Fire and Steel

by Gavin Magson

  Ilya watched as Nola typed several words on the screen before her, the officer staring straight at Ilya, gaze unwavering, the entire time. It was unsettling and no doubt part of the interview process to try and gain additional information from her, yet Ilya did her best to calm herself, keeping her composure against such a piercing gaze.

  Ilya had to stop herself from smiling at the dark thought that flashed through her mind. Of all the torture that Henry had put her through, the beatings, whippings, and even rapes, he had rarely struck her face. Ilya had applied a small amount of makeup to conceal some bruising but, save for her lower lip still being slightly swollen, she did not carry any visible injuries that would lead to countless questions form the officer. In a strange way she was thankful for it, but that thought left her annoyed by herself.

  “Some of your staff have already given statements about what they saw. None seemed to show much sorrow at the death of their employer, or surprise, just relief that they were spared. What is most peculiar is that none of the staff can agree on whether you were even in the mansion at the time, nor which room was your own.”

  Ilya kept her face impassive, resisting any urge to react before she could gather her thoughts. The officer was probing, without any real information to piece together the events.

  “It’s all quite a blur, one moment I’m asleep, the next there are gunshots and my manservant is practically kicking down the door to get me away from danger. I didn’t stay around long enough to find Henry or catch a glimpse of the attackers. We fled, and I am not ashamed of that.”

  “Ah, yes, Roahvan. We still have not been able to locate him, despite a sector wide appeal. You say he managed to get you out of the mansion safely, yet we can’t find him. Do you have any knowledge of his whereabouts?” Nola’s tone had shifted, accusation appearing as she shifted tactic.

  “I wish that I could help, but I don’t know where Rowan lives, and don’t have any means to contact him. He was part of the staff, surely there was some record kept by Henry that would assist you?”

  “Nothing has been found, so far, from any of his systems. The level of protection applied to them means it is unlikely we will ever gain access, especially without his head.”

  Ilya knew she had made a mistake, baited into a trap that she had not anticipated. She allowed her neutral expression to slowly transition into surprise, something she hoped came across as slow realisation; would it be enough?

  “What do you mean? What happened to his head?”

  Nola smirked, slight as it was Ilya did not fail to notice this change in the officer’s face. Nola keyed away at the screen before rotating it around the stand to face Ilya.

  Ilya lent forward and read the several lines of text highlighted within a lengthy report.

  Several lacerations have been identified around the victim’s neck and, from the amount and source of blood loss, it is apparent that the victim was still alive prior to decapitation. Victim’s wrists were bound during the act. Attacker(s) tortured victim for an unknown time, during this the victim strained sufficiently to expose tendons in both wrists. Attacker(s) made calculated incisions in the act of decapitation such to prolong victim’s life and suffering until the blood loss and pain caused the heart to fail.

  Ilya read the words slowly, in part due to having spent half her life unable to read, whilst also buying herself some time. Once she was done Ilya was surprised to find tears streaking her face, her exposed forearms wet from the fallen tears.

  Nola looked taken aback, uncertain for the first time. She quickly swivelled the screen back away from Ilya to ensure the woman did not read further.

  “I’m sorry that you had to read about that, I thought it would help you understand that who we are looking for is not some common killer; someone took joy in the murder of Henry Steel, and he suffered terribly for it. I think it best we end the interview here and, if you remember anything that would aid our investigation, please get in contact with myself or any other officer.”

  Ilya accepted the metal disc that Nola offered, on it were etched the officers personal contact details. When she looked up once more the interview rooms door was open, and Nola was stood to one side propping it open.

  Ilya stood from her seat and felt her legs begin to shake, the tremor quickly spread until she thought her whole body was shaking. Ilya breathed deep several times until she could will her body to still itself. She went to walk past the woman but stopped in the doorway. Without turning she muttered, “Find his killers, they deserve to face justice for such a horrendous act.”

  “I will, be sure of that.”

  The door closed softly behind Ilya. Another officer waited in the corridor and, without saying anything, walked off towards the staircase that led up to the ground floor. Ilya followed, all the while tears cascaded down her pale face. They weren’t tears for her dead husband, nothing could ever cause her to shed a single tear for that bastard. No, her tears were for Ajax. She knew he had a great capacity for violence, a natural talent for dealing death, but to read how he had made Henry suffer in death meant he found joy in torture; one monster had died, but was the cost so that another was born?

  “What is your assessment, officer?” the voice was tinny as it came through the room’s speakers.

  Nola returned to her seat and began typing away on the screen.

  “She seemed to show real compassion upon reading over the report of his death. I had thought she was hiding something up until that point, but I think my assessment was incorrect. Unfortunately, that means we haven’t made any meaningful progress towards finding the killers.”

  “You might be correct, it made for an interesting listen. However, there is a small detail you fail to mention; not once did Ilya Steel refer to her husband by his name.”

  Nola swore as she thought back over the interview and realised the unseen man was correct.

