Vengeance (24 page)

Nokz’z left her alone. She was smart and competent, and would be soon due for a promotion, if he had anything to do with it. And he would. After rescuing Azoh and capturing her abductors, he would be a hero of Bzadia. There would be a ceremony, a sash presented by Azoh herself. Surely a promotion, perhaps a chance to lead troops into the Americas.

But even without that, his name would go down in history. He would be the rescuer of Azoh, and he would share the glory with those who helped him achieve it.

His phone rang.

“Is it true?” a tight voice asked. Goezlin.

“They have Azoh,” Nokz’z said. “They somehow gained access to the bunker and gassed her guards. When backup arrived Azoh was gone. But they will not have her for long, nor will they have the opportunity to harm her. My troops will see to that.”

“Two squads of your troops are currently staring at the ceiling of a hospital ward,” Goezlin said. “Do not assume confidence that you have not earned.”

“And what information have you learned from your prisoner?” Nokz’z asked. “What is their plan? Where does this tunnel lead?” Goezlin was not the only one who could play that game.

Goezlin did not deign to answer.

Troops were at the top of ladders, hammering at the ceiling with the stocks of their weapons when Jazki said, “I have found it.”

A mechanical staircase began to lower from the ceiling.

“Nzgali, Nzgali, Nzgali!” Jazki shouted, the rallying cry of the fearsome warriors, urging her soldiers up the staircase before it had even reached the floor.

Two squads raced up, with Jazki right behind them. Nokz’z put a foot on the staircase after them. He kept one hand on the handrail for stability as he climbed. He was halfway to the ceiling when there was a hand on his arm, stopping him. He looked back at the stern face of his Vaza.

“Two squads of Nzgali against a few scumbugz children.” Nokz’z laughed with a quick glance at Goezlin. “You think I could be in danger.”

“Yes.”

“All right, dear Vaza,” Nokz’z said. “You win again. But in the meantime I want a plan of this tunnel.”

“Nobody knew it existed, until now,” the Vaza said.

“The scumbugz knew,” Nokz’z said. “Plans must exist somewhere. In the old human records. Find them.”

The Vaza did not reply. Or if she did, he did not hear it. His ears filled with a sound so loud it seemed solid. He was flying into the Vaza, embracing her, and now they were both spinning and falling in a whirlwind of rock and dust and smoke.

[1020 HOURS LOCAL TIME]

[BENEATH BZADIAN CONGRESS, CANBERRA]

“Get down!” Price shouted, grabbing at Azoh’s arm. She pulled her to the floor, and Azoh covered the boy with her own body. The roar of the explosion was followed by a wave of heat and dust, channelled by the narrow confines of the tunnel. It gushed over them. The boy screamed and covered his ears with his hands.

When it had subsided, Price said, “Monster, get back and check on the damage. Everyone else, keep moving.”

The boy had lost his glasses and obviously could not see well without them. He replaced them, stood and, with trembling hands, brushed dust from Azoh’s robes and face. She let him do it, smiling, then took his hand. Something about her very presence was reassuring. Price felt it, and the boy clearly felt it too, as his trembling subsided.

“Hurry,” Price said, with a glance behind them, and they all began to move.

This part of the tunnel was long and mostly straight. It angled downwards but only slightly. It flattened out at a point where the tunnel widened and the flat roof gave way to a high jagged ceiling. A natural cave. On the far side was the opening of another tunnel.

They had reached a staircase leading up, just a narrow series of cuts in a steep rock face, when Monster caught up with them again. “Tunnel goodly blocked,” he said.

“How blocked?” Price asked.

“Side tunnel to Congress, she is complete gone,” Monster said. “Roof collapse.”

“Good work. What about the main tunnel?” Price asked. “The one that leads back to the museum?”

Monster nodded. “Many rubble, but okay.”

They came to another large metal door studded with bolts. In the centre was a heavy wheel about the size of a car steering wheel. Price turned the wheel until it clicked, then eased the door open, just a crack, peering through to ensure the room beyond was empty before ushering the others through.

