The long voyage

Drake=

www.geoffwolak-writing= .com

The awakening

The creature stirred, an eye slowly opening. It found only dar= kness, soon waking from the dream fully and remembering its incarceration, a claw = run around the limits of its enclosure, the texture of familiar cold stone examined. Distant tapping registered, vibrations felt through the ground. T= he creature closed its eye and opened its mind.

It sensed men, four men, keenly digging at the tunnel wall. It could read their thoughts, and the men sought treasure, treasure from the great war of Europe and the American colonies, the war of the strange men who smoked tobacco fr= om the West Indies. But what they sought was not here, that the creature knew.= It ... was here.

Another man, a different feeling; surprise, fear, and now anger. The newcomer, he m= eans to fight the others. He possesses something, made ready. Four sharp reports echoing, the men slumped, fear, desperate fear, the life leaving them. The other man, moving away now.

Silence.

Now only darkness and silence again.

Outside of Sophia, Bulgaria. May, 2010.

‘Kobus?’ came an American accent.

‘Yeah?’

‘Hello, Kobus, you there?’

‘Still here, boss, bad line,’ Kobus said with a slight accent evident, a hin= t of his Afrikaans roots.

‘Where are you?’

‘Outside of Sophia, well outside of it; they still use horses and carts around here,= and Donny Osmond is in the charts.’

‘Donny Osmond? Hell, he’s still going. And I went to some of his concerts in high school! Any sign of our boy?’

‘He’s sat stuffing his face with some dodgy looking lady.’

‘And...’

‘I’ll have a word after he’s finished stuffing his face with his dodgy look= ing lady.’

‘Will that be a quiet word?’

‘No, because I’m fucked off with this stupid country and its dated plumbin= g.’

‘Let me know.’ The line went dead.

Kobus van der Schule lowered his mobile phone, pressing the red button just to make s= ure that the call had been cut.

Stepping into a run-down provincial cafe, just as it started to rain, he ordered foo= d by pointing at it on the menu – a few words in German used, a coffee requested. He settled down, adjusting the jacket of his well-worn black sui= t, a sandwich soon brought out and placed down, the tablecloth having seen better days. The walls had also seen better days, the blood-spattered remains of m= any swatted flies making their own decorative patterns, interrupted by the fade= d edges of posters long since pulled down. It did nothing for his appetite.<= /p>

Easing forwards from where he sat, and around the edge of a small square table that wobbled, he was afforded a good view of the mark. The man now sat across the street and in another cafe, chatting to a pale and skinny girl that looked = like a Russian hooker, and not a local girl; they had a darker complexion. Kobus sipped his coffee.

Needing to use the bathroom, he eased up, edging past a few bored-looking locals tackling soup, and ducked sideways through a narrow opening and into a dark= corridor, a hatch on the right displaying the kitchen - and the earnest cooking going= on within. A strong smell of boiled cabbage assaulted his nostrils as he peered through the dark for the gent’s toilet. The toilet signs were in Bulgarian, but he knew the difference between ladies and gents in Bulgarian from previous visits this charming country.

Pushing the door for “Maze= ”, he squeezed s= ideways into a cramped and tatty toilet, cursing the pungent aroma. With the door closed he regarded the flimsy lock, not bothering with it. He peed into the bowl, his urine stirring fag-ends floating in a dark brown pool. When finis= hed, he didn’t bother to flush. Since it looked like no one else had flush= ed the toilet since the establishment had opened, why should he bother.= =

A cracked mirror above a small corner sink presented Kobus with his own image, the slight variance in the angle of the broken glass pieces making his face seem a little thinner. ‘You’ve lost weight, boy,’ he told= himself.

He ducked his head, and moved to where the larger of the mirror fragments offered him= a full, yet slanted view of his own face. He took in his forty-two year old features, the lines around his eyes, his tanned olive skin, the scar below = his hairline and his dyed-black hair; his roots would need doing in a week or s= o. Making a face, he gave his own image a peeved look.

Back at his table he eased down, his coffee cooling, his sandwich unappetising. = The mark was still sat eating, but the girl was now gone. Staring at the mark, = and focusing on the face of his target, the mark turned his head, and stared straight back into Kobus’s eyes.

A click registered.

Kobus managed to get his hand inside his jacket as the shot rang out, the sharp m= ovement forwards saving his life. The cafe’s window shattered as a scream went up. Turning, and drawing his pistol, Kobus could see the fair-skinned girl = from over the road, standing now behind him, and taking careful aim with both ha= nds. Focused on the end of the barrel, that small black circle, he imagined a bu= llet being released in slow motion – and how it might feel as it impacted = him.

Click.

Kobus’s pistol had been lifting up in slow motion, and had lined up with her mid section as she stared at him in surprise, her features turning quickly to a= bject terror. With his pistol horizontal he fired, his arm still rising. She was knocked back and bent double, a hit just below her heart, the report of the discharge sounding odd in the confined space of the cafe. Kobus had straightened, and was moving towards her before the spent 9mm cartridge had= even tinkled off the lino floor.

It had all taken little more than two seconds, Kobus now beginning the move to leap over her before she had even hit the floor and settled. His foot landed just beyond her shoulder, gained purchase, and allowed him to continue onwards, straight into the kitchens. The chef was now staring at the girl’s unnatural form as she lay on the cafe’s lino floor, a horrified look etched into his face as Kobus picked up speed.

The kitchen aisle wasn’t big enough for two.

A shoulder from Kobus, and the chef - along with several boiling hot pans - went flyin= g, a scream issued, a flare of flame caught from the corner of Kobus’s eye= as he focused on the open back door - and on freedom. He could see that the do= or was wedged open by a seat, a waiter now sat on it having a cigarette. The young= man looked up with wild eyes as Kobus moved closer, the waiter soon throwing himself the out of the gunman’s way and towards a line of cardboard b= oxes.

Cool fresh air signified a safe exit, but was anyone waiting? A split second choice, a= nd Kobus chose the bushes and trees over an open door in a brick wall, ducking left = and right as he ran through the back yard. Moist branches caressed his cheeks a= nd he ran, assuming the worst; assuming that the girl had an accomplice, and t= hat a shot would probably ring out any time now. He tore through the bushes and straddled a crumbling stone wall, halting once over and spinning, bringing = his pistol to bear on the rear of the cafe.

Only now did he notice his own rapid breathing and pounding heart as he scanned = the garden. No one visible, it was clear. He turned and ran.

He knew the layout of the area in general, and the cafe in particular, and he = knew the exits. He had at least done that part of his homework right.

The lane he had reached now led him to the end of the block of shops and cafes,= and he turned left, not towards his hire car. He sprinted to the end of the blo= ck, an old lady seeing the gun in his hand, but he didn’t care; he was no= w up against the clock. Reaching the main street and halting, a van and car drov= e noisily past, and between them he glimpsed the mark ducking down the side of the ca= fe that the man had been sat in.

Through the traffic, Kobus sprinted across the main road and kept going, pistol in hand, now on a parallel course to the mark and six shops away. An alley presented itself. He turned into it at speed, breathing heavily, and made t= en fast paces before he saw the mark reach a car, a black BMW saloon. The mark stopped, and stared at the image of Kobus charging towards him, the man soo= n reaching into his jacket.

Kobus fired twice as he ran, neither shot being well aimed, but one found flesh, = the mark doubled up and knocked backwards as Kobus charged forwards. Reaching t= he mark, the man now on his back and grimacing - holding his stomach where his appendix might be, Kobus quickly put a round into the man’s knee, dropping his weight onto the man, a knee onto the man’s thigh causing= a burst of air.

‘Where’s the exchange?’ Kobus shouted. ‘I know you speak English, fuck f= ace! Where’s the exchange!’ Kobus thrust his pistol into the bloodied appendix area, eliciting an oddly unnatural sound from the man.

‘Paper,’ the man cried out, reaching for a jacket pocket, his features contorted.

Kobus got there first with his left hand, pulling out a folded piece of paper, wh= ich he shook by a corner till open. It revealed a map and directions. Stuffing = the paper into his jacket pocket, Kobus relived the man of a silver .45 pistol, finally grabbing the car keys, which had been lying on the damp ground.

Back on his feet, Kobus glanced over his shoulder and down the alley, noticing now = several people staring towards him from the road as he moved towards the driverR= 17;s side of the black BMW. Pressing the OPEN button on the key, the manual door button clicked up, the door opened a second later, the seat claimed. Key in= the ignition, engine started and revved, Kobus selected R-Reverse and floored t= he pedal. A loud bump, and the rising of the car, confirmed the position of the mark, and the fact that he was still lying prone, a second bump signifying = the front wheels making contact.

Five yards down the alley, and braking hard, Kobus could now see the body of the mark through a rain-spattered windscreen, one leg across another in an unnatural position. He turned the wipers on, selected D-Drive and sped forwards, two jolts signifying contact.

‘Double tap,’ Kobus said with some satisfaction, soon reaching the end of the alley and joining what passed for a main road around rural Bulgaria. He cut= in front of a small white car, almost forcing it off the road, and sped off be= ing tooted.

On the main highway, heading back towards Sofia, and now catching his breath, he called in to his CIA handler, Riggs.

Riggs worked for yet another newly formed taskforce, this particular new task for= ce responsible for gun running through the former Soviet Block countries, he a= nd his team working out of Amsterdam. The Dutch capital was close enough to be close, but far enough across an ocean and a jurisdictional border to allow = for some plausible deniability; a rented office, no IDs carried, jobs paid for = in Euros. They were a long way from a Congressional Oversight Committee.

Bulgaria had been the responsibility of the CIA’s former Russian Section ̵= 1; Europe/East, which had little to occupy its time with these days. The good jobs, and the good staff, all worked in the Mid East section, save that few= really wanted to work in the Mid East section these days. And, since this particul= ar job had started in Greece - the assigned territory of Kobus, he had been allowe= d to follow his lead into Bulgaria. It was not far on the map, as he had reported the fact. Hardly an inch. A thumbnail in distance.

‘Kobus?’ Riggs asked.

‘Yeah, got a problem.’ Only now did Kobus register that he was wet from the rain.

‘What happened?’

‘There’s good news, boss, and there’s bad news. The good news is ... I know wh= ere the exchange will be, I have a map.’

‘And the bad news?’

‘They made me; girl nearly took my head off. Her fucking gun jammed.’

‘And if it hadn’t..?’

‘We’d not be having this chat. She was stood two feet away.’

‘Close, Kobus, too close.’

‘I didn’t know you cared.’

‘It’s the paperwork; if you’re killed I have lots of forms to fill in. And = the mark?’

‘Won’t be up and about and walking for ... a year or so, if at all.’<= /p>

‘You shot him in the legs?’

‘I shot him in the appendix, then the knee, then ran him over – twice – with his own damn car.’

‘Jesus.’

‘I didn’t plan it that way, but I knew I’d never get another chance after he made me. I had to move quickly.’

‘And this map?’

‘A place the other side of Sophia, in the hills, I’ll be there before nightfall. And I have his gun, so I’ll use that. And I’ll leave= his car at the scene, his prints all over it. All I’d need for a full set= ... is his girlfriend, but I shot her.’

‘Let me know if they turn up and buy the weapons. Personally, I think it’s nothing. But we’ll see.’ The line was cut.

‘We’ll see,’ Kobus repeated as he lowered the phone. He eased back into the vehicle’s comfortable seat, and eased off the gas, taking a moment to calm himself. He blew out. ‘Fucking hell, boy, you should be dead. Again.’

Finding a packet of cigarettes in a well under the handbrake, he flicked open the c= ardboard lid with a thumb, revealing both a plastic lighter and a row of cigarettes. Shaking the pack, he loosened a cigarette, pulling it out with his lips, the lighter shaken out onto his lap. He lit up.

‘Fucking hell, boy,’ he softly let out, barely above a whisper. He shook his h= ead and closed his eyes for a second. ‘What the hell are you doing?’= ;

Of heaven and hell

Beyond the high rise blocks of Sofia, Kobus followed the map&#= 8217;s directions into the hills, negotiating narrow winding roads, finally haltin= g at a village a few miles short of the intended exchange location. Pulling up n= ext to a cafe, the hunger hit him like a kick in the stomach. Was it nerves, or= the adrenaline rush? He shook it off, soon sat in a cafe and tackling a beef st= ew that wasn’t half bad.

After two cups of coffee, and six cigarettes, just passing the time and watching = the world go by, he went for a stroll, the rain having eased off. Around a corn= er, he slowly climbed up well-worn stone steps leading to a narrow lane, findin= g a small enclosed square at the top, the local tourist trap, a dated church wi= th numerous gargoyles staring down at the sinners below. Placing a cigarette on his lip, he peered up at a row of particularly grotesque animal gargoyles.<= /span>

An American accent caused him to turn his head, a large lady in a hat now focu= sing on a gargoyle. ‘They’re to ward off evil,’ she told her l= ady friend in a southern drawl.

‘No,’ Kobus told her. She turned, and waited. ‘They divert water away from = the stone, so that the water doesn’t erode the stone and mortar. They sta= rted as simple spouts, but then became decorative – mostly human faces, th= en animals. You’ll find them in Greece, Rome, everywhere.’ He poin= ted up at them. ‘Those have been altered, and re-carved to scare people. Thank the Catholic church for that.’

‘I never knew that,’ she admitted.

‘In Paris, the gargoyles are not functional, they’re there to scare peopl= e, people with really good eyesight – because they’re mostly over = two hundred feet up.’

‘You work here?’

‘No, just ... passing through,’ Kobus said before placing the cigarette ba= ck on his lip. He stepped inside the church, dropping a coin in the collection box.

‘No smoking, please,’ a priest said with an accent.

‘Is there anything in the Bible about smoking?’ Kobus toyed.

The priest’s eyes widened. ‘I ... believe not, but it could be considered a selfish act of pleasure.’

‘Not all acts of pleasure are selfish,’ Kobus responded, now staring down = the darkened aisle and towards distant flickering candles. ‘Smoking helps me think, and that helps me do my job, and my job keeps people safe. As someone once said, good people sleep safely at night because bad people patrol the stree= ts and borders.’

‘You ... are a policeman?’

‘Of a sort.’ Kobus focused on the statue of Mary. ‘But today I̵= 7;m a dead man walking.’

The priest blinked, and adopted a curious frowned. ‘Then perhaps, dead man walking, you should turn = your thoughts to what you might say to God.’

‘I’d say ... that I broke a great many laws, and hurt a great many people to keep the borders safe, and so I’ll be judged.’ He faced the priest. ‘I was raised a Christian, and I know the difference between right and wrong, and I know much of what I’ve done is wrong. So I’ll fight on, sinning all the while, and not be judged on my accumulated sins, but on= the tally of those I saved. Hopefully, the scales will tip in my favour.’=

The priest edged closer. ‘And do you believe that ... one justifies the other?’

‘I believe that sacrificing my eternal soul to save a child is a reasonable trade-off. Don’t ... you?’

The priest held out his hand, a gesture for the cigarette. Kobus made a face, a= nd handed over the cigarette. The priest glanced around, took a quick drag, and handed it back. ‘We shall both be judged, and hopefully by those we helped, not our own score cards.’

Kobus smiled. ‘I should have been judged today, a few hours ago, but I̵= 7;m still upright and warm.’

The priest clasped his hands. ‘A near-death experience can ... give us all focus, a time of reflection.’

‘I usually sit and think about the morgue, about being cut up,’ Kobus sa= id with a shrug, staring down the aisle.

‘And will the world suffer a great loss, if you left us?’

Kobus puzzled the priest’s meaning. ‘I’d have one person at the graveside,’ he said with menace, leaning in towards the priest. ‘And he’d be checking that I was actually in it.’ He carefully mouthed, ‘So no.’

A woman walked past, also American, talking about ghosts.

‘This place supposed to be haunted?’ Kobus idly enquired of the priest.

‘A don’t believe that a church can be haunted, since it is the house of = God. Ghosts ... are those who have failed to find their way, and exist outside of God’s house.’

Kobus slowly nodded.

‘And what of you, what would you do if you ... saw a ghost?’ the priest as= ked.

‘That’s easy; I’d embrace it.’

‘Embrace ... it?’ the priest puzzled.

Kobus made firm eye contact. ‘If ghosts exist, truly exist, then it proves = that your user manual is not just a pile of crap thought up by the early church = to control people and to collect taxes. It would mean ... that this abominatio= n of a species is not just some cosmic accident, and that there is a purpose. It would mean ... that I could retire to a beach = with a cold beer, because someone else would have a plan, and ... and it wouldn’t be my responsibility anymore.’

‘An ... odd view on things. But the lack of tangible proof is what tips the sca= les between curiosity, faith, and belief. Everyone is curious, some have faith without conviction, and some believe.’

‘I’m in the first camp, at the edge, an eye on the border and a beer in my hand.= ’

Three hours later, darkness claimed this damp night in the Bul= garian hills. And Kobus should have known that no one would show up, not now, not = with the principal mark being damp road-kill. He scouted around the area at leng= th, but found no international arms dealers huddled about the campfire chatting= in hushed tones.

He stopped and froze. A camper van, parked in the bushes.

For a full ten minutes he stood under a tree and observed the van, no signs of movement, no sounds issued from within. Could it be a courting couple, or j= ust broken down? He slowly circled the area, twenty yards from the van, and returned to the tree, his jacket now damp from the continuous drizzle. It h= ad been a warm day, and he hadn’t bother with a coat, but he knew that his su= it was getting wetter by the hour.

Approaching the van, each step measured, each footing tested before he placed his weight down, he finally put an ear to the van’s wet glass; nothing, no sex g= oing on within. He peered in as best he could, and managed to see right through = the glass and out the other side, no one visible.

Back-tracking, he followed the track higher through the dark, the track that had been clea= rly indicated on the map. That track now wound its way through thick trees, and towards t= he base of a cliff, heading towards a gorge. As he climbed higher, he consider= ed that no vehicles had been up this track recently; it was grassed over, he c= ould feel it under his shoes. He also figured it was a dead end, and a bad place= for arms smugglers to meet up for a cup of tea and a chat in the dead of night; vehicles would have had to labour up this track.

Reaching the cliff face, he turned and took in the view, now panting a little. ̵= 6;Out of shape, boy,’ he whispered to himself. Turning, a tiny point of lig= ht caught his attention. His pistol was out a second later, Kobus frozen to the spot. He stood motionless and silent in the dark for five minutes, checking every shadow and rock, listening intently, an ear to the breeze.

Nothing.

He advanced slowly up the path, secure in the knowledge that anyone laying a t= rap would probably not put out a light to guide weary strangers closer.<= /p>

Crunch.

He stopped and backed up, crouching down and tapping the damp grass with his l= eft hand. A pen, a plastic pen; someone had been here. But when had they been h= ere? And had the deal been done hours ago? He advanced again, soon seeing the bl= ack mouth of a cave in a dark grey cliff, as well as the outline of a metal fence. He couldn’t make out the detail, just dark grey or black outlines afford= ed him in the available illumination on this dark night.

A moan.

He knelt, his pistol pointed towards the cave entrance. Kneeling there for two minutes, his eyes finally focused on a body, a black outline against dark g= rey, beyond it the point of light. Something had happened here, and he had missed it. It now looked like the arms dealers had not enjoyed a sing-a-long around the campfire after meeting up; these arseholes had shot each other. But did= the buyers shoot the sellers, or the other way around. And, more importantly, w= ould he learn anything useful by staying.

Kobus straightened and turned, certain that an approaching car would not only be heard, but also seen a long way off down the hill. Unless there was someone hanging around, he’d have plenty of warning. And then there was the c= liff face and its gorges; he had an escape route.

Homework done, he stepped cautiously forwards, each shoe delicately placed down, the ground beneath tested. The body moaned again. With his pistol aimed at the mid-section of the body’s outline, Kobus felt for a pulse at the neck. Weak, rapid; the man was going into shock. Kobus rudely tapped the man on t= he head with the end of his pistol, several times, no response given. He patted the man down: no weapons, but a shit load of what felt like climbing gear. = Had this poor fellow been in the wrong place at the wrong time, happening across the arms dealers after a pleasant day’s climbing?

Kobus lifted his head to the cliff as he straightened. Could there be something up there? Hidden weapons stash? No, that was stupid; arms dealers didn’t climb mountains, they met in secluded places with several exits, and then places with easy access. He moved towards the point of light, stepping thro= ugh a wide gap left by open gates in a high fence, some sort of sign hanging at= an angle.

A battery torch revealed itself, lying on the ground, probably belonging to t= he hapless climber. Had the man fallen from above, or had he been in the cave? Approaching the torch, Kobus scanned the immediate area, finding it all qui= et enough. Lifting the torch, he used it to check the ground around the body. Blood, a blood trail leading from the cave to the hapless climber. This cli= mber hadn’t fallen from the cliff; he’d been in the cave.