  Chapter 31

  “Remind me again how we ended up back in Seven? I thought the credits we made off the sale of those exo’s would have financed some much-needed downtime.” muttered Rex, no attempt at hiding the irritation from his voice.

  “Wasn’t it because some idiot volunteered us to help a bloodthirsty merc wage a war we’d already lost limbs for?” came Jerry’s reply.

  “Knock it off, both of you; if one of Boden’s men hear your bickering there might be some friendly fire come our way. The two of you aren’t alone in having a miserable time with these barbarians. If I remember rightly I didn’t volunteer the pair of you, you’re both welcome to leave me to suffer in peace.”

  Miles was beyond angry, he was pissed. The winter had been awful to fight in, strong winds and deep snow sapping strength, energy, and warmth all day and night. The howling winds meant you could rarely hear nearby gunshots and could be crept up on at any time. Fighting in the slums through the summer meant two things; all-consuming, stifling heat, and an oppressive stench wherever you went.

  “If I never live in a city again it won’t be too soon.” muttered Rex.

  His complaint went without response as the trio reached the top of the staircase, which opened up to a ruined room that was missing most of its external walls. The small house had not suffered from the previous assault on the slums gang population, rather poor craftsmanship and a bitter winter has seen to its ruin.

  “B and D squad are due to arrive on our position in ten minutes. Get setup in the west corner, make sure to check your profiles aren’t above what remains of the walls. Jerry, you will be my lookout, Rex can be on staircase today.” commanded Miles.

  The two men went about their duties without complaint, demonstrating just how well practiced they were in establishing a sniper’s nest.

  Miles, whilst stood near the rooms centre, checked there were no vantage points higher than their own that looked into the room. The house had been hastily built on the roof of a dilapidated warehouse, which the squad had been surprised to discover was now used to house hundreds of families. The scared, hungry eyes
that followed their movements through the building had proven unsettling, yet not one made a move to intercept them; no surprise considering the small arsenal the trio carried between them.

  The roof of the warehouse had proven difficult to access. The men had climbed higher through the warehouse, single file the entire time due to the poor state of the staircases, until they reached a mezzanine level just below the roof that put them within reach of the access hatch.

  Miles was taken aback as he climbed up onto the roof, expecting to find just the tall structure they now stood in, not a shanty town. Everywhere they turned were shacks constructed from any and every material the residents could get their hands on, which resulted in a multicoloured sea of uneven roofs and a seemingly endless number of streets they had to navigate to reach the roofs corner.

  “It’s a miracle that the roof hasn’t caved under the extra weight, I can’t say I put much trust in it holding the weight through next winter.” said Rex.

  “Let’s hope that we aren’t here that long, there’s an awful lot of lives below us that wouldn’t make it out of a collapse. How are you getting along over there?” asked Miles.

  Rex slotted together the final armoured plate that Jerry had passed him, completing the protective sheet that the two men had built up against the wall. Rails had been screwed into the floor and wall, which acted as guides to keep the plates in place.

  The armour was rated to stop high calibre rounds and was suitably weighty to backup that claim. It would take two men to raise the completed shield, once the time was right.

  “We are ready to go, Jerry just needs to get the camera online. I’ll go secure our exit.” answered Rex.

  Rex lay down on the floor and rolled until he was safely out of sight of prying eyes before climbing back to his feet. He grabbed his rifle and pack from beside the doorway and headed down the stairwell, his descent causing a slight sway from the building. By the time Miles turned back to Jerry a small tripod was clipped to the right-hand side of the ruined wall.

  “Have you established a feed?” asked Miles.

  “Crystal clear, boss; I’ve a perfect view of the compound from here. How are we doing for time?”

  Miles checked his tablet, which he had left on the map screen and now showed the two groups of ten mercenaries swiftly closing in on their position. He changed the view to display several streets either side of his location, which was awash in all directions with red markers. Boden was coordinating a full assault with all two hundred of his men involved, which the tablet certainly indicated. Miles opened his contacts and selected the B squad’s leader.

  “Watchtower is live, Daniel; how long until your squad needs our distraction?”

  Miles listened to the crunch of boots and loud panting of men as the squad moved closer to their target. For a while he wondered if he was speaking to a pocket, rather than the tablets owner, until the background noise subsided.

  “We’ve reached your position relative to street level, I can see D squad waiting at the corner for us. I’ll check in with Boden to confirm our men are in position and ready for the assault. Once my squad reaches the compounds outer wall unleash death.”

  “Affirmative.” replied Miles. The call ended, and he stowed his tablet away once more.

  “Let’s have another look at your feed.” said Miles to Jerry.

  The thin screen that Jerry passed over had a clear image of what lay beyond the wall both men were crouched behind. From here Miles had a clear view all the way to the compound two streets over. Considerable time and effort had been put into the compound’s construction, dozens of buildings razed to harvest enough material to build the wall and ramparts that encircled a large open area. The feed showed him that there were several structures that had either been spared or erected within the compound’s walls, which he didn’t doubt were vital in the production of competing products Rine needed the supply of terminated.

