Fall

by Rod Rees

  It seemed that John Giscala had been elected to be that evening’s chairman. On first sight Giscala looked the very epitome of a revolutionary, being big and broad and possessed of a quite stupendously bushy beard. Unfortunately, he also had a speech impediment that prevented him being taken terribly seriously within the ranks of the Zealots. Zealots, it seemed, weren’t big on stutterers. But again, as far as Jude was concerned, this was good news; with Giscala in the chair nothing would be even proposed, never mind voted upon.

  ‘So now w-w-we are c-c-complete,’ Giscala began, the movement of his lips masked by his beard. Maybe, Jude mused, if terrorism didn’t work out as a career he should try ventriloquism, though stuttering ventriloquists would be, he supposed, something of a novelty act. ‘Our brotherhood of stout-hearted freedom fighters is g-g-gathered at last. W-W-Welcome, Comrade Iscariot. Y-Y-Your help has been a g-g-g-great assistance in our p-p-planning. You are a true g-g-guardian angel to those who labour to bring the nuJu people to f-f-freedom and back to the P-P-P-Promised Land.’

  Jude waited a moment before replying to ensure that Giscala had stopped speaking and hadn’t just paused, becalmed in mid-stutter. ‘You are generous in your praise, Comrade Giscala,’ he answered, doing his best to inflect his words with the appropriate level of revolutionary portentousness. ‘It is the duty of all of us to rally around the cause after the agents of repression’ – Jude could hardly believe he could talk the mummery that was Zealot-speak without breaking out in a fit of giggles – ‘attacked the offices of our Party three weeks ago.’ There were murmurs of agreement from around the room. Jude wondered if these fools would have been quite so complimentary if they had known that it was he who had tipped Gelbfisz off, deeming it time to have some of the more insane of the Zealots’ leaders arrested.

  ‘S-s-still, your help was m-m-m-munificent, especially as I b-b-believe you had to r-r-risk your life in d-d-defence of your C-C-Comrades.’

  Jude shrugged as though he was indifferent to death, which he was, as long as said death was visited on someone other than himself.

  A disdainful hummmp from Maccabeus. ‘We are all revolutionaries,’ he said quietly, looking around the room in a meaningful manner. ‘We have all dedicated our lives to the cause of nuJuism, to the freeing of our people from bondage and to reclaiming the Promised Land that is NoirVille. To this end we must, like Comrade Iscariot here, stand ready to sacrifice our lives: to triumph we must kill and, if necessary, be killed!’

  The somewhat macabre tone of the meeting set, Jude watched and waited for everybody to climb aboard the tumbrel.

  Maccabeus’ enthusiasm for killing and dying was obviously contagious. ‘Comrade Maccabeus is correct: the time for discussion and debate is over. Now is the moment when we must announce ourselves to the world with an act of dramatic assassination.’

  This observation came from Levi Kannaim, another madman who had the rather unsettling habit of toying with a dagger when he spoke. ‘Only in this way,’ Kannaim continued, ‘will we seize the attention of the downtrodden nuJu masses, giving them hope that political, religious and racial salvation is no longer a distant light on the far horizon. Only in this way will we create fear and dread in the hearts of the oppressors of the nuJus. Now is the time, Comrades, to put aside personal feelings and ambitions and to work together to destroy the Shades and to ensure we nuJus take back NoirVille.’

  More than a little taken aback by this new-found enthusiasm for agreement, Jude leant forward in his chair to get a better look at Kannaim, taking a moment to re-evaluate the man. Despite the spectacles and the rather severe haircut, there was no disguising the distinctly ravenous look he had about him, a look that bespoke a man with a fiery temper. That he was also the brightest of all the Zealots – not that this was much of an accolade – made him a man to watch and Jude had been doing just that for several weeks. Kannaim might talk like a sermoniser, but he was a man of resourcefulness and energy, and now that he had begun to preach complicity between the factions of the Zealots he had suddenly been elevated to a major danger. Time, Jude decided, for Levi Kannaim to be arrested.

  ‘We must be careful, though,’ came a calm voice from the far end of the table, this belonging to a thoughtful lawyer named Josef Yanai. Yanai always counselled caution, which made him decidedly unpopular within the Zealot ranks, the Zealots preferring mindless mayhem to considered circumspection. ‘This is not the moment for violence, Comrade Kannaim. The assassination of Shaka Zulu has made the Shades skittish, seeing it as an insult to their Machismo. This is all the more worrying because there is a rumour gaining credence within NoirVille that it was we nuJus who plotted the assassination. Perhaps we should heed Rabbi Gelbfisz when he says that now is the time for restraint, a moment when nuJus should present ourselves as a quiet people who wish for peace in NoirVille and in the Demi-Monde.’