Something glistened in the torch light as Kobus slowly advanced. Kneeling, he found a brass shell casing, 9mm. His pistol was still in his hand, and now he tight= ened his grip. It brought him right back to the conclusion that hapless climber = had stumbled across the arms dealers. Could they have used this cave for some reason, he wondered. Only if they were the most stupid arms dealers in the world; it was a dead end at the top of a terrible track.

Kobus shook his head dismissively as he inched towards the entrance to the cave, finding another sign, this one fixed to the rocks. He illuminated it with t= he dull torch light. He didn’t understand much of the Bulgarian, but got= the gist of the writing – as well as the skull and crossbones; what was inside was dangerous.

A few steps inside the cave, and another body presented itself, illuminated by the dull yellow light from the torch. Kneeling, Kobus could find no pulse, but = the body was not cold yet; this guy had died within a few hours. Noticing a jumbo-sized torch alongside the body, Kobus upgraded his equipment. Turning= the new torch on, its batteries seemingly fresh, he now had a good view of the = inside of the cave, and its dimensions. With a glance over his shoulder, he stepped inside.

The creature opened an eye.

Ten yards in, and the cave split left and right, the remnants of a narrow-gauge train track visible, but buried in dirt for the most part; this had been a working mine at some point. The blood trail led off to the right, and he followed it deeper into the mine, his pistol still prone, the only sound be= ing the odd drip of water echoing from the dark. He slowly passed and inspected= rusted buckets, and a line of open-top miniature train carriages that must have be= en used for carrying ore at some point.

Squelching through mud, he followed the blood trail on, soon finding a brand new backp= ack, again looking like a climber’s pack. Another torch in the dirt signif= ied that he was on the right track, and it also signified what had happened her= e. The hapless climbers, cum hapless cave explorers, had met a few bad guys. B= ut were they his bad guys?

Another body, this one face up, blood on the man’s chest, the man’s jum= per soaked in blood. No pulse, but still warm. He patted down the body, finding= no weapon, but a wallet with the usual family photographs in it, a picture of = the kids.

‘You’re no gun runner, my friend. You ... were in the wrong place at the wrong time= by the look of it.’

Straightening, and listening intently, he advanced slowly along the tunnel, his powerful t= orch affording him a great depth of vision ahead, concentric rings of varying br= ightness created by the torch’s uneven lens. Sixty yards in, having turned a b= end to the left, another body presented itself, this one sat against a wall. The man’s eyes were open, but there was nobody home. At the man’s f= eet lay shovels, a pickaxe, a crowbar, and more rope.

‘What were you after, boys? Kobus puzzled.

Advancing a few steps, he approached a section of tunnel wall, loose chippings at its base - the signs of recent excavation. At first glance the wall appeared to= be part of the mine, but at closer inspection he could see that a brick wall h= ad been made to look like it was a natural part of the mine. A fist-sized hole presented itself, revealing that the wall was two or three bricks thick, finally covered in concrete; a solid wall.

Licking a finger, Kobus held it in front of the hole, detecting a slight draft. ‘So, where do you go, and what’s on the other side? Something worth dying for, I’d hope.’ He took in the dead man. ‘What were you after, my friend?’

A close inspection of the wall revealed that it had not been recently made, that it= was at least fifty years old, and clearly nothing to do with modern-day gun runners. Kobus put away his pistol, and stood staring at the hole for a mom= ent, nothing but the echo of dripping water for company. Placing down the torch,= he lifted the pickaxe, and slammed it into the wall near the existing hole.

The creature opened both eyes fully, staring into the dark as loud reverberatio= ns reached it.

Ten minutes of earnest labouring resulted in the removal of a jacket, as well as the removal of much of the outer layer of the wall. As that layer had come = away - the ravages of time helping by loosening the mortar’s adhesive abil= ity, the hole had enlarged, soon a large section falling inwards. Lifting the to= rch and thrusting it through, a new tunnel revealed itself, and its dimensions,= a heavy damp smell now escaping the hole.

Kobus eased back, and turned his head away to breath. ‘Fuck me that’s stale.’ He forced several breaths, held the last one, and thrust his = face inside the hole again. There, in the dirt, rested a helmet, circa Second Wo= rld War, a rifle – a Garand M1, US Army issue, and a body, a pair of boots clearly visible.

Extracting his head and arm from the hole, Kobus stepped back to breathe, adopting a puzzled frown. ‘American servicemen? In Bulgaria?’

He knew that no American servicemen had reached Bulgaria during the Second Wor= ld War, so where had they come from? And, more to the point, what where they d= oing here?

Placing down the torch, the pickaxe retrieved, the edges of the hole were made larg= er with several powerful swings - the impacts echoing and repeating down the tunnel, many of the bricks falling away unseen into the interior. With a ho= le now big enough to crawl through, Kobus retrieved the torch, taking a minute= to listen down the tunnel.

Nothing. Just a slight breeze and the constant drips of water.

Putting a leg through the hole, he bent double, and eased inside. ‘God, that’s a bad smell,’ he said to himself as he straightened. Turning, he could see writing scratched onto the wall, but couldn’t m= ake out the words, or even what language the words were in. His torch illuminat= ed the entire inside of the wall, behind him only blackness, a gentle caress of his ears by a cool draft.

Swivelling around, he knelt next to the soldier, finding a skeleton with hair still visible, thin fingers, silver dog tags shining back in the torch light. ‘What were you doing in here, my friend?’

Straightening, he walked past the skeleton, four steps and to another skeleton. But this o= ne had a leather jacket and a flying cap. ‘Aircrew, downed after a raid = of some sort.’ He nodded to himself. ‘And the local Gestapo, they walled you up in here.’

Turning his head, he remembered the Garand rifle, something that the local Gestapo would never have left behind. He adopted a puzzled frown and walked on, soon finding several wooden desks – the wood badly rotten, a few faded pap= ers, pencils, a faded map on the wall, its surface black with mould.

‘You weren’t walled in here, boys, this was a local resistance cell.’= ;

Using the torch beam, he discovered rusted tins - opened and empty, bottles of wh= at could have been local wine, and stand-up wooden lockers that were now black with mould and rotten through. Another three airmen presented themselves, t= he final one lying at an odd angle, and he seemed to be reaching towards an opening in the tunnel wall, a hole dug out. There, inside a room partially hidden by the remnants of an old stone wall ... rested a large sarcophagus,= the sarcophagus looking oddly out of place. Curious, he scrambled over loose ro= cks and ducked inside.

Standing over the sarcophagus, the object appearing to be some six feet long and two= foot wide, he illuminated the engravings on the lid, not understanding any of the words. The words didn’t even appear to be Bulgarian. He shrugged and = made a face.

Moving on down the tunnel, Kobus convinced himself that the cave had been used by = the resistance, a resistance that had oddly walled-in half a dozen American air= men during the war. Splashing through half an inch of water, Kobus plodded alon= g a good sixty yards, finally finding a rusted ladder leading upwards, just bef= ore the tunnel ended. Licking the back of his hand, he raised it as high as he could, detecting the breeze. It was the way in and out, the wall there to f= ool the local Gestapo, not to keep anyone inside.

A tapping sound caused him to turn, and to freeze. He knocked off the torch, = and slowly pulled his pistol out of its holster, soon stood motionless in the p= itch blackness. He could feel the gentle breeze on his face, and hear the distant drip of water.

There, again, a faint tapping sound.

There were no visible lights down the tunnel, so no one was moving around and loo= king for him. Ah! A revelation hit him. One of the cave explorers in here was st= ill alive and moving around. He sighed heavily.

Switching the torch back on, he strode back towards the wall, sloshing through the mud and the water. Drawing level with the sarcophagus he stopped dead. The sound was here, close by, not the other side of the brick wall. But the men in he= re had been dead a long time, a very long time. He stopped and listened.

A scratching sound. A rat?

Tapping, almost rhythmical. A rat that could tap things? A rat skilled in Morse Code= ?

He illuminated the sarcophagus fully with the torch, slowly walking around it = in the confined space. It appeared as if it had not been disturbed in a hundred years, still covered in dirt and sat in mud, no marks on it suggesting that= it had been opened recently. Could the rat be inside?

Tapping, distinct now, and it was definitely coming from within the sarcophagus. And= it was no damn rat, that he was certain of.

Stood over the sarcophagus, pistol in hand, he swung the torch about, checking ev= ery inch of the walls. Where the sarcophagus lay, the opening it occupied was simply rock, and it appeared as if this small area had been roughly chisell= ed out, no care for straight walls or an even floor. It was just big enough for the sarcophagus.

Tapping.

‘You’re fucking me off now,’ Kobus quietly cursed. After again diligently che= cking the tunnel, he returned to the sarcophagus and sat on it, the cold stone fe= lt through his damp trousers.

More tapping, and definitely coming from within, he could feel it through his ha= nd. He tapped the sarcophagus three times with his pistol, getting three taps b= ack. With a heavy frown taking hold, he tapped twice, getting two taps back. Jum= ping up, he quickly walked to the end of the tunnel, to the body of the first airman, halting and lighting up.

In the dark, he could not be sure of the passing of time, and time passed very slo= wly, enough time for three cigarettes and a great deal of thought. ‘What a= re you afraid of, boy?’ he finally asked himself. ‘It’s not dying, so what is it. Afraid of a ghost, of a monster? You said you’d embrace it. Well, here’s your chance.’

He shook his head, rubbed his forehead and took a long drag, exhaling slowly through pursed lips. ‘It’s not the idea of a ghost that worries you, is it. What did the priest say: curiosity, faith, or belief. That̵= 7;s what you’re afraid of, boy, you’re afraid of being right.’= ;

Shaking his head, he went and fetched his jacket from where he had left it in the m= ain tunnel, placing it on because he was now getting chilled, the sweat from hi= s previous labours in opening the hole now cooling on him. Stood at the entrance to the hole he had made, he almost turned and left, finding himself stood there fo= r a good ten minutes.

He stood thinking, thinking about a great many things, of life and death, and = of his death. He finally made a face and shrugged, ducking back into the hole.=

Sat back on the sarcophagus, he lit a fresh cigarette, taking a moment in the dull t= orch light.

‘Maybe that girl didn’t miss me. Maybe ... I’m in a coma in hospital, = and dreaming this.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘Fuck it.’

He banged the sarcophagus hard with his pistol, twice. Two taps came back. Eas= ing down onto a knee, the cold damp mud ignored, he examined the edge of the sarcophagus in detail. It had not been opened recently. Three taps came.

Easing up, he sighed, kicking the side of the sarcophagus in anger and frustration. Retrieving the pickaxe, he stomped back to the sarcophagus with determinati= on, placed down the torch, and gave the stone lid an almighty whack at one end. Several cracks appeared, as well as a small hole. Dropping the pickaxe, he = put two fingers into the hole and pulled out a piece of stone.

A hand slowly reached out, the pale white fingers feeling the edges of the cracked stone, long nails scraping.

‘You have so ... got to be shitting me.’

The hand slipped inside. ‘Help me,’ came in a whisper, a man’s voice, the words English but accented.

Kobus stared down at the hole, and into the black interior, his mouth hanging ope= n. He cleared his dry throat. ‘Hello?’

‘Hello,’ came back in a whisper.

Kobus took a long drag of his cigarette, pursing his lips as he exhaled. ‘T= his is so fucking weird.’ Loudly, he asked, ‘Who ... who are you?’

‘I am ... Cornelius De Vargo,’ came a whisper, almost a plea.

Kobus took another long drag of his cigarette, studying the hole. ‘And ... = you survived in there ... how?’

No answer came back.

‘You speak English?’

‘I speak the tongue ... of the men from the colonies.’

Kobus puzzled that. ‘Colonies?’ he repeated to himself. ‘The American servicemen? You, eh, you been in there sixty years, my friend?R= 17;

‘Longer, much ... longer.’

Kobus took a final drag, flicking away his cigarette. He lifted the pickaxe, and smashed it down with anger and determination, three heavy blows cracking the lid in many places. Throwing down the pickaxe with anger, he sat on the edg= e of the sarcophagus and lifted out a large section of lid, straining with it as= he threw it down. There, lying inside, was a frightened young man, deathly pal= e, long white hair, big brown nervous eyes.

Kobus stared down at the young man in the torch light. Lifting the torch, he shon= e it directly towards the young man, the man squinting away from the bright ligh= t. ‘What ... the fuck ... are you?’

‘I ... am like you.’

‘I’d survive in there for ten minutes before the air ran out,’ Kobus point= ed out, examining the young man’s clothes. ‘So no, my friend, you’re not like me.’

‘You have little fear,’ the young man noted.

‘Should I fear you?’

‘Everyone ... should fear me,’ the young man said, now with some strength in his words.

Kobus moved closer, inching his face towards the young man. He placed a hand insi= de the sarcophagus, and felt the mouldy old fabric of the clothes that the you= ng man wore. ‘There are many things I fear, but you’re not one of them.’

The young man squinted towards Kobus. ‘You dance with death, you do not f= ear it. You are a warrior.’ He turned his head and sniffed the air several times. ‘You did not kill the men who sought treasure. You take the ki= ng’s schilling and work for the magistrate.’

‘How did you survive in there?’ Kobus repeated. ‘And what, the fuck,= are you?’

‘I was a man like you, once, a long time ago. I danced and made merry when new= s of the West Indies reached our town.’

‘Columbus?’ Kobus puzzled.

‘I have ... been here a long time.’

‘Again, what are you? And why do you speak English?’

‘I speak the tongue of the men from the colonies. They ... taught me.’

‘The American airmen?’

‘Men ... who came in strange craft through the air, a war with Germania.’<= /span>

‘Coming back to my other question, what= ... are you?’

‘I ... am a man like you, but...’

‘But ... one that can survive a few hundred years without air, or ... food, or water.’ Kobus waited.

‘I am a man of two halves, and wish not to be judged.’

Kobus puzzled that. ‘I’m not here to judge you, my friend.’

‘You would judge the darker side of me, that which keeps me alive.’=

‘Darker side?’ Kobus nudged. He waited.

‘Inside of me lives a demon, not what you see now.’

‘A ... demon? Like ... heaven and hell, demon from hell ... kind of demon?R= 17;

‘The men from the colonies called me ... a vampire.’

Kobus’s eyes widened. ‘A vampire?’

‘I ... change when the creature has control.’

‘Really? Show me.’

The young man stared up at Kobus, trying to make some sense of the man who had released him from eternal darkness. ‘You ... have no fear. You ... wi= sh to dance with death, to be close, to smell death. You ... seek answers, I c= an read it in your thoughts.’

Kobus slowly nodded to himself. ‘We all seek answers, not least what the fu= ck you are. So, change for me.R= 17;

‘If I give in to the demon, it will be = he who you talk with, not me. He may kill you.’

‘I don’t ... care,’ Kobus stated with some attitude. ‘Right = now I’m sat on an old stone sarcophagus with someone who should be dead, = and yes – I have a few questions. One of those questions, asked of me recently, was ... what would I do if I truly saw a ghost. Well, what I woul= d do ... would be to embrace it.’

The young man puzzled that odd statement, tipping his head as he looked up.

‘Yes, my friend, I’d embrace it, because it would mean that there is a God,= and there is a heaven and hell, and that maybe, just maybe, there’s a plan for all this shit – a plan that makes sense to someone. It would mean= ... that mankind is not some giant cosmic accident, that we’re not just w= asting our time. It would mean ... that our pathetic little lives have some meanin= g in the grand scheme of things. So you, my friend, and your demon within, don’t worry me. I have a few demons of my own to deal with.’

Kobus drew his pistol, the weapon being carefully observed by the young man. ‘So, let the demon out, or I’ll leave you here ... with a few e= xtra holes in your skull for ventilation.’

The young man smiled, a weak and thin smile formed. ‘If I thought your we= apon might kill me, I would – as you say - embrace it. Those from the colonies, they made loud noise and fire, small things passing into me and through me. But I went on.’

He lifted a pale white hand, long and curled fingernails. ‘Put your noise and fire in my hand, and observe.’

Kobus took a moment to study the young man, aimed at his palm, and fired a round through with a loud echoing report. Studying the skin in the dull torchligh= t, Kobus could see a little blood around the wound but, as he observed, the ho= le closed itself, the fingers of the hand flexed. ‘Fuck me.’ He grabbed the hand and turned it over, inspecting both sides.

‘Do you still wish to see the demon?’

Kobus nodded. ‘I do,’ he said after a moment.

The young man lowered his head and closed his eyes, grimacing. His chest rose u= p, a deep breath inhaled, his mouth stretched wide and contorted as Kobus eased = back a little. Rising from the sarcophagus, a new face appeared, lifting up into= the upright sitting position. The new face offered prominent bones, an older fa= ce – that of a middle-aged man, wild and strong eyes, and a set of pointy teeth right across the mouth.

Kobus took a long drag, and slowly exhaled. Easing forwards, he put his own face = to within a few inches of the demon.

‘You hold no fear,’ came a deep and resonating voice. ‘You tempt dea= th, you puzzle it and probe it, even welcome it.

Kobus slowly nodded to himself. ‘Do you know anything of heaven and hell?’

‘I ... know only of myself, and this prison within a prison.’

‘Prison ... within a prison?’

‘I am imprisoned within this body, this body within these walls.’=

Kobus pointed with the fingers holding his cigarette. ‘Door’s open.’

The creature turned its head and upper body towards the main tunnel. And then hesitated.

‘Something wrong?’ Kobus probed when he caught the creature’s look. He wai= ted, taking a drag. ‘Big wide world out there.’

‘Your world.’

‘Yes, my world,’ Kobus said with a sigh. ‘A great many people, a great many police officers and soldiers with guns, and weapons far more dangerous than this pistol.’ He waved the pistol. ‘But the fact is ... no= one would want to harm you, they’d want to study you; you could make your= self a lot of money and live well in the world you’d find out there.’= ; He sighed. ‘If Michael Jackson did it, so can you. Of course, they wouldn’t let you run around and kill people; you’d have to get = by on processed food, the occasional fatted calf.’

‘You mock me.’

‘And yet ... you haven’t tried to kill me.’

The creature again looked over its shoulder at the tunnel, and at freedom.

‘Be easier for you to ... live out ther= e, if ... well, if you had a little help.’

The creature focused on Kobus. ‘You would have me do your bidding.’=

‘You can always stay here, if you like.’

The creature stared back. ‘You take the king’s schilling and kill f= or the magistrate. You are like those who pursued me.’

‘Not like those, exactly. And right now, you, my friend, are the most important thing in the world to me, because you represent hope.’

‘Hope?’

‘Hope that there’s a meaning to this life, hope that God has a grand plan f= or us, that there is a goal for us. You see, my annual psychiatric report says that I have a constructive personal= ity, that I like to make things, fix things, and see things work. I like to make= plans, to work things out, and to see progress. I care ... very much for my fellow= man – as a whole – but I don’t mind losing a few along the wa= y, like the cave explorers here. It’s important to me that the ship gets= to port in good condition, not that all of the sailors survive. Can you ... understand any of that?’

‘I can read your thoughts, some of your thoughts, yes. You would have me do yo= ur bidding for the king’s schilling, to restore order to chaos.’

‘And in return...’ Kobus floated.

‘And in return ... I survive in your world, with your help. And what would a man= of the magistrate see me do?’

‘I would see you kill men, and – you know – drink blood or eat the= m, whatever it is that you do, but just those that displease the magistrate. T= here would also be pleasures of the flesh - women, drink and food in excess. It’s a big wide world, plenty to do and to enjoy, and in a few places you’d be less than scary.’

‘The other will resist me.’

‘The young man? I’ll talk to him, since I don’t think he wants to st= ay here either. Does he ... fear the outside?’

‘He greatly fears your world, yes.’

Kobus took a drag. ‘What else does he fear?’

‘He fears that I may gain control, and that he will see my world through his own eyes.’

‘When you kill, does he see and feel everything?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ah. And when he’s in control, do = you see and feel everything?’

The old man nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Who placed you in here?’

‘He did,’ the creature snarled. ‘He sought out those who would help, and paid them in gold coin, to place him here and build walls, to be here f= or all time.’

‘Brave kid,’ Kobus commended. ‘He didn’t want to live with you running around killing people. Which begs the question ... as to why you let yourself be sealed in here?’

The creature lowered its head.

‘He can control you, can’t he.’

‘He ... learned to take control, in the tenth year.’

‘Strong young lad. And now, you speaking to me? Would I be right in assuming that he’s allowing it?’

The creature did not answer.

