Attrition of the Gods: Book 1 of the Mystery Thriller series Gods Toys. (14 page)

His first hit was not accurate and he only severed the end of his penis. One of the watching soldiers laughed, one of the prisoners gagged. Robert brought the blade down once more, this time hitting all the genitals. The cut was not clean, the parts hung from his body, held there by sinew and skin. The captain witnessed his own castration before passing out. A soldier threw freezing water over his head to wake him so that Robert could take the blade to his throat and began hacking and sawing his head off. The process took over ninety seconds. The blade was purposely old and blunt so Robert had to rely on his weight and strength. Gurgled screams rang out from the three remaining men and Robert repeated the sentence on each one, driven by the anger and pain he had kept close for the last five years. He showed no mercy.

The cave was a blood bath and Robert was drenched. When the last connecting tissue was severed from the final man’s neck, the deed was complete. Robert looked to Abu, dropping the blood-covered blade. It was only later that he remembered a small black man in Western clothes standing next to Abu, who seemed to be calmly eating boiled sweets from a paper bag throughout the entire event. Too much was going on to worry about such a strange anomaly. But some years later Robert met this man again when Abu requested he meet with an important associate, a trusted man. This small young black man would change Robert’s world view for a second time.

At the meeting Robert was recruited to be involved in a plot where he needed to purposely get caught carrying anti-West propaganda into England from Pakistan; this was the first part of his mission. His cry of loyalty to Al Qaeda and his refusal to recognise the UK courts resulted in the tabloids labelling him “Al Qaeda Bob”. He was sentenced to six years.

When the authorities offered to put him on a protected wing in case he was attacked by hostile prisoners, he refused. He managed to get himself transferred from four prisons in his first three months for various reasons. Finally he ended up here in Stoke Prison and on his first day he knows he is in the right place when he sees the man he was sent there to kill.

Jinn City, 2146

“A lie can travel half way round the world while the truth is

Putting its shoes on.” Anonymous

“But I don’t understand? How it can be for me? It must be some kind of mistake.”

Ember is examining the package that Raphael has pushed towards her. She looks to him for an explanation.

Raphael gives her a sympathetic smile. “It’s true. Jones was a common name from Celtic descent and admittedly a popular name in that culture for centuries but it is not a name that survived the Tribulation and September is very rare. Put them together and it’s unique to you.”

“What? You’re saying I’m the only September Jones on the planet?”

“You are the person who this package is for, trust me,” confirms Raphael.

“Raphael?” Adam interrupts, sounding annoyed. “What are you talking about Ember is just a friend I brought to meet my family she has nothing to do with the anti-host, that’s crazy”

Raphael drops his head momentarily. He knows he must explain things to Adam but there are more urgent things to address.

“Adam, I’m sorry, you deserve an explanation but first, Miss Jones, the disc. I believe it contains a very important message for you. A message that you will be tasked with spreading amongst all the people of the world. A message that will bring down the Aryan overlords and the abomination that calls himself the Host.”

There’s an awkward silence before Ember raises one eyebrow and gives him a look of defiance, showing her young age. She is fighting the urge to either laugh in his face or punch him out. Her feelings of excitement at meeting Raphael have gone through uncertainty and out the other side into definite unease. Adam is still looking confused and hurt but Ember is not some easily duped Midtowner. She is the daughter of the second-highest ranking Overlord in Jinn City. Ember has overheard Council meetings at her home where they’ve discussed a revolutionary group known as the Sons of Verdi. The High Priestess Solfrid herself has called them terrorists and warned they must be hunted down before they cause chaos in the city. Well, this Raphael is obviously a sympathiser, or more likely a member. She decides she wants no part of this.

“Am I allowed to leave?” she asks, with her head held high and she tries to show no fear.

Raphael looks perplexed. “But, but… what about the disc? You must watch the disc. I’ve been waiting so long…”

“Here, you watch it. I give it to you.” Ember pushes the disc back to Raphael. “Now can I leave?” She looks from Raphael to Adam. Adam’s face reflects the anger he is trying to control. She knows this is not aimed at her but the whole situation is making her feel increasingly anxious.

Raphael looks desperate. He opens his mouth to attempt to sway her but Adam speaks first.