  ‘Gelbfisz is a traitor to the nuJu cause!’ sneered Kannaim.

  ‘Traitor he might be,’ answered Yanai quietly, ‘but he is still the man who negotiated the MANdate which allowed two million nuJus to settle here in the JAD.’

  ‘He sold our birthright. He sold the secret of Aqua Benedicta.’

  ‘Not the secret, Comrade Kannaim,’ Yanai corrected quietly, ‘merely the use of it. How Aqua Benedicta is manufactured is only known to the nuJus, and, as Gelbfisz says, it is the wealth generated by the Aqua Benedicta that persuaded the Shades to let us remain in the JAD unmolested. By giving the Shades the ability to earn money through the trading of blood we have helped them reach the economic, social and cultural level of the nuJu community, and presumably they will be reluctant to sink back into the economic mire. Yes, I am confident, if we exercise restraint, that ultimately the material progress the Shades have enjoyed as a result of allowing us to settle in the JAD will reconcile us to the local population, that they will come to appreciate that any antagonism towards us will cost them dear.’

  ‘Specious nonsense,’ snarled Maccabeus.

  This is dangerous, thought Jude. It wasn’t often that Maccabeus agreed with Kannaim.

  But Maccabeus wasn’t finished. ‘With Shaka gone and that bastard Pobedonostsev pulling Xolandi’s strings, the Shades are never going to acquiesce to our remaining in the JAD. Like all the goyim, Pobedonostsev hates nuJus.’

  ‘We can reason with him!’ protested Yanai.

  ‘Impossible. NuJuphobia is a psychic aberration of the goyim, a hereditary illness passed from one generation to the next, and as such it is incurable. You cannot reason with hate. Pobedonostsev and his kind will not rest until all nuJus have been exterminated.’

  ‘Comrade Maccabeus is right!’ spluttered an indignant Kannaim. ‘Look at what the Shades were before we came: destitute, impoverished, worthless. It is through our brains and our ingenuity that they have become so wealthy. ABBA has grafted the good olive branch onto the withered tree and rejuvenated it. The JAD has been the salvation of the Shades, but are they grateful? No! Despite what we have done for them, they are incapable of seeing that it is the nuJus’ superior intellect that they have to thank for their sudden prosperity.’

  ‘W-w-well said,’ stuttered Giscala. ‘A th-th-thousand goyim are not worth a single nuJu’s f-f-fingernail. The goyim were placed on the Demi-Monde to s-s-serve the nuJus … and unless they do this they have no p-p-purpose in the world. Only through nuJu leadership and ingenuity were the Sh-Sh-Shades salvaged from their economic misery and r-r-rescued from their physical and moral d-d-degeneration.’

  Jude took a moment to light a cigarette, hoping that this masked the expression of disquiet he was sure was now dressing his face. He always found the hypocrisy of the hard-line Zealots amazing: their ability to criticise the Shades’ nuJuphobia without being able to recognise their own contempt of the Shades was quite astonishing. But that, he supposed, was what a thousand years of being told they were ABBA’s chosen did to a people: the Zealots had come to believe their own religious propaganda.

  ‘Not so,’ protested Yanai, ‘t
he Shades are rational people. We will assimilate—’

  ‘I spit on your “assimilation”,’ sneered Maccabeus. ‘Assimilation is simply miscegenation by another name and this is anathema to all right-minded nuJus. If we breed with the goyim, in a generation our race will be infested with the taint of the Dark Charismatics. That is why ABBA made us His Chosen People, so that we would remain unsullied.’ He slammed his fist on the table. ‘I will personally assassinate any nuJu I believe to be fucking a Shade: miscegenation is an insult to ABBA. In order to survive, the nuJus need to remain racially pure. Those nuJus who commune with Shades are traitors to their race and their religion. They must suffer the consequences of their blasphemy.’

  It was Yanai who answered, the man being nothing if not dogged, or more probably, Jude decided, suicidal. ‘But you forget, Comrade Maccabeus, that the MANdate obliges nuJus to treat the Shades as equals.’