‘Do I have your agreement in principal ... to work with me, not against me, and= to work with the young lad, not against him? In return, you get the pleasures = of the world through his eyes – and my guidance through my world.’=

‘So be it, because you are more like me than him.’ With a curled lip of smile, the creature lay down, its features relaxing, soon the frightened fa= ce of the young man peering up. He eased upright.

‘You heard all that?’ Kobus asked.

‘I did so hear the agreement you made.’

‘You’re the half in control, what do you say?’

‘I ... wish to live, to see the sun and smell flowers...’

‘But?’

‘I ... am afraid, and afraid that I will do evil.’

‘I want you to do evil, that’s the whole point, but to the bad people, a= nd then for the king’s schilling. If you kill the bad men, you’re doing good – by protecting the good people from harm.’

The young man peered over his shoulder at the tunnel.

‘Every great journey starts with a single step,’ Kobus stated. Easing up, he grabbed the young man by the armpits and lifted him upright. The young man wobbled, carefully taking a step outside of the sarcophagus, barely able to take his weight. ‘Will your strength come back?’

‘Slowly. But ... there is a faster way.’

‘Faster way?’

‘Take me to the men who are dead, but still warm.’

‘Ah, that faster way,’ Kobus realised. He helped the young man into the tunnel, to the right and slowly along, past the airmen. ‘These airmen...’

‘Yes, we killed them and drank their blood.’

‘Do you refer to the demon in you as yourself?’ Kobus puzzled as he helped the young man along.

‘The men here, they found us after the demon had made a noise to attract them. I could have fought harder to stop the demon, but I was weak.’

‘You didn’t kill them straight away, not if you learnt English,’ Kob= us noted as he eased through the hole in the wall. He helped the young man through, a mass of long white hair coming through first.

‘They did not die quickly, and ... one man I kept alive for many cycles of the mo= on. The men from the Americas, they had food inside of steel, and he lived off it.’

‘And that man taught you English?’ Kobus asked as they approached a dead c= ave explorer.

‘The demon can learn very quickly, and I know what it knows. I can hear the word= s or read thoughts to know what is meant.’

‘You’d make for a hell of a card player.’

‘You seek to benefit from me, to make profit,’ the young man said as he kn= elt.

‘The making of the profit is not as important as how it’s used – to = do good.’

A face turned up, that of the creature, the older man. It stared dispassionately up for a moment, then sunk its teeth in the cave explorer’s neck, a slur= ping sound issued, mixed with a growl like a lion.

A full four minutes later the demon stood, now more steady on his feet, as well as adopting healthier skin colour; pale instead of white. It licked its blood-= stained lips.

‘Enough?’ Kobus asked. ‘Need more?’

The creature studied Kobus for a moment. ‘Enough.’ He closed his ey= es, the young man soon back.

‘Feeling better?’

‘This does not trouble you,’ the young man said as he glanced down the leng= th of the tunnel.

‘There are a great many things that trouble me, and on certain days – you feeding might trouble me on some level. But that guy was dead, and you didn’t kill him. And if it helps you, and you help me fight the bad g= uys, then it’s a good act.’

‘You would justify the means by the end.’

‘Wouldn’t most people? Does a father beat his child for discipline, for the childR= 17;s benefit in later life, or for pleasure?’ Kobus grabbed the young man’s arm and led him forwards, holding the torch in his left hand. <= /span>

‘What magic gives you light in this strange lantern?’ the young man asked as they walked.

‘Batteries, and cheap imports from Asia.’

‘I know nothing of your world,’ the young man sighed.

At the mouth of the cave, the young man stopped and breathed d= eeply, lungs filled with clean and fresh air.

‘Been a while, huh,’ Kobus let out.

They stepped forwards, the young man lifting a hand to feel the falling rain. He stopped. ‘What awaits me, these wonders that the men from the colonies spoke of?’

‘More than they knew of awaits you, and in some cases less – a lot less. Th= ey were from the year 1944, it’s now 2010 – sixty years later. And= a hell of a lot has changed.’

‘These lights in the distance, these fires burning.’

‘They’re street lamps and house lights. All houses have lights at night; electricity.’

The young man turned his head, and waited.

‘Electricity?’ Kobus faced the distant lights. ‘How the fuck do I explain electricity?’ He blew out. ‘Some things can only be explained at length, and step by step.’

The young man took a step backwards, back from the rain, and from the world that lay beyond the cave. He glanced over his shoulder at the dark cave.<= /p>

‘Having second thoughts?’ Kobus asked.

‘I fear that the demon will hurt many.’

‘This is a new world, and your demon wouldn’t last long here. There are more magistrates than blades of grass, more guns than birds in the sky. And ... there are many men here who do far more evil than he ever could.’

‘You see me as a child.’

‘You are, and what’s out there will shock you; you’re not so scary to these people. They make TV programmes about vampires; they’re very popular.’

‘T ... V?’

‘A band of travelling actors, a stage drama.’

‘Ah, I see. They tell stories of my terrible deeds.’

‘No, they make light of your terrible deeds, and laugh and smile at them.’=

‘What manner of person would smile as such deeds?’

‘It’s a different world. And, after you’ve seen the traffic and eaten at Mc= Donalds, you may just want to be back in the damn cave.’

‘Is your estate far?’

‘My estate ... is in Britain.’

‘Home of the Angles? Across the water to the north?’

‘Yep, across the water to the north. But I doubt we’d get you on a plane wi= thout a haircut and a manicure. So, there’s a motel I passed, rooms with discreet access, so you’ve got a date with a hot bath.’<= /p>

‘A bath would be good. Is there a fire ready to heat the water?’<= /p>

‘Uh ... yes, the fire is burning ready. And we’ll get you some clothes th= at are less than five hundred years old,’ Kobus quipped.

The young man regarded the tattered clothes that hung on him. ‘Yes, a new shirt. You have coin?’

‘I have coin, Cornelius.’

The young man took a moment. ‘That name hurts my ears.’

Kobus took a moment to puzzle the lad’s meaning. He shrugged. ‘What n= ame would you like to use?’

‘I ... don’t know.’

‘I’ll call you Drake.’

‘Drake?’

‘They used to refer to vampires as Count Dracula, so Drake for short.’

‘Who is ... this Count Dracula?’

‘He was supposed to be you, but I guess it lost a little in translation over the years.’

‘I was not a Count, but a tailor’s son and apprentice.’

Kobus lit a fresh cigarette as they stood there in the dark mouth of the cave. ‘How did the demon get into you? Did you ... rape, pillage and slaugh= ter, bring down the wrath of God or something?’

Drake shot Kobus a look, frowning heavily. ‘No,’ he insisted. He lowe= red his head. ‘But I did sin. I drank mead and lay down with girls out of wedlock. Twice.’

Kobus slowly exhaled, nodding his head. ‘Drank mead ... and lay down with g= irls out of wedlock, eh.’ He shook his head. ‘You have no idea what waits for you out there, do you.’

‘I greatly fear this new world,’ Drake softly admitted.

‘Well, first things first. Can you break those nails off, you look a bit ... you k= now, like a weird old Chinaman.’

Drake began to snap the long nails as Kobus took out a pocket knife, soon sawing through long white hair and letting it fall.

When done, Kobus stood back and lifted the torch. ‘You still look like shi= t, so we’ll get you a haircut tomorrow. You ... ready to leave?’

Drake focused on the distant twinkling lights, the lights of houses down the hill= . He straightened. ‘I am ready.’ They walked forwards, and into the drizzle.

Nearing the BMW, Drake halted. ‘There is a man, hidden, he waits, he has ... = the fire stick that you have.’

Kobus had his pistol out in a second. ‘Where?’ he whispered. <= /p>

Drake pointed. ‘Fifty paces. And there, a second man, a third further down = the hill. They show fear, and anger, and they wait.’

‘I killed their friend.’

Drake turned his head, just a dark outline. ‘Why ... did you kill their fri= end?’

‘They’re criminals, and they seek to profit from selling weapons against the rules of the magistrate. Those weapons will harm many.’

‘I will be judged by those I save,&= #8217; you told a priest.

‘You can read that in my mind?’ Kobus whispered.

‘I can, since you thought it when you explained why you had killed the man.= 217; Drake faced forwards. ‘We must stop them from their commerce.’<= /span>

‘Stay here, I’ll get around behind them.’

‘No,’ Drake called as Kobus started to move off, a hand on Kobus’s arm. ‘They may harm you. They cannot harm me.’

Kobus halted, staring at the dark outline of the young man. ‘You’ve o= nly been out the cave five minutes, are you up for this?’

‘I must admit that ... killing these men is a task that best suits me, in this time or mine, in your world or mine.’

‘You’d let the demon out?’

‘If it helps you, then yes.’

‘And controlling the demon afterwards?’

‘He is happy to wait, and to observe with great curiosity, since he thinks you = will lead me towards disaster.’

‘I might just do that,’ Kobus whispered.

‘You say the words, but you hope they are not true; I sense that you would guide= me and protect me. So I will do this act, and be judged by those I save, not b= y the acts I commit.’ He ran forwards, and soon out of sight.

Ten seconds later two shots rang out, followed by a scream. Kobus edged down the track slowly, pistol prone. Another shot, a cry, two more reports echoing. = Then just silence. A minute later Kobus could hear footsteps, a dark shadow walk= ing up the path. He held off firing.

‘It is done,’ Drake coldly stated.

Kobus straightened. ‘Did you ... you know, feed on them?’

‘No, I ... we snapped their necks li= ke game before the plucking.’

‘Cool. Let’s go then.’ Kobus holstered his pistol, leading Drake to the car. The BMW’s lights flashed and the door locks clicked open as they neared, Drake halting.

‘What is it?’ he asked, peering at the car.

Kobus took a moment. ‘It’s a ... carriage without horses, fire inside that makes the wheels turn, and we don’t have time for a fucking less= on. Get in.’ Now sat in the driver’s seat, Kobus waited, looking for Drake. He sighed. ‘Like he knows how to use a fucking car door.’= ; He leant across the seats and opened the door, the light coming on. ‘Come inside, and sit like me.’

Drake nervously edged into the car.

Kobus pointed at his own car door. ‘Grab this part, and pull quickly towards you.’

Drake pulled the handle and closed the door with a click. Running an eye around t= he vehicle, he said, ‘Such wondrous workmanship, a carriage fit for a ki= ng. And glass, like in church, fine glass.’

‘German you see, reliable. And ... all cars are like this, the same workmanship. We= ll, in Britain they’re not, but you’ll get used to that.’ He started the engine.

‘What growls within?’

‘Magic. Lessons start tomorrow.’ Kobus turned on the headlights, reversed out= a little, and started down the track, soon to a road and picking up speed.

Drake was sat smiling widely. ‘This carriage moves at great speed, and glid= es effortlessly like a swan.’ He pointed at the steering wheel. ‘This wheel cho= oses where the nose of the beast follows.’

‘Steering wheel, and yes – it chooses the direction.’

They joined a main road, soon reaching eighty MPH, Drake smiling like an idiot. = When another car passed he panicked, a hand raised to his face. Looking over his shoulder, he said, ‘I feared we would collide, to pass so closely.= 217;

‘Relax, I’m a safe driver.’

‘What is ... road-kill?’

‘Ah, well ... small animals that the beast accidentally kills as it moves.’= ;

‘Ah, a field mouse under the wheels of the cart.’

They pulled into the roadside motel, halting i= n a quiet corner of the car park. ‘Stay here,’ Kobus said as he eas= ed out, leaving Drake alone in the car. Paying for a room, Kobus ordered food = to be delivered, paying over the odds. Back at the BMW, he opened Drake’s door. ‘Come on, before someone sees you.’

Drake followed Kobus into a ground floor chalet, Kobus checking the car park with= a look back. With the light flicked on, the door closed and the curtains draw= n, Kobus placed down the car keys and eased off his damp jacket.

‘Wondrous workmanship,’ Drake noted, running a hand over the frame of a cheap watercolour. ‘Such wonders, a suite fit for a king.’

‘Actually, this is poor quality. There are better rooms, and they’re cheap for t= he common man.’

Drake shook his head in admiration. ‘How you live.’

‘You’ll get used to it. Right, you stink, so follow me.’

Drake followed Kobus into the bathroom, seeing his own image for the first time in many centuries, and stopping to stare at the pale young man staring back. ‘I have not gained any years, but I am pale like the end of winter.&#= 8217;

Kobus looked over his shoulder as he tackled the shower settings. ‘How old = are you, I mean ... were you?’

‘I was three years past twenty, to be wed to a fine and sturdy wench that my father favoured.’ Drake turned as the shower came to life, puzzling i= t. ‘Where does this water come from?’ He lifted his head to the ceiling.

‘From metal pipes in the ground.’ Kobus eased past Drake, opening a wardrobe and finding a white fluffy robe that needed a wash. Still, it was step up f= rom what Drake had on. ‘This robe, you wear it after washing, OK. Your ot= her clothes, put them out through that small window.’ He lifted a motel-i= ssued soap bar in plastic and unwrapped it, handing it over.

‘A marvellous perfume.’

‘You wash with it, rubbing it all over your body when you’re stood upright= in the water.’ He grabbed a small shampoo vial and opened it. ‘And this ... you squeeze this out onto your hair to wash it. Take your time, and stay here; I’m going shopping for you.’

Leaving the chalet, and checking again the car park, Kobus wondered what Drake woul= d do with the bidet, and what state the room would be in when he got back. And w= as this wise, leaving him in there.

At the edge of Sophia, Kobus noticed a supermarket that was still open at this hou= r, and bought additional soap and shampoo, plus toothbrushes and paste, but not just for Drake. Kobus’s overnight bag was still in his hire car, abandoned earlier. It was no great loss, just inconvenient. He found two ge= nts fleeces that seemed about the right size, and a cheap tracksuit - yellow wi= th a black stripe. He could not guess Drake’s shoe size, so bought a pair = of slippers, a stretchable soft fabric. At the quiet checkout he grabbed biscu= its and chocolates.

Back at the motel, he slowly circled, checking cars, finally parking the car in a lane and under trees. Back at the chalet, he scanned the car park at length, and turned the key in the lock. Inside, he saw no sign of Drake. ‘Sti= ll here, buddy?’

Drake stepped out from the bathroom, now in the white robe, his skin tone matching the robe. ‘I sensed your approach,’ he said with a keen smile.<= /span>

Kobus dumped the bags onto one of two single beds.

‘Come, see,’ Drake called.

With a curious frown, and wondering about the state of the bathroom, Kobus stepped forwards. Inside the bathroom he found it wet, wet in many places it should= not be wet, towels on the floor – and now very wet.

‘I mastered the water, making it faster or slower, warmer or colder.’

‘Well done,’ Kobus sarcastically offered.

‘And look.’ With a wide smile, Drake turned the cold water tap on, then of= f. ‘Water flows, water stops.’ He straightened. ‘Such wonder= s of your world.’

Kobus peeked into the toilet bowl. ‘Mastered the toilet?’

Drake studied the toilet. ‘What does it do?’

‘You know, after you drink a lot of mead ... you need to go.’

‘Ah, yes.’ He pointed. ‘You go here?’

‘Yes, then flush’ Kobus reached across and pressed the flush.

‘Wondrous. But I do not ... go.’

‘No?’

‘No.’ Drake stopped smiling. ‘If the demon feeds in the quarter, I need not food or drink.’

‘But ... could you eat?’

‘Yes, I can, but the demon becomes irritable.’

‘C’mon,’ Kobus called, leading Drake to the main room. He opened a plastic bag and pulled out a track suit. ‘Go into the bathroom and place this on.R= 17;

Drake studied the yellow tracksuit intently as he turned for the bathroom. A minu= te later he emerged, the tracksuit a reasonable fit.

‘Great, now you look like fucking Bruce Lee.’

‘These clothes are not suitable?’ Drake puzzled. ‘They seem most finely made.’

‘They’ll do for now. Here.’ Kobus handed over the slippers. ‘They’= re called slippers. What were they called in your day?’

‘Slippers.’ Drake sat on the end of a bed and placed on the slippers, which fitted well enough. Standing, he walked around in them. ‘Great softness for slipp= ers, no errant thread or stiffness.’

‘And your old clothes?’

‘Placed through the small window as you desired.’

‘I thought it smelt better in here.’ From a bag, Kobus pulled out scisso= rs. ‘Sit.’ With Drake sitting, Kobus cut his hair, a rough job. ‘Better, but it still needs work.’

Drake ran a hand over his head. ‘Short hair for the summer.’

‘Fingers, please.’

Drake presented a hand, and Kobus cut what was left of the long nails as best he could.

‘You almost look human. Someday soon we’ll get you a dermatologist; you’ve many oddly-large blackheads in your skin.’

‘As you wish, if I will appear more fitting in this time.’

Kobus sat, opening a bag and retrieving a chocolate bar. He snapped a chunk off f= or himself and chewed, breaking off a lump for Drake as an afterthought.

Drake sniffed the chocolate, before placing it into his mouth. Smiling as he chew= ed, he said, ‘Wondrous.’ He pointed towards the door. ‘A man brings beverage and food. He approaches.’

Kobus eased up and stepped to the door, accepting pizza and cans of beer. ‘Danke,’ he offered the man, not wishing to seem British, or Afrikaans for that matter.

Drake sniffed the air. ‘What is it?’

‘Pizza, the ... food of the Venetians. And mead. We call mead beer or lager.’ Kobus sat against the headboard, and cracked open a can, soon munching on a pizza slice as Drake worked his way slowly through the chocolate bar. Lifting the TV remote, Kobus turned on the room’s small TV.

Drake jumped back, startled. ‘What is it?’

‘TV.’

‘You used this word before; an ensemble of stage actors.’ He pointed. R= 16;I see them, but where are they?’

‘The TV shows you things happening in other places, like magic. They’re far off.’

Drake sat on the edge of the bed, now keenly focused on the TV, the news relaying images of the Iraq conflict. ‘Where is this place?’

Kobus took a moment. ‘Iraq, a place in the east where ... I fought in a war.’

Drake focused on Kobus, and waited.

‘It’s near the home of the Persian Empire.’

‘Ah, yes, the Moors; always a war with the Moors. They move towards Dacia. They = did, in my time. And again now?’

Kobus took in the images, not happy with the topic. ‘No, now ... now we mov= ed on their land, to remove a fals= e king that hurt his people. But in the fighting we hurt many more than just the f= alse king.’

‘You are saddened by this, and angered,’ Drake softly noted.

‘Sometimes, you hurt those you go to help.’

‘When the cavalry charges, their blood up, they know not the farmer or the peasant boy from the enemy soldier in the heat and the dust.’

‘Very true,’ Kobus softly noted.

Without taking his eyes off the TV news, in Bulgarian, Drake said, ‘You were a soldier?’

‘I was. I was born in South Africa, a place you’ve probably never heard = of, but went to school in Britain. After studying, I joined the British Queen&#= 8217;s army, an officer, and fought in the land of the Moors near Persia. And afte= r, after ... I worked for the magistrate, for the American colony.’ Lift= ing the handset, he changed channel. ‘That’s better for you, Friend= s. And in English.’

‘Friends?’

‘A drama about young friends in the American colonies.’ He turned the so= und up a bit. ‘You can practice your English.’

Drake sat, transfixed, as Kobus munched through a large pizza, downing three cans= of lager. Forty minutes later, Kobus checked his pistol, kicked off his shoes,= and puffed up the pillows. He lay fully clothed, and now closed his eyes.

‘You need sleep?’ Drake asked without moving his eyes of the TV.

‘I can sleep just fine with the light on, and the TV, so you watch all you wan= t, buddy. You have a few ... gaps = in your knowledge to fill. And they say TV is good for kids, or bad for them, I’m not sure which.’

A new reality

At 7am Kobus opened an eye, the curtains revealing a dull grey light. Turning his head, Drake smiled warmly, sat where he had been, the TV= now displaying a children’s programme.

‘I put the pizza through the small window, and the small metal drums,’ D= rake informed his roommate. ‘May I ask questions?’

Kobus let his legs down, and placed a cigarette on his lip. ‘Sure,’ he said, rubbing his forehead.

‘People go to small rooms with other people, to undertake gainful employment for co= in – known as dollars, which transact the rent dues from the lord where they live. What dollars are left= in hand are used in the pursuit of partners for sex without wedlock, and to ma= ke oneself appear better than those around them, a continuous struggle.’=

Kobus nodded, and then made a face. ‘Yep, pretty much, and definitely a continuous struggle.’

‘I feel for Ross, he means well and struggles hard, but fails to succeed at ea= ch turn.’

Kobus stared at the side of Drake’s head. ‘I should have started you = with Dallas; you’d have a better fix on the world.’