“Well, can we leave or are you kidnapping us?”

Raphael’s body tenses, his hands opening defensively showing his hurt at the accusation.

“No, no, of course you are free to leave. I am sorry. In my eagerness I have gone about this all wrong. I see I have frightened you. You are not my prisoners and you may leave whenever you want. I will be here, I will keep the disc. You can come back whenever you want to see it, okay?” He turns to Adam. “Please, if you escort Miss Jones home, I will meet with you later to explain.”

Adam says nothing but takes Ember’s arm and the two youths quickly leave the room.

“Oh my god! That was well on top, wasn’t it?” Ember’s statement is followed by a nervous giggle.

The two friends are making their way back out through the labyrinth of corridors and stairways that run through the old warehouse, the tension finally releasing from their bodies at the prospect of going home.

“I’m so sorry, Ember,” Adam says. “He is not normally like that, I know he is weird but all that stuff about the disc and bringing down the Aryans… I didn’t have a clue, honest, Ill speak to him later….sorry”

Ember is just relieved to be getting out of there. “And what does ‘holy moly’ even mean?” she laughs trying to lighten the mood, Adam finally smiles. The sun has gone down and they exit the warehouse into a now dimly lit alleyway.

“Where is this place anyway?” asks Ember, putting on a brave face.

“It’s just wasteland,” Adam says regarding the pretty run-down part of town; most of the buildings seem derelict and Ember takes Adam’s arm as a feeling of impending danger surfaces between them. A startling noise in the distance doesn’t help.

“Let’s hurry,” says Ember.

“Yes. It’s this way to the station.” Adam has not been around here before at night and the whole area seems to have taken on a sinister identity. Ember convinces herself that they are being paranoid and tries to think of something to talk about to relieve the tension but the only thing she can think about is Raphael.

“This might sound strange but did you notice anything weird about Raphael tonight?”

“Weird? Are you kidding me?” Adam feigns disbelief at Ember’s question.

Ember laughs and shakes her head. She’d been thinking about the snake shaped swirl she’d seen over Raphael’s head and now, come to think if it, she’d be the one sounding weird if she brought it up. She searches her mind for a more light-hearted conversation, then smiles as it comes to her.

“So… you were rudely asking me if I’d ever had sex before Raphael showed up earlier and I didn’t get a chance to answer.” She grins mischievously, looking to the floor then raising her head, clearly ready to tell all.

Adam feels nervous for some reason, waiting for her answer. He realises he wants her to say no, she’s never been touched, not that it should matter. Ember’s mouth opens but she stops; all of a sudden her face is fearful. Adam frowns then follows her gaze behind him. A group of men are running towards them, barely two hundred metres away. The bouncing lights of their torches indicate there are at least ten of them. Ember is gripped with fear. She recognises the uniforms of the Protection Squadron who are notorious for treating any non-Aryans as shit on their boots to enforce “justice” on the streets. They will not go easy on Adam; she must let them know he is with her.

“Put your hands in the air. Do not move,” calls out a young squadron officer, raising a very real gun at them.

Adam obeys immediately, his raised hands shaking. The officer sneers at him and then looks at Ember whose arms are not raised. Instead she tries to explain.

“I’m Em…”

The officer swipes at her with a leather strap. “Put your fucking hands in the air, I said!”

Ember stumbles, more from shock than due to the force of the blow. She raises her hands with rebellion, her mind playing out the punishment her father will dish out to this pig. The rest of the troop surround the two shell-shocked teenagers as a higher-ranking officer walks to the front, facing Adam and Ember.

“What are you doing here?” asks Captain Peter Cameron, his question directed to Adam.

Adam, reluctant to mention Raphael, makes up a poor story.

“We were just exploring the old buildings,” he explains. “My friend here, Ember Jones, has not been to this sector before so I was showing her around.” Adam desperately hopes someone will soon recognise Ember, apologise, put their guns away and beg her not to tell her daddy.

Captain Cameron turns to Ember. “And you, Miss Jones, why are you here? I assume your father has no knowledge of your whereabouts?”

Knowing the captain recognises her, she lowers her hands and lays into her inquisitor.

