by P. G. Burns
Byrne was not a particularly brave man; prison Governors are picked for their management skills mainly he just wanted to see his wife and kids again. He hoped he would live through today but was not worried so much about what the tough-talking but level-headed Shane would do to him, but rather what could be waiting around the corner.
To get to the roof from the psyche block you need to negotiate your way through the high-security wing, which is where the most dangerous inmates are locked up, or were locked up until Shane ordered all the doors open. The Governor considers warning Shane but fears he may make things worse. He decides he must stay quiet and hope they have already fled. And here lies the problem with Shane’s plan. He has worked out that it will take ten minutes to get through the prison and up to the roof. The Governor has all the necessary keys and passwords, including the helicopter keys. He is sure that the chaos caused by six hundred prisoners either burning to death or running free will be more than enough of a distraction for the local authorities and law enforcement. However, unknown to him there are two dozen murdering bastards running towards them from the opposite direction and Shane and co are with the Governor, dressed in guard uniforms.
When Shane first sees them coming down the corridor he doesn’t worry too much but when the high-risk inmates spot them and start pointing Shane remembers what they must look like. The oncoming group of murdering psychos salivate at the sight of a small group of guards and the Governor. Shane looks at Robert and both men are aware that they will not have an opportunity to explain. In truth, he would just throw the Governor to them but he needs the man’s fingerprint ID to enter the helipad area. As expert as they both are in combat they will not defeat twenty-odd of the most dangerous lifers in the UK.
“FUCK,” sums up Shane.
Venice underground hideout
“Just about now,” says Reuben gleefully, “Leo Verdi and Shane Mills will be in the back of an ambulance on their way to us. Soon I will convince Shane that an alliance between us is the best way forward and I will get Leo to decipher this Yiddish shit that Isaac used to hide all the gold. So after your three-hundred-year campaign to elect a human contender, I will still reap the benefits.”
The laughter is genuine. Reuben struggles to control his bladder he laughs so hard. Simeon looks on in disgust, not sure if victory truly belongs to his jailer yet, but more sure than ever that this crazy fuck needs stopping.
“Well, while you’re regaling me with your triumph,” Simeon replies, “tell me this: what is your plan now? You still need to defeat Asher, Levi and Judd. I must admit you were smart to capture Mills and use him as your tool to defeat the others but still, you must admit, they are in a better situation than you are currently.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I have a plan for all of them, a plan that is playing out as we speak. You see, they all think they are controlling the superpowers. The one with his Russian boyfriend, Asher, is soon to make an alliance with Judd via the Chinese to trade with them and wipe out the Yanks’ wealth. This will weaken them all, they will stretch their economies to the limit. Then once the Jew translates the book I will control the markets and without your interference I will have this entire planet held to financial ransom. You know as well as I do that money is the true power on this earth and this book contains it all.
“Plus I have the church and, thanks to your demise, I also have the crown. Now my beloved Huns rule Europe and most importantly I control over half of the world’s wealth.” Reuben laughs again. “This game is over! Witness my glorious victory!”
Simeon needs to extract as much information as possible from this madman. He lives in hope that Mills will escape and the more he knows about Reuben’s plan the better the chances for the new challenger. He plays to Reuben’s ego.
“So, your original idea to create Christianity seems to still be a powerful force. I cannot understand how anyone still believes that crap.”
Reuben eyes him lusciously but cannot resist showing him a story he read today.
“This story shows the strength and power the Holy Roman Church still holds over these animals.” He pulls out a newspaper and begins to read it aloud to Simeon.
As he listens, Simeon once more doubts the sanity in trying to save these fucking idiots. Reuben reads: “Two hundred bodies are found in convent grounds”. Reuben scans the rest of the page, reading about how two teenagers who were wandering around the grounds of the derelict building that was once Our Lady of Lourdes convent in County Louth, Ireland, discovered a meshed wooden door lying under the earth. When they fetched a fence post to prise open the door the two teenagers discovered a horrific scene. The door was covering a large ditch that had been dug into the ground. The boys could not make out exactly how many but did recognise that it contained the bones of many young children. The ensuing investigation by An Garda Síochána uncovered seven hundred and ninety-odd skeletons of children, ranging from only a few hours up to four years old. The convent was one of many infamous institutions in the country that unmarried mothers were sent to. The report doesn’t explain all the facts, such as that the children died between 1957 and 1963. Some had died soon after birth, some from starvation, others were beaten to death. One was buried alive with the other bodies. His name was Eddy and his mother died at his birth after she went into shock due to a painful cut to her perineum administered by an irate nun who was annoyed at missing Mass waiting for the poor young girl to give birth. As for Eddy, he was a persistent bed wetter and Sister Mary Philomena decided she had had enough of this little bastard.
Of course, this discovery shocked the locals and most of the nation, but the irony of the last line in the article was not lost on either of these Djinn: “Father Padraig Maguire summed up the feelings of all the local community when he said, ‘We all need to pray to our Lord Jesus Christ for the Souls of these poor children and the misguided nuns who had been under a lot of pressure causing them to be responsible for such unchristian behaviour.’”
