The Code War

by Ciaran Nagle

  She reeled him back. 'And you believe?'

  'Yes. Well, I guess, well yes, I do actually. Yes. I do.' He drank again, looking at her over the glass's rim, half-expecting her to laugh. But she wasn't mocking him now. There was a warmth in her eyes towards him that wasn't there earlier. Her long brown hair rested on the seat-back behind her. He would like to see it resting on his shoulder. 'What about you?'

  'I don't know.' It was Nancy's turn to pause. 'So Jesus was a Jew?'

  'Yes. He was a Jew. Hundred per cent.'

  'Not a Christian?'

  'Well, no. That came later. He was Jewish. All of them were.'

  'Oh.' Nancy began to shuffle her feet. Dan opened his mouth, searching for something to say. Anything to keep her there.

  But she beat him to it. 'One last thing.'

  'Go on.' Dan just wanted this conversation to end so he could ask her out on a date.

  'Why the dot after the first 'one'?'

  'Er, well, that's because although God, the Holy Spirit and Jesus are all equal, they're all number one, numero uno -' he winced at his own awful gag - 'God came first. So the dot separates them.'

  Nancy nodded and looked down at her watch. 'Well, thank you. That was all very interesting.' And she finished her tea, rose from the table, gathered her bag and turned to go. 'I'll pay the bill,' she said, throwing some notes on the table. 'Goodbye.'

  And before he could react she strode to the door, went out into the street and was gone.

  Dan sat there holding his beer feeling desperately alone. He stared at her empty chair amazed at his sudden sadness. He wondered how he'd lost his heart to a woman whose name he'd forgotten to ask and who he'd only met half an hour before.

  Nancy walked down Nathan Road heading back towards the Golden Luck. Dinner with Fatty tonight. Dinner with Frenchy tomorrow. Got to prepare my thoughts. Choose some clothes. Learn more Cantonese. Are they both really pitching for my support? Who will make the better leader? What do I want out of it? Must think of a price. Quite cute that Dan. Shame he's in a different world from mine.

  She thought about their conversation. 1.11. The Trinity. Really! After all that build-up over the last few weeks, seeing 1.11 everywhere. And it just means the Trinity? Is that all? Underwhelming. Completely underwhelming. And it's got nothing to do with me anyhow. Well, it's not going to change anything. Anything at all.

  Lining the street were dozens of stalls selling toys, clothes, trinkets, cheap jewellery, cosmetics, brushes. Among the buildings Nancy noticed a smart jewellery shop she had often looked at before. In the window were watches, bracelets, rings, necklaces, pendants, ear-rings, even tiaras. One item caught her eye.

  She walked into the shop, pointed out the necklace to the assistant and tried it on in front of a mirror. There was an odd feeling as she turned this way and that, letting it catch the light on its two triangles of jade inlay, now on one side and now on the other. It felt like it belonged. She looked at the label knowing the notional asking price was only the starting point for a negotiation. 'Give me your best price,' she said to the assistant in Cantonese.

  The woman looked at Nancy a second time, picked up a pocket calculator and jabbed at it several times, holding the machine out to show her the result.

  Nancy handed over the money and walked proudly out of the shop and back into the pell mell of Nathan Road, wearing the necklace. Would the menfolk of Brother know the significance of her new jewellery? Or the women for that matter? Maybe, maybe not. But Nancy did and she had a skip in her stride as she walked along the pavement holding her hand up to her new necklace and letting her fingers gently test each of the six points of the small star hanging from it. The Star of David.

  Chopper's Apartment, Ho Tin Girl Friend Bar and Film Club, Yaumati, Kowloon

  Nescafé Mao sat on the edge of Chopper's sofa with both hands behind his head. He was bowed over almost to the ground while he waited out the typhoon of terror that thundered around the room, throwing ornamental plaster warriors to the ground and sending their bone china spirits back to the earthenware underworld.

  Wolf Smoke lay in his basket under a table, his dark fur flecked with flakes of ceramic. He raised his head and chased an itch with his sharp canines, the only one in the room pretending all was normal. A dust pall swirled gently in the air, sliced in two by a ceiling light as particles of plaster ambled into existence from nowhere, lived briefly then turned tail and vanished again.