The room was small and sturdy-looking. The walls were utilitarian, concrete and metal. There were no windows. There was only one other entrance into the room, a large sliding door set into a solid metal frame.

At one end of the room were a few rows of simple plastic chairs. They looked dusty and unused. At the opposite end were rows of control desks with built-in computer screens and keyboards. A row of large video screens covered one of the walls.

Monster, last to emerge from the tunnel, turned and pushed the door shut. There was a matching metal wheel on this side. He spun the wheel to lock it.

“Where are we?” Wall asked.

“It’s a secure area,” Barnard said. “Like a keep in a castle. In the event of an attack on the embassy, the staff were supposed to retreat to this room and then use the tunnel to escape.”

“Somebody figure out how this equipment works and get me Daniel Bilal on the phone,” Chisnall said.

“Also see if you can tap into the Puke coms,” Price said.

Wall and Barnard sat at consoles and began experimenting. Almost immediately the video screens on the wall sprang into life, showing scenes from throughout the building and outside. There was a constant flurry of activity through the corridors.

“Seems a good a place as any to stay,” Chisnall said.

“I agree,” Price said. “I don’t think the Pukes know this room exists. And if they find us, we can retreat back into the tunnel.”

“Unless they manage to dig through the rubble,” Wall said.

“Don’t even think about that,” Price said.

“We got some fancy weapons systems here,” Barnard said. “This building was supposed to be able to defend itself.”

“What have you got?” Price asked, walking over behind her.

Barnard indicated various screens. “Automatic machine guns with motion sensors. Built into pods in the grounds.”

“Pods?”

“Near as I can figure, they pop up out of the ground when needed,” Barnard said.

“Like lawn sprinklers,” Price said.

“Yeah, like that.”

“What else have you got?” Price asked.

“Forty mike-mike Bofors autocannons mounted in the dormer windows of the central building,” Barnard said. “That’s some serious firepower.”

“Okay, I want all systems booted up and operational,” Price said. “But don’t pop up any of those lawn sprinklers until you have to.”

Wall was the first one to see what was happening. “Azoh!” he yelled.

Price looked up from the console to see Azoh standing at the sliding door, her hand on a small panel next to it.

“Stop her!” Price shouted, but it was already too late.

A bleeping from the door was followed by a low whirr and a grinding sound, as if the door had not been opened for a long time. It shuddered briefly, then began to move.

Brogan was the first to reach the door, slamming her hand down on the panel. It juddered to a halt, about halfway open, then began to slide shut.

It was already too late. A pair of Bzadians, a male and a female in clerical robes, stood open-mouthed in shock. They disappeared from sight as the door ground to a close.

Brogan escorted Azoh firmly away from the door, leading her to the seating area. The boy went to sit next to her.

“Dammit!” Price said. “Why wasn’t anyone watching the prisoner?”

“Why weren’t you?” Brogan asked.

“Now they know where we are,” Chisnall said.

“I should have known this Little Miss Nice routine was too good to be true,” Barnard said. “Don’t let her fool you into thinking she’s on our side.”

“She’s not on anybody’s side. Azoh does not take sides,” Brogan said.

“Then why did she try to escape?” Price asked.

“Ask her, not me,” Brogan said.

Price looked at Chisnall. “You do it, LT. You speak her language.”

“Shouldn’t we be getting out of here?” Wall asked. “They’ll be coming for us, now they know we’re here.”

“Where to?” Brogan asked.

“Why don’t we go back down through the tunnel?” Wall asked. “Hide out at the museum?”

“Inside the secure area?” Barnard asked. “We might as well give ourselves up. Besides, when the air raid comes, that’s a target. This building is not.”

“Then we’re trapped,” Wall said.

“For now,” Chisnall said.

“The building is well defended,” Price said. “And as long as they think we have Azoh, they’ll treat us with kid gloves.”

“We’re still trapped,” Wall said.

