He was afforded the respect his position demanded, but he was not welcome. He was given suitable lodgings and they looked the other way when they saw his boy. The Sikh did not approve of such things. He struggled to persuade the raj to lend him some of his fighters. Instead an agent introduced him to a tall beast of a man called Dalvir. It was clear he was a bandit. It was an insult, but he had no choice. He had to trust fate. If he succeeded in his ambitions, he might one day be able to return and exact revenge for the insult. He left with fifty men, a rag tag bunch of ex-soldiers, bandits and thugs. He feared what they might do when unleashed, but for now he had no choice.
“We must act now,” demanded Shalalai. “My brothers will return soon to take control. We must be ready to greet them.”
Her husband Sartor sighed. He wasn’t sure they would get the support they needed. They had been trying to gather a loyal group but it had been difficult. The khan had spies everywhere. “We must get rid of your younger brothers. There can be no male survivors. The people will only accept you as their bibi if you are the sole heir. I do not think we can hope to defeat both brothers when they return, but if fate allows, they will fight each other. We must wait like vultures, then pick off the remains.”
She was trembling with fear and excitement. Sartor tried to calm her but she did not need his reassurance. “I will deal with the young ones myself. You take the older boys.”
“And your sisters?”
“To be kept alive and housebound. We will need to build new alliances and they will be useful as wives. They must also stay intact. If your men insist, tell them they may do as they wish with his concubines. We must act now, while the household in in disarray and the guards have fled.”
“And the wives?”
Her eyes were wide with the horror they were about to unleash. “It would be best if they did not survive. They might plot against us in revenge.”
It was a night of screams and rivers of blood. She moved coldly and efficiently. She could not afford emotion. It had to be done. It would be difficult for her to rule as a woman. There was no point in holding power if it could be challenged. She had to be feared. Her authority had to be absolute. She moved about the compound naked to avoid staining her clothes. She was not concerned at being seen; anyone who crossed her path would die. She attacked without warning and without mercy, slitting her brothers’ throats. She felt a new emotion, the thrill of watching them die and blood gush from jugulars. It had been easier than she imagined, almost sexual. Was this what men felt when they killed?
At the end she was drenched in blood. As the sun began to rise she walked into the garden pool to wash herself clean. She masturbated, overcome by something primal. She knew she would be cursed from this time on but she no longer believed in or feared Allah. That was for the peasants. She did not care what happened to her when she died. The only thing that mattered was staying alive as long as possible in this life and to do that you had to control death.
Nanodrones recorded everything. Tshentso watched, holding back tears. She knew that the ruling elites had practiced fratricide; even the great emperor Ashoka had killed his brothers before he converted to Buddhism. For a moment she questioned her tactics. Surely she was morally culpable? She had ordered the khan’s assassination, thus triggering the violence. Yet the violence was also to her advantage. Better her enemies fight amongst themselves than risk the lives of her soldiers and friends. It was obvious that his children had been waiting for his death and that the struggle for control was inevitable. In this sense it was not her responsibility, although she had not known it would be so cruel. The moral choice was not clear and she doubted it would ever be clear. It seemed every action lead to some sort of violent response. These people were stuck in a cycle that had existed for millennia. They had been lost in a maze, running endless circuits. The only solution was to literally lift them out of the maze. Her main concern now was that her allies back on Eden might be horrified by the violence of Earth and back away. That would be foolish. They were amongst the best and brightest, but they could not see the big picture the way she could. Earth was essential to the future of humanity. Humanity was destined to expand and to fill the galaxy. It was inconceivable that their home world be quarantined and left to continue in a spiral of self-destruction.
Yet there were signs of hope. Again she watched the vid of the young Layla, the daughter of ayatollah al-Thrani. She was an unexpected find and she showed great promise. If they could get a sample of her genome they could devise an enhancement program. She called for Sun, Mae and Riko. They would visit her again as her guardian angels. She would be one of her many seeds and with the proper nurturing, she might one day have a key role to play.