‘I saw images of the men I killed.’

Kobus stood. ‘What?’

‘On the TV, images of the men of the magistrate in blue, and the three men I killed.’

‘Did you understand any of what was said?’ Kobus pressed.

‘Some, and the magistrate believes the men to be criminals, members of a group = 211; a group of bad men.’

‘And the cave?’

‘They entered the cave, yes. The men who sought treasure were taken in bags, also= the men from the colonies. You are concerned.’

‘I work for the magistrate in America, where Ross and Rachel live, not here. I work in the shadows.’

‘You are a spy.’

‘Where did you get that word?’ Kobus idly asked, yawning.

‘Ross was spying on Rachel, and Chandler spied on a woman, and a man spied on Mon= ika. Spying is common in Friends. And they eat pizza like you, and are very care= ful with the cleaning of teeth.’ He turned his head, a puzzled frown adop= ted. ‘Joey lies down with many women out of wedlock, but always seeks more company – and seems at a great loss to understand women. He has much experience, but is always at a loss to understand them.’

Kobus stared down at Drake. ‘All women are different, and knowledge of the moods of one does not help with= the next.’

‘I think Rachel and Ross will unite again,’ Drake said as he turned back= to the TV.

Kobus stared at the back of Drake’s head. ‘I’ve unleashed a monster,’ he said as he headed to the toilet. Back in the room, and stretching, he asked, ‘Sunlight, it doesn’t affect you?’<= /span>

Drake shook his head.

‘Garlic?’

‘It’s pleasant with some foods.’

‘A crucifix?’

Drake shook his head.

‘What would kill you?’

‘I wish I knew that,’ Drake said, a glance upwards, big sad eyes display= ed.

After a moment, Kobus said, ‘I’ll take a shower, then we’ll go.’

‘Should I wash again?’ Drake keenly enquired.

‘No, you’re fine.’

Drake seemed deflated, turning back to the TV. ‘In the night you made loud noises with your nose. My father did this, so I placed you on your side many times.’

‘I don’t snore, I just breathe loudly. I’m too young to snore.R= 17;

‘You are offended by this idea.’

‘Watch the damn TV.’

Out of the shower, and back in the same clothes, Kobus’s mobile went.

‘You are concerned about the magistrate,’ Drake noted. ‘About me.= 217;

‘Yep. Now be quiet.’ Kobus lifted his phone, and pressed the green button. ‘Yeah?’

‘Kobus, you’re still alive. What the fuck happened, I’ve just seen it on the news?’ Riggs asked.

‘When I got there I found a bunch of dead cave explorers, weekend amateurs, and a= ll shot by a 9mm. I think they stumbled on the gang.’

‘And the cave? They found US servicemen from 1944!’

‘I think the locals were looking for them, maybe they thought there was someth= ing of value in there, but they stumbled on the meeting place for the others.’

‘Did they meet?’

‘No, that was called off after I acciden= tally ran over that guy.’

‘He died in hospital,’ Riggs reported. ‘What about the gang members?’

‘They turned up looking for me, no deal going down. Bit of a squabble in the woods.’

‘Fuck’s sake, buddy, nine dead bodies in two days; the press and the local police w= ill be all over this. Luckily, they’re calling it a gang incident –= for now.’

‘I left no evidence behind, and I’ll ditch the car.’

‘You still have that guy’s car? They’ll be looking for it!’

‘It’s tucked away.’ He focused on Drake. ‘Anyway, some good news, of a kind.’

‘What’s that?’

‘The men, they led me to a safe house in Sophia; they were holding someone priso= ner.’ Drake now turned his head, and listened. ‘And this guy is a real find= for us, but I don’t want the Company to know yet.’

‘Know what? Who is he?’ Riggs asked.

‘He’s ... Romanian, a young lad who used to work in the circus.’

‘In the circus?’

‘Yep, and he reads minds.’

‘He read minds? You been drinking, Kobus?’

‘He’s the real deal, that’s why they had him. If you hold up twenty playing cards he gets nineteen right – every time.’

‘He does?’

‘I tested him on a few people already, at random. He told me their occupations= and names, and then I asked them; right every time – more or less.’=

‘Fucking hell, buddy. A mind reader?’

‘After centuries of circus tricks, there was bound to be some truth in it. Anyway, he’s my new partner, so keep that in mind if we’re seen, and I don’t want this to go up the line; they’ll take him off us.R= 17;

‘You wanna work with this guy?’

‘He has ... specific skills that I think will come in handy.’

‘How much does he know about you? About us?’

‘He’s a fucking mind reader, dummy, he knew before I told him.’

‘Hey, look, if this guy is on the level, he could be worth a lot the agency; you = know what they’re like with their weird programmes, Distance Viewing and a= ll that crap.’

‘Look, if he helps me ... and I help you, who gets the credit, and a be= tter office?’ Kobus probed.

‘Well, yeah, I would.’

‘If I crack a big case, you get the smarty points, boss; desk in Langley, not t= oo far from the water cooler, bit of a view.’

‘You really think this guy is on the level?’ Riggs pressed.

‘Why do you think they had him holed-up? They were trying to get him to do the lottery.’

‘Can he?’

‘No, that’s the future, he just reads minds.’

‘Pity. What’ll you do next?’

‘Couple of days off, back to Athens, then the next job; the weapons deal will never happen now.’

‘No shit. They’re all dead!’

‘Find me something in a few days. Over and out.’ He cut the call.

‘You gave false testimony about me,’ Drake noted, ‘to protect me, bu= t to also gain me employment with the magistrate.’

‘Yep, otherwise they would ask. If my boss thinks you’re useful he’ll protect you from others who may ... desire your particular skills. And in my game, your skills are excellent.’

Drake lowered his head. ‘We fight the bad men, in the hope that our tally is good at the end.’

‘We fight the bad men, and to hell with anyone who judges us,’ Kobus said= as he stood.

With Drake helping, they pushed the car along the lane, and in= to a field, finding a convenient slope down towards a lake. With a final shove t= he car started rolling, gaining speed.

‘Such a wondrous carriage, to meet such a fate,’ Drake lamented.

‘C’mon,’ Kobus urged as he turned.

They walked down to the nearest village, a taxi hailed, an odd look given to Drake’s bright yellow tracksuit by the driver. In Sophia, they halted= at a row of shops, Drake having spent the time in the taxi staring wide-eyed at everything, marvelling the buildings, and the cars on the roads.

Paying the driver, Kobus led Drake on, walking past many shops till they found a ladies hairdresser. It looked quiet enough. ‘You do men?’ Kobus asked in English.

The woman shrugged, glancing at Drake’s blue slippers.

Kobus thrust a fifty Euro note towards her, and pointed at Drake. The lady held t= he note, curled a lip at Drake’s hair-job, and finally gestured Bruce Lee towards a chair, a bib thrown around him.

‘What to do?’ she complained.

Kobus shrugged at her, and sat.

In Bulgarian, Drake said, ‘I want look like Joey on Friends.’

The ladies in the establishment laughed – at length, but then got to work. They cut the mangled white mop, and dyed it, a thirty minute process. As th= ey did so, Kobus paid another girl to tackle Drake’s finger nails, much complaining issued, another twenty Euros handed over. When done, Drake stood and faced Kobus with a keen childlike smile. The jet black hair stood out a= s a drastic contrast to his deathly white skin.

‘You need some sun, you’re pale,’ Kobus said as he stood. ‘Tha= nk you, ladies. Oh, where can I find a dermatologist?’

They understood the word, pointing down the block. Outside, they walked down the block, Drake catching his reflection in the glass of many shops, Kobus roll= ing his eyes and shaking his head. At the dermatologist, they needed an appointment, so a bribe was paid, and soon found a Russian girl in a side r= oom.

‘Speak English?’ Kobus asked her.

‘Some, yes.’

Kobus grabbed Drake by the shoulders and placed him in the seat, soon pointing the lady towards deep and dark blackheads across Drake’s chin, neck and shoulders. A lip was curled, a glance at the blue slippers made, but the gi= rl got on with the task, removing almost a hundred black lumps from under the skin. At the end of it, she rubbed in an acne cream with her gloved hands.<= /span>

‘It was a pleasant experience,’ Drake admitted after they left. ‘So= too the cutting of my hair. I admit I felt ... aroused.’

‘That’s OK, so do I on occasion when a nice young girl is giving me a cut. Right, we need some clothes for you, and a shirt for me.’

They entered a men’s clothes shop. ‘You speak English?’ Kobus asked a girl stood waiting.

‘Yes.’

‘My friend, he doesn’t know his size. Can you guess?’

She looked Drake over, frowning at the blue slippers as Drake smiled keenly bac= k. ‘I think medium, or more smaller.’

‘I want underwear, jeans, t-shirt, jumper, jacket, socks. Two of each, please.= ’

It was a good order for the shop assistant, and she got to work, Drake soon trying= on pants and jeans, a fit first time. The t-shirts were OK, plenty of room in = the jumpers and jackets. And finally they squeezed black trainers onto his feet= .

‘Good, we’ll take them all, and another of each,’ Kobus told the girl, taking out the cash. He handed over two hundred and twenty Euros, and left a happy shop assistant.

‘I feel ... strange,’ Drake admitted as the emerged onto the street, carrying the spare clothes and yellow tracksuit in a bag.

‘Strange?’

‘The clothes feel good, and warm, a strange sensation. I feel ... protected.R= 17;

‘I guess we all feel vulnerable naked.’

‘What is next?’ Drake keenly enquired.

Kobus pointed up. ‘Sun tan.’

‘Sun ... tan?’

‘False sun from the sky, to make your face less ... white; you look like a sheet of paper. In fact, I’d be happy if you just looked as pale as a sheet of paper, I’d feel less conspicuous.’

A few minutes later, Drake stepped into the booth and took the clothes off his to= p as he was instructed to. He placed on goggles – that were not necessary = in his case, and stood still for six minutes, enjoying the warmth. When done, = he wished more time.

‘You’re pale, so you’ll burn. Probably. C’mon, enough sun for one day.&= #8217;

Walking around a corner, Kobus noticed a suitably rundown hotel, and approached. The establishment had a room with two single beds available, for one night, the room paid for in cash, a curious glance shot at Drake from the receptionist. Once in the room, Kobus turned on the TV, explain the changing of channels = to Drake.

‘I’m going to pick up a bag I left in another hotel, and get a car. I’ll b= e an hour at most. Don’t ... go anywhere.’

‘I shall study again the world through the magic box.’

Kobus asked. ‘You heal very quickly?’

‘Yes.’

‘You have marks on you that will put people off, small holes from the girl today. Can you cut them, and see them heal quickly?’

‘I believe so.’

‘Look in the mirror in the bathroom, make many small cuts, see if the holes go,’ Kobus suggested before he headed out.

Kobus returned an hour later, Drake seemingly damp, but back i= n the same clothes. ‘I had another shower, and mastered the controls,’= ; he enthusiastically reported. ‘And now my skin is better.’<= /p>

Kobus closed in, inspecting Drake’s chin. ‘Yeah, better. Be hard to k= eep the girls off you now.’

‘Girls?’ Drake repeated. ‘Is there ... a local summer dance?’

Kobus hid a smile. ‘Would you ... like to lay down with a girl out of wedlock?’

‘It ... is the accepted custom here, no?’

‘It is,’ Kobus agreed with a coy smile. ‘But I think what might best suit you – for now – would be a girl who takes coin for such ..= . lying down out of wedlock.’

‘A lady of the night.’

‘Yes, a lady of the night.’ Kobus checked his watch. ‘There is a club= here that’s open all day. C’mon then, let’s go meet a lady of = the night, now that you’re all keen, clean and raring to go.’

They drove around to the club in question in a hired BMW, this one silver with a wooden finish, Drake now adept at opening and closing the car door, as he pointed out. Inside the club, they found three bored looking ladies in night gowns.

Kobus beckoned one over. ‘Speak English?’

She nodded.

‘My friend here has not been with ... many women.’ He handed over sixty Euros. ‘Blowjob.’

The lady led a keen Drake away. ‘I have had a shower,’ could be hea= rd as Kobus headed to the bar.

‘Coffee,’ he ordered.

‘Ten Euros,’ the barman said with attitude.

‘Ten Euros? Do I get a blowjob for that?’

Ten minutes later, and Drake hurried back, beckoning a now concerned Kobus towa= rds the door.

‘You didn’t let the demon out?’ Kobus asked in a whisper as they ste= pped out onto the street, glancing back at the club.

‘No.’

‘Then what happened?’

They headed to the car.

‘This lady, she knelt before me and ... took me in her mouth, a most enjoyable sensation. After ... afterwards, she was sick like a rabid dog for many minutes, and went to sleep on the carpet.’

Kobus stopped dead, his eyes wide. ‘You, er ... well ... you gave her some = five hundred year old seed. A bit ... of= f, I’d guess.’ They walked on. ‘Christ, that’s more de= tail than I needed to know.’

‘Have I done wrong?’ Drake worried.

‘No, but ... now that you’ve cleaned out your ... you know, next time will= be better.’

‘I feel bad for this lady,’ Drake said as they got into the car.<= /p>

‘We won’t be welcome back in that club,’ Kobus suggested as they dr= ove off. He shook his head, wide-eyed. ‘Bloody hell.’

‘Is it customary here to send flowers?’

Kobus gave him a look. ‘Eh ... no, not to hookers.’

‘Hookers: ladies of the night. This word was in Friends, Phoebe was suspected of bein= g a hooker.’

‘I’ve got to start choosing what you watch,’ Kobus said with a sigh.=

Back in the hotel room, Kobus selected a channel for Drake, a programme about the Second World War.

‘The men from the cave,’ Drake noted, keenly attentive.

‘We’ll leave when it gets dark; I prefer to drive at night.’

It’s a dirty job, but someon= e has to do it

An hour later, and Kobus was snoozing after a large pizza had = been delivered and eaten.

Drake shook him awake, a hand on Kobus’s mouth. ‘There are men at the door.’

Kobus eased up, his pistol drawn. ‘What do they want?’ he whispered.<= /span>

‘They seek us from the first room,’ he said softly, pointing at the pizza b= ox. ‘They know we are the same men.’

‘Do they work for the magistrate?’ Kobus whispered.

‘One man does, but takes coin from bad men,’ Drake softly answered. ‘They have pistols, if I say it correct.’

‘Unfortunately, you do,’ Kobus said as he considered his options.

‘There are also men in a carriage, below us.’

Kobus looked to the window, then opened it. They were two storeys up.

Drake’s head appeared alongside. ‘This car,’ he said, pointing.<= /p>

‘Jump onto it, and meet me in that park,’ Kobus requested, pointing at a pa= rk a block away. ‘Go.’

Drake didn’t hesitate, on the ledge in an instant and launching himself off. He landed on the roof, the vehicle’s windows blown out, a loud report of breaking glass created, the roof bent in and crumpled. He steadied himself, jumped i= nto the road, and ran towards the park.

Kobus had put an ear to the door when Drake had leapt, now hearing the muffled sounds= of men shouting as they moved away. Grabbing the bags, he opened the door with the chain on, checking the corridor quickly before releasing the chain. He ran along the corridor, down the back stairs and out of the rear, one block over before circling around at a fast walk. Pausing, on a corner of the street t= hat the hotel fronted, he could now see several men stood around a car, a man b= eing dragged clear. Crossing over, he skirted around a block, and to the rear of= the park. Stood there, scanning the trees and bushes, Drake dropped from above, startling Kobus.

‘Did I do well?’ Drake keenly enquired.

Kobus caught his breath. ‘You did. Are you hurt?’

‘No, I am not hurt,’ Drake said. ‘Thank you for enquiring as to my health.’

‘Thank you for enquiring as to my healt= h?’ Kobus repeated as they walked off.

‘It is not correct?’

‘It’s correct, but you can use fewer words.’

They waited in a second park till dark, and reclaimed the BMW = from where it had been left, fortunately a block away from the hotel and not in their = own hotel’s car park. The damaged car had now been removed, two uniformed police officers positioned either side of the hotel’s entrance.

As they drove south, Kobus’s mobile went. ‘Yeah?’

‘It’s me,’ Riggs began. ‘Listen, your prints just went through the sy= stem in Sophia.’

‘They made me, again, and they have the cops in their pockets.’

‘Yeah, well your prints have you down as being dead for six years, and a Russian gangster at that.’

‘They will be confused.’

‘Where are you?’

‘Driving back towards Athens.’

‘Turn around.’

‘Turn around?’

‘We got some intel, and your dead friends are linked to something big, al Qa’eda big.’

‘That lot, linked to al Qa’eda?’

‘Trying to buy an advanced detonation system.’

‘To detonate what?’

‘Multiple devices, somehow,’ Riggs reported. ‘If you have any leads, no matter how small, follow them up. You have two days before the boys from ab= ove send in a team.’

‘Great.’ Kobus took a moment. ‘OK, leave it with me. Over and out.’ He c= ut the call.

‘You are concerned,’ Drake said as Kobus turned the car around.

‘The men you killed, their friends are trying to buy weapons still, and my people worry about it.’

‘We must find them?’

‘We must find them,’ Kobus agreed.

‘They have a place to sleep and to meet, above a club for ladies of the night.= 217;

Kobus turned his head and stared at Drake as he relayed the information. ‘Y= ou read their minds,’ he realised. ‘You know where it is?’

‘The club has the name of wild fowl.’

‘Duck, swan?’

‘Something of that name.’

Kobus pulled up near a taxi rank and got out. Approaching a cab, he handed the dr= iver a twenty Euro note through the open window. ‘I’m looking for a club, for ladies, name like a duck or a bird.’

‘Duck? You mean Ockotan?’ came back, heavily accented.

‘Yes, where is it?’

‘In centre, next to cinema.’

‘Thanks.’

Back in the BMW, Kobus said, ‘I know where it is. So later, you, young man, will have some money, and I’ll need you to lay down out of wedlock wi= th many ladies.’

‘Yes?’ Drake asked with a huge grin.

‘Yes. Ask them questions, read their minds, and sit near men and read their minds. Drink beer.’

‘I shall work hard at this endeavour,’ Drake said with a straight face.<= span style=3D'mso-tab-count:1'>

Kobus shot him a look, Drake avoiding eye contact.

As they drove, Drake pointed at a sign for the local district council, a coat = of arms. ‘This shield on a pole, it is to say whose land this is?’=

‘Shield on a ... pole?’ Kobus repeated. ‘Ah, the sign. No, it’s t= he local council.’ Drake waited. ‘A group of men who rule this area.’

‘The King’s men.’

‘No, there’s no king anymore.’

‘No king?’

Kobus took a moment as he gathered his thoughts. ‘Every four years, all the people decide who they want to be leader and king.’

Drake frowned heavily. ‘The people ... decide on who will be king? Serfs and peasants have a say in the running of the land?’

Kobus smiled. ‘They do, yes.’

‘And women?’

Kobus lifted his eyebrows and nodded.

‘And after each four years on the throne … a new king is chosen?’ Dr= ake puzzled.

Kobus nodded. ‘Yep.’

‘And does it not lead to chaos?’

‘That, my friend, is the subject of many newspaper inches and much debate.’<= /span>

‘It would seem like the ebb and flow of the tide,’ Drake puzzled.<= /p>

‘Er ... yep, pretty much. The next king undoes what the last king did, and we g= et nowhere. It’s called democracy.’

At 9pm, Drake entered the club, now dressed in his jeans and j= umper, four hundred Euros in his pocket. The large doorman looked him over, getting back a pleasant smile. At the bar, Drake sat and looked a bit lost, a lady = soon approaching, a few words exchanged in Bulgarian, a price fixed, money count= ed out slowly and handed over, being handed on to the barman.

Fifteen minutes later Drake returned, trying to hide a silly smile, the lady taking= a seat again. He sat at the bar, close to four large men, his back to them. ‘A tankard of your finest ale, innkeeper.’ As an afterthought, = Drake said, ‘Please.’

A small beer was placed down. ‘Seven Euros.’

Drake scanned the numbers on the notes, and then the few coins he carried. ‘= ;Is there a seven Euro coin?’

‘What?’ the barman puzzled. ‘Give me the ten, I give you change.’

‘Ah.’ Drake handed over the ten Euro note, coins returned, and keenly examined. &= #8216;These are nice and shiny,’ he commended. ‘Thank you indeed.’

The barman shot him a quizzical look.

As Drake sat drinking, the men behind him chatted quietly about many things. W= ith his drink finished, a different lady thought she might try her luck, another price agreed. He headed off again, being curiously observed by the first ho= oker, an indignant look offered.