  Maccabeus shook his head. ‘The MANdate is a chimera and changes nothing. It is so replete with weasel words as to be meaningless. For the thousand years since the Confinement, we nuJus have conducted ourselves as loyal and dutiful citizens of each and every Sector we have lived in but still we remain reviled Yids and not citizens. We are dead men walking, fated to be universally hated and despised. The nuJus are cursed to stagger through life with the stumbling gait of a convict dragging his fetters.’

  ‘But do not forget, Comrade Maccabeus,’ lectured Yanai, ‘that the nuJus were condemned to do this by ABBA because we used the talents He gave us to build a graven image, to build the Sphinx. We violated the Commandments and as penance we were sentenced to roam the Demi-Monde homeless and cursed until pardoned by ABBA.’

  The bloody Sphinx. Nary a conversation could be had regarding the nuJus and the JAD without the Sphinx being mentioned.

  Maccabeus was unabashed. ‘Yes, we violated the Commandments and the Exile was our punishment but now we have served our penance and redemption is at hand. Now we have reclaimed our HomeLand … or at least part of it. Soon all of NoirVille will be ours and we will, once again, make it a land of milk and honey.’

  Yanai sat for a moment as though dumbfounded by what Maccabeus was saying. ‘This is sacrilegious, Comrade Maccabeus. Only the coming of the Messiah will signal the redemption of our people.’

  ‘Which fucking Messiah?’ sneered Maccabeus. ‘We’ve had more fucking Messiahs than we know what to do with! Just last Season we had the Lady IMmanual trumpeted as the next big thing and look what a disaster she turned out to be. And then there was her fuck of a brother, who at least had the good grace to have himself blown up. No, the Messiah will arise only when battle with the goyim has been engaged.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Kannaim, a trifle too enthusiastically for Jude’s liking, ‘now is the time to attack. NoirVille crumbles. With the death of Shaka, the Shades and the Blanks have begun to squabble with each other. If we strike now and strike hard we will get our HomeLand for nothing.’

  ‘We must not goad the Shades into war!’ Yanai insisted.

  Avraham Stern spoke quietly but his words had enormous impact, given that he was the only one of all the Zealots who had any real fighting experience. Stern had fought in Warsaw and had refused the chance to escape to the Great Beyond when Lady IMmanual had opened the Boundary Layer, preferring instead to continue the fight for nuJu independence in the JAD. ‘This is no time for restraint. The danger to the nuJu people is greater than many of you can possibly imagine.’ Stern paused for dramatic effect. ‘We have a crypto placed high up in the ranks of the HimPeril, a man we call Agent Neizvestnii …’

  Jude struggled to stop himself laughing. He always found the Zealots’ predilection for the more ridiculous nom d’espionnage amusing, and it was typical of their melodramatic sense of self-importance that they could call their most important informer Agent Neizvestnii … Agent Unknown.

  ‘… who informs us that, prior to his death, Doge William ordered the secrets of the manufacture of Aqua Benedicta – discovered by that witch the Lady IMmanual – be handed over to NoirVille. I do not have to tell you the dire consequences for the nuJu people of this action. At a stroke our economic leverage with regard to NoirVille will be destroyed.’

  This was stunning news, and a grim silence settled on the room.

  Stern took a draw on his cigarette before continuing. ‘The intelligence provided by Agent Neizvestnii tells us that the documents containing the secrets of Aqua Benedicta provided by Doge William are currently being held inside HimPeril headquarters, held but not yet opened. So, if we are to protect our HomeLand and our people, we must act now. There must be no more delay, no more debate. We must attack the headquarters of the HimPeril and we must destroy the secrets of Aqua Benedicta.’

  Yanai’s objections came instantly. ‘Such an attack is madness. The HimPeril are headquartered in the west wing of the Hotel du Zulu, the best-guarded building in the whole of NoirVille.’ There were several nods of agreement around the room at the good sense Yanai was spouting.

  ‘But it is an opportunity s-s-sent from A-A-ABBA,’ countered Giscala. ‘A-A-At a stroke we can preserve the s-s-secret of Aqua Benedicta and destroy the Him-Him-HimPeril.’

  ‘It is an opportunity to have a great many of our revolutionary comrades captured and killed to no good effect,’ observed Yanai. ‘Even if we find a way of eluding HimPeril security and entering the hotel, we’ll still need an enormous amount of explosive to destroy the place.’