128
Aviva
“So Brussels is where your Illuminati mates have their secret HQ?” Eli said as she looked out the window of Aviva’s newly renovated apartment overlooking the lake on Marie-Louise Square. “I mean, it’s pretty enough, but a bit dull and earnest. You could have chosen any number of European cities as a base.”
Aviva frowned at the use of the term Illuminati. Eli knew that she despised conspiracy theories. It must her idea of a joke, something Australians called taking the piss. No secret society ruled the fucking world, not the Jews, not the Illuminati, not the Masons. Global politics was chaotic. There was no order, let alone any New World Order, just the usual chaos of hundreds of competing conspiracies, most of them ill conceived and poorly executed. Yet there was just enough truth in Eli’s sarcasm for it to sting. Some of the people she was dealing with were as close to being the real Illuminati as was possible. At their first meeting Eisenbach had even calmly admitted that his ancestor had known Adam Weishaupt. She couldn’t tell if he was bragging or testing her, but she had let him know by her implacable expression that she was underwhelmed. The historical connection was almost a given. The eighteenth century German intelligentsia created the Illuminati Order to defend the Enlightenment against the religious obscurantism of the Church and the mysticism of the rival Rosicrucians: a worthwhile objective in her estimation. It was a pity that like most political movements, they were mostly incompetent and riven by factional infighting. “Your circle must have been far more circumspect to have survived the ravages of history, unlike Weishaupt’s little group,” she had observed coldly. Eisenbach accepted her point graciously, a slight hint of a smile suggesting he was satisfied by her response.
She looked up from her screen at Eli’s silhouette in the window; outside it was a cold, overcast day of high, light cloud. She guessed Eli was being chatty because she was anxious. She had some sympathy for her, but it was still annoying. She was trying to watch a report on Eli’s basic spy training. She had excelled of course. Her genome had readily accepted the enhancements; was even hungry for them: a thirteen point increase in IQ, a twenty in reflex reaction time, twenty-two in strength, thirty in cardio fitness, plus the elimination of genes that might cause diabetes, ovarian and breast cancer, as well as Huntington’s and Down Syndrome. Had they had the time for full training Eli might have set a new standard, but that was not to be. Besides, training could only achieve so much. Each mission was unique, which meant the most important skill was common sense.
Eli walked over from the window and straddled the arm of an antique, dark brown leather club chair, too agitated to sit properly, her left leg tapping nervously. She looked distractedly around the apartment at the unpacked boxes and hastily purchased furniture, the walls still bare. The apartment was clearly just a temporary base, not a home. “Oh, I know it’s where the European parliament sits, which means politicians, lobbyists, corporates and bureaucrats constantly flying in and out. A good cover. Your mates can say they’re here on official,” she used air quotes to make her point, “EU business whilst they go about their secret Illuminati shit. But I mean, who thinks of visiting Brussels? It’s always Paris, London, Rome, Berlin, Prague, Amsterdam…”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, let me put you out of your misery
so you’ll shut up.”
Eli froze and held her breath.
“Top of the class across all categories, seems you are a natural spy.”
Tears of relief began to form in Eli’s eyes. She looked at the floor and became thoughtful. “Did I tell you my grandmother Talvi was a spy, a communist partisan in Estonia? She would have been proud. She was a tough old bitch,” she said quietly, her voice betraying a moment of sadness.
“So you’re saying it’s in your genes? Well then, congratulations comrade Torv.”
Eli smiled. “You got champers? We need to crack one open.”
Aviva frowned with incomprehension at the slang. “The what?”
“Champagne.” Eli replied in carefully pronounced French. “Surely you have a bottle of the finest?”
Aviva tilted her head toward the kitchen; she always kept a bottle. Eli jumped up and almost skipped to the refrigerator, Aviva noticed that her body seemed more muscular and defined, her gluts somehow tighter - cut was the term. She suppressed a pang of desire. She was Eli’s superior now; it would be inappropriate. Besides, she couldn’t afford emotional attachments, especially not now. She heard the pop of the cork and after a short time Eli appeared with two glasses of Veuve Clicquot.
When Eli handed her a glass Aviva made an unexpected announcement. “Ai has been in contact. It’s time.”
