The Seraphim Sequence: The Fifth Column 2 (3 page)

The bead curtain clacked as Jay entered the Pensioner, a smoky restaurant bar that had seen better days. Damien was behind him, politely declining a gram of weed from men in creased jeans and wet sneakers. Past the row of Greek gambling machines, a bizarre cross between taberat and pinball, Jay spotted her. She was the only person not eating a bowl of cheap spaghetti. But like everyone else here, she smoked restlessly.

Jay let Damien into the booth first, then parked himself on the end. ‘How’s tricks?’ he said.

He caught a slight smile, but it was gone in an instant. ‘Tricks are for kids,’ she said.

Jay gave her half a grin. ‘Damien chose the place.’

Damien appeared nervous. ‘It was the only place in five miles.’

‘The only place you can smoke in this country,’ Jay added.

Nasira ashed her cigarette and brandished another. ‘How’d they get an exemption?’

‘They’re selling drugs out front, I don’t think that’s necessary,’ Jay said. ‘Anyway, he didn’t pick it for the smoking. They do killer bolognese.’ He slid the laminated menu toward her. ‘Cheap too.’

Nasira ignored it. ‘I’ll pass on the carbs. Old habits die hard.’

Jay grinned. ‘Right. Operative diet. Almost forgot since I’m not one any more.’

She peered over the table at his stomach. ‘I see you already ate.’

‘Big breakfast.’ He quickly leaned forward. ‘You’re not doing a particularly good job at selling me your end of the bargain.’

Nasira drew on her cigarette. She didn’t seem in any rush to answer. ‘I ain’t selling you anything, buttercup. Damien here gave you the down low. You already made up your mind but you came anyway.’ She tapped her cigarette over the ashtray. ‘That tells me you’re curious.’

‘You’re the only black woman here,’ Jay said. ‘I think everyone’s a little curious.’

‘How’s your resumé?’ Nasira said. ‘Would you like a LinkedIn testimonial?’

‘I’m fleshing it out nicely.’ He really didn’t want to give her more information than necessary.

‘We have paid work,’ she said.

‘I already get paid work,’ Jay said.

Nasira drew on her cigarette. Smoke wafted over the table. ‘Not this well paid, you don’t.’

‘I’m not greedy.’ Jay folded his arms. ‘I earned quite enough from your last suicide mission.’

‘Not calling you greedy.’ She leaned forward ever so slightly. ‘Calling you a touch restless. I’m sure you’re eager to hit the sand again.’

Jay bit his lip. ‘Itching.’

Nasira raised an eyebrow at his crotch. ‘You should get that looked at.’

‘After how that last job turned out, you really think I’d be jumping at the chance for another?’ Jay said.

Nasira didn’t answer, just watched. She was reading him. Seeing if he was bluffing.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I do.’

‘You know what I’ve learnt since being here?’ Jay said.

Nasira looked genuinely surprised. ‘You’re learning things now?’

‘I’ve learnt the point of life.’

‘That’s heavy,’ she said. ‘For you.’

‘I travel light.’

‘I
’
m all ears.’

Jay looked around at the patrons, twirling spaghetti on forks and circling snooker tables. ‘These people … they have a normal life.’

‘An incredible observation,’ Nasira said. ‘Your skills are unparalleled.’

‘They deal with the challenges and problems of normal life. That’s what I’m trying now. That’s what I want from this world.’

Nasira looked bored.

‘And I don’t see anything wrong with that,’ Jay said.

‘Right back at you,’ she said. ‘Looks like these people been doing a pretty good job too. World’s falling apart and they just wanna sit around and eat the …
’
she glanced at the laminated menu, ‘Tuesday special.
’

Jay nodded. ‘I didn’t think you’d understand.’

She flicked the menu aside. ‘I understand damn well. The trials and challenges of a normal life are more than enough for everyone.’ She focused on a woman and a man sitting three tables down, hunched down and eating in silence. ‘Who can blame them for not wanting to engage in an endless fight against something you can’t stop?’ She flicked ash into the ashtray, now at full capacity. ‘They’re not stubborn, they’re not delusional. They might not know the Fifth Column exists but they know they’re being lied to. They know they’re being poisoned. They know millions around the world are starving and dying.’ Her voice was almost a whisper now. ‘And they know they can’t do shit about it. So they eat bolognese.’

Jay didn’t have a response ready.

‘Is that how you feel?’ Damien asked her.