  Wonton Chiang, door marshal of the moment, stood still and silent as a saint's statue in a church, staring down at the powdered loafers on his feet. A ring of glass from a broken lampshade lay around them like a fallen halo. His body language warned Nescafé against trying a headlong exit, surely a temptation for someone who had stirred Chopper's ire to this degree.

  But his mind was in last night's and next night's conquests, stealing immigrants away from the fate of good factory jobs that otherwise awaited, sifting the easily led from the resolute, watching his venomous words as they snaked their way into homeless heads and worked their poison in anxious hearts and finally taking his work home mini-skirted, jeaned, zipped or buttoned and tasting the first fruits of his labour à la horizontal while pricing it, $50, $70 or even $100 a throw for punters who cared to throw that much away in five minutes of superimposed rapture.

  By contrast Mars Ma followed every move of his boss, in part because he worshipped him and in part so he could see the next airborne champagne bottle or onyx ashtray before it described its near-straight arc through the plaster dust and dodge it before it added to the pattern of grooves on his windscreen-slashed face.

  Two other mobsters, drivers for their deflated bosses, moulded themselves into the walls, wishing now that they had remained safe and bored playing with the buttons in their supercharged spoiler-tailed Porsches instead of coming up and hoping to spill some of their great-boss's Bollinger.

  In the middle of the room stood the blowing volcano of Chopper himself, the psychotic cop-slasher. Hot lava blew out from him in all directions in the form of swear words, hatewords and chain-saw words that slashed and maimed his colleagues' egos unless, like Wonton, they could find a way to blot them out.

  '…and that's what will happen to you if you ever, ever again do anything so stupid you bean-curd for brains, mile-high pile of cockroach dung.' Chopper was shaking as he stared down at Nescafé's bent head. He looked around him at the jetsam of his apartment, a ghastly assemblage of pine and chrome perfectly worthy of a cheap gangster. And that was before he wrecked it.

  There was a knock at the door.

  150 decibels of 'Come in' threw themselves past Wonton and made a scientifically measurable concave indent in the plywood and MDF fabric of the door to the Girl Friend Bar.

  It opened and a Chopper sidekick came in, treading cautiously on the china shards and staring about him.

  'What?' said Chopper, suddenly calm at the appearance of one of his own.

  'Mr Kwok, sir, you asked me to watch the ghost detective Dan Kelly, sir.'

  'Yes, Ah Leung, what have you found out?'

  'Sir, he had some drinks and talks with Miss Nancy in the Ho Fook just now for about half an hour. Miss Nancy was there with Miss Jenny and when she left, Mr Kelly came over and sat at Miss Nancy's table. She behaved very distant with him. He did most of the talking. Then Miss Nancy left by herself and Mr Kelly left a few minutes later and returned to the police station.' Leung shut up and waited. He had learnt it was not good to speak while Chopper was trying to think.

  'So,' said Chopper in an almost whisper to contrast with his bombast of moments ago. 'First, a senior officer in Kowloon Police Headquarters tells me that Kelly is targeting Brother. Then Kelly arrests Nescafé at the Pearl River Wholesalers in Wong Tai Sin as though he's been watching it for a long time. Now we find Kelly is trying to schmooze Nancy who even I have some sympathy with after her performance the other night. That's three things against Mr Kelly, one after another.'

  Chopper kicked away some bro
ken plaster pieces from his feet. He stooped and picked up the head and torso of a warrior figurine holding a spear and held it up in front of him.

  'Yue Fei,' he said looking into the fierce eyes. 'This is Yue Fei everyone. There was a general who knew how to take care of his enemies. No mercy, no quarter, no prisoners, no falsehood. Yue Fei was a hero in his time and an inspiration to us now. '

  Chopper looked around him at each of the six men in turn ensuring he had their complete attention. The figurine in his hand was like a broken Action Man in the hands of a spoilt boy.

  'I'm going to capture Mr Kelly and I'm going to show all of you how we dispose of those who target us. I don't care that he's a cop. We're not just going to wait around while they pick us off. They come sneaking at us like cowardly assassins in the night. But we will respond with courage, like real men should. All those cowards in uniform will learn a lesson from his death.'

  Wolf Smoke looked up adoringly at his master and growled. He looked at the other men in the room as if he'd understood the word 'death' and wanted to get started right away.