Fifteen minutes later he returned, alone, another beer ordered with a cheery smile.= The hooker returned five minutes later, complaining ‘a long time cumming’ to the other girls.

Drake keenly resumed his task, that of reading the minds of the bored men sat around the bar. With his beer downed, Drake went to stand, but halted, a hand on his stomach. He burped loud enough for everyone in the club to hear. ‘Sorry,’ he sheepishly offered.

‘Oh, fuck me,’ the barman complained, swiping a dishcloth around at the sm= ell created. A punter moved away, and to another stool.

Tapping his chest with a fist, Drake approached a third girl, a price agreed, the r= est of the girls in the room – as well as the men – now wondering a= bout the insatiable stud in their midst, the young man now on his third girl.

Twenty minutes later he returned, again a silly smile fixed to his face, all of the men now watching him. He ordered another beer, the barman keeping his dista= nce as he placed it down. With the beer downed, Drake felt unwell, and stood, holding his stomach. The pain grew, his features contorted, people noticing, everyone now focused on him.

Drake bent double, but forced himself upright, a huge belch issued, like a randy Walrus sounding his intentions. But in that same instant Drake passed wind,= a full six seconds worth, a hand on the bar stool to steady himself.

Kobus was sat in the car with the window down, smoking and che= cking his watch, wondering if this had been a good idea; the kid had been gone al= most an hour. He had a view of the club’s entrance, and now saw two men run out, both men dropping to their knees. He sat upright in the car and flicked out the cigarette, starting the engine.

As he observed, another three men staggered out, all appearing unwell, two of them vomiting on the pavement, a girl in a nightdress tumbling out, soon followe= d by two other hookers rushing out. A chair went through a window.

‘Shit,’ Kobus let out, pulling the car around and getting ready.

Drake walked calmly out, past the people kneeling on the pavement with a glance b= ack at them, and through parked cars towards Kobus. Sensing, and then seeing Ko= bus in the BMW, Drake jogged across to the car and got in.

‘I think I should avoid this establishment in future,’ Drake said as they drove off.

‘What the hell did you do?’ Kobus puzzled, staring at the broken windows as they passed the club.

‘I did as you asked, and I gained information as you asked.’

‘Did you start a fight? Let the demon out?’

‘No.’

‘Well?’ Kobus pressed after a moment’s silence.

‘I ... drank the beer, as you suggested, but ... it caused a great pain in my insides.’

‘Can you drink beer?’ Kobus puzzled. ‘Did you before?’<= /p>

‘Yes, I drank mead and made merry, and ... also gave forth wind from ... below ..= . an unpleasant odour, but not like this.’

Kobus stopped at the lights, turned his head, and stared wide-eyed at Drake. ‘You just evacuated a nightclub ... because you farted?’=

‘It was ... a most disagreeable odour.’ He glanced at Kobus from under his eyebrows. ‘Many people ... they fell to the ground, sick at the mouth, many asleep.’

Kobus stared back, his mouth opening. He pointed a finger at Drake’s face. ‘If you need to do that in this car, or near me, you fucking warn me first!’

‘I will endeavour to do so, yes.’

They drove off.

Kobus shook his head. ‘First you almost kill a hooker from a blowjob, now y= ou destroy a club with a fart. Jesus, boy, you’re dangerous enough witho= ut the damn demon.’

‘I did learn of things,’ Drake offered.

‘I should hope so after all that.’

‘There is a man named Ramius, he will meet with a Cossack tomorrow at the coast, a= nd buy something of value – but wanted by the magistrate – and sel= l to a Moor from the place you fought the war.’

‘Iraq?’

‘Yes.’

‘Shit...’

‘Is that information good?’

‘It’s very good - in that we know, not so good ... in that they probably plan on killing a great many people.’

‘If we stop them, and save many, then we can count that many at the ends of our lives.’

‘I should think so. But do me a favour: when you get to the Pearly Gates and s= tand before St. Peter, tell him about what just happened in that club – th= ey love stiff like that in heaven. Don’t leave out any detail.’

An hour later, and booked into yet another two-star hotel, the= phone went.

‘Yeah?’ Kobus answered.

‘You still in Sophia?’ Riggs asked.

‘Yes, boss, hard at it.’

‘Strange story on the wire, some nightclub hit with a chemical weapon.’=

Kobus slid his gaze across to Drake. ‘Chemical ... weapon?’

‘Thirty people in hospital, firemen in respirators.’

‘Haven’t seen it on the news yet,’ Kobus said, Drake now looking away and pretending to concentrate on the TV. ‘But we got a lead. Guy name of Ramius, deal going down on the coast tomorrow with a Russian seller, and it sounds like the detonators. And get this, the buyer is Iraqi.’=

‘Iraqi? Shit, they’ll be all over this in Langley. But I want some hard evide= nce before I rattle anyone’s cage.’

‘Run this Ramius fella through the computer, see what hardware he could get hold= of, and get back to me.’

‘Are you heading down to the coast?’ Riggs asked.

‘At dawn, deal is for 4pm apparently.’

‘You need some back-up on this?’

‘No, I have my new partner in crime doing a good job.’

‘He’s panning out?’ Riggs asked.

‘Where’d you think we got the intel?’

‘You’re shitting me? And you trust this guy?’

‘Run the name, and see what you get. Over and out.’

Ten minutes later, Riggs was back on. ‘Kobus?’

‘Yeah?’

‘That’s the right name, and it’s flagged; I’ve already had a call from = upon high. When I said he was selling to Iraqi’s you could hear the shouts= from Langley without a phone.’

‘Does that mean I’ll get some company?’

‘I ... may have mentioned that we don’t know about the buy location.R= 17;

‘Meaning ... that you’d like me to get you something solid, solid enough to he= lp your career along.’

‘Hey, you offered, so go make me proud. I’m looking forwards to that office.’

Lowering the phone, Kobus eased off the bed. ‘You did well.’

‘Yes?’ Drake keenly enquired with a boyish smile.

‘Yes, the name was correct. Anyway, did you get to lay down out of wedlock at the club.’

‘I did, three times.’

‘Three!’

‘Three, yes.’

Kobus sat opposite. ‘Us mere mortals couldn’t do it three times in an hour.’ He waited.

‘The ... demon assisted.’

‘And did the demon ... enjoy himself, by any chance?’

Drake lowered his head and nodded. ‘He did.’

‘There are many pleasures in this new world that don’t involve killing people and drinking their blood.’

‘It is indeed a wondrous place,’ Drake agreed.

‘You watch TV, and I’ll catch a few hours before we leave.’ Kobus lay down. ‘And Drake, if you need to release some air, do it in the damn = corridor.’

‘May I ask a question?’

‘Sure.’

‘The images on the magic box, they are not ... true images sometimes.’

‘They’re computer generated.’ Drake waited, Kobus explaining, ‘They̵= 7;re magic, and not real.’

‘A drink cannot make someone fly.’

Kobus shook his head.

‘Great cities in the land of the Chinese are not attacked regularly by a giant creature that breathes fire.’

Kobus resisted a smile, and shook his head.

‘Animals have not been trained to speak.’

Smiling, Kobus shook his head.

‘Men still battle over Jerusalem, as they did in my time.’

Kobus stopped smiling. ‘Men still battle over Jerusalem, yes, and five hund= red years from now they’ll still be battling over it.’

Family trouble

An hour later, Drake turned Kobus onto his side, and returned = to the TV. But as he sat there he slowly turned his head, moving it like a bird of prey focusing on a distant mouse. He stood and walked to the door, then sho= ok it off. Sitting back down, he turned his head again, now to the window, the= thick curtains drawn tight. Stood in front of the curtains, he closed his eyes and opened his mind.

Kobus woke with a jolt at the sound of breaking glass, the crack of a high-powered round just a fuzzy memory, not sure now of what he had heard. He sat up and= let his legs down, seeing Drake on his back, a hole in his white t-shirt, a hin= t of blood. The demon slowly sat up, an arm raised, an accusing finger pointed at the curtains.

‘Two men, in a room, a long fire stick. They see clear in the dark.’

Kobus slammed his back to the wall. ‘A rifle with a thermal sight. Smart for locals.’

The demon pointed at the bedside table. ‘This ... magic to talk with the magistrate. They ... see it through the dark.’

‘They’re tracking my mobile,’ Kobus realised. ‘Shit...’

‘People gather below, the men leave.’

Kobus leapt over the bed, grabbed his jacket and their bags, and knocked the light off. ‘Are you OK?’ he whispered. ‘Can you move?’

‘I can walk, yes.’

‘Anyone near?’ Kobus asked as he opened the door.

‘No,’ the demon responded as he drew level.

Kobus opened the door, took a peek both ways, and ran down the corridor, away fro= m the lift and stairs, the demon close behind. At the base of the stairs, Kobus turned to find Drake. ‘You OK, buddy?’

‘It was painful, a great jolt. But I am OK. These men, they came from the colon= ies of Rachel and Ross.’

Kobus halted and froze, taking a moment. ‘They were Americans? Armed with a rifle fitted with a thermal sight?’

Drake nodded.

‘We need to find them ... before th= ey find us.’

‘They move quickly to a carriage, some distance.’

Kobus took out his mobile phone, hesitated, and then pocketed it. ‘If they’re tracking me, then they can come and damn well find me.’= He led Drake out of the rear of the hotel, checking the street carefully, and = down the road to the car, the vehicle thoughtfully parked well away from their c= heap hotel - and in the car park of a second cheap hotel.

Kobus halted ten yards away from the car, and pointed the key-fob towards the BMW, unlocking it. He waited a further two seconds. Running to it, he placed the bags on the rear seat, but stopped to check the wheel arches and the unders= ide of the car.

Sat in the driver’s seat, Kobus hesitated as he put the key in the ignition.=

‘You are uncertain of the carriage,’ Drake noted.

‘They may have put a bomb on it.’ Kobus heaved a breath. ‘Fuck it.= 217; He started the car and revved it.

‘A bomb? Gunpowder, like a cannon ball.’

‘Yes,’ Kobus confirmed as he drove off.

He headed straight out of Sophia and onto a highway, soon reaching a hundred m= iles an hour, the roads quiet at this hour. At the first service station he pull= ed in, and parked in a dark corner next to a cafe, just two patrons sat eating within.

‘They will find us ... because of the magic to talk with the magistrate,’ D= rake stated.

‘Could you sense their approach, if we wait here?’

‘I can.’

Kobus eased back, folded his arms, and closed his eyes. After a moment, and with = his eyes still closed, he said, ‘You did well back there, you saved me; t= hat bullet was meant for me. Question is: why?’

‘The magistrate is not happy with you?’

Kobus opened his eyes. ‘The magistrate ... has many lords, and many men.= 217; After a moment, he lifted his mobile, and called Riggs.

‘Kobus?’

‘Yeah, got a problem. Two American gentlemen, with a high power rifle fitted with a thermal sight, just took a shot at me.’

‘What?’ Riggs rasped.

‘They’re tracking me via my phone, a number known to very few, old friend. Is there = ... something you’re not telling me?’

‘They’re not Company,’ Riggs scoffed. ‘What the hell are you saying?R= 17;

‘I’m saying ... that the local cops probably can’t track a mobile, that th= ey don’t have this fucking number, and they’d not use American mercenaries with thermal sights. Would you not agree, arsehole?’

‘Well ... yeah, seems like a long shot. Are you hurt?’

‘No, they missed by an inch, the shot taken through windows with the curtains closed. Do me a favour, and see if there’s a team in the area –= and if I’ve strayed into something I shouldn’t have.’<= /p>

‘Meaning what?’

‘Meaning ... I have no idea, but maybe I’ve stepped on someone’s toes.’

‘Kobus, I sent you there - it’s in the system, my name as handler. If there w= as an issue ... they’d come talk to me, or just order you off. Shooting = you would attract a lot of interest, questions asked, so let’s not write = an airport novel over this.’

‘I’m going to have a chat with the nice gentlemen, and then ... maybe we’ll have some answers.’

‘Be real careful, and pull out as soon as you can.’

‘Are you ordering me off this case?’ Kobus pressed.

‘No, but ... I’d like to know who the fuck they were as well.’

‘Sleep with a pistol under your pillow, old friend.’

‘Always, buddy, always.’

Riggs dialled Langley.

‘14-10.’

‘It’s Riggs, Amsterdam. There’s been an incident in Sophia, Bulgaria. One o= f my team was just shot at by two Americans armed with a rifle fitted with a the= rmal sight, and he’s sure they’re tracking his mobile. I want a check made of the area.’

‘We’ll get right back to you if we find anything,’ 14-10 offered with a plea= sant and affirmative tone. ‘Good night.’

The young man answering the phone turned to a second man sat in the same cubicl= e, a silver-haired man with a waxy stone complexion. The young man’s pleas= ant expression slipped. ‘They missed Kobus, sir, who somehow guessed about his mobile being tracked. But that’s not the most interesting aspect = of the call.’ He paused for effect. ‘Kobus reported the shooters as being two Americans.’

The silver-haired man stared dispassionately back for a moment, before slowly adopting a frown. ‘How could he know? They fired from across a road, = not seen, no evidence left.’

‘Mister Russell - sir, there’s only one way Kobus could have got himself out = of that hotel and known the detail= , and that’s if the two assets employed are lying, and working with Kobus a= nd Riggs. They reported a clean kill, but the hotel reported no bodies to the police, no blood.’

‘No blood? A chest shot with a sniper rifle?’ Russell eased back, and tur= ned his head to a wall calendar, a pleasant Canadian wilderness displayed. ‘Remove both assets, check their phone logs.’

Kobus lowered his phone, and held it, gently tapping the steer= ing wheel with it.

Drake turned his head. ‘You suspect the magistrate wishes you dead.’<= /span>

‘Not the magistrate, a ... family member with unwarranted designs on the throne.’

‘They take the king’s schilling, but work false deeds.’ Drake pointed across the car park, at a car approaching. ‘It is the two men from America-land. They seek us.’

They observed as the car in question slowed beyond the petrol pumps and finally = halted, its lights turned off. No one got out of the car. A minute later the car dr= ove slowly around to the opposite side of the cafe.

Kobus looked over his shoulder. ‘C’mon.’ Out of the car, he add= ed, ‘I need them alive, but hurt, pistols removed.’ He led Drake on= at a jog, around to the rear of the café, and into the dark. Checking t= he immediate area, he drew his pistol and ducked behind tall metal bins, no illumination coming from the rear of the cafe – just a god awful smel= l coming from the bins. He pointed to nearby bushes, ‘Hide there, jump on them when ready - if they come this way.’

‘They come this way,’ Drake confirmed as he dashed into the dark bushes.

Kobus checked his pistol and knelt, listening out for footsteps. Those footsteps = soon came, barely discernible, the men moving cautiously.

‘Around the corner,’ came a whisper through the dark, an east coast American accent, soon followed by a thud and muffled groans.

‘Come forwards,’ someone whispered.

Kobus burst out, finding two men face down, both dazed, and it was the demon knelt over them. It lifted the hand-held scanner that the men had been using, his face adopting a green tinge. Kobus grabbed the first man, the demon lifting= the second man without prompting, the duo soon dragging the would-be assassins through the dark and to the edge of a field, dumping them down on a patch of hard dry soil, the ground studded with the short remnants of a harvested cr= op.

Patting down the men, Kobus removed their pistols, throwing them away into the dark. Wallets were removed and pocketed. Turning one of the men over, Kobus slapp= ed the man’s face a few times, before presenting the man’s outstretched arm to the demon. ‘Snack on his hand.’

A bite of sharp teeth into the flesh of the hand elicited a loud cry.

‘Who are you?’ Kobus asked. No answer came back. He turned his head to the demon. ‘Bite off a finger.’

As the flesh of the finger was torn away, a growl issued, the man screamed.=

‘Who ... are you, and why are you trying to kill me?’ Kobus pressed, a kne= e on the man’s thigh preventing the man from moving.

Again, the man resisted.

‘Bite the thumb off,’ Kobus coldly ordered, not needing to prompt the demon= , a loud cry released as the demon tore the flesh with his teeth, the thumb com= ing away.

‘Listen up, fella: I’m going to let him eat all of your fingers and toes, fin= ally your cock. And then ... then I’ll let him keep going.’

The demon tore off another finger without prompting, causing a sharp cry.

‘The Company sent us,’ the man forced out in a strained whisper.

Kobus lifted his head, and stared across at at distant house with its lights on, taking a moment. ‘And would they, by any chance, have told you ... why?’

‘No,’ the man strained to get out.

‘Any other assets in the area?’

‘No,’ was cried out.

Kobus lowered his gaze to the dark outline of the man. ‘Are you on the book= s?

‘No,’ came out as another finger went, a horrible crunching noise created.=

‘Your handler?’

‘We get our orders ... from our boss, not The Company,’ the man cried out. ‘You know ... how it works, you bastard.’

Kobus stood. ‘Remove both thumbs of both men, but leave them alive. Quickly= .’ He turned and headed back as growls and screams penetrated the dark night.<= /span>

Drake joined Kobus in the car a minute later. He sat, and waited, facing a pensive Kobus.

Kobus lifted his phone and called Riggs. ‘You awake?’

‘Yeah, and I have a call in to find out what the hell’s going on.’

‘I caught up with the two shooters.’

‘You did?’ Riggs asked, clearly surprised. ‘Already? What happened?&= #8217;

‘I made them talk. They’re a private firm, hired by the agency to track = me and ... to kill me. I have their IDs.’

‘Jesus,’ Riggs let out. Now sounding angered, he said, ‘Give me a name.’=

Kobus lifted a wallet, and read out a name and a drivers license number. When don= e, he hung up, tossing the wallets out of the car. Starting the car, he pulled forwards and halted, a final look at his mobile before he tossed it away. T= hey pulled off, and got back onto the highway, heading east for the coast.

‘You feel for the magistrate ... like a son betrayed by his father,’ Drake noted, no energy in his voice.

‘Not a bad analogy,’ Kobus said with a sigh. ‘And now ... now we nee= d to find the bad men and stop them, whilst looking over our shoulders for other= bad men – those trying to stop us from stopping the first group of bad me= n.’

‘The more bad men we fight, the greater the tally,’ Drake enthused. ‘= ;A difficult task ... is a worthy task.’

Kobus glanced at him as they drove, and forced a weak smile. ‘If you look a= t it that way, then yes – it probably is.’

They drove through the night, east, always east.

Russell stood at a window, peering through the blinds, his han= ds clasped behind his back. A man approached, heard but unseen.

‘Sir, the two assets we sent after Kobus, they were intercepted by Kobus himself = and unknown others, mutilated, made to talk.’

Russell turned his head. ‘Mutilated?’

‘Fingers torn off.’

Russell turned back to window. ‘Unusual. Are they dead?’

‘No, they’re both alive, sir, and they’ve definitely identified Kobu= s as being responsible.’

‘He left them alive.’ Russell nodded gently. ‘A ... message to us?&= #8217;

‘Sir, if Kobus mutilated the men, then they couldn’t have been working toge= ther as we believed.’

‘No, there’s someone else whispering in his ear, and not Riggs.’

‘Riggs doesn’t seem to be in the loop, sir.’

‘Have our people look for Kobus at the marina.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The smell of sun tan lotion=

At noon, Kobus and Drake reached the coast, Drake sat staring = out of the window as normal, a curious study of anything and everything he noticed along the road.

Kobus idly enquired. ‘Does the demon have a name?’

Drake turned, and took a moment. ‘His name is Marcus, I heard it in his dreams.’

‘His dreams?’

Drake nodded. ‘He has few memories, but some. He was, once, a man.’

‘I would have figured that. Do you know anything more about him?’=

‘Many images.’

‘Of hell?’

‘No, of his time here. He lived in a village near the sea, with a wife and daughters. I see little more than images.’

‘After sleeping for a few hundred years, I would have thought that you would have dreamt of more.’

Drake took a moment. ‘We ... dreamt of much, but not of places and people w= e had seen with our own eyes, we dreamt of strange images.’

‘I guess dreams are abstract,’ Kobus idly noted. ‘Does he believe = in heaven and hell?’

‘No.’

‘No? He’s a fucking demon! How does he explain what he is to himself?̵= 7;

‘He has no knowledge of heaven and hell, and serves no master. He ... knows only hunger and anger.’

‘Could he be keeping things from you?’ Kobus pressed.

‘He kept many things from me, for a great many years, but all became clear.R= 17;

‘Apart from where he came from - and how he became what he is. And you don’t know how he got inside you?’

Drake stared at the dashboard for several seconds. ‘I met a man on the road= , an old man, Marcus. He killed me with a sword, and I awoke to know two minds.’

