The Divinities

by Parker Bilal

  ‘Isn’t that obvious?’ Hicks rolled his eyes. ‘You’re supposed to be a detective, remember? Hakim is part of the hypocrisy. Whatever happened to integrity? I mean, I get it. The old world has gone. Left and right don’t mean anything. We’re waging a war on terror and our so-called friends are knee deep in spreading the hatred we’re sacrificing our servicemen and women for.’

  There was a moment’s silence. Drake wondered if he had pushed him too far. Hicks seemed to have tipped over the edge.

  ‘Hakim bought into the whole Salafist dream. He thought we were going back to some purity from the early days of Islam. He didn’t get it.’

  ‘So you decided to kill him.’

  Hicks paused again. ‘I thought he best served our purpose that way. It was the sacrifice he had always wanted to make.’ A broad grin broke on his face. ‘He got what he wanted.’

  ‘You gave him the Thermite.’

  ‘Yeah, he managed to fuck that one up too.’

  ‘It wasn’t his fault the mosque was attacked.’

  ‘No, that was Stephen Moss and his boys. They went in too soon. What can you expect, right? Moronic thugs looking for an excuse to break something.’ Hicks knelt close to Drake’s head. ‘That’s what I’m trying to explain. Give me one battalion of men truly devoted to their cause, and I could change the world.’ He clenched his fist tightly, lost for a moment in his own failed ambitions, then he straightened up and stepped back. Drake twisted from side to side as the ground opened up beneath him.

  ‘We’re wasting time,’ said Hicks.

  He gave Drake a final kick that sent him over the edge.

  CHAPTER 52

  Crane heard Drake cry out and then there was silence. She assumed that he was dead, or at the very least unconscious. Hicks was coming back. He paused in front of her.

  ‘Well, Doctor Crane, what do you have to say for yourself? Oh, I forgot.’ He pulled the gag away from her mouth. ‘You didn’t have time to listen to me. I’m sure you’ve got plenty to say now.’

  Ray worked to loosen her jaw. ‘I don’t think I have anything to offer,’ she said finally.

  ‘Oh, come on. Don’t be so modest. Just because you failed my brother doesn’t disqualify you completely.’

  Crane was silent. She sensed that he was trying to provoke her, that he needed her to justify his anger.

  ‘Your brother knew he had done something wrong. He lost control, and he blamed himself for that.’

  ‘Ah, interesting. And so, you were unable to save him from himself, is that your theory? Convenient, don’t you think? Like everyone else in this world, all you care about is absolving yourself of blame.’ He drew his face close to hers. ‘Well, all that ends here and now. You see that camera?’ he pointed. ‘In a short while the world is going to watch you having your head sliced off, as it happens.’

  ‘You’re playing into their hands.’

  ‘Oh, political advice? Is that it now?’

  ‘You’re trying to create a war. Hatred, that’s what you want?’

  Hicks smiled. ‘So simplistic. I mean for a woman of your education, your analysis seems a little crude. I don’t want war. Think about it. In order to wake people up there has to be violence. People don’t understand anything else.’

  ‘You won’t solve anything like this.’

  Hicks grinned. ‘Hello! Some of us don’t want to be cured, doctor.’ He moved over towards the wall and began busying himself with his equipment.

  ‘That’s what this is about, isn’t it?’ Crane began to laugh. ‘It’s so simple. You’re right, I’m a little slow. Your mother even said so.’

  Hicks had ceased what he was doing. He was staring at her.

  ‘My mother?’

  ‘Your brother was the achiever. The popular one. The success. You envied him.’

  ‘You spoke to my mother?’

  He was standing in front of her now. Crane looked up at him. She nodded.

  The blow was expected. Still, it was sudden and more violent than she had imagined. She felt blood in her mouth.

  ‘What did she say?’

  Crane lifted her head, tried to move her jaw from side to side to check if it was broken.

  ‘I think the word she used was pathetic.’

  This time he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her neck back. ‘Liar!’ Then he let go and stepped back. The smile was returning. ‘I get it. I get it.’ He was nodding to himself. ‘You’re a part of all this. A part of what I’m up against. Your kind despise me.’ He tapped his forehead. ‘I get it. It’s all around, all over the world. We’re despised for who we are.’