  Chopper was finished with his tirade and now began to give orders. 'I am Kwok, the bane of policemen and I have spoken. Nescafé, you and Mars work together. You're the hard men of the outfit. This time don't screw up. I want you to lift Mr Kelly off the street as soon as you can and take him to the Blue Diamond. Make sure no-one sees you. Let me know when you've got him and we'll make the final arrangements for his departure to the afterlife. I promise you,' he said, looking down at the panting Wolf Smoke, 'it will be an event worth watching.'

  Kodrob's Squadroom, Inferno

  Jabez stirred from his dark slumber. All his water was gone and he was thirsty again. Kodrob had removed the empty bottle and presumably hidden it. His broken wing was sore again and he could hardly change position without a stabbing pain shooting down one side. The chains on his wrists were heavy. So unnecessary too. How could he escape from a dungeon deep underground in Hell? Now someone had laid a bundle of ropes on the chains, threading them around and between his arms. What was the point of that? The heat was stifling. No Music. No friends. No laughter. No Lamb.

  Voices growing louder. Kodrob and Zhivkin. Zhiv the cruel. Coming this way down the corridor.

  'Why can't you take care of it by yourself?' Zhivkin.

  'I told you,' said Kodrob, 'he's got an amazing strength. I've tied him up tight several times but he keeps working his way free. I thought you might have some ideas.'

  'The Zhiv has always got ideas,' sniggered Zhivkin whose eyes were now like drills, 'when it comes to keeping people quiet. Luckily I've got a few tools on me that might help.'

  They entered the room and Jabez writhed against his bindings, genuinely scared.

  Zhivkin came towards him and began his work with a savage kick into the angel's back. But as the boot landed, Zhivkin lurched sideways with a cry. Jabez twisted his neck around and saw a long knife was in Kodrob's hand. Its point was deep in Zhivkin's back. Deep, but not deep enough. Zhivkin pulled himself away gasping in pain and pulled a scimitar from under his cloak.

  'I never trusted you, Kodrob, you corpse-eating worm. That's why I wear chain mail under my shirt. Never take it off. Your little plan has failed. Pu Gash!' he shouted suddenly.

  'No-one here, Zhiv, I've sent them all home,' replied Kodrob quietly, masking his disappointment that his pre-emptive strike had failed. 'It's just you and me. One of us is for husking, it's just a matter of who.' Both demons circled each other, pushing the table out of the way and clearing the space in-between.

  Jabez pulled his legs tight against the wall. Kodrob's failed attack had tipped the hulking Zhivkin mentally off-balance. He knew the big demon would slice him in a second if he got close enough and he had no defence against a sharp blade.

  Both demons continued circling, each one looking for another implement they could use as shield or weapon. Chairs were seized by both and their seats punched out, enabling them to be used as combined shield and four-pronged jabber.

  Zhivkin threw himself at Kodrob's left, pulled back at the last moment and switched sides pushing into Kodrob's right with the chair while slashing low with his curved blade. Kodrob leapt high out of the way but Zhivkin had achieved what he wanted. He was now closer to Jabez than Kodrob and was waiting for the right moment to turn and strike the prone angel.

  Kodrob leapt forward with blade and chair outstretched and tried to take the initiative. Thrown back he tried again. Then a third time. Panting for breath, Kodrob hesitated. While he looked for advantage he inadvertently gave Zhivkin the space he wanted. A shock of air blew past the ruthless Russian as he turned sharply and drove his scimitar down into the body of the angel. His blade hit rock. Jabez at the last moment had beaten down with his one good wing and propelled his body to the other side of the girder that held his chain.

  It was Zhivkin's last move as a satyr. As he tried to pull his scimitar from the rock that held it fast, Kodrob's knife came down on him from behind and this time made no mistake. The blade entered his body with so much force that it pulled behind it a dozen unbroken mail links into his body, rupturing his lungs and forcing a spume of blood and air up his bronchial tubes, out of his mouth and onto the wall.

  Zhivkin collapsed like an airplane struck by lightning in a storm. His body and armour were so heavy that Jabez and Kodrob felt the thick walls shake when he hit the ground. His scimitar remained stuck in the floor, impelled deep into the dead-rock by his ferocious strength.