Reuben is in a boastful mood. “This priest said this at a packed congregation at the parish church. Followers of my religion commit mass infanticide and what do these Irish Catholics do? They take their children to church, the very establishment that committed the atrocity, and pray! And you think these fools deserve a champion of their own.” Reuben’s laughter fills the room once again, a cold deep cackling spewing from his mouth.
Simeon can only shake his head; in a way he knows Reuben is right. Humans are so stupid. They condemn the Nazis and yet follow religions that have been complicit in equally vile atrocities, religions that the Djinn created years ago to control ignorant people, not advanced civilisations. But no matter what evidence there is to the contrary, and with zero evidence to prove any existence of God, they still put blind faith into these pathetic stories. In Simeon’s mind Christians are the worst offenders, even compared to other cults like Islam and Hindu. But then Simeon reminds himself of the good and the great humans he has met over the thousands of years he has trekked this world. His influence in their success was apparent but he also was drawn to certain characteristics. His mind drifts back to Voltaire, Susanne Valadon, Byron, and Pascal. He thinks of his personal friends and protégés including Dante, Mozart, Darwin and, of course, dear William. He remembers all of the wonderful women, such as Helen, Elizabeth, the Bronte’s, Nell, and Marilyn who were all so beautiful and all of them incredible humans. Simeon is reassured; he is right and Reuben is wrong.
“For all their shortcomings, they have also created greatness that we never reached,” he tells Reuben.
“You are so blind when it comes to them. Any advance comes from us; you only have to look at the state of the world. Any place where one of us settled and succeeded has flourished. Only places such as Africa where Daniel messed up, never developed. The same can be said of South America when Naphtali was removed.”
“You are a fool if you think these continents have nothing to offer you make the same mistake many western humans do by underestimating thes
e countries they have flourished in their own way”. Reuben laughs obviously not convinced but Simeon continues defending mankind.
“What of all the triumphs in spite of our input?” says Simeon. “The art, the poetry, the music? Do you claim these are Djinn influences? Because I do not remember such beauty in our history. Reuben, even you must see they have exceeded us in so many ways. They are not inferiors, they are our brothers and sisters. We all felt as you do when we first set out but things have changed and only you, and perhaps Asher, still regard the humans as animals. For the rest of us the consensus that humans are worthy of ruling themselves has been agreed.”
“Simeon, can you not do the maths? Four Djinn are still competing – all of whom do not agree with your ‘humans should rule themselves’ nonsense. Do I need to say anything more? For every argument you raise in their favour, I can give you one hundred against. Pick a year, pick a day, pick an hour and I will show you an example of mankind’s worthlessness. Look here.” He snatched the newspaper back. “Yesterday in Africa a group of so-called devout Islamists raped twenty-seven young girls, claiming to be following God’s word. They raped these girls because they went to a Christian missionary school. After raping them they removed each girl’s clitoris with old scissors claiming their moans revealed that they enjoyed copulation and this was also unacceptable. I would struggle to think up these atrocities myself!” He roars with mirth before proceeding. “Now, you can’t blame me for these Muslim loonies. I mean, Benjamin just appeared to Muhammad and told him stories, which, may I add, are nowhere near as credible as the ones I created to start Christianity. I mean, at least I had a real person and faked his death! Benny boy just invades this simpleton’s dreams and whoosh, one billion followers, some ready to blow themselves up believing they are forever destined to fuck virgins in heaven.”
His laughter becomes hysterical as he struggles to regain his composure.
“I mean, if there was a heaven, do they really think they would be fucking in it? Do they think this God has a few spare bedrooms that they can fornicate in? This world is proof that they are still savages, still the same as the hordes of upright apes that wandered the earth centuries ago. We all know the intellect gene pool has risen because of the Vril we have introduced. I have discovered that this was part of the Arc Hon’s plan. We were their puppets. Did you know this Simeon? That our Vril has boosted their evolution? It was a trick played on us by the Arc Hon, when only we, the Djinn, had evolved into the race the Demiurge planned!”
“What do you know of the Demiurge’s plan?” scoffs Simeon. “Even the Arc Hon own up to misinterpreting his instructions?”
“Pah! How could humans ever be equal to us? What do they do with this gift we have unintentionally given them? They enslave themselves. You know as well as I do that they are their own worst enemy. Too busy abusing each other to even realise we exist. Slavery, for instance. They think they’ve risen above it because they had a little civil war in America but in reality there are five times as many slaves today as there were during the peak of the American and European enslavement of the Africans! No one abolished slavery: they just moved it back to Africa, then annexed Bangladesh and South America. Children die in diamond mines and their parents are sent the bill for removing the corpse but so long as the extortion by banks, pharmaceutical companies or clothing shops allows the West to enjoy all the fun of the high street and the kids who are enslaved are across the seas where none of the shoppers can see them, who cares?