“The air raid is in less than ninety mikes,” Price said. “When it comes there’ll be a lot of confusion and panic. We can try to make a break for the forest. For now we just sit tight. How are those Puke coms coming?”

“Getting there,” Wall said.

Chisnall picked up one of the plastic chairs and turned it around to face Azoh. He sat and stared at her, taking in the intricate facial tattoos and the ornate jewellery. He looked at the boy, noticing for the first time small tattoos leading outwards from the ears, partially concealed by the thick arms of his glasses.

“Azoh,” he said, turning back to her and bowing his head.

She nodded in return.

“And this is?”

“Azoh-zu,” Azoh said.

The boy looked up at that name. Chisnall had guessed as much.

“Who the hell is Azoh-zu?” Price asked.

“Azoh’s successor,” Chisnall said. “Chosen by Azoh to replace her when she dies, or is unable to continue.”

“So we got first and second prize,” Wall said. “That’s going to really pee off the Pukes.”

Chisnall was still wearing the uniform of a Bzadian general. He took off his cap, to appear less intimidating.

“Why did you open the door?” he asked in common Bzadian, then repeated in the high language.

“It was necessary,” Azoh replied in perfect English.

Although surprised to hear her speak English, Chisnall made no comment on it. “What does that mean?” he asked.

“I cannot explain that to you,” Azoh said.

“Can’t or won’t?” Chisnall asked.

“I cannot, Chizna,” Azoh said. “Not yet.”

“So you know who I am,” Chisnall said.

“That is known to me, yes,” Azoh said.

“What do you know?” Chisnall asked.

“You are Lieutenant Ryan Chisnall of Recon Team Angel, Team Four,” Azoh replied. “Who called himself Chizna in the Bzadian tongue.”

“Our people have been hunting you for a long time,” the boy, Azoh-zu said, pressing his glasses firmly onto his face with a finger. His voice, although soft and light, still somehow carried tremendous power. His head bobbled slightly as he spoke. “They fear and respect you.”

“You have taken on a certain mystique among our soldiers,” Azoh said.

“Undeserved,” Chisnall said.

“Your modesty does not alter the truth,” Azoh said. “Your humanity and compassion have also earned our respect.”

“What are you talking about?” Chisnall asked.

“I think you know,” she said.

“Tell me.”

“You refused to take the lives of Yozi and his team in the desert at Uluru,” Azoh said.

“They were unarmed and tied up,” Chisnall said.

“You cried and sang when one of Yozi’s team, your enemy, died,” the boy said.

“He was just a child,” Chisnall said.

“As you are just a child,” Azoh said. “At Wivenhoe, the loss of so many lives, Bzadian and human, weighed so greatly on your heart that you lost your own will to live.”

Chisnall started to argue, but Azoh held up a hand. “A few hours ago you believed that killing me would end the war, and yet you would not do it.”

“You know about the salt?” Chisnall said.

Azoh and Azoh-zu looked at each other.

“The poison,” Azoh said.

“How do you know this?” Chisnall asked.

“I am Azoh,” she said, as if that were answer enough. Azoh-zu revealed his gap-toothed grin again.

“I’m not much of a soldier, am I?” Chisnall said, thinking of the words of an SAS officer, so long ago, in the sands near Uluru.

“There is more to being a soldier than killing,” Azoh-zu said.

Chisnall shrugged. He turned back to the Bzadian leader. “Azoh, we are going to take you away from here,” he said.

“If any harm comes to her,” Azoh-zu took off his glasses and rubbed them on his robe to clean them, “you’ll have me to deal with.”

Chisnall avoided the temptation to laugh. Then suddenly he didn’t feel like laughing. Looking into Azoh-zu’s eyes he saw that the threat was real, and he had a strong feeling that Azoh-zu was in some way very capable of carrying it out.

“We will not hurt either of you,” Chisnall said. “We intend to use you as bargaining chips to try to avoid the use of …” he hesitated, “terrible weapons.”

Azoh looked again at Azoh-zu.

“Will this plan work?” Chisnall asked.

“No,” Azoh said.