  A genital-shortening curse boomed through from a disturbed demon in a neighbouring barrack-room. Dust ghosted down from the ceiling.

  All went quiet.

  Ho Fook Restaurant, Yaumati

  The police landrover hit top speed as it blared its way north-south down Nathan Road, blue light flashing. Black smoke poured from its exhaust as the three-shift-a-day, fourteen year old vehicle reached 40 mph and 200,000 lifetime miles. Its four uniformed occupants looked embarrassed as they gazed enviously out of the vehicle at the windows of the jewellers and TV stores they couldn't afford to shop in. In the outer lane a taxi delivered a middle finger insult as it casually overtook the clapped-out emergency car and continued to accelerate ahead.

  Ruth walked slowly the other way, keeping in beggar character, head down and shuffling her cloth-bandaged feet. The gateway to the Fifth was now just a few feet away. She had broken all the rules by coming here alone and putting herself at extraordinary risk. If she could get back in one piece it would be worth it. She turned left, down a sidestreet and stopped. Holzman smiled broadly at her, blocking her way. The gladiator killing machine stepped towards her and flicked off her hat. He stood on her foot, pinning her in place. His left hand grasped her waist while his right held a knife to her stomach. 'We're going to the Fifth, lady, but my place, not yours,' he grinned.

  Holzman swivelled the knife in his hand so its point was towards his elbow. He punched Ruth in the stomach then hauled her around in a half-circle towards the gateway. He knew she had travelled here alone and once on the other side it would be easy to conduct her towards Inferno.

  A galvanized steel dustbin lid frisbeed at a perfect horizontal and travelling at twice the speed of the disappearing police vehicle surfed Ruth's head and sliced into Holzman's neck. Ruth slid to the ground gasping for breath as Holzman relaxed his grip and brought his hands up to pinch the flesh and stem the blood loss, an instinctive reaction for a 1st Century BC gladiator. He stepped back and tripped against a bag of empty yoghurt and soy milk cartons from the nearby health food shop.

  As Holzman went down the heel of a leather cowboy boot descended heavily on his face. It struck him full on his nose and moved his entire nasal structure, bone, cartilage, skin and flesh two centimetres to the side. Blood poured from the torn wound.

  Dozens of emissaries from several different tribes of wasp rose from the bag and buzzed over Holzman like helicopters on a battlefield.

  Luke's black arm reached around Ruth's shoulders and h
auled her upright. As she coughed and hauled some air into her lungs, he leaned down and tucked his body into her midriff.

  Before Holzman could recover Luke had Ruth over his shoulders and was sprinting to the gateway. Once through and into the Fifth he transferred Ruth to his front, holding her between his strong arms against his lumberjack-shirted chest and transferred all his energy to his dorsal muscles. Luke beat his wings harder and faster than ever before, accelerating through the speed bands as though all the demons of Hell were in his wake, all the while looking behind in case there was hot pursuit.

  Holzman appeared through the gateway moments later and immediately gave chase, the powerful German holding his neck wound with his hand while his skin wings beat frantically. Without a burden to carry he was faster than Luke and was gradually overhauling the angel. Luke knew he had only minutes before Holzman would be upon him. Again he glanced behind and saw the broken face of the demon, the contorted expression twisted in pain, the determination to catch and kill. Ruth was still in no condition to fly, Luke could hear her praying.

  Ahead, lights appeared unexpectedly in the firmament, approaching them. They'd been seen by a patrol. Reconnaissance flights and cavalry patrols had been stepped up recently because of the emerging situation resulting from the Leader's outrageous demands. Was it luck or an answer to Ruth's prayer?

  Luke could have sung for joy. Ruth gave thanks. The closing speed meant it was a fine calculation whether the rescuers would reach them before Holzman did. But the demon settled matters. He was already demoralised by the neck and nose wounds and now he knew he was heavily outnumbered. He might be able to reach Luke and deliver another injury to Ruth but he risked being iced or worse.

  He flattened his wings out to brake as quickly as he could. An outriding angel passed Luke and Ruth in the opposite direction at high speed. Using his velocity the angel crashed straight into Holzman and sent him tumbling and spinning off his flight path. Now the demon had a broken arm to add to his other injuries. The patrol of four male and two female angels surrounded Luke and Ruth protectively.