Eli collapsed into the leather chair and drew in her breath, almost spilling her wine, her stomach suddenly filled with butterflies of excitement and trepidation. “The mission objective?”
Aviva laughed. “Listen to you, too many Bond movies…” Eli pouted at her tease. “Ai has mapped Watanabe’s general movements and habits. Once again we have luck on our side. It seems he has a thing for Viking culture and a blond haired Anime shield maiden called Scyleia.”
“I hope he’s not a sicko, some of the things Ai has told me...”
Aviva shrugged her shoulders. “We don’t know his sexual proclivities just yet… Of course, if he can be blackmailed... From all we can tell he is obsessed with his work, but on his time off he likes to indulge in live action role-playing, mock fantasy battles, that sort of thing, apparently it’s a serious sport in Japan.”
“It’s called larping, they were a bit slow on the uptake, but now…”
“Right, so you know all about it. Ai thinks there may be a way in through this, larping thing. The plan seems to be to put yourself in his way by turning up to one of these games dressed as this Scyleia.”
“So, I cosplay as an Amazon/Viking warrior and get myself introduced, that’s the plan?”
“It’s the only one we’ve got. Ai says there is tight security around him at all other times. They tried to stop him attending these matches. I’m sure you can appreciate why; they would not be easy to control or monitor. Apparently he insisted, a condition of his cooperation, arguing that he needed it as a release. If you act your part, you will look like any other participant and you won’t raise suspicions, although if you make contact they will check you out thoroughly, so the background story has to be tight.”
“Which is?”
“A typical gaijin kyabajō, a hostess, dime a dozen… Use your own name and passport, your own history. Tell them you are on a working ski holiday. Keep it very close to the truth, keep some images of your other trips on your personal devices and social pages, makes it harder to trip up.”
“And I simply introduce myself and take it from there?”
“No, let him make the approach, just be visible and available, but keep aloof. You’ll raise suspicions if you try to seduce him. We are just at the information gathering stage. Any bit of information, however trivial, will be useful. I don’t expect you’ll be lucky enough to strike up a conversation on the first meet. How’s your Japanese?”
“Sore wa kaizen shite imasu arigatōgozaimashita.”
“Hmm, a little too perfect, best to maintain an accent; pretend you only know the basics and play dumb. They might say something in front of you if they assume you do not understand. Watanabe spent time at Cambridge so he speaks perfect English. Ai has arranged for you to receive extra training. You won’t meet with her. She’s in deep now. You’ll be met at the airport. They’ll approach you.”
“Kunoichi training?”
“Something like that, local knowledge mainly, you’ll have a handler.”
“When?”
“The flight’s tomorrow night - JAL.”
Eli remained silent for a moment as she let the news sink in. “You said Ai was in deep. Am I allowed any information?”
Aviva shook her head. “Just deep… She’s providing excellent intel.”
“You mean yakuza deep?”
Aviva remained silent.
“I see, so that means yes. Well, okay then. Adds a bit of spice.” Eli paused and gave a small smirk. “Listen, I’m fucking hungry. If this isn’t strictly, you know, cone-of-silence confidential, I hear there is a famous beer café, the Delirium, seeing as I have only one night.”
Aviva thought about it. She had planned to stay in and review some intel but Eli was giving her her best puppy dog look. “Okay, we can catch the tram. It’s not far. Another reason to choose Brussels. But there’s one more thing.”
Eli sat back because Aviva had turned serious again.
“You’ve also been accepted onto the short list for Eden, whether or not you get to go may very well hinge on the outcome of this mission.” She spoke to the apartment’s AI. “Salome, recognise Elisbet Torv, grant level-two clearance.”
Eli knew the security routine. “Tere Salome, ma olen Elisbet Talvi Torv. Ära kari na kha enne üra müü, kui karu käes on.”
“Estonian?”
Eli nodded. “A proverb – do not sell the skin before you catch the bear.”
“Colourful.”
