by S. T. Boston
Sam nodded and smiled. “Trust a reporter to fuck things up for everyone.” He offered Adam a wink which took any sting out of the sentence. “Book or no book,” he continued, walking backward down the crumbling concrete path leading to the garage, “they'd have found us.”
Shuffling along, Sam reached the door first. He partially rested the body on the ground and reached back, opening the door. The dark interior of the garage smelt of dust and old oil, and cobwebs hung from the cracked timber beams.
“Put her over by the wood pile,” Adam instructed. “We'll use the tarp to cover the body. We'll be long gone before she starts to smell and people come looking.” Placing the body on the dusty concrete, Adam stripped the faded green tarp from the timber stack. A few large black spiders scuttled from their hidden homes and scurried into the wood, their bulbous bodies moving with a swiftness which sent a chill down his spine.
“Almost a shame,” Sam said as they settled the tarp over Lilith's face, her dark, tanned skin already pale.
“How so?”
Sam shrugged. “She looked quite hot. Pity she was – one of them.”
“You're sick,” Adam groaned brushing his polo shirt down and standing back. “Don't let my sister hear you say that,” he added.
“That's a bit rich, calling me sick. I'm not the one who's lusting after an alien. Maybe I should call you Avatar from now on!”
Adam flipped him the bird. “Oriyanna hardly looks alien.”
“Let's see. For one thing, she wasn't born on Earth, and secondly, she's over six thousand years old. So yeah, I'd call that pretty fucking alien. Admittedly, she doesn't have a big grey head and black eyes, but…” he chuckled, enjoying the banter. “But I have to admit, on the grounds that there wouldn't be a straight guy on the planet who wouldn't have a crack if they got the chance, I'll let you off.”
“You're a dick,” said Adam light-heartedly.
“I know, sorry. Too many years being around squaddies does that to you.” Sam rounded the tarp and walked out into the overgrown garden. “Your old granddad would be turning in his grave if he saw this mess.” He gestured to the invading brambles which snaked their way through the other unkempt plant life.
“I know. It's gone to rats, hasn't it?”
“Bit like everything else, then,” Sam concluded, heading back into the kitchen where Lucie was wringing out a blood-soaked tea towel into the sink.
“Right, time to learn what needs to be learned,” announced Sam, looking at Oriyanna. “I guess you guys are pretty much up to speed?”
“Yeah, thanks mainly to Lilith,” Adam answered when he stepped into the kitchen. “She disclosed everything in a bid to win my trust.”
“And you think she was telling the truth?”
“I wish I didn't, but I do, yeah.”
Sam shook his head, “That bad, then?”
“Pretty much,” Adam replied solemnly.
“Shit. I feel like that guy from the Die Hard films – what was his name?”
“Bruce Willis,” Adam answered, a little unsure where Sam was going with this.
“I know that, I mean the character he played.”
“John McClane.”
“That's the one. You know, when he says about the same shit happening to the same guy twice. That line.”
Adam chuckled. “You remember some useless crap, don't you? Unfortunately, for him it happened like five times.”
“Well, balls to that,” Sam replied. “I don't even want to be a part of the sequel.” He looked at Oriyanna and enjoyed the expression of sheer confusion on her face. “I guess we don't have any teabags for a brew, so let's go to the lounge and talk this through, then, if I still feel hungry, we eat. But in the meantime…” He bent down and retrieved his pack from the floor. Opening it, he took out the small cans of Pepsi and the packs of nuts. “There. That should keep us going, and there are some prawn sangers as well, but I don't think I'd trust those unless it's a food emergency.”
In the lounge, with the curtains still drawn, the sun cast a pinkish light over the room. Adam perched on the small sofa with Oriyanna at his side. Sam slumped into the chair Lucie had slept in, the well-worn springs enveloping him in a welcome as he tried to relax. Lucie perched herself on the arm of the chair and rested a hand on his shoulder.