  ‘The world has moved on, and you can’t accept that.’

  ‘You’re wrong. I understand better than you think. That’s what I’m going to change. When people see what’s happening, where this is leading, then they’ll know.’

  ‘Your faith in humanity is touching.’

  ‘Laugh all you like, but that doesn’t change the facts. This whole country is on edge. They just need the right spark, just a little nudge.’

  ‘Dream on. It’s not going to happen.’

  ‘Really? You think you understand human nature because you have a degree?’ Hicks chuckled. ‘Look at Tunisia, at Egypt. People stood up and created chaos. The same thing can happen here.’

  ‘Those people suffered for decades. They had nothing to lose.’

  Talking was a way of distracting him, except that Hicks seemed capable of talking and working at the same time. Nothing seemed to deflect him.

  ‘We’re sleepwalking towards our own annihilation.’

  ‘Who is we?’

  He stared at her. ‘We’ve forgotten what made us special.’

  She had to laugh. ‘Oh, this I have to hear.’

  Hicks hung his head, trying to compose himself. When he looked up the sly confidence had gone and Ray found herself looking into the face of pure malevolence.

  ‘Brian died because his country betrayed him. They sent good men off to die. He lived with the guilt of what he’d done, every day of his life. He was tortured by it. That’s what made him go back out there, that’s what killed him.’

  ‘You’re confused, Luke. Maybe you need to rethink your grand scheme.’

  ‘You think so?’ Hicks began to laugh. He freed Crane from the chair and pulled her to her feet. He held her upright, then he let go and hit her, a full backhanded slap. She collapsed to the ground. ‘My brother deserved a medal for what he did, fighting for our values, our way of life. Instead they threw him under the bus. You were supposed to help him. You failed.’ Hicks gave a snort of disgust. ‘Why am I wasting my breath? You’ll never understand.’

  Ray spat blood on the ground. She was struck by the realization that Hicks was beyond reason. He was working within the parameters of his own logic.

  ‘I’ve got news for you,’ she said finally. ‘Nobody understands your kind.’

  ‘Keep going. You won’t be laughing for much longer.’

  As she struggled upright, he turned and walked away.

  CHAPTER 53

  Drake felt himself falling freely. The walls tilted over him, the ground rushing up from below. Then the rope tightened and he jerked to a sudden halt. The impact snapped through his spine and he swung out like a pendulum into mid-air.

  Upside down, he swayed back and forth, wildly at first, before starting to slow. His eyes stayed on the rope above him, listened to the creak of it, wondering if it would hold. Below him was a sheer drop, around six metres down from the gallery, then maybe another four to the bottom of the pool which was empty but for a slick of rusty water gathered in the bottom. Spinning round, Cal felt the rope fastened to his ankles biting hard into his skin. His hands were still bound in front of him. His heart began to settle down, realizing that he wasn’t going to die, not just yet at least. The swinging grew less pronounced. He came to a halt over the centre of the empty pool. The rope ran through the iron roof arches and down to the broken railings where it was fixed. H
e hoped Hicks at least knew how to tie a knot.

  A fall from this height would probably kill him. The thing about death was that you never quite accepted it. He remembered that from Iraq. Even when it was staring you in the face. Survival instinct took over, told you there just might be a way out of this. The moment you resigned yourself to your fate you were dead. He’d seen that too.

  His eye was caught by something moving, at the bottom of the pool, something with a long tail scurrying around the edge. Another reason not to wind up down there. He craned his neck to look back at the gallery. The television had been switched off and Hicks appeared to be setting the stage for his next performance.

  Drake could hear Crane trying to reason with Hicks. He heard the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor. Drake just hung there, wondering what was coming next. He heard footsteps clicking down the stairs. There was silence. He looked across at the rope that ran down from the ceiling towards the railings where it was tied. If he could just swing back across, perhaps he could free himself. It was a long shot, but it was all he had.

  He began to swing his body, bending at the waist to gain speed. He wasn’t sure what he was doing really, he just knew that he had to do something. Increasing his speed and arc with each pass he began to gain momentum.