“I tell you what I’m doing, I am finding out for my father how the PS behaves when it is outside the Aryan section!” She walks over to the officer who struck her and takes a note of his number. “I will have a lot to tell him.”

The sound of laughing disturbs her and a small, fat Aryan woman appears from the shadows. She is dressed well but has exceedingly thin hair that you might even call balding, tiny, discoloured teeth and an upturned nose. She is instantly recognisable and Adam curses under his breath. Ember also recognises the woman: her curse is not so subtle.

“Ember Jones!” the woman trills. “Your behaviour and language is beneath you.”

Freya Mortensson is one of the most prominent members of the High Council. She is the high commander of the PS and feared by even the most powerful Aryan lords.

“Apologies, Madame Mortensson,” Ember backtracks. “I was startled.”

Freya looks her up and down and then looks to Adam. Ember is confused by Freya’s manner. She has met her many times; in fact, only recently Ember and her father dined at Freya’s house.

“Where is the man known as Raphael?” Freya asks Adam.

Adam looks to Ember for help. He is not sure if he wants to say anything but he knows if the “pig” woman, as his people call her, is involved this is serious. His thoughts race as he tries to keep his composure.

“Who?” he says unconvincingly.

The sudden and instant scream of pain that leaves Adam’s mouth shocks Ember so much she jumps and stumbles. Her gaze is directed to the glowing chip in the back of Adam’s wrist and the swelling that has sprung up around it. At first she wonders what has happened, then she notices the CF controller in Freya’s hand; she must have released the pulse.

“Stop it, you will kill him!” Ember cries. “The guy, Raphael, is back there through that alley in the old run-down house.”

Freya orders most of the officers to search the area as she taps the screen on her handheld control pad. Adam collapses, almost lifeless. Ember tries to go to his aid but Freya grabs her arm.

“He will be fine,” she tuts. “I only dispensed a tiny dose. Now, little miss perfect, come show me exactly where this ‘Raphael’ is and on the way you can explain what a High Aryan’s daughter is doing in the company of a traitor.”

As Freya manhandles Ember along with surprising strength she turns to the only officer remaining.

“Take this piece of filth to the favelas gaol. Let him stew in there for a while.”

“Leave him alone, he hasn’t done anything! The crazy man, Raphael, he tricked us into coming here,” Ember says in horror as she watches Adam being marched away. “We didn’t know about any disc.”

Freya suddenly goes very still. “Disc? Did you say ‘disc’?”

Ember didn’t think things could have got worse. But they did.

Freya’s eyes bulge and she screams at the top of her voice, “Did you just say ‘disc’?”

Any pretence of bravery is ebbing away; this is not good. Ember tries fighting back her tears. As much as she tried to act grown-up there was no denying that she was still very young, and never before had she been treated in this way.

“He… he had a disc he wanted to show us but we left.”

Freya shouts down the street. “Bring the boy back! Ellis! Bring the boy to me!”

Adam is staggering pathetically as the officer curses and rants at his inability to control his body and turn it back around. Eventually he drags him, scraping his knees along the hard concrete. The pain Adam feels is momentarily forgotten due to the great relief at not going to the favela’s gaol; however, this is crushed when he realises Ember must have mentioned the disc. People have been executed for having tiny old newspaper clippings about Shane Mills and now they were connected to a disc that may have a message from the man himself on it.

By the time they reach the back room, Raphael has already been restrained by the guards Freya had sent ahead. The officer dragging Adam’s sorry form is coming up behind them.

“Target apprehended, Ma-am,” says the pompous Captain Cameron.
“Thank you, Captain. Well done. Now while we are waiting for the young man to join us, I believe you have a disc recording of some sort for me?”

Ember feels guilty as Raphael glances at her sadly. Freya sighs and pulls out a gun and puts it to Ember’s head in an effort to persuade him.

“You would shoot an innocent girl, one of your own…” remarks Raphael, more as a statement than a question.

“I would. Now the disc, hand it over.” Freya holds out her free hand.

Slowly, Raphael reaches inside his drape jacket and pulls out a brown package. He hands it to her. All the officers look on curiously as Freya reads out loud: “
For the attention of September Jones
.”