Sam let the others go first. Adam, Lucie and then Oriyanna spoke, each running through their accounts as succinctly as possible, being careful not to leave out any important details. Lucie chose not to tell Sam about his impending fatherhood; it was something to tell him when they were alone. She wasn't sure when that would be, but the baby wasn't going anywhere yet, so she had time. Despite the short amount of time she'd known Oriyanna she trusted her not to mention the subject. Talking in low voices, they nibbled on the snacks Sam had provided and sipped the warming soda. Just as she had in the RV, Oriyanna took a swig from the can and complained at how bad it tasted.
Sam listened with interest when she explained about her small intelligence team and how they'd secretly been on the planet for almost two years, certain Asmodeous would eventually turn up like a bad penny. “I'm not in the least surprised that you're here,” he said, leaning back into the armchair. “I actually had my suspicions from the start.”
“And you never said anything?” questioned Adam.
“No, I didn't want to get your hopes up as she'd never broken cover,”
“Like I said, Adam, many times I wanted to come to you, but the risks were too high.” Oriyanna smiled apologetically.
“Strategically it makes perfect sense that she'd be here. Oriyanna is the only living Arkkadian who had direct dealings with the Earth-Breed. Not to mention that she'd been here recently and had a bit of knowledge about the modern age.”
“I'm sorry, Sam, that we used you as we did” Oriyanna said. “I knew you'd be up to the job, and I also knew it would be unlikely you'd turn it down. With the Gift, you stood a smaller chance of anything bad happening.”
“You don't need to apologise,” Sam reassured her. A wicked smile flashed across his hazel eyes. “Well, apart from that last job – that was a cluster fuck!” He leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “That bastard, Laurett. He knew I was coming, kept looking around his room before I gave him a nice dose of Pancuronium. He also told me there were plans for me, and he muttered a name, ENOLA. Now I know what he was referring to, although I wish to fuck I didn't.”
“The feeling's mutual on that one bud,” Adam agreed.
“It was like he was waiting, thinking someone was about to save his arse. I guess they meant to nab me before I'd done the deed. I don't know what went wrong at their end, but if it hadn't been for the French Police, I'd have been out of there and on my way home hours ago.” Sam gave them a brief rundown of his ordeal. As he spoke, they listened in silent amazement as he recounted his time in the cells and the daring escape from Le Havre airport with the inspector's help. “If I hadn't had Ackhart's assistance, I would be dead or on my way to Peru by now.”
“So, do you know if you killed either of them?” Oriyanna asked when Sam finished speaking.
“I'm not sure,” he replied, his stomach gurgling with hunger. “Possibly one, but I didn't stick around to confirm it, sorry.”
“Asag and Namtar will not stop until they find you, or us.” Oriyanna added. “I believe we are safe here for now, but we need to get things moving soon.”
“So,” Sam began, sounding slightly exasperated. “You really think they can do what Lilith claimed, all that stuff about taking control of the launch systems when those crazy bastards turn them back on?”
“I have no doubt,” Oriyanna replied. “It will take some work, making the Sheolian and Arkkadian tech work together with Earth's, but it can be done, and he's done it. We tracked one Earth-Breed from the US to Peru – a guy named Benjamin Hawker. From what we could learn about him, we believe he was a government technology and programming specialist. I just know he will be involved in Enola.”
/> Sam groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. Looking through his fingers, as if he didn't want to face reality, he spoke. “Only a person who had spent time here would know to give the program that name – it's sickening.”
“I don't follow,” said Adam, sounding confused.
“Enola? As in Enola Gay – the B29 Superfortress that dropped the first atomic bomb, Little Boy. And I thought you were the educated one.”
“Of course,” sighed Adam. “The name did sound familiar.”
“So, what do we do? Peru is on the other side of the world, and no offence, but last time I stepped onto a commercial airliner with you, it didn't end too well,” Sam grinned.
Oriyanna chuckled, admired Sam's ability to make light of any situation. “Don't worry, there will be no need for planes this time.”
“Good, 'cos I've already crashed one before breakfast.”
“I need to get back to London,” Oriyanna continued, eyeing them in turn. “There is something in the house I need.”
“You do know that the place will be crawling with police?” Sam warned.