Nasira’s gaze flickered between them. ‘Sometimes. It’s a rare breed of person who burns to take on both horns—the basic challenges of normal life and the threats on a global scale.’ She extinguished her cigarette. ‘And I guess you ain’t one of them.’

Jay watched her leave.

‘I think that went well,’ Damien said.

‘I’m not letting you do this,’ Jay said, without looking at him.

Damien feigned surprise. ‘Do what?’

Jay shook his head. ‘Manipulate me into this. Starving African children bullshit.’

‘OK.’

Jay hammered the table with a fist. The nearby couple looked up, pasta draped from their mouths.

Damien shrugged. ‘Actually, you can blame the Fifth Column for Africa. They proxied that place up better than Latin America.’

Jay shook his head. ‘She has what I’m missing.’

‘What’s that?’

‘You saw that look in her eyes—she’s got purpose. Something to fight for.’

‘Is that what you want?’ Damien asked.

‘I don’t know.’

Jay got up and walked out. Nasira was out the front, fresh cigarette in hand. Jay checked there was no one in earshot.

‘You don’t seem surprised to see me,’ he said.

‘You don’t seem surprised at my lack of surprise.’

‘Old habits die hard. But more importantly, what guns do you have?’

***

The flight to Australia was mostly uneventful. Nasira, Jay and Damien had booked separate tickets under their false identities using matching false credit cards. On the plane, Damien kept to himself and read a magazine he’d purchased at the airport. His only luggage was a carry-on messenger bag; it contained everything he needed, sans pistol. Airport security wasn’t a fan of those so he’d left it behind. Jay, carrying a daypack, had done the same. As far as Damien could tell, Nasira was also unarmed.

The Akhana base was located in Williamstown, southwest of Melbourne, embedded in what appeared to be a maritime shipping yard. Nasira led them past a row of forklifts and into a subterranean parking lot.

‘Your passes,’ a wafer-thin man said, handing Damien a laminated guest pass on a lanyard. ‘You can report to the weapons assembly area.’

It looked as though Nasira hadn’t heard him, but after a moment she nodded.

Damien dutifully hung his pass around his neck. Jay kept his in his hand.

‘Around your neck, please,’ the man said. ‘Where we can see it.’

‘I’m good,’ Jay said.

They followed Nasira to a freight elevator.

‘Put your pass around your neck,’ she said to Jay. ‘That’s the point of giving you a guest pass. So people can see you’re a guest.’

‘Invited or uninvited?’ Jay said.

The elevator arrived, a little less smoothly than Damien would’ve liked. Nasira wrenched the gate open and the trio stepped inside.

‘On the surface, we’re a defense contractor,’ she said. ‘Beneath, we maintain the Akhana’s concealed array of helicopters, submarines and a few other … gadgets.’ She closed the gate and hit a button. ‘The helos are painted police and military, which sometimes comes in handy.’

‘And the Fifth Column don’t know you’re here?’ Jay said.

‘Sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight. This joint has been building battle class destroyers for nearly a century. Underneath used to be a classified naval submarine base. These days we use it to do some weapons research of our own.’

Damien already felt on edge and they hadn’t even reached the actual base yet. He wasn’t sure what to expect when they met Sophia.

‘If they find you, you’re toast,’ he said.

‘If they find us anywhere, we’re toast,’ Nasira said.

The elevator lurched to a halt. Nasira opened the gate to reveal a white-walled tunnel. At the end he could see a curved blast door, striped yellow and black. They approached the door and it parted in two. Damien could see each side of the door was as thick as his arm span from hand to hand.

He and Jay slipped into single file as they followed Nasira inside. The doors closed slowly behind them. An uneasy feeling settled inside Damien. He didn’t like being sealed in anywhere, even a Shadow Akhana base. On his right he could see what looked like an air conditioning or ventilation plant. They passed through another set of blast doors.

‘How many people here?’ Jay asked.

‘Hundred and fifty,’ Nasira said. ‘Not counting the forty-eight guards.’

‘That's a lot of guards,’ Damien said.

On his left he noticed a small blast-protected, dome-shaped room.

She must have caught him looking because she said, ‘It houses the charges. In case we need to blow this place.’

‘That’s reassuring,’ Jay said.

They passed through a third set of blast doors and found themselves at a crossroads. There were storage bays on the left, and a narrow-gauge tramway in the center with a turntable and a small flatbed truck on it. Sealed crates filled the truck.