Kobus slowly blew out. ‘Well, it’s a long way from the vampire stories they = tell here. Guess that it lost a lot in translation over the years, just like the bible.’ He turned his head. ‘Have you read the bible?’

‘The holy book was only to be read by the men of the cloth. I read the mind of o= ne before ... before we killed him, and the words were laid down in Latin so t= hat only those of the cloth could read them, a great secret.’

‘To stop the common man from drawing his own conclusions,’ Kobus noted, placing a cigarette on his lip. Mumbling a little, he continued, ‘It = was deliberately mysterious – and they meant it to be so, and heavily edi= ted to be hard to read, and they re= moved certain things. One Pope removed all favourable references to women.’=

‘The men of the cloth, they did not believe in the book, and lay down with women= for coin.’

Kobus lit up. ‘Sounds just like the men of the cloth from this time, except= they like small boys. It is ... a = job, not a calling.’ As an afterthought, he offered Drake a cigarette.

‘I have tasted the tobacco, with the men in the cave.’ He made a face. ‘I did not desire it.’

Kobus held up his lit cigarette. ‘Does it bother you if I smoke?’

‘No,’ Drake replied with a smile. ‘You are most con-sid-e-rate.’ Faci= ng forwards, he added, ‘The fragrance is pleasant when first happened upon.’

Half an hour later they stopped for lunch at a service station, choosing to sit outside on wooden benches as the day warmed up, Drake happy with the strong summer sun on his skin. Kobus munched on a burger, a can of Sprite to wash = it down, Drake chewing on gum.

‘I don’t feel that different,’ Kobus noted, staring out of focus.<= /span>

‘Different?’

Kobus ran a hand across the wooden bench they sat at, someone’s initials ca= rved into it. ‘Knowing that demons actually exist; I figured I would change more. I’m not sure what Marcus is, or where he came from, and that le= aves a doubt. I had hoped to look God in the face and shout a little.’

Drake glanced across, taking his time to think through his response. ‘I had believed that God was punishing me for sinning, but ... a great many men do more sin, and yet have no demon. And here, in this place, my sins are not sins.’

Kobus swiped away a fly. ‘The demon took you because you happened along that road, not because you sinned,’ he commented before sinking his teeth = into the burger.

‘You seek the water to be round when the bucket is removed.’

Kobus adopted a slight frown as he chewed. ‘What?’

‘Water in the bucket takes the shape of the bucket, but without the bucket the wat= er takes a new shape. So they said in my time.’

Kobus considered the analogy, watching kids running around. ‘The water ... = is defined by the object that holds it.’ He nodded. ‘We call it ro= und because the bucket is round, and we label human nature as good and evil. Go= od and evil is only seen - and measured – in the context of people. No people, no evil.’ He focused on Drake. ‘They may have been righ= t in your time; we observe and measure something that’s only there because= we make it there – and chose to measure it. And some people make a career out of studying it.’

‘They said – evil is as evil does.’

‘The act is evil, not the person,’ Kobus noted, making a face. ‘And = that act comes from within, from the primitive monster in us all, and without conscious thought. And if it’s there in us all it’s not evil - it’s just part of nature and evolution. And religion – thatR= 17;s the battle between the inner self and the rules of the game.’<= /p>

‘Rules of the game?’ Drake puzzled.

Kobus held his hands wide, a gesture at those people around them. ‘This: so= ciety, democracy. It has rules, many rules in order to function, and most of those rules came from the Ten Commandments; don’t kill, don’t lie, don’t steal - the basis of a civilised society. But does that society still need religion?’ Kobus sipped his sprite.

‘In my time, few knelt in church. The nobility and learn-ed men knelt in church, sometimes a gathering in a field for the poor of the village.’ Drake stared across the car park. ‘When the rich man died, many priests and many people walked behind the carriage. When a poor man died, he was buried quickly, a few short words from the priest.’

‘Hypocrisy,’ Kobus let out. ‘Typical bloody church.’

‘You knelt in church?’

Kobus took a moment. ‘I grew up in Durban, South Africa, a beautiful place = in the coast. We went to church twice a week, and I attended what they called Sunday School on a Sunday afternoon, Saturday sometimes, two evenings of the week. I was seven years old when my father moved to Britain, a difficult ti= me at first. But I liked London, lots to see and do.

‘As a family we went to church till I was maybe twelve or thirteen, then just seemed to stop, only going for special occasions. In Britain, well – = in most places, people only go to church to be married, for christenings, and funerals.’

‘I did not kneel in church often, because I did not have coin for the collection.’

Kobus slowly nodded to himself, thinking about many things.

Approaching the car, Drake said, ‘Shall I not study the control of the carriage?’

Kobus halted after unlocking the car. He took a moment, staring across the car’s roof at Drake. Making a face, he said, ‘Come around this side.’

Drake keenly came around, accepting the keys. Kobus jumped into the passenger sea= t, Drake placing the key in the ignition. ‘Letter N,’ he said, pointing at the automatic gear handle. ‘Turn of key.’ The engine started. ‘Letter D. Look forwards, foot down.’

The car shot forwards, Drake soon braking. Kobus had been forced back into his seat, and now lurched forwards, a steadying hand on the dashboard.

‘Easy,’ Kobus encouraged. ‘Small movements.’

Drake started again, a gentle press of the pedal, soon going around in a circle, around the car park’s limits.

Kobus pointed. ‘There, stop in that small space, between the lines.’<= /span>

Drake manoeuvred as requested – not crossing his arms as he turned the whee= l, easing to a halt before mounting a curb.

‘Not bad,’ Kobus offered. ‘Reverse into the space behind.’

‘Letter R for going backwards,’ Drake stated as he selected the right setting, looking over his shoulder as he manoeuvred back, braking after a gentle nud= ge of another car. ‘I shall master it,’ he insisted.

‘Not bad for a first time,’ Kobus said as he opened the door and stepped o= ut. At Drake’s side he opened the driver’s door.

‘It was a very short lesson,’ Drake nudged as he emerged.

‘I have a job to do, and you can have lessons when we have the time.’

Back on the road, they made good time to Varna, driving to a p= oint on the coast just north of Varna town. As they drove, Drake keenly studied = the map he had been given, now tasked with navigation based on those place name= s he remembered, names given up in thought by the men in the club. Drake’s navigation was not too bad considering that he had never visited the place – or ever seen a roadmap before, and they soon found an area that Dra= ke believed to the right place. Thirty minutes of driving around led to a hote= l, Drake recognising the image of it – as well as its name. They pulled = up opposite the hotel, the street sloping gently down towards the sea, many tourists now out and about on this hot day.

Kobus leant across Drake and peered up at the hotel. ‘I could get a room, b= ut I think they know what I look like. I have a fake passport, but I don’t know if they have the name.’

‘I can go inside,’ Drake volunteered.

Kobus took a moment, studying the hotel. ‘It looks like a tourist hotel, and too big to be a brothel or private club. We’ll chance it. But you stay here; they know your face from that club.’ Kobus made a face towards Drake. ‘Those still conscious.’

He retrieved his bags from the back seat, and stepped across to the hotel. In a busy reception, he enquired in English about rooms. They had a single room, yes, a British passport shown, payment made for three days, full board. Kob= us found the room on the fourth floor, and found it to be basic; painted concr= ete walls and bland water colours, bedding with cigarette burns.

With his bags dumped down, he walked down the back stairs to the ground floor, finding a side door wedged open. Through it he found the edge of the pool, screaming kids running around, adults sunning themselves. Walking around to= the front of the hotel, he retrieved Drake, locking the car.

‘You mean to leave the carriage here,’ Drake noted as they walked back tow= ards the hotel. ‘Something about a ... small smelly fish.’

Kobus smiled at the analogy. ‘Bait,’ he carefully mouthed. ‘If = they have its license number, it’ll attract them to us.’

‘You desire the confrontation.’

‘I do,’ Kobus noted as they slipped in through the open side-door, and up the back stairs. In the room, he pointed Drake towards a seat. ‘Sit d= own, close your eyes, and see if you can sense anyone.’

Drake did as asked, Kobus lighting up before sitting on a bed, his back against t= he headboard. After five minutes, Drake said, ‘There are a great many mi= nds here, and children. Nothing is clear.’

‘Well, keep at it,’ Kobus sighed. ‘Something may turn up.’

Drake stepped to the window, and peered down. When he struggled with the balcony door’s lock, Kobus opened it. They both stood on the balcony, the roa= r of kids splashing around the pool rising up to them.

‘There are many undressed people here,’ Drake noted.

‘It’s an acceptable custom to wear such small clothes for swimming, and sunning yourself.’

‘Should we ... not purchase such clothing?’ Drake asked, fixed on the ladies = in bikinis.

Kobus hid a smile. ‘We’re on the clock, young man. C’mon, we’ll go for a walk, see if anyone takes an interest in us.’

At the base of the back stairs they passed two teenage girls in bikinis coming up, Drake smiling politely at them, and getting a coy smile back. At the edge of the area of mown grass Kobus hesitated, but then turned towards the pool, looking a bit odd in his dark suit. He led Drake around the edge of the noi= sy pool and to a poolside bar, cold drinks ordered. Grabbing a table, they sat= in the shade, Drake focused on the boisterous kids splashing around the water.=

‘Like the river at the height of summer,’ Drake noted. ‘When I was a = boy, I liked to swim in the river, and to jump off a tall rock.’ A shapely woman in a bikini, walking past, caused him to turn his head and to follow = her progress.

‘Drake, in this time, you shouldn’t watch women so obviously; they can be offended by it. Not to mention their husbands.’

Drake nodded. Pointing at a man, he said, ‘I have noticed the glass eyes wo= rn by many.’ He waited.

‘Many people have bad eyesight, and the glass helps. Also, when the sun is bright, the dark glass helps. We’ll buy some today; it’ll help to disgu= ise us. And then you can watch girls in bikinis without causing offence.’

‘Indeed yes.’ He sipped his drink, and studied the glass. ‘I like this taste.’

‘Sprite.’

‘Sprite,’ Drake repeated.

‘But if you drink a lot it’ll cause wind, like beer.’

‘I ... shall partake in moderation.’

‘Drink all you like, just stand away from me when you need to make wind.’

They sat studying the pool scene for twenty minutes, Drake not detecting anything before they decided to wander. Around the front of the hotel, Kobus bought cheap plastic sunglasses, placing a pair on Drake.

‘Comfortable?’

‘They do not cause pain.’ Drake lifted the sunglasses and took in the view = with normal vision, lowered them, and lifted them again, puzzling the difference= .

Kobus placed on his own sunglasses, and led Drake down the street towards the bea= ch, the crowds thick.

On the promenade, Drake took in the scene. ‘So many people, and ... all with good thoughts.’

‘They’re on holiday with their families,’ Kobus explained. ‘Should hope they’re bloody happy.’

‘Two men are observing us, from ... Seetle?’ Drake said without turning.

‘Seattle?’

‘Yes, and one from ... Bos-o-ton.’

‘Boston. They armed?’

‘Pistols. And they know of ... a Beemer. What is a Beemer?’

Kobus led Drake along the promenade, a slow amble of a pace, the crowds thick and= the day hot. ‘BMW is called a Beemer; the car.’

‘Beemer,’ Drake repeated. ‘Two other men are at the hotel, these men think of i= t.’

Noticing a girl in a bikini, a well-endowed young lady, Drake came to a dead stop.

Noticing, Kobus halted. ‘You like big boobs as well, eh.’

‘I must admit to be most aroused by this display.’

Without smiling, his thoughts on the men behind him, Kobus said, ‘That’s OK, you’re supposed to be.’

Noticing a small park, they ducked into it, quickening their pace, soon edging aroun= d a large dried bush that looked like it needed a little water, or any water, a= nd out of a side gate at the jog, ducking into a cafe.

Kobus walked quickly through the café and towards the toilets, past the toilets w= ith a glance back, and out into the garden, stepping through an open gate to a = lane. He ran to the left, down the lane with Drake close behind, and turned right= at the end, as if to double back towards the promenade. He found a narrow stre= et, cars packed with two wheels on the pavement, overhanging trees offering ple= nty of shade, and no one about.

‘Do you sense them?’ Kobus asked Drake, some urgency in his voice.=

Drake lifted an arm, towards the street of the cafe. ‘They come around this way, and will turn to this road.’

‘Find a tree, monkey boy, and jump on them. I’ll be at the end of this stre= et and distracting them.’

They exchanged nods and turned separate ways. ‘Back on the clock,’ D= rake said as he stepped away.

Little more than twenty seconds later, the two pursuing men walked around the corn= er in light coloured suits, noticing Kobus sixty yards down the street, a hand= on a car door. As Kobus noticed the men – he had been waiting by the car deliberately, he walked slowly off, and back towards the beach, halting beh= ind a camper van. The junk in the back of the camper camp van offered him a par= tial view of the two men as they walked down the narrow street, the men’s images alternating between being brightly lit in the sun, or darkened by sh= ade of a tree.

A blur, and Drake fell on the men. Kobus ran to the opposite side of the road, seeing now the two men on the pavement, Drake twisting a head like it wasn’t even attached to a body. When done, Drake ran along the street= , alternating between light and dark as he progressed. He handed over a wallet as he drew level.

‘Michael and Tom, they were known as.’ He fell into step with Kobus, both men glancing back before they left the street, stepping into a short and narrow alley joining the rear of the promenade. ‘They felt much anger towards you, for what I did to the other men.’

‘Anger ... makes professionals sloppy,’ Kobus commented as they joined the crowds, opening the wallet and scanning it. He kept the driver’s lice= nse and the cash, but casually tossed the wallet into a bin. Pointing Drake tow= ards a bustling beachfront cafe, they stepped casually inside and claimed a vaca= nt table. A girl came over, collecting old glasses and wiping down the table t= op.

‘Sprite. Two,’ Kobus ordered, the girl withdrawing. After a moment of observing the beach, and its oiled-up sunbathers, he idly enquired. ‘Both dead?’

‘Both dead. And I sensed that they moved with some urgency, something important a= fter dark – that they wished you not know of.’ He pointed. ‘Here.’

Kobus looked over his shoulder, at a rock breakwater jutting out into the sea, the masts of yachts beyond. ‘The marina?’

‘Men will meet on a boat, commerce to be had.’

‘That’s ... disappointing.’

‘You are concerned about something,’ Drake said as the two drinks were bro= ught over and placed down. Drake struggled with the twist top, but got it eventually.

Kobus took off his sunglasses, and attempted to peel a very small sticker off the glasses. ‘The commerce ... is something that should be stopped, but it won’t be stopped, it will be ... observed, and allowed to go ahead.’ He placed his sunglasses back on.

‘I do not understand the magistrate in this matter.’

‘They ... wish to wait for a time when greater commerce is transacted, to ... cat= ch a larger fish, and receive greater reward.’

‘I believe I understand,’ Drake offered before sipping his drink, an eye= on the bikini-clad girls at the next table. ‘Is it common for a lady to = have the painted skin of a deck hand?’

‘Deck hand?’ Kobus repeated, a glance at the girls. ‘Ah. Tattoos, we = call them, and I guess in your time it was just sailors that had them. And yes, = it is common these days.’

Leaving the cafe, Kobus approached a payphone, counting out his coins, Drake helpfu= lly handing over Euro coins. Drake keenly observed as Kobus placed the coins in= to the slot, a finger pointed at the digital tally, a long number entered.

To a background of screaming kids, as well as traffic, Kobus said, ‘That you, Riggs?’

‘Yeah, where are you?’

‘Varna.’ He put a hand over his ear.

‘Listen, I got a blank wall about any other operations in your area. That may be tru= e, or it may be a blank wall. And I just got a report from the Bulgarian polic= e: two Americans hospitalised after their fingers had been ripped off. Was that you?’

‘I needed answers.’

‘Was a time when you got answers quietly; I’m surprised at you, Kobus.R= 17;

‘They came to kill me, so forgive my lack of charity,’ Kobus snarled down t= he phone. ‘And I just dispatched another two in the street.’

‘Jesus.’

Kobus raised the drivers license, and read the detail.

Riggs reported, ‘The other two, they’re reported as working in the Kurdish north of Iraq, so the computer’s been altered.’<= /p>

‘As it will have been with this pair, but I got a few sentences out of them. Th= ey’re here to stop me from interfering in the deal; they want it to go ahead.R= 17;

‘Someone a few pay grades higher than me is taking a risk here.’

‘You have friends above, so go chat.’

‘They might just want to catch the buyers later, but that doesn’t explain t= heir interest in you; one word to me and you’d be pulled back. And no fuck= ing word!’

Kobus took in the small colourful business cards of hookers, wedged into the edge= of the plastic display of national dialling codes. ‘It’s your call, boss.’

‘They’re operating outside the rules, and the computer says they’re not even in that country. So fuck ‘em. If I expose this I’ll get some bonus points.’

‘Or you’ll get us both killed.’

Riggs took a moment. ‘You ... they’re already after, but I’d ho= pe that their interest stops at the border. And as for me, what do I do? Prete= nd this never fucking happened? They tried to kill one of my team on a sanctio= ned operation. They ... are in the wrong here.’

‘You hold on to that thought, it might be your last one.’

Riggs sighed loudly. ‘What’ll you do next?’

‘I have a lead on the meeting, so I’ll ... observe the meeting, make not= es with my neat handwriting, and send you a report – like I’m paid= to do.’

‘I’ve seen your handwriting buddy; thank God for email reports!’

Kobus couldn’t resist the smile. ‘I’ll let you know what happen= s. Over and out.’

Hanging up, and joining Drake at the promenade wall, sirens could now be heard.

Drake turned. ‘They know of the dead men.’

Kobus slowly nodded to himself, staring across at the inviting ocean. ‘C’mon= , we have a few men to ... chat to.’

They ambled slowly through the crowds, crossed the road behind the promenade, and returned to the street of their hotel, walking slowly past the hotel on the opposite side of the road. Drake sensed no one near the car. At the top of = the road they crossed over, slowly walking back down, ducking into the side entrance of their hotel, and to the door wedged open by the pool.

Climbing the stairs, Drake halted on the third floor. ‘They have a room here.&= #8217; He pointed.

They exited the stairwell on that floor, and stood staring down the darkened corridor, = dark compared to the bright sunlight outside. Drake pointed to a room facing the street.

‘Kick the door in, close it, and then ... throw both the fuckers down onto the st= reet from the balcony. Check the corridor before leaving, and before entering the room.’

Drake stepped purposefully forwards, Kobus climbing the stairs again. At the room= in question, Drake halted for several seconds. Checking the corridor both ways= , he knocked on the door. When it clicked open he shoved it, knocking the first = man right across the room, Drake moving inside quickly and closing the door. A second= man emerged from the bathroom, lunging towards the beds, where the men’s = holsters were laid out. Drake got there first.

Kobus had walked to his room, but then backtracked to the stai= rwell, a dust-covered sliding window opening to the street below. Thirty seconds later, a naked body flew out and down, impacting the road. It didn’t bounce or roll, Kobus noted, it just seemed to crumple and stay flat, a horrible noise created by the impact. Screams rose up, people rushing towar= ds it, a yellow taxi slowing down.

The second body, also naked, didn’t fly into the road, but landed on a dilapidated fence, skewered through the abdomen and punctured. Screams now filled the air, people rushing about below. A couple coming down the stairs behind Kobus could hear the screams from the open window. Kobus turned, a h= and to his mouth, pretending to be sickened, and pointed towards the window. Cu= rious, the middle-aged couple peered out, soon sickened themselves, but Kobus now = had his reliable witnesses.

Entering his room, he left the door ajar, and took his jacket off, throwing it over = the back of a chair. Removing his holster, he placed it above a ceiling tile, a= nd checked the room, finally checking his pockets and the bags as Drake steppe= d in.

‘Naked?’ Kobus asked, lifting his head to Drake.

‘You thought it when you asked me.’ Drake waited.

‘No big deal, it’ll give the Company something to think about. But the po= lice will want to talk to everyone, and you have no identification, my lad.̵= 7; He glanced at the window. ‘Still, be getting dark in an hour or two. = If the police arrive before then, hop over to another balcony.’

Drake turned the TV on, and sat, fumbling with the remote.

Bob Russell took a call.

‘Is it convenient, sir?’

‘Go ahead.’

‘All four assets in Varna have been killed, sir. Two suffered broken necks in the street, weapons and ID found on them, and two ... two were stripped naked a= nd thrown from a hotel balcony down onto the street, weapons and ID left in the room. Local police are all over it.’

‘Thrown ... naked, from a hotel balcony,’ Russell repeated. ‘Jesus. Any sign of Kobus?’

‘Not confirmed, sir, no one in the marina saw him, but they found his hire car at the hotel in question.’

‘And the current mission reports for Kobus?’