  Then disaster struck. He lost momentum and began to gyrate in circles. He threw out a hand to stop himself and went spinning round and round until he was dizzy.

  ‘Fuck!’ he swore, forcing himself to wait until he slowed and could start again. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on exactly how to move. He was trying to fight the feeling that it was a hopeless plan. Then he opened his eyes, sure he had heard something. He saw a shadow moving up the staircase towards the gallery. Jango waved to him.

  ‘Holmes? What you doin’, man?’

  ‘You alone?’ The boy nodded. ‘Listen, go and get help.’

  Jango was still assessing the situation. ‘Damn, Holmes! You in for a nasty fall.’

  ‘Just do what I say.’

  ‘No doubt. Chill, man.’ Jango rushed up the last steps to the gallery and leaned on the railings. From his pocket he produced a folding knife. The blade jumped into his hand at the press of a button. ‘I got it covered.’

  ‘No! Wait!’

  ‘What?’ Jango stopped what he was doing.

  ‘If you cut the rope now this is going to end badly.’

  ‘Yeah, right . . .’ Jango peered down into the bottom of the pool. ‘So, what you reckon?’

  ‘Can you lower me? Slowly. The rope’s probably not long enough, but if I swing, I can reach the side there. Can you do that?’

  With a shrug, Jango set the knife down and began struggling with the knot. It took forever.

  ‘Look, forget it. Just get out! Now!’

  ‘I’ve got it!’ Jango jerked back as the rope suddenly came free.

  Drake plummeted, coming to an abrupt halt as the braking device blocked.

  ‘Whoa!’

  ‘Sorry!’ Jango grabbed the rope and started pulling. Drake was grateful Hicks had taken the time to set up a pulley system. The boy would never have been able to hold his weight otherwise.

  ‘Lock it off.’

  ‘Chill, Holmes. It’s taken care of.’

  Whatever that meant, Jango disappeared from sight, which had to be a good thing.

  By now Drake was level with the side of the pool. He was still a couple of metres away. He began to swing again. As he gained momentum, his outstretched fingertips brushed the edge of the pool before he swung away again. Almost!

  As he swung back out over the pool he felt the air whistling past his ears. He reached the end of the swing and began to come back across. He was almost there when the tension in the rope went – whatever Jango’s skills were, they didn’t lie in tying knots. He found himself flying outwards, missing the edge of the pool by a hair’s breadth. An inch lower and it would have cracked his skull, maybe even broken his neck. He skidded across the tiles to slam into the wall. The air went out of his lungs and he lay for a moment to catch his breath and assess the damage.

  He had landed hard, his ankle striking the edge of the pool with a snap that told him some damage had been done. He struggled to sit upright. His foot stuck out at an awkward angle. He worked to untie his feet. His hands were still bound together. But there was something that bothered him more than any of this, and that was the silence. Where was the boy?

  Drake stayed close to the wall, dragging himself along the floor towards the stairs. He had just reached them when he heard Hicks.

  ‘Where are you?’ he called. A flashlight beam played over the walls. ‘How far do you think you’ll get?’

  Drake rolled over, sliding back against the wall.

  ‘This doesn’t change anything. Nothing at all.’ There was a little chuckle of laughter. ‘I already told you, this is bigger than you and me. It’s bigger than all of us.’

  Hicks didn’t know where he was. The rope had slid through the roof girder and dropped into the bottom of the pool. He wasn’t going to look for Drake. He had other things to do. After a time, Drake heard Hicks move away. There came the sound of the television playing again.

  Drake hauled himself up the first step. It was easier than he had imagined. Using his knees and one hand he could pull himself up, one step at a time. The old iron stairs creaked and Drake stopped, wondering if Hicks had heard anything, but the noise of the television was loud enough to drown other sounds out. When he reached the top, Drake poked his head out cautiously and looked to his left. He could see the flicker of blue light from the television that was just out of sight.