“A self-righteous rapper sings about blood diamonds then buys his big ass girlfriend a fucking rock the size of his left bollock! The slaves are now the enslavers. Slaves are the ultimate plan because the aim is always to rule and rule ultimately. Homo sapiens have outgrown their use. ‘Gotta make way for the homo superior’ to quote the only decent poet of this age. Left to their own devices mankind would be extinct; it is our influence, our Vril that has steered them into a path of evolution. But you and those other human lovers complain, ‘Reuben’s not playing fair. He’s hurting the poor little people. Blah, blah blah.’ Can’t you see that they are the inferior race? Yes, I have experimented a little with them, for their own good I may add, although I may have been a little overenthusiastic on occasion.”
Now it was Simeon’s turn to laugh. “You think? Do you? We are all guilty of underestimating this race, but you, you went too far. The Jews, the Gypsies, the Muslims! I If they are not of Nordic or Anglo Saxon descent then you treat them as if they are even less than animals. Most humans carry Vril from at least one Jinni and this makes them all our family…”
Reuben reacts with disgust. “They are not my family, and in case I misunderstood the game, was it not the purpose to create a clan and set up rule here? The rules no longer apply.”
“No, the game began because we were bored and acting like spoiled brats wanting toys. Back then these humans were simple, they were different. Even you must see that. Perhaps the Arc Hon did trick us but humans are now an intelligent species.”
A phone rings before Reuben can reply. He picks it up impatiently to find the young boy from the casino is on the other end.
“Plan seems to be working boss, the whole fucking place seems to be going up in smoke. Cumisky and his boys are on site. I am just awaiting confirmation that target one and two are in the truck.”
“Trevor, I don’t want updates. Just call me when you have confirmation, understand?” The phone goes down and Reuben turns back to Simeon.
“There is one other small matter I need to discuss with you. One unknown quantity in my plans.”
Simeon has been waiting for this subject to come up.
“The wanderer,” says Reuben.
Simeon smiles and hangs his head. “What can I say, I only know what Raphael told me and probably told you as well.”
As agreed, the Arc Hon had investigated the man known as Marco Polo back in the late thirteenth century. Michael suggested that somehow another Djinn had crossed over but this seemed impossible and Solfrid was sure none could without the council’s knowledge. Michael then decided he wanted to break protocol and reveal himself to this man to question him. Chamuel, Amitiel and Raphael eventually agreed.
It was not uncommon, especially back then, for the Arc Hon to not meet or see each other for decades, sometimes even as long as a century. The Arc Hon mostly live in human form and although they are advanced beings they rarely use any advanced technology, leaving them bound by the limits of humanity, just like the Djinn, restricted to the current forms of transport and communication. However, the four Arc Hon are linked and they all knew immediately when the consciousness belonging to Michael faded. The remaining three all rushed to what was then a secret base in a church in Constantinople to investigate. They could not detect any sign of Michael nor the man Marco Polo whom they had begun to call the wanderer. It was the first time an Arc Hon had gone missing. Ever. It would be almost impossible to kill Michael as he could possess any human within sight. Yet if he merely captured then the other three would still be able to feel his presence. It was a true mystery.
Over the next couple of hundred years the three Watchers searched high and low for Michael, ignoring their own rules on using advanced technology in the human world. They spanned the earth time and again. Each Arc Hon has at their disposal crafts they call comets. These are anti-matter crafts that can transport matter at super-high speeds. Humans would often mistake them for real comets or meteors but it would be about this time that the many claims of sightings of strange phenomena in the skies began as the Arc Hon became more and more concerned for Michael and less cautious. Still, to this day neither the wanderer nor Michael have been heard of or seen again. The Djinn were also told about this event with the hope they would help with the search. Theories cropped up and soon each of the Djinn claimed to understand what happened. The truth is still not known.
“And you know nothing more,” says Reuben suspiciously.
Simeon shakes his head. “It is a true my
stery.”
Stoke Prison
Richard Yarker leads the gang of high-security prisoners who block Shane and the others’ way to the roof. A standoff in the R and A room ensues. The room is a forty metres long with double doors either side. Both groups wait for instruction.
“That’s the fucking Governor and some screws! Let’s fucking burn the cunts,” suggests Jim Brady, a particularly nasty bastard, even for this environment, who had been sent to solitary by Governor Byrne two years earlier and never come out. Now all his praying to Satan has paid off as he faces the prick who put him there.
A chorus of agreed heckles accompany his suggestion and the large group edge slowly forward. Shane notices their hesitation and soon deduces what is holding them back. He is holding a Taser gun as if it is a pistol and hopes with the distance they do not notice.
“So we have a Mexican standoff,” Yarker remarks in a terrible Mexican accent. “We need to get past you and, of course, we need the Governor there to aid our escape. You are obviously not here to bring us to safety. So tell me, what is it you want?”
Shane speaks for the group. “We are prisoners too. We need to get to the roof and have no intention of blocking your way. We nicked these uniforms from guards we beat up. Look, have you seen any of us before? Surely you recognise Al Qaeda Bob?”
Two Arab-looking prisoners shoulder their way to the front of the group of inmates, excited to meet the famous Muslim. “As salamu alaykum,” the two Muslims greet him.
“For fuck’s sake,” cries Jim Brady. “Are we going to stand around while these Pakis have a love-in?” He turns to Shane’s group. “I don’t give a fuck if you’re screws or cons, just hand over the Governor and fuck off out of our way.”