  Stern rose to his feet to address the group. ‘Following private discussions with Comrades Kannaim, Maccabeus and Giscala, plans have already been drawn up for the attack on the Hotel du Zulu and the explosives needed to destroy the hotel assembled. The attack will take place at dawn tomorrow.’

  ‘How dare you!’ shouted Yanai. ‘This violates the constitution of the Zealots, which says that an attack of this magnitude can only be authorised by unanimous agreement of the Executive Committee. I make a formal—’

  It was then that Kannaim acted. He swivelled around on his chair and plunged his dagger deep into the chest of Josef Yanai. ‘So die all traitors to nuJuism,’ he screamed as he drove the knife home.

  Fuck!

  As Yanai’s body sagged to the floor, Stern held up his hands in an appeal for calm. ‘Do not be alarmed, Comrades. For several months now I have had suspicions that there was a traitor in our midst.’

  Jude felt his SAE turn cold.

  ‘Rabbi Gelbfisz has seemed a little too knowledgeable about our plans, a little too adroit at anticipating our actions, and a little too efficient in arresting our fellow Zealots. In short, Comrades, we came to the conclusion that Gelbfisz had infiltrated a crypto into our ranks!’

  As surreptitiously as he was able, Jude eased the pistol he had holstered under his armpit free and prepared to fight – and run – for his life. But as Yanai’s lifeless body was dragged from the room he realised that he didn’t have to run, that he was one lucky boy: the Zealots had misinterpreted Yanai’s complaining as treachery.

  Thank you, ABBA.

  ‘But now that the traitor is dead we must turn our attention to the task in hand: the destruction of the Hotel du Zulu,’ announced Stern. ‘All is ready. We have three hundred and fifty kilos of blasting gelatin, which our experts advise us, if placed correctly, will be sufficient to destroy the hotel.’

  Shit! These bastards are serious.

  ‘But how will we penetrate the hotel’s security?’

  ‘All will be revealed, Comrade Iscariot, all will be revealed. Suffice it to say that in eight hours we will strike a telling blow for nuJu freedom.’

  Jude could feel panic rising in his breast. He felt giddy. He had to get out of the room. Any excuse would do. ‘Well, if we have so little time, I would beg an hour’s leave. I must make provision for my wife and children.’

  Not that he had any wife and children.

  Giscala shook his head dolefully. ‘I am s-s-sorry, Comrade Iscariot, but no one is p-p-permitted to leave this room. It is an a-a-
a-act of ferocious disorganisation we are preparing to p-p-perform, which will d-d-demonstrate that nuJus are no longer an oppressed people, c-c-crushed by bloodthirsty pogroms and judicial murder. This will be the Z-Z-Z-Zealots’ emancipation into r-r-revolutionary warfare and we can’t take the risk of our security being c-c-compromised. We have already found one c-c-crypto in our ranks …’

  Jude prided himself on being able to take a hint. He decided that now was the time to stay shtum. He would slip away tomorrow en route to the Hotel du Zulu.

  1:17

  Istanbul, NoirVille

  The Demi-Monde: 7th Day of Fall, 1005

  HimPerialist theologians conjecture that Mantle-ite (the indestructible material used by the Pre-Folk to construct sewers, water pipes, Blood Banks, the Mantle and the Wonders of the World) is the solidified semen of ABBA created during the Big Wang, and its divine origin is the reason why it is invulnerable to working and to weathering. The Great Pyramid that stands in the centre of Terror Incognita is believed to have been the place where ABBA’s semen was first touched by moonlight and hence is a structure of enormous Kosmological power and significance.

  A Fool’s Guide to HimPerialism: Selim the Grim, Bust Your Conk Publications

  Norma and her companions got to the JAD Wall just before dawn, but getting to it was one thing, getting through would be quite another.

  She had known their luck couldn’t hold, and thus far they’d been enjoying very good luck indeed. By laying a lot of money on a barge captain they’d managed to slip out of the ForthRight unchallenged, and with the Normalists so active in the Quartier Chaud it had been a relatively simple matter, once they’d crossed the Thames, to traverse Paris, Rome and Barcelona and on to the Nile River. Then things had become difficult. NoirVille had a febrile atmosphere, the same sort of hysterical enthusiasm she’d felt in Warsaw and Paris when those city-states had been on the brink of war. It seemed to her that the prospect of war numbed critical faculties and instead of being made fearful by the thought of them and their loved ones being killed or maimed, people were actually excited by it.