“Not necessarily,” Adam disagreed. “Once they've completed the initial scene investigation, the place will be locked up and put on cordon for a few days while they come and go as they please. By the time you turn up, there'll just be one or two uniformed officers at the front of the place with a log.” He grinned at their surprised expressions. “I've been to enough crime scenes to know the score.”
“Okay,” said Sam, thinking carefully. “So, say you get there, say you get in; what the hell do you have stashed away that we can use?”
She glanced around the small group and leaned in as if she was about to reveal a big secret. “We weren't dropped off here on Earth,” she began. “We travelled as a four.”
“Are you telling me you have a fucking spacecraft squirreled away somewhere?” Sam asked, his voice tinged with childish excitement.
“Not here, but in a way, yes. Let me explain.”
Sam grinned, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. “I'm all ears.”
“There is a device in the safe at the house. Once used, it will recall the craft to my exact location.”
“And just where is this craft?” asked Adam, feeling a pulse of nervous excitement.
“On the dark side of the moon.” Before anyone had a chance to cut in, she added, “As soon as we recall it the craft will enter lunar orbit. Once there, it will jump directly into Earth's orbit by opening a small, short wormhole tunnel to bridge the two hundred and forty thousand or so miles. When it is in orbit here, it GPS locks to the return tab and comes directly to its location.”
“Shit,” cried Sam, his smile almost spreading from ear-to-ear. “Us Earth skivvies really are under-evolved. Just how long will it take to get to us?”
“No more than five minutes from the point of activation,” Oriyanna answered proudly.
Sam stood up and thrust his hands into the deep front pockets of his jacket,. “It's just past eight o'clock, I don't know what time the pub opens, but if they are opening, and they're serving food, it should be anytime soon.”
“Is that all you can think about?” mused Adam.
“An army marches on its stomach,” Sam defended.
“We are no army.”
“We might be facing one,” he grinned. “Let's trundle down there in the Juke; as it's not legit we need it out of sight. We can just dump it in the pub's car park.”
“That leaves us with the Mazda which only just has four seats – not that the two in the back count for shit. How the hell are we going to get back to London? There's no way you can have two people in the back seat all that way.” Adam followed Sam to the front door as Lucie retrieved the keys for the Nissan from a dusty side unit.
“We don't all need to go,” Sam stated, stepping out onto the shingle drive. “That's like putting all your eggs in one basket. Look, it should be a simple enough trip, there and back. Five hours max. You can go with Oriyanna, you know, give you guys a bit of quality time.” He punched Adam's arm in encouragement.
Climbing into the 4x4, Lucie reversed out onto the road. Secreted in the deepest corner of Sam's left hand jacket pocket, lost among the usual pocket lint and fluff, was the small GPS tracker. Sensing that it had moved more than a few feet, it woke up.
Chapter 24
Nicolai Peltz stood on the quayside and watched with trepidation as the black speck on the horizon gradually became identifiable, at first merely as a large ship, then morphing into a car ferry.
Failing to locate either of the outstanding Arkkadians in London, he'd received instructions over the phone to head south and get to Portsmouth. He'd been told he needed to meet Namtar who, it seemed, had experienced some issues of his own. To make things worse, Namtar was alone, having lost his brother Asag in the attempt to take Becker. Peltz wasn't sure if the fact that Namtar had also failed would go in his favour or not. On the one hand, Namtar couldn't berate him too much, to do so would be hypocritical, but on the other, he'd be so furious at the loss of his kin and having failed himself, he would be in desperate need of venting some anger, and that anger would be heading his and Croaker's way.
Jim Croaker stood next to him, glancing around nervously, obviously thinking the same thing. Enjoying the warmth of the disposable coffee cup which was clenched in his right hand, he swilled the liquid around and took a sip, the steam from the drink escaping in a small vapour trail through the hole of the carry-out lid. Despite being a sunny day, there was a nasty chill in the air and the bright sun reflected off the ripples in the water, producing countless mini-suns which shimmered on the surface. He was as keen as Peltz to get the job done and make it to Peru; it felt like he'd been in the field for weeks. Croaker swallowed the hot, bitter liquid and said, “So he knows where Becker is, then?”