‘Working alone, following a lead on gun runners from the Ukraine.’

‘He didn’t get the better of four men working alone.’

‘No, sir, but the agency has no one else in the area.’

‘Computer records can be altered.’

‘Do we increment, sir?’

‘No, we’ll wait and see what happens with the meeting. If someone wants it stepped on, let them reveal themselves.’

Commerce

The local police did the rounds in the hotel, but did not both= er to go room to room. As with the first two freelancers, the police were focused on= the weapons, awkward questions asked of the US Ambassador in Sophia, who asked a few awkward questions of his own through the State Department.

At 7pm, and with the sun just below the horizon, Kobus led Drake out the back = way, the hotel’s food not sampled, the bustling restaurant ignored in favo= ur of a lamb kebab on the street. Kobus stood eating as Drake examined postcar= ds of nude girls, a carousel on display outside a tacky tourist shop.

When ready, Kobus led Drake down to the marina, a tissue grabbed from a restaurant’s pavement table and used to wipe down sticky lips and che= eks. The marina offered a gate, fixed open, a bored–looking young guard sat nearby. Sat next to the guard was a ginger cat awaiting some scraps, and th= e cat looked like it might offer more of a diligent screening of people entering = the marina than the guard. Still, Kobus and Drake walked past the marina entran= ce and to the first cafe on the promenade, the first of the resort’s tou= rists now sat eating their evening meal. Kobus took a table overlooking the marin= a, he and Drake now studying the layout.

‘Do these small boats ply their trade across the ocean?’ Drake puzzled.

‘No, they’re for pleasure.’

‘Pleasure?’

‘People enjoy being on the boats, sailing out in the sun, and the ... skilful application of the sails to master the wind. A challenge.’

‘Ah.’

‘I’ll sit here and go through the motions, you go for a stroll to the beach, up o= ver the rocks, and wander around the boats slowly.’

Drake slipped out of the restaurant as Kobus ordered food and a beer. Drake could= be seen below the cafe, his white t-shirt standing out as he ambled along the beach in the dying light, picking up things and examining them, soon scramb= ling over the breakwater and down the other side, still in sight as he walked al= ong to where locals fished with battery torches and paraffin lanterns.

Having reached the end of the walkway, Drake turned about, still just about visibl= e in the bright illumination coming from the promenade, a promenade now full of people just out walking, or looking for a little inspiration as to where to= settle and eat their evening meal. Kobus detected a few Russian words, but noted v= ery little English spoken in the streets here.

Kobus was halfway through his starters, and halfway through his first beer, when Drake appeared and sat.

Drake glanced at those sitting nearby, and eased forwards. Softly, he reported, ‘I have discovered the commerce. Three men await the arrival of other= s at a time not yet hence, many coin and dollar to be handed over, the object to= be handed to another boat after the turn of midnight.’

‘Good work.’ Kobus sipped his beer as he studied the outline of the marina, that which he could see from this angle. He adopted a curious frown. ‘= ;Can you swim?’

‘Yes, I can swim well,’ Drake keenly offered.

‘Can Marcus swim?’

Drake nodded.

Kobus eased back, thinking.

‘You are uncertain as to a course of action.’

‘Because they – whoever they may be - might be right; it m= ight be best to see where the object goes. But ... but I still don’t know = why they tried to kill me, and that alters the plan.’

‘This ... object?’ Drake whispered, glancing around.

‘Would allow many cannon balls to explode at once, much damage done. It’s of interest, but not of very great interest, and that’s what has me worr= ied.’ He made a face, a peeved expression adopted. ‘That and their desire to kill me.’

‘The men in the boat know nothing of you.’

‘No?’ Kobus queried, Drake shaking his head. He stared towards the dark form of T= he Black Sea for a moment, noticing a few sailboats with their lights on, befo= re sipping his beer. Without facing Drake, he commented, ‘The false magistrate wants this to go ahead, and for me to be killed. But they could = make it go ahead with my assistance.’

‘They wish you dead for another reason?’

Kobus nodded slowly, thinking.

‘What have you done to be so worthy of such a warrant of death to be issued?̵= 7;

‘Done? Nothing. Seen or heard ... hard to say. My last few jobs in Athens were ... nothing special.’

‘Then you must have seen or heard som= ething at an earlier time.’

Kobus sighed. ‘That’s nine years of work.’

An hour later, Drake turned his head. ‘A boat approaches= , the men in it are ... most anxious.’

Kobus eased up, leaving payment on the table, and led Drake out, down to the sand= and across to the breakwater, soon hopping from one foot to the next across lar= ge boulders. On the far side, they dropped down to the poorly lit concrete walkway, scaring feral cats, and towards a central pontoon.

‘Not sure how to play this,’ Kobus admitted. ‘I might just make it worse.’

‘You seek answers. Maybe the men have answers.’

‘The men are ... simply doing what they’ve planned; a commerce. It’s= the reason that they want me dead, and = the link to the commerce, that puzzles me.’

‘Do they wish you dead because of this commerce, or simply wish you dead?’= ;

Kobus came to a halt, and faced the dim outline of Drake. ‘The two could be unrelated, just bad timing.’ He faced the boats lined up against the pontoons, ropes tapping against masts in the gentle breeze. ‘If that’s true, then it’s my job to stop the commerce; I’ve = not been ordered otherwise. And after ... after I need to figure out why they w= ant me dead. Good thinking, Drake, you might be correct.’

Drake was pleased, his silly grin visible even in this dim light. They walked on,= the wooden slats beneath their feet creaking as they progressed. At the end of a darkened pontoon, Drake pointed at a yacht across the way, now manoeuvring = with its engine into a vacant space. ‘They are Cossacks.’

‘Russians,’ Kobus correct him.

‘A man watches them from another boat, a man from this place.’

‘Does he watch us?’

‘No.’

‘Then first things first. Lead on.’

Drake walked at a fast pace, the wooden pontoon moving a little in the gentle swe= ll, the men’s current movements not very stealthy. Still, they looked like tourists out for a stroll. They again stepped onto the main concrete jetty, following the edge of the pontoons for fifty yards before walking down a parallel pontoon to the previous, passing a few people sat on their boats a= nd enjoying life on the ocean wave on this pleasant evening.

Before Kobus had a chance to say or do anything, Drake had leapt onto a boat and disappeared into its galley. Kobus glanced over his shoulder, taking in tho= se boats with their lights on, noting the smell of cooking on the breeze and music coming from two directions. No one seemed to have noticed Drake’s movement, and none were now reacting to it. He approached the boat in quest= ion, all quiet below, and stepped across, a hand on his pistol, drawing it as he ducked into the galley.

In the darkened interior he levelled the pistol, seeing Drake’s white t-shir= t, Drake now bent over a dark figure.

‘He lives,’ Drake stated.

Kobus clicked on his lighter, finding a torch on the wooden galley table. He turn= ed it on, and examined the semi-conscious man, a middle-aged man of dark hair = and tanned skin, a pot belly, and looking like a local Bulgarian. Reaching arou= nd behind the man, he lifted out a wallet, finding a mobile phone in a pocket = as the man groaned.

Kobus punched a number into the mobile, his face adopting a blue tinge as he did = so. ‘Riggs?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Trace this number back, it belongs to a Bulgarian watching the deal going down.’ Kobus spelt out the name.

‘It is going ahead then?’

‘As we speak, or soon. Russians just arrived by boat.’

‘Good work. And you spotted them ... how?’

‘Long story, and I’ll explain it at some point. Check out our friend here, = and his associations.’ Kobus paused. ‘What are my orders, regarding= the deal?’

‘Find out what you can, and stop it. Why?’

‘I just wanted to hear you say the words, because I suspect that someone wants= the deal to go ahead, maybe to catch them later on when the bombs are assembled. That would make for better coverage on CNN than the discovery of a few detonators.’

‘You’re a cynic, you know that.’

‘People keep shooting at me, otherwise I’d be as well balanced as you,’ Kobus toyed.

‘I’ll run this number, and the name. What about the deal?’

‘Be happening real soon.’

‘I’ll be sat by the phone ready.’

Kobus hung up, and pocketed the phone, closing in on the watcher. ‘Did you sense anything from him?’

‘When he was filled with fear he believed me to be an America man, sent by a Jo-hans-son.’

‘Johansson,’ Kobus corrected. ‘And that name sounds familiar.’ Hunting around the galley, Kobus found the fridge, and pulled out a plastic bag full of ic= e. Tearing the bag, he emptied the ice cubes over the watcher, dumping most of them down the front of the man’s t-shirt. The man stirred, eyes slowly opening. The man’s hand instinctively came to his head, where he had = been hit.

‘You speak English?’ Kobus asked.

‘He does,’ Drake put in.

Kobus waited. ‘Talk, or you go for a swim, a long swim.’

The man looked up at Drake, finding a pleasant-faced young man. Kobus pulled out his pistol, and rudely tapped the man on the forehead with it.

‘What do you want, I have nothing here,’ the man said in a thick accent.

‘We’re not interested in what you have, we’re interested in what you know ab= out the detonators, over on the Russian boat. And no, Johansson didn’t se= nd us.’

‘Who ... who are you?’ the man asked, puzzling his assailants identity, and now fidgeting as he tried to remove ice cubes from inside his shirt.=

‘CIA.’

‘I work for Johansson,’ the man protested, pulling out his t-shirt so th= at the ice cubes fell to the galley’s wooden flooring.

Kobus considered his answer. ‘Johansson is under investigation for ... ille= gal operations. We’re here to kill anyone involved.’

‘I just take money and instruction,’ the man protested, his wet hands sp= read wide. ‘I know nothing else!’

‘What are your instructions?’

‘Watch the boat when it come, say when it come and they go, only this.’

‘And men in the town?’

‘I don’t know of men in the town, I came to the boat early and hide beca= use four American men – they was killed.’

Kobus lifted his head to Drake.

‘He tells the truth, he hides nothing.’ <= /span>

Kobus straightened as best he could in the low-ceiling galley. ‘Drake, put a hand on his mouth, and show him your other side.’

A growl preceded a muffled scream, the man’s eyes wild with terror.

‘Let him go.’

Drake pushed the man along the galley.

Kobus grabbed the man by the arm. ‘Go home, my friend; say nothing, do nothing.’

The man hurried out, scrambling over the back of the boat and stumbling many ti= mes.

Kobus faced Drake. ‘Does he intend to report this?’

‘No. One more on the tally?’

Kobus smiled in the dim light from the torch. ‘One more on the tally,’= ; he agreed.

‘And the Cossacks?’

Kobus sat on a bunk. ‘Do you sense them?’

‘Yes, they sit and wait with fear, for men to bring much gold coin.’=

‘Then they have the detonators.’ Kobus slowly blew out. Shaking his head, he said, ‘I have a terrible feeling that I’m not doing the right t= hing here, but I can’t pin it down.’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘= Can you swim far underwater?’

‘To the other boat? Yes?’

‘Take off your clothes here, go quietly into the water to the other boat, and pun= ch a hole into the bottom. Could you ... punch a hole through?’

‘I believe so.’

‘Come straight back. No, no when the boat starts to take on water they’ll n= ot want the detonators on them, they’ll panic. Go aboard the boat if you= get the chance, and take the object of great value.’

‘I will do so,’ Drake keenly stated as he started to strip off, soon a ghostly stick of white flesh leaving the galley, a gentle plop into the wat= er.

Kobus lit a cigarette. ‘Man from Atlantis, eat your fucking heart out.̵= 7; Exhaling, he frowned to himself in the dark. ‘Man from Atlantis was B= obby in Dallas.’ He shook his head. ‘Should have definitely started Drake off with Dallas.’

Aboard the other yacht, six men sat nervously waiting, the lig= hts out, many eyes now focused on the darkened pontoon, a large holdall sat on = the galley table.

A loud crack caused them all to jump, and to exchange looks. A second loud crack, = and rushing water could be heard.

‘Have we hit something?’ a voice asked through the dark.

‘We’re stationary, idiot!’ came back.

Men crouched down and listened, ears against the hull as the roar of water increased.

‘We’re taking on water,’ someone suggested, an instant before a thin metal p= ole came through the the fibreglass hull, impaling a man through the chest. Sho= uts and screams went up as the pole was withdrawn, the body slumping, a spout of water shooting across the galley floor. The pole came in again, through a b= unk and straight through a man’s thigh, a scream issued by the man as others tried to help him.

Four loud taps followed, the yacht now at an angle as men scrambled about in the dark trying to help each other. The pole sliced up through the hull, a crac= king sound issued just prior to a man being skewered from beneath, through the j= aw, the pole exiting the top of his head. With the pole extracted the body slum= ped. The final three men fled, the holdall left. As they ran along the pontoon, being observed by Kobus in the distance, the white fish that was Drake slithered aboard the stricken yacht, the holdall retrieved and dragged under the water.

Kobus stood at the wheel, and listened intently for any signs of Drake, the boat gently rocking at its mooring. A wet holdall landing on deck was the first sign, a hand offered to Drake’s white form as he clambered over the s= ide, nudged straight into the galley.

Kobus handed him a towel. ‘Dry yourself, you’ll catch your death.R= 17;

‘This was a saying from my time, but I do not believe I will perish from the chil= l of the water – which was most pleasant.’

Kobus opened the holdall, water gushing out onto the galley table, and unwrapped a heavy tangle of wire, finding dozens of stainless steel tubes the size of AA batteries, all connected by thick green wires.

‘What is it?’ Drake asked as he dressed.

‘Detonators by the look of them, but ... very specialised.’ Kobus followed the wi= res back to a hub, on it writing in Russian, a few of the words recognised. He found three hubs, each of which was connected by a thicker wire to a master control, a black plastic box the size of a house brick.

Once dressed, Drake sat and keenly observed Kobus in the dull torch light.

Kobus explained, ‘Each of these silver fingers makes fire, and they’r= e all connected together, so they make fire at the exact same time. But ... but t= hese are fixed cables, two or three metres long, not radio controlled. This ... would set-off bombs that are very close to each other.’ With a heavy frown, he carefully unscrewed a detonator, and examined the workings.

‘You are greatly troubled,’ Drake noted.

‘This ... is a very odd detonator; it’s more like a firework. It would shoot out many sparks, and in here are what looks like magnesium and phosphorous pellets.’

He eased back. ‘Central hub, nine feet, three smaller hubs, six feet and= six detonators.’ He unravelled the wires. ‘They’re in a daisy chain, not parallel.’ He stared down at the assembly, his eyes wideni= ng. ‘Oh shit.’

‘What troubles you?’ Drake asked, sounding concerned.

‘I’ve seen this before, and now I know why they want me dead.’ He closed his eyes and sighed loudly. Opening his eyes, he faced Drake squarely. ‘We’re in trouble, buddy, big trouble; they’ll stop at nothing to keep me quiet about this.’

Night turned to day, a brilliant flash, the outside world suddenly in daylight. T= he blast rocked the boat, a mini tsunami created, Drake and Kobus hanging on as their boat bobbed up and down, startled looks exchanged.

‘Did you start a fire over there?’ Kobus shouted.

‘No.’

‘Then that was a bomb, a big bomb. Quick, tear up these wires, smash these plastic boxes.’

Drake got to work with fervour, all wires torn, boxes smashed.

‘Drop it over the side. Quick, we need to go.’

Drake dropped the bundle of wires into the sea as Kobus clambered up onto the pontoon, Kobus soon staring across at a huge cloud of grey smoke, illuminat= ed from within by an unseen fire. They joined others running along the pontoon, acrid smoke filling their lungs, soon out of the marina and onto the promen= ade as sirens registered.

Back in the hotel room, Kobus stopped and lit up, sitting on the bed with his ba= ck against the headboard, his legs stretched out.

‘We did well, no?’ Drake asked from across the room, turning on the TV.

‘We did well,’ Kobus confirmed without looking up, no energy in his voice. ‘Too well.’

‘You are greatly troubled by what you learnt.’

Kobus nodded before rubbing the bridge of his nose. Drake focused on his sponsor,= but Kobus made no comment, Kobus slowly working down the cigarette as he thought about many things, not least the implications of the detonator, a detonator with only one purpose.

After a second cigarette, Kobus grabbed the watcher’s mobile, and dialled R= iggs.

‘Kobus?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well?’ Riggs asked after a moment.

‘I ... intercepted the sellers, and got hold of the detonators.’<= /p>

‘You know, buddy, you’ve done better in the past few days than I’ve = ever seen you do. I thought you were good before, but this is fucking incredible buddy.’

‘Not as incredible as what comes next.’

‘Meaning?’

‘The detonator only has one purpose, and I know what that purpose is; I worked o= n it with the British Army.’

‘With the British Army? What, in Iraq?’

‘I need you to do something, no arguments; this is serious now.’<= /p>

‘And when was it not; they’ve been trying to kill you!’

‘There’s more at stake now, a great deal more. I need you to contact Deputy Director Mason, and give him the following message as coming from me, and this number.’

‘Deputy Director? What the fuck’s going on, Kobus?’

‘There was a project I worked on that you’re not supposed to know about.R= 17;

There was a pause at Riggs end. ‘Oh.’

‘If you push it, you’ll be censured for sure.’

There came another pause. ‘What’s the message?’

‘Tell Mason from me that the Pop-Dragon is out the box.’

‘Pop-Dragon. And I’m not supposed to know what it is.’

‘There are twelve people who know what it is, I’m one of them. Just send him= the message, and give him this number, or I’ll have no choice but to go around you.’

Riggs took a moment. ‘I’ll send the message.’

‘Be difficult and insistent, just in case your message is ... blocked.’

‘Sounds like this is getting out of control,’ Riggs solemnly noted.

‘We’re way beyond that, boss. Make the call.’ Kobus hung up, and grabbed a f= resh cigarette.

‘You are not confident of our fight,’ Drake noted, now sat watching a cart= oon.

‘It soon won’t be our fight.’

‘We will fight shoulder to shoulder with others?’

‘We’ll ... pass the fight on to others, yes.’

Drake seemed deflated. ‘And who will we fight?’

‘We’ll fight small fights, and you ... you can learn to drive.’

Drake turned his head, smiling. ‘Yes?’

Kobus forced a weak smile. ‘Yes.’

When the phone went, it was Riggs. ‘Kobus, there’s something on the wire, a blast at that marina in Varna, a big fucking blast.’

‘Someone ... was covering their tra= cks. And no, it wasn’t me.’ He hung up.

The hand of God

Ten minutes after speaking with Riggs, the mobile trilled, Kob= us raising it. ‘Number unknown,’ it displayed. Kobus hit the green button. ‘Yes?’

‘Kobus?’

‘Yes, that Mason?’

‘I got your message, which came as a shock, because I’ve just finished reading a report on the subject matter.’

‘Sir, I need to verify that you are actually you. Who was the princ= ipal who designed the bomb?’

‘Kamil, Dr Kamil, a Kurd of all people.’

‘OK, you know the detail.’

‘And what detail do you know?’ Mason pressed.

‘I was working on a job in Athens, which led to Bulgaria, to Sophia –= 217;

‘The body count has opened an investigation, a second investigation as to why the computer says that the dead men are in Iraq as we speak. Have you ... lost perspective, Kobus?’

‘They came for me, I reacted. They kept coming, I fought back; it was no more complicated than that.’

‘You’ll sit before a review board soon enough to explain that.’

‘Fine.’

‘So why the message?’

‘I followed a few leads to a marina in Varna, Bulgaria, and relieved a few Rus= sian gentlemen of a holdall with what I was led to believe were detonators of so= me description. Inside, I found a master synchroniser, nine feet of thick cabl= e to three hubs, breaking to six feet of cable and to specialised detonators ful= l of phosphorous. The rig was designed to detonate at high temperature, and at eighteen points simultaneously.’

‘My God...’

‘You can see why I sent the message. That rig was familiar.’

‘And it only has one use,’ Mason agreed. ‘Kamil is missing, so are h= is chemicals.’

‘With all due respect, sir, might I ask why someone with a desk close to yours is trying to kill me?’

There came a long pause. ‘That matter is subject to a high level investigation.’

‘Will it draw a conclusion after I= 217;m in the ground?’

‘So far, Kobus, it looks like you can handle yourself, a few people around here mentioning your name.’

‘I’ll be happy to take less notoriety and a dull assignment, sir.’

‘Seems like that train has left the station.’

‘Do you have any instructions for me?’

‘Keep investigating, any and all leads, and send it all through regular channels.’

‘Will do, sir.’

‘We’ll talk again soon.’ Mason hung up.

‘Good news?’ Drake enquired, looking hopeful.

‘No, he wants me dead,’ Kobus said as he stood, walking to the window. He closed a crack in the curtains.