  Drake discovered Jango lying on the ground. A lifeless form, his head twisted to one side, his eyes open. Hicks had slit his throat with his own knife, which lay beside the boy’s body, covered in blood. Cal’s head dropped and he closed his eyes. Clenching his fists helplessly, he had to bite his tongue to keep from yelling out. It was a long time since he had felt such rage.

  He could hear Hicks moving around but he’d disappeared from sight. He seemed to be trying to string a black banner on to the wall. Drake couldn’t see Ray. He estimated she was just off to the right. The banner carried the familiar ISIS symbol, the white ring around a handwritten declaration of faith. As in his previous murders, Hicks seemed to have thought all of this up for maximum visual impact.

  Drake crawled forward, sliding as quietly as he could over the floor, the stickiness of Jango’s blood on his hands. He reached the wall and peered round. Hicks had set up a camera and lights. Everything was prepared, as if for a film shoot. Crane was on her knees, her eyes covered by a blindfold. She was awake though. What surprised him was how calm she was. Not screaming. Not hysterical.

  He pulled himself back as Hicks stepped into view. Hicks disappeared then reappeared, pulling a balaclava down over his face before pressing a remote he held in his hand and addressing the camera.

  ‘Know that none of you will be spared. You cannot hide from Allah’s justice.’ He pulled a large knife from a scabbard at his waist and grabbed a handful of Crane’s hair. Drake stopped breathing as Hicks jerked her head back to expose her neck.

  ‘For too long you have lived a life free of consequence.’ Hicks held up a large hunting knife. The blade glinted in the light. ‘You attack the House of Islam and now you will understand the price you must pay.’

  Drake had Jango’s knife in his hand. It was covered in blood and slippery in his hand. If he could get himself upright, then he could launch himself at Hicks. He would only have one chance.

  ‘Fuck!’

  Something wasn’t working. Hicks put his knife down and began to check the connection between camera and computer. There was some kind of technical glitch. Drake crawled further along the wall to the other side. The pain in his ankle told him he probably would not be able to stand on that foot. Hicks was showing signs of impatience. Agitatedly, he went back and forth between camera and the laptop that sat on the tool box, trying to
get them to synchronize. Then he disappeared from sight.

  Drake edged along the wall. He wondered if there was a chance of reaching Crane while Hicks was occupied. He reached the end and peered round. Hicks and Ray had disappeared. He was hauling himself to his feet when Hicks stamped on his knee. The pain arched through him. He cried out, then felt himself being twisted over onto his back. Hicks had the big hunting knife again, and from this angle it looked bigger than before.

  ‘Where is she? Where’s your little girlfriend?’

  For a moment Drake didn’t understand, then he did; Jango must somehow have managed to almost free Crane’s hands before he was killed. She’d finished the job herself.

  ‘It’s over, Luke. Give up now, before you make it worse.’

  ‘You’re right, it is over, but not for me.’

  Hicks grinned. Then he stepped back and kicked. Drake felt the boot digging deep into his right kidney. A series of kicks followed. Drake tried to protect himself, crawling backwards but Hicks kept at it, his boots thudding into his ribs over and over. Finally, it stopped. Hicks leaned over him, trying to catch his breath.

  ‘This is bigger than you or me.’

  Drake wriggled away, rolling onto his side. As Hicks grabbed his shoulder, he spun back and managed to land a hard punch to the throat. It felt good. Hicks staggered back and Drake managed to get up on to his hands and knees. Then Hicks roared back. Another blow in the stomach flipped Drake over onto his back.

  ‘You’re going down, Drake, down where you belong, with all the other misfits.’

  Over his shoulder, Drake spotted Crane. She hadn’t gone for help. Or maybe she had; either way she was back, and Drake was glad to see her.

  She was holding Drake’s extendable steel baton. She pressed the button and it jumped open. Hicks heard the sound. He turned in time to meet the first blow. Ray brought it down on his collarbone. She knew what she was doing. Hicks dropped the knife. The second blow was to the solar plexus. Hicks bent forward and charged.

  Drake wanted to tell her to make a run for it, but somehow he had the idea he didn’t need to worry. Crane sidestepped neatly and kicked Hicks’s left knee, knocking his leg out from under him. He swore as he went down heavily.