“Yes, he managed to bug him while they had him in custody.” Peltz spoke without taking his gaze from the horizon, his eyes squinting against the low sun. To the north behind them, clouds were building, threatening to turn the day dank and miserable. “Once we have Namtar we will be heading to Wiltshire. The location that the GPS tab is pinging is in the middle of fucking nowhere. He's been holed up in one place for the past few hours. Two things make me believe the others are there, too.”
“And they are?”
“Namtar said the plane carried out a direction change while in flight and over the channel. The line to the point where he suspects the craft to be was straight, meaning Becker was aiming for a specific location. Also, there was plenty of fuel in it to go further. The bastard was heading somewhere specific. Secondly, he walked on foot from the landing site to one location where he's remained for some time. Lastly, it's remote, just the kind of place you'd expect no one to find you.”
Croaker nodded in agreement, it seemed a reasonable and rational theory. He didn't want to mention what he knew Peltz was thinking; that Becker might have found the tracker and be leading them on wild goose hunt, or worse – a trap. Instead, he drained the last of the coffee and tossed the cup over the quayside where it floated on its side, nudged back and forth by the gentle waves. The P&O car ferry was nearing port, close enough now to see the small breakers crashing against the hull as it glided through the water.
* * *
Namtar watched impatiently as the English coast steadily grew larger on the horizon. The clock was ticking, but he still had time. Time to get this done and get back to the Arkus 2 before zero hour. He wondered if Asmodeous would stick to his thirty-hour deadline, or afford him some breathing space. Mulling it over for a few minutes, he concluded that he probably wouldn't. Running the timescales in his head, Namtar worked out that he'd taken the call from Asmodeous four hours ago, at six AM, which meant he was down to twenty-six hours. Noting the number in his head he started the countdown timer on his phone. The flight back to the Arkus would take somewhere in the region of twenty hours aboard the Gulf Stream, and that was allowing for a fuel stop in Portugal on the
way. So his window of opportunity was down to six hours. Six hours to find Becker, who he hoped would be with the others, and get them to Netheravon to meet the jet. It was cutting things close but it was achievable – yes, if things went to plan, it was definitely achievable. He would be in Wiltshire within an hour and a half of rolling off the boat, plenty of time if Becker stayed put. He removed the tablet computer from his coat and checked. A few hours ago, Becker had been on the move, his original location, which Namtar had seen on street view as a small brick cottage, had changed. For some reason, he'd moved half a mile away, down a small track to a building which Namtar could only get an aerial satellite view of. He couldn't make out what it was, the place looked to be of moderate size and sat on the banks of the river or canal which wound its way through the tiny village. Having stayed in one spot for just over half an hour, Becker had returned to his original location, where he'd been for the past hour and a half or so.
A bored-sounding voice came over the speakers and politely requested all car drivers go below decks to their vehicles and prepare for docking. As if being first to his car would make the process faster, Namtar thrust the handheld computer into his pocket and rushed downstairs to locate the French-hired X5. He'd received word that everyone else, apart from the team sent to take care of the small Arkkadian cell, were suspected to be dead. Even Lilith's team had dropped off radar, which wasn't good news. Earth-Breed were expendable, and with his brother dead and Lilith missing that just left him and Asmodeous, two out of the hundreds who had been killed and captured during the Sheolian raids. Finding the vehicle with ease, he climbed into the driver's seat and clutched the steering wheel, his blood boiling in anger. He respected his orders and wouldn't kill either Becker, his wife or Fisher – but he would make them hurt. Oh yes, they were going to be in a world of hurt when Namtar got his hands on them. They'd beg for death, but he would not give it to them. He relished the prospect of making them watch as he killed the two Arkkadians, particularly the female, as he knew Fisher had feelings for her. He'd make Fisher watch as he cut her flesh repeatedly, giving her time to heal between each, making each new wound more painful than the last. Then if she begged for death enough, he'd show her mercy, but not before he'd had his fun. A thin smile formed on his lips as his imagination ran wild with the possibilities, his body experiencing an excitement that bordered on sexual when he played out each wondrous scenario in his head.