‘Are they for me?’ Jay said.

Nasira walked past the truck. ‘Don’t touch.’

Damien followed her. On the right he spotted more personnel – civilian – down the tunnel.

‘What’s down there?’ he asked.

‘Hospital, mess hall, recreation, living quarters.’ Nasira’s voice bounced off the tunnel’s curved surface.

Caged bulbs lit the tunnel with pockets of warm light. They reached what must have been the weapons assembly area, although it lacked its most defining feature: weapons.

‘This was used to assemble nuclear warheads,’ Nasira said. ‘Now we use it for debriefs. And football.’

She scooped up an oddly shaped football, oval, and tossed it to Jay. He caught it in his stomach.

‘Your balls are shaped weird,’ Jay said, inspecting the football. ‘Wait, that came out wrong.’

Nasira pretended not to hear him and led them into an empty debriefing room. So far they’d walked past only two members of the Akhana and neither had even glanced at them. Which Damien actually preferred.

Inside the room stood a guy with a sword strapped to his back, arms folded over a broad chest. A vein ran the length of his coal-black neck. He didn’t look happy. Beside him, Benito. They were both on the other side of a round table, backs against the wall. Benito looked well, fit, but troubled.

‘You have a problem,’ the man said to Nasira. ‘Who are they—new recruits?’

Jay bounced his football. It sprang left and crashed onto a table, sending folders sprawling.

‘
Old
recruits,’ Jay said.

Damien decided to cover Jay’s first impression by stepping forward and offering his hand. ‘I’m Damien.’

The man looked at him curiously but said nothing.

Benito shook Damien’s hand. ‘Good to see you again. Would’ve preferred better circumstances though.’

Nasira had her hands on her hips. ‘What’s Sophia done this time? Oh yeah, DC, this is Damien and Jay. Damien, Jay, this is DC. Blah blah blah.’

DC unfolded his arms. ‘The Council have placed Sophia in solitary confinement.’

‘She didn’t kill anyone, did she?’ Nasira said.

DC shook his head. ‘Dolph pushed her though.’

‘He was doing it on purpose,’ Benito said.

‘Who’s Dolph?’ Damien asked.

‘The Shadow Akhana elder,’ Benito said. ‘He runs the show here.’

‘You have your own little dictator?’ Jay said. ‘That’s original.’

‘He can only make a decision with the Council’s approval,’ DC said.

Nasira raised an eyebrow. ‘And how the fuck did he manage that?’

Benito was looking at his feet. ‘Wasn’t hard. She was set up from the start.’

‘She’s been rubbing him the wrong way since we got here,’ DC said. ‘It was just a matter of time before he found a way to sideline her. And it didn’t help that I had to pull her from a personal vendetta in Tokyo the other day.’

Nasira was pacing now. Damien knew things had gone bad when Nasira paced.

‘Another of the Fifth Column’s new installations, right?’ she said. ‘So can you talk him out of this mess?’

DC shook his head. ‘Not this time.’

Nasira halted mid-step. ‘Why?’

DC looked over at the football on the floor. ‘You heard this from no one. He wants to turn her over.’

Damien felt his insides suddenly go cold. ‘To who?’

‘The Fifth Column.’

Nasira shut her mouth. Damien could see her jaws grinding under her skin. She breathed in sharply and her hands clenched into fists. He was ready for her to break a table in two, but she didn’t.

Benito cleared his throat. ‘We think he’s using her as a bargaining chip. For the release of twenty-two Akhana prisoners from a prison camp in America.’

He slid a paper across the table. Nasira pinned it with the palm of her hand and started reading.

‘Dolph’s wife is on here.’ She looked up at Benito and DC. ‘He’s using Sophia to get his fucking wife back.’

‘Romantic,’ DC said.

‘Has he made any arrangements yet?’ she asked.

DC shook his head and pocketed the paper.

Nasira exhaled sharply. ‘Then we need to do something, now.’

‘We don’t do anything,’ DC said. ‘Unless you’d like to be a part of the exchange.’

‘I’m not going to sit—’ She stopped as someone new entered the room.

A woman, tall enough to overshadow Jay. She looked surprised to see Jay and Damien.

‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘I have news. The Council have made an agreement with the Fifth Column. Sophia will be transferred to another Shadow Akhana base tomorrow at eight hundred.’

Nasira slumped on the edge of the table. She looked on the verge of tears.