Eli shrugged her shoulders. “It was the first thing that came to mind. I spoke Estonian when I was young but I started to lose it when we moved to Australia. Our parents insisted we speak English at home so we would integrate quicker. Their English was very good anyway. They were both university educated. Since the enhancement my Estonian has returned, along with a good deal of Russian, which I didn’t know I knew, given I was born after the soviet era. It’s weird. I find languages easy now.”
Aviva nodded, impressed. Eli had turned out to be full of surprises. “The enhancements effect people differently; in your case it seems to be language. You’ve been one of the lucky ones. You’ve adapted quickly and you should expect to see further improvements. Your facility with languages will be especially useful.” Aviva said as she reached over to the coffee table to retrieve a 3D headset. “Here,” she said as she tossed them over to Eli. “Salome, when Eli’s ready play A22.”
She curled her feet under her and sat back to watch Eli’s reaction. She knew she would be greeted with the words “Bienvenue á Eden” and the beautiful smiling face of Anaïs, who would be standing in the middle of the camp with the richly coloured, tropical rainforest in the background. She laughed silently as Eli’s expression shifted from shock to disbelief to wonderment and back again in rapid succession.
“So, it is really real?” Eli said as she pulled the headset off, her face pale with shock.
“Yes, forget the Illuminati, that is what you are really working for. So now you understand what is at stake Eli, what is required of you.”
Eli trembled. All she could do was nod and offer a whispered, “yes, of course - everything.”
Ai had her kimono hitched up over her waist and was squatting on the balls of her feet, her hips thrust forward, one hand behind her back supporting her weight, the other spreading her labia. They were all drunk now and wanted to play games. This one was a pissing contest amongst the geisha. The men placed bets and the one who pissed the furthest would get a generous tip from the kitty. She had been holding on for some time. It was considered impolite for a geisha to excuse herself during a session. Yuki won, sending a strong stream in a high arch, unexpectedl
y splashing the nearest yakuza with a few stray drops. They roared with approval and the geisha giggled in response. It was a good sign. Playing silly sex games meant they probably wouldn’t be required to satisfy the men later, especially given how drunk they were.
Hiro Kobayashi was a different kind of yakuza: sophisticated, with a university degree in business, the product of his grandfather’s ambition to go legitimate. He was the wakagashira charged with overseeing the clan’s corporate interests. If he did his job well he was in line to rise to kumichõ. Ai’s task had been to get close enough so she could download a virus into his secure network. With the tech support of Shunyata, that was the easy part. The difficulty was getting near a terminal, a plan that had involved gently and patiently persuading him to host a private oiran geisha party in his secure apartment in Tokyo, rather than at a traditional ryõtai. The geisha had all been thoroughly vetted and searched, fortunately she had access to the latest Korean nanotech and the virus had been hidden in an IUD contraceptive device. The IUD would show up on the scanners, but they would not challenge her right to protect herself.
She regarded him calmly. He was unconscious and spread-eagled on the bed, his body covered in traditional tattoos, his limp cock beaded with small pearls. He had attempted to have sex but she had placed a small patch containing a sedative under his hairline at the back of his neck during the drunken foreplay, a few minutes later he was under. She knew his apartment was wired with micro cameras and movement detectors so it wasn’t a case of sneaking into his home office and accessing his private secure terminal. It had to be subtler than that. She went to the bathroom, sat on the toilet and retrieved the IUD. Inside were six filament sized nano devices designed to last just forty-eight hours. She slipped these into her hair, walked back into his room naked, her hands clearly empty, and entered his walk-in robe where she carefully fastened each probe along the crease under the lapels of his expensive custom made Italian suits, where they were unlikely to be detected. Finally she put on one of his silk robes, walked back over to his now snoring body, covered him with a sheet and made her way to the living room, ignoring the two Uedo robot maids quietly cleaning up the vile mess they had made so that the apartment would be spotless in the morning. She nonchalantly turned on the large screen, put on headphones and watched a rerun of a mindless Japanese game show just for fun. Anyone viewing the security footage would see an ordinary domestic scene – someone going to the bathroom, fetching a robe and then watching TV because they couldn’t sleep.
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