell you what I think they were doing in the nineteenth century with Nancy's ancestor. I have my suspicions and if they're true Nancy's havin' a powerful time-trick played on her. It's what they used to call a spell long ago but these days we just call it a dirt extraction. It's legal by the rules we all play by, but it's mean. And if they pull it off, all the bats of hell will be loosed on Earth. We're gonna need that friend of ours in Hong Kong that Agatha talked about. And he's gonna need us.'

  Yaumati Police Station, Kowloon, Hong Kong

  The dragon's head surged into the upper corner of the CID room, pulled back, surged again, waved its huge colourful head side to side and dived back towards the centre. Then it reared up and surged again at another corner to frighten away the terrified evil spirits who had taken refuge there. Cymbals clashed and drums bashed at all sides making a cacophony of joyful noise. Underneath the dragon three pairs of scuffed shoes could be seen kicking out to the side while its long body trailed nearly twenty feet behind it.

  At the long table in the centre of the room, a detective was trying to take a statement from a robbery victim while around him DCs and English-speaking Junior Investigators were putting out beer and Chinese tea. To a rousing cheer, two young waiters from the Gam Jeung restaurant, both with cigarettes protruding from their lips, man-handled a large salver bearing a just-sliced whole roast suckling pig into the room. Smaller plates bore shiny-skinned Peking ducks and cold roast chickens. Moon cakes were piled high on a filing cabinet.

  Dan Kelly, CID duty inspector, strode into the room and stood just inside the door. Dan was fond of suckling pig. But he was also fond of a beer and he made no effort to decline when Detective Sergeant Tung grabbed a bottle of San Miguel and poured some into a glass. 'Daai Lo' - 'Sir'- he saluted Dan with the respectful title and offered him the glass.

  'Thanks Tung,' said Dan, speaking in Cantonese. 'Have we got the witnesses coming back for questioning about that serious wounding? And what about the two guys who were caught with 6 packets of heroin in their car and each blamed the other?'

  'All delayed for one hour until festival over,' declared Tung confidently.

  'I'm glad we have our work priorities the right way round,' said Dan swigging his beer.

  The drums and cymbals rose to a crescendo. The dragon's movements became ever more exaggerated and sharp, looking suddenly behind to the left, behind to the right, up, down, under the table, behind the window blinds. Around it, detectives were smiling and clapping. A few members of the public who were sitting at various side benches looked on with detached interest. Whatever serious matter had brought them to the squad room was not going to be blanked out of their minds by a mere dragon dance.

  Finally the dragon leapt up high and then collapsed on the floor to a roar of applause, its six trousered legs sticking out at various angles. Three new volunteers rushed to take the places of the exhausted crew who staggered out grinning and smiling to their mates. The cymbals and drums started up again and the dragon concertina'd out of the room and into the corridor to chase the evil spirits out of the rest of the station. Locusts with side arms under their shirts now descended on the food. Ribs, wings, thighs, feet and even heads were all picked clean and washed down by gallons of tea, lemonade and beer. The squad rooms were now ritually clean and happy. Fung shui had been restored. Life could go on.

  In his office opposite the big CID squad room, Dan finished writing up his case reports, in English. His English-speaking junior investigator Liu Jai would later load eight pieces of white A4 paper interspersed with 7 pieces of carbon paper into his typewriter and bash out multiple copies of the report of the day's crimes for dissemination to a host of senior officers at Kowloon Police Headquarters.

  Dan sat back and folded his hands together behind his head. 'I have to go to the Magistrates Court to get that wa
rrant signed, Liu Jai,' he said. 'Tell Ah Tung to meet me here tonight at 10pm with two of the squad and we'll go and check out that 'hotel' in Ho Lo Gai Street.'

  'Yes, sir,' replied Liu Jai. 'But even though we know it's really a brothel, it will still be hard to find evidence.'

  'Well, we can but try,' Dan was speaking English now. He didn't need to, he was fluent in Cantonese. But Liu Jai wanted the practice before his next police language exams. 'We might get lucky and find a customer who'll spill the beans.'

  'Spill the beans?'

  'Yes, it means tell the truth, sometimes without intending to do so.'

  'Oh,' said Liu Jai, thinking. 'You mean like you do when you have several beer?'

  'Cheeky monkey, get out of here.' And Dan sprang at Liu Jai who was too quick for him and jumped back laughing. At the door, Liu Jai turned, 'Good luck with warrant.'

  'Thanks. I hope I see the nice Mr Wong and not Bruce 'the Australian strangler' Wangler,' said Dan.

  Liu Jai smiled. He couldn't help looking down at Dan's chest where his neck chain lay over the top button of his shirt. Liu Jai had noticed the chain before and the unusual pendant it held. But he hadn't got around to asking about it.

  The pendant was a small silver ingot bearing an engraved number. 1.11

  Shanghai Mansions, Yaumati District, Kowloon, Hong Kong

  Nancy looked across the desk at the portly Chinese man sitting opposite her. He wore several gold rings, a gold bracelet and an expensive-looking starched shirt. They called him 'Fatty' in both English and Chinese. How come he was comfortable with that?

  In the few hours she had been in Hong Kong, Nancy had already learnt that she was a 'gwai lo' woman. An old ghost. She was certainly the 'gwai' bit of gwai lo, she thought, her complexion was quite pale. Compared to the tanned Chinese, anyway. As for the 'lo' well, she clearly wasn't old. She was a young ghost then.