  Miles could not magnify the image any further, so had to make do with what details were on show. He could identify a score of guards patrolling the perimeter closest to him, Miles guessed at least the same again were too distant for the camera to pick up. The blurred moving mass within the compound was likely a large number of workers carrying out their role in the facility’s production of narcotics.

  “That’s a lot of targets to keep track of. What’s your plan?” asked Jerry.

  “Good questions. B and D squad are going to need a significant distraction and, closer to their target, a lot of suppressing fire. The other snipers have their own tasks to deal with, so I won’t bank on additional support from them.

  “I’ll take out a couple of the perimeter guards first, but not those closest to us; that should draw them away from their posts and give our squads chance to close in. The explosives won’t take long to prime and set, but the mercs will be vulnerable out in the open until that wall is ready to come down. Ah, just on cue for them to be moving out.”

  Miles pointed at the bottom of the screen, where it was just possible to identify the mercenaries moving between the buildings below. The shade from the evening sun meant that it was difficult to spot the dark clad figures on the screen, which should mean the perimeter guards would face the same difficulties, allowing the squads to reach the compound unnoticed.

  “Keep behind the plating, everyone goes home in one piece today. If you spot movement on the rooftops nearby confirm it is friendly; I don’t want these fuckers getting the jump on us this time.”

  Jerry did as he was told, moving besides Miles to help his leader raise the armoured plates up to form a shield between them and anyone looking to do the men harm. The central plate of the wall was hinged, allowing Miles to open it outwards and, for the first time, he was able to look down on the compound with his own augmented eyes. Miles placed a padded rest on the plate providing a ledge and manoeuvred his rifle such that the barrel was now supported.

  Miles sighted down the rifles barrel, which was now free of the powerful telescopic sights he once used. With his augmented eyesight he could see farther and clearer than the sights would ever allow him.

  Adjusting his eyesight Miles could identify each of the guards walking along the ramparts and could even clearly make out the weapons those closest to him carried. Some of the guards appeared more alert, their body language suggesting an eagerness that others did not express. He was unsure if this was due to a shift change, or if simple complacency had a major part to play.

  Miles turned his eye towards street level and spotted B squad in position, with D squad across the narrow street. He could not spot any of the remaining one hundred and eighty men and women encircling the compound, but he knew they were poised for the assault.

  “Message Daniel, tell him he’s got one minute.” said Miles, adjusting the barrel to sight on the distance guards.

  Jerry typed out the message quickly; the reply was near instantaneous.

  “They are good to go, he’s contacting the other squads now.”

  Miles counted out the time in his head until satisfied the squads would be prepared.

  A slight adjustment of the gun had him sighted on a short man that was strolling along the northern most section of wall, walking eastward. Miles toggled his safety off and raised his index finger to the trigger. He steadied his breathing until satisfied that the gun was perfectly stable and squeezed the trigger. With a roar the gun bucked against his shoulder; Miles absorbed the energy and had the gun levelled on the next guard before his bullet reached the first. Miles squeezed the trigger as, from the corner of his eye, the first guard’s skull exploded into countless shards.

  With two guard’s dead and the rest now alerted Miles shot at those fleeing for cover, not taking his time to aim. Two of the rounds caught the slower guards, one of which didn’t get back to their feet. Miles had achieved his objective; the southern section of the compound was devoid of guards as they rushed to the top of the compound. He carried on firing at the distance figures, focusing more on keep
ing them pinned down that slaying the men.

  At street level two squads of ten progressed closer to the makeshift wall, weaving between fleeing citizens as the sniper fire above had the populace running for cover. The two squads left the cover offered by nearby buildings, rushing towards the ramparts. One man from each squad, both bearing large packs, carried on towards the wall whilst their comrades stopped several paces apart from one another, guns levelled as they surveyed their surroundings for sign of attack.

  Miles halted his firing as the explosives were set, his rifle static as he scanned the area from his vantage point for any movement. The compound was busy, hundreds of workers rushing around as they sought shelter from the outside attack; what caught Miles’ eyes were those stationary figures. He was at the limit of his augmented eyesight and was not able to identify what the half dozen figures were doing, but he knew that he couldn’t take the risk with this suspicious behaviour; he sighted the rifle once more.

  Miles fired off the last round in his gun’s magazine, dropping out the empty clip whilst keeping his eye focused on his target. The round took the person in the chest, horizontally cutting the body in two. Miles was so surprised that the bullet could be so devastating that he misaligned the magazine, feeling it catch as he tried to insert it without watching his hands. He glanced down, readjusting his vision to see something so up close. When the magazine was loaded he looked back up and was blinded by a dazzling white light.

  Miles ducked behind the armour plates, grabbing Jerry’s jacket to haul him closer. There was a brief pause before the rocket struck their building, the explosion tearing off the roof and violently shaking everything around them. The men were only spared a second attack as a much larger explosion rocked the compound, sending part of the ramparts airborne in a shower of shrapnel.