‘This man ... is the magistrate?’ Drake puzzled.

Kobus slowly nodded, appearing drained. ‘He’s the second in command to the magistrate.’ He heaved a breath. ‘Given what’s happened, = and what I told him, he should have ordered me back to debrief, others to take over. I’m ... someone they use for small jobs, not important jobs. Wh= en he asked me to stay with this most important of jobs, I knew he was lying.’

‘Why does he wish you to continue, if you are not the tradesman for the job?R= 17;

‘So that he knows what I know and, more importantly, that= he knows where I am.’ Kobus closed his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘We’ll leave in ten minutes.’

Opening his eyes, Kobus stared down at Drake, as Drake offered a curious expression back. Kobus finally said, ‘If the bomb goes off, a million people will die.’

‘How many is that?’

‘More people than there are blades of grass in a meadow.’

Drake lowered his head as he considered the idea. ‘That is a great many peo= ple, a great tally if we save them.’

Kobus took a moment, staring down. ‘Drake, there’s only one thing that stands between those people ... and their deaths, and that’s you.R= 17;

Drake puzzled that. ‘Me?’

‘You, and Marcus, are the only ones that can stop this. And I found you ... found= you in a cave after you’d been there for hundreds of years. After all tho= se years ... you were found now, t= his week, when this happens. And me, I’m one of a few people who knew abo= ut the bomb and what it does, one of a grand total of ... just the one CIA freelancer on this planet who could recognise that device.’

‘It seems as if many things are in alignment,’ Drake stated with a heavy frown.

‘The reason they tried to kill me a few days ago, was because I could recognise = the detonator. The Russians, they probably have no idea what it does, they just made it to spec.’

Kobus sat on the end of the bed, thinking. Staring at the carpet, he began, ‘When I was in the cave, and I heard you tapping, I almost left. Not because I was afraid of you or a ... ghost or something, but because I was afraid to being right, right about something beyond this life.’

He rubbed his forehead. ‘The day I found you, I spoke to a priest, and he suggested that many people are curious, that some accept religious teachings without conviction, and some actually believe. Well, buddy, there’s a fourth group: those that know.’ He stood, and looked down at Drake, t= he pale young man with dyed black hair. ‘You weren’t cursed by God= , my unfortunate young friend, you were sent by God for this very purpose.’= ;

Kobus made ready to leave, Drake staring at the carpet for a whole two minutes be= fore moving.

Standing, Drake said, ‘I have a purpose?’

Kobus stopped packing, taking a moment. ‘You have a purpose, you always did.’ He turned his head. ‘You learnt to master the demon, a remarkable feat, and something you should be proud of. I’m ... proud = of you for doing that. And now, now your ... unique skills might just stop the bomb.’ Kobus took a moment. ‘Par= t of me would like you to take charge, to be the strong one, to ... take the responsibility.’

‘I know little of this world.’

Kobus slowly nodded his head. ‘We were partnered up for a reason, I’m afraid, and neither of us will survive it.’

Drake stepped forwards. ‘But if we possess a very great tally at the end of= our lives, we shall be saved, no.’

Kobus forced a weak smile. ‘Part of me believes that, and part of me ... ju= st wants to walk away.’

‘You are a strong man, pure of thought and swift of sword. We shall prevail, no.’

‘My friend, we fight with a small pistol ... and a large amount of hope.’=

They said nothing to each other as they headed out, the car abandoned. A taxi whisked them down to central Varna, a cheap hotel found a= fter walking around for twenty minutes. Cash secured a tatty room, no questions asked. And the watcher’s mobile, that was now in the taxi, stuffed un= der the seat and being driven around Varna.

‘How will we find this bomb?’ Drake asked once inside the small and poorly decorated room.

‘The watcher on the boat gave up the name of Johansson; I think he’s a CIA section manager in Berlin, Germany. I met him once.’

‘We will journey there? To Germania?’

‘We will. And we’ll look for another detonator, because they can’t = set off the bomb without one.’

‘And the men with gold coin for the object?’ Drake asked. ‘They were close by.’

‘They’ll be long gone,’ Kobus suggested.

‘The men with coin have a house called “villa”, not far.’

Kobus took a moment, placing a cigarette on his lip. ‘They’d be just middlemen, but...’

‘The coin would assist us in this fight,’ Drake finished off.

Kobus nodded, and then checked his watch. ‘We’ll leave at midnight. Do you have a name for the area?’

‘I do,’ Drake offered. He sat, turning on a black and white TV as Kobus = lay on the bed.

At midnight, Kobus was snoring, nudged awake by Drake. ‘= It is time.’

Kobus eased up, and yawned, rubbing his face. ‘Can you actually tell time?’

‘I have learnt from the TV, Big Bird taught me; the small hand and the big hand.’

Kobus shook his cigarette packet, pulling out his last cigarette. Lighting up, he said, ‘Big Bird, eh.’

‘Cat is spelt C –A – T, dog is spelt D – O – G.’

Kobus slowly cranked his head around to Drake. ‘I might just live long enou= gh to see you spell disillusionment.’

     ‘That sounds like a long word,’ Drake noted. ‘What does it mean?̵= 7;

     Kobus stood. ‘It means ... that the magistrate should do no evil. When he d= oes, we – his servants - are disillusioned.’

     ‘A good word, yes. But today on the TV, the word of the day is house.’

     After a quick wash, and the use of the toilet, Kobus was ready. ‘I need a n= ew shirt,’ he commented as he placed on his jacket.

     ‘Do you not wash your shirts?’ Drake puzzled.

     ‘When I have the time. C’mon.’

     Outside of the hotel, Drake described the villa’s area and name as best as he= could, and Kobus relayed the detail to a taxi driver, who thought he knew the plac= e. Twenty minutes later, and after a few dead ends, Drake pointed at a cafe th= at was still open. Paying the taxi driver, Kobus straightened, taking in the q= uiet cafe.

     ‘The men meet here often, I know this image.’ Drake turned. ‘When th= ey leave ... they go this way.’ He pointed off to the right. ‘Not far.’

     ‘Lead on.’

     They followed a dark pavement, few street lamps working, and past houses with high walls = and high wooden gates, cats dashing under parked cars. Dogs barked unseen, the other sides of those high walls. At the next corner, Drake took a moment, turning right, halting after ten yards.

     ‘Lost?’ Kobus asked.

     Car headlights caused them to duck behind a parked car.

     ‘It is them,’ Drake whispered.

     The car passed, heard but not seen, and slowed twenty yards down the road that = they were on. Lifting their heads up, they could see the car enter a villa throu= gh large gates held open by a guard. That guard checked the street carefully f= or a moment before closing the gates.

     ‘Bingo.’

     ‘Bingo?’ Drake queried.

     ‘It means ... we have won, or we are correct, or good, or we found something of interest,’ Kobus whispered.

     ‘Bingo,’ Drake repeated in a whisper as they stood. They checked both ways down the road, seeing no one, no vehicles approaching, and ran across, ducking behin= d a row of three tall metal bins.

     Facing Drake, Kobus interlaced his fingers – palms upwards, and instructed, ‘Do this with your hands, so that I can step up and over the wall.= 217; Drake nodded, led to the wall bent double, his hands soon interlocked. Kobus placed a foot in, and was launched upwards, landing on the top of the wall = and wobbling. ‘Fuck me.’ He crouched, placed a hand down, and jumped inside, hitting the dirt at the base of a tree.

     Drake landed next to the tree, almost silently, just as a dog barked in the house next door. After a moment crouched in dark shadows, Kobus ran forwards bent double. He crunched across dried grass, and slipped around to the rear of t= he property, lights now on in the upstairs windows, a few cracks of light esca= ping wooden shutters on the downstairs windows. He turned, Drake nowhere to be s= een.

     ‘Drake,’ he whispered, just as a body hit the ground beside him, air bursting from t= he man’s lungs, followed by a moan.

     Drake landed, straddling the man. ‘He was watching us from above.’

     ‘Good move.’ Kobus relieved the man of a pistol, then moved around a large = bush to view the rear of the property. Turning his head, he whispered, ‘Can you make a loud noise in the street, and come back.’

     Drake was gone in a blur. Six seconds later, it sounded like one car had landed on top of another, a car alarm sounding, a ghostly image turning solid as Drake drew level.

     ‘I said a loud noise, not to wake up the whole damn city!’ Kobus whisper= ed, a fist shaken. Bent double, he moved stealthily forwards, up onto a stone w= all bracketing steps, along it whilst trying to balance - his arms stretched ou= t, and up onto a balcony with ease. The balcony doors were not locked, sounds = now coming from the front of the house, echoing off the neighbouring houses. As= he moved inside, he could feel rather than see that Drake was close behind.

     A crack of light, from a door open just a fraction, gave away the room’s outline and dimensions, the light coming from the hallway. Pistol in hand, Kobus moved quietly around a central sofa and glass coffee table to the doo= r, now hearing raised voices on a lower level, yet distant and distorted. He turned to Drake. ‘How many men, and where?’

     ‘One above, at the front of the house,’ Drake whispered. ‘Six below,= at the front of the house, a woman below.’

     ‘And the money?’

     ‘Above, at the front, with a man who stands guard.’

     Kobus had just started to open the door, an eye on the hallway, when Drake grabbed his arm. He turned his head.

     ‘There is ... a man, near, he ... puzzles the noise I made at the front, and ... m= akes ready to kill all here.’

     ‘How does he plan on doing that?’

     ‘A ... bomb.’

     ‘Shit,’ Kobus let out as he sprinted towards the balcony door. ‘C’mon!’

     He scrambled back down to the wall, balancing as best he could along the wall,= and jumped, rolling as he hit the ground and impacting a small stone statue, the statue falling into a pond with a splash. Cursing, he jumped up and ran to = the rear of the garden, pistol still in hand, but found a high stone wall block= ing high path.

     Turning in the dark, he called for Drake, who was nowhere to be seen. Backtracking a few paces, Kobus placed a foot on a wobbly statue, reached up to a tree bra= nch with one hand, and gained purchase on a ledge in the wall. With his hand on= the branch, one shoe on the ledge and one shoe on the statue’s head, he reached for the top of the wall and got the pistol hand over, then a leg, cursing at the pain caused by scraping over the wall’s rough edges. He dropped eight feet, right onto his back, landing on hard dry soil, the wind knocked out of him.

     A dog growled.

     In agony, and stunned, Kobus lifted his head a few inches, seeing the black outline of a dog stood with its legs wide, growling down at him. Drake land= ed next to the dog, scaring it and causing it to jump sideways in shock. The d= og composed itself quickly, and growled towards Drake through the dark. Drake growled back, the dog retreating just as Kobus brought his pistol to bear on the mutt.

     Drake leapt six feet, and landed straddle over Kobus as night turned to day for t= he second time, the wall collapsing onto them.

     Kobus could see images, blurred images: light and dark, a bag, a bin, a curb ston= e. Water, water splashed onto his face. He opened his eyes, finding Drake̵= 7;s image, Drake looking worried.

     ‘Can you hear me?’ Drake asked.

     ‘Wha ... what happened?’

     ‘The house of the men with coin was damaged by a bomb.’

     ‘We ... should go.’ Kobus tried to move, grimacing in pain.

     ‘We are some distance from the house named “villa”, in a garden of = many trees and paths, things for children.’

     Kobus slowly eased up with Drake’s help, finding a dull yellow street lamp,= the lamp covered in spiders webs and surrounded by flittering moths. Peering around, he could see swings and roundabouts, now registering the echo of di= stant sirens, a low bush immediately in front of him, and distant houses beyond. ‘Fuck...’

     ‘You are hurt?’

     ‘I’m not hurt badly, just winded. I’ll ... be OK.’

     Drake lifted Kobus to his feet. ‘You will need more clothing, I fear.’= ;

     Kobus took in his clothes in the dull yellow light, starting to brush down the du= st and dirt.

     ‘We shall buy fine thread now that we have coin.’

     ‘Huh?’

     Drake pointed towards a large holdall. ‘I believe the number of the paper is fifty.’

     Kobus tested his legs and took a few steps, kneeling painfully to open the bag. ‘Fuck me.’

     ‘It is much gold coin?’

     ‘It is ... and more than would have been needed to buy that detonator.’

     Drake puzzled that as he knelt. ‘They ... would buy more than one?’

     ‘They would. Or ... something else.’ He stuffed a wad into his inside pocke= t, handing one to Drake – who placed it into a pocket in his casual jack= et.

     ‘We must return to the hotel, for you to rest.’ Drake lifted the hefty ba= g of cash after zipping it up, and grabbed Kobus under the armpit.

     It took ten minutes of slow hobbling to reach a main road, a taxi flagged down. Once in, Kobus asked for the centre of Varna, and halted the taxi several blocks away from the hotel. He hobbled the short distance, putting on a bra= ve face when let in by the night porter.

     ‘What happen you?’ the man asked, heavily accented.

     ‘Men fight me for money,’ Kobus replied, and pushed past, soon in the room= and under a hot shower.

     Out of the shower, and with just his trousers back on, he found Drake sat watching= TV. ‘Counted the money yet?’

     Drake looked over his shoulder and focused on the holdall. ‘I am uncertain = of how to count this paper.’

     Kobus sat next to the holdall. Retrieving a wad of fifty Euro notes, he counted f= ifty notes in each bundle, and estimated fifty bundles. ‘A hundred thousan= d or so, which may have been a fair price for the detonator if it was precision = made and tested. Less than I thought though.’

     Lifting out another wad, Kobus frowned down at the wad below. It was different. He peeled back the top fifty, and found notes valued at five hundred Euros. ‘OK, that’s ... odd.’

     ‘What is odd?’ Drake asked without taking his eyes of the TV.

     ‘The top note is a fifty, the rest five hundreds. It’s a trick. But ... it should be the other way around; five hundred on top and fifty underneath. A= nd ... there’s more than a million Euros here.’

     ‘A million was what you said was very big, yes?’

     ‘Yes. We could ... retire somewhere nice and turn our backs on the world. But the= y’d still want me dead, and this money isn’t really enough to disappear w= ith.’ He sighed.

     ‘You do not wish to give up the fight,’ Drake noted.

     Kobus took a moment, throwing down a wad. ‘No, I don’t, so I need my fucking head examined.’

     ‘At the house named “villa”, there was a women below, very sad. She= was a prisoner.’

     ‘A prisoner?’ Kobus queried as he rifled through the bag.

     ‘Yes, from the land you fought in.’

     Kobus pulled his nose out of the bag, staring at the back of Drake’s head. ‘From Iraq?’

     ‘Yes. And I smelt death in the house, a body hidden below where the woman was hel= d, the body of a child.’

     Kobus reached for his cigarettes, finding the box empty and cursing.

     ‘Shall I go to the shop for cigarettes?’ Drake keenly offered, now standing.=

     Kobus considered if that particular task was wise, but handed over a twenty Euro note. ‘Don’t be long.’

     Drake handed back the note. ‘I have coin.’ He turned, opened the wind= ow, and launched himself through before Kobus could stop him. Rushing to the window, Kobus found a flat roof one floor down, a row of brightly lit shops visible a hundred yards away. Shaking his head, he moved to the bed and lay down, aching all over, and now bruised in many places.

     Ten minutes later, Drake came back through the window with effortless grace, two bags in hand. He placed the bags down, and lifted out several packs of cigarettes - the correct brand, and a new plastic lighter.

     ‘Good kid,’ Kobus commended.

     ‘And we have chocolate biscuits, other biscuits, Sprite, and this.’ He hand Kobus a small medical kit for tourists, the wording English. ‘To make= you better.’

     Kobus eased up onto an elbow, letting his legs down. ‘Excellent.’ Sir= ens registered through the open window. He slid his gaze across to Drake, and waited.

     Drake lowered his head. ‘A man wished to part me from my money.’

     ‘And...?’

     ‘I kicked him.’

     ‘And...?’ Kobus pressed, louder this time.

     ‘I ... kicked him, and he went to the inside of a shop.’

     ‘Did the shop have one of those new fangled glass windows at the front?’

     ‘I ... believe so.’

     ‘You just kicked someone through a plate glass window?’ Drake did not answ= er. ‘At the villa, what did you do to make that noise in the street?̵= 7;

     ‘A large metal bin. I ... threw it onto a car.’

     Kobus twisted the top of a Sprite bottle. ‘I didn’t thank you. You sa= ved my life.’ He toasted a smiling Drake with his Sprite. ‘Cheers.’

     Drake smiled widely. ‘Good health, long life, and many fine sons.’

     ‘Yeah, well don’t know about the last part.’

     A mobile phone began ringing, causing Kobus to puzzle it; he had left the previous phone in a taxi.

     Drake took out the phone, from his pocket. ‘The man who wanted to part me f= rom my money dropped this.’ He handed it to Kobus. ‘I thought you m= ay have use of it.’

     ‘Good thinking.’ Kobus answered the call. ‘Malek? No, he’s shopping, try later.’ Kobus cut the call, and punched in the number f= or Riggs. ‘That you, boss?’

     ‘Yeah, and there’s more on the wire, a villa blown apart in Varna, ten or mo= re dead they’re saying.’

     ‘The Company took care of the boat, and the villa.’

     ‘Jesus, this is all way over my pay grade.’

     ‘Do me a favour, and run the names of the people at the villa, you should find Ramius in there. And see if there’s an ID on a woman and child.’= ;

     ‘How’d you know who was in the villa, Kobus?’ Riggs demanded.

     ‘I was watching it when it blew, a bit busted up; fucking wall fell on me.R= 17;

     ‘You’re hurt?’

     ‘Cuts and scrapes.’

     ‘Fucking Bulgarian authorities are jumping up and down.’

     ‘I can imagine.’

     ‘What’ll you do next? Do you ... have any leads?’

     ‘One, and it’s a long shot, so I’ll be heading to Paris.’

     Drake turned his head, and listened in.

     ‘Paris?’ Riggs queried. ‘You’re leaving the area?’

     ‘It’s a bit hot around here right now, and no one will be making any deals for a while.’

     ‘No, fucking police are all over it. They’re saying its drug related, Russ= ian gangs. That name you gave me, it was for a low grade watcher, but he was li= nked to Berlin station.’

     ‘Probably nothing. Anyway, I’ll call you in a day or so when I get to Paris.= 217; He cut the call, noticing Drake’s look. ‘When I use the phone, = the magistrate can listen in.’

     ‘Ah, you gave a falsehood. We shall journey by another road.’

     ‘We shall, starting right now.’

9

Gold

Drake turned off the TV. ‘What is a tamp-oon?’

     Kobus halted, considered his answer, and lifted the holdall. ‘You figure it out.’

     ‘They would appear to cause great pleasure to women, much smiling and dancing alo= ng the street after purchase.’

     Kobus halted, and cocked an eyebrow. ‘TV advertising has a great deal to answer for.’

     A bored taxi driver was offered as much money as he made in a month for the s= hort trip to Bucharest in Romania, Kobus explaining that they had a problem with= an aeroplane, a delay. They set off north after the taxi had taken on fuel, and the driver had picked up his passport from home.

     Kobus sat with his head against the door’s cool glass, staring up at yellow hig= hway lights as they flittered past. The only sound was the high-pitched whine of tyres on concrete, Kobus sat mesmerised by the rhythmical passing of the ye= llow lamps against the black night sky. The lamps became white for certain stret= ches of road, an occasional lamp out, and time moved slowly.

     The driver had puzzled the route, since it was not the most direct route, but K= obus wanted a particular border crossing-point used. They had stopped for a bite= to eat in the hills near the border, and now approached a quiet border-crossin= g in the dead of night.

     Halting at a cafe just short of the border, Kobus handed the taxi driver another month’s pay. He thumbed towards Drake in the back seat. ‘The bo= y, no passport, but I know a man here, he goes around. No ... questions.’= ;

     The taxi driver took the money, making a face and shrugging.

     Kobus stepped out, followed by Drake, Kobus handing Drake the holdall – whi= ch also contained Kobus’s holster and pistol. He pointed. ‘You see= the bend in the road, past the border controls?’

     ‘Yes.’

     ‘Meet us there. Go around, quietly, don’t be seen.’

     Drake headed off down a slope without a second thought, the curious taxi driver watching him go. With Kobus back in the car, they drove up to the border, passports shown, no checks made of the vehicle; this was Europe, one big ha= ppy family.

     Across the border, they halted around the first bend, Drake opening the door little more than two minutes later, and surprising the taxi driver. The man glance= d at Kobus – who didn’t respond, made a face and drove on, heading n= orth for twenty miles before crossing the Danube, soon heading west along its no= rthern banks, now on the Romanian side.

     In the early hours they reached Bucharest, passing bland white high-rise blocks f