Kardinal (24 page)

Hillah – 5.38pm (GMT + 3 hours), 20 May, 2011

AALIYAH peered through the keyhole.

“We got to get out of here,” she said.

“It is too late for getting out,” said Goga.

He was slumped in the corner of the cell, his forehead pressed against the handle of his walking stick.

He looked old and broken.

When Aaliyah and Jake had met him a few months earlier, Apostol Goga had been tall and strong, a man in his fifties capable of looking after himself. He had been a member of the GSPI, the Romanian counter-terrorist and interior protection organization. He had a reputation for being tough and strong, and Aaliyah had guessed at the time that he had a ruthless streak.

But all that had seeped out of him now. Leached away in the last couple of days. All his life he had imagined coming to the ancient city of Babylon and destroying Nimrod. But now that he was here, he looked as if he’d struggle to squish a bug.

Their cell measured about six foot by six foot. A rotting wooden bench was attached to one wall. It was where Goga sat, demoralized.

The walls of the chamber were damp, and moss and weeds grew freely. The cell seemed to have been dug into the wall of the tunnel. It was just a crevice, really. But someone had attached the hefty wooden door across the opening. The lockup smelled old, and Aaliyah was convinced she could whiff the odour of death.

“We’ve got to get out,” she said again.

“We won’t. We’re dead. I am the last of my line. The last Dracul. The last Vlad. After today, we die, and with me dies the hope of destroying this evil. Only evil is immortal. Not goodness. I know that, now. We are… fucked.”

“Stop being so pathetic and melodramatic. Jake’s still out there.”

“The Iraqis have arrested him. And if he is released, Laxman has been sent to dispose of him.”

“You think he can dispose of Jake, do you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Jake won’t leave us here, Goga. He won’t abandon us. If he knows we’re here, he’ll come. He’d never leave anyone behind. Not if he can do something about it. Jake would come back from the dead to rescue his friends. You’re not even dead yet and you’re giving up.”

A drill started rumbling in the distance.

“They are getting closer to the end of the world,” said Goga.

“It’s not the end till Jake – ”

“Jake will not come.”

“He will, you watch. This is why I came to this fucking place, why you persuaded me – to kill this monster, end the vampire plague, so me and Jake can be together. So I’m not giving up on that, I’m not.”

“You should.”

“You brought me here, you bastard.”

He shut his eyes tight and groaned.

“Get up and sort yourself out,” said Aaliyah.

He leapt to his feet. Colour flooded his cheeks. She thought her words might have done the trick and was surprised at how easy it had been.

But then he said, “Nothing to do, can’t you see? Nothing to do. We are trapped here in this box-room of rock. Fuad will let us die here. Starve to death. Buried alive here. This is our tomb. This is our end.”

“He won’t do something as clean and as simple as that. Fuad will want to put on a show. He said something about us being Nimrod’s first sacrifice. Well, that’s an opportunity for us to escape.”

Goga slumped back on the bench, and it creaked under his weight.

“Aaliyah,” he said, “I am injured. I have broken ribs. I have other wounds. How can I fight?”

“The only wound you have is cowardice.”

“I am not a coward.”

“What would your ancestors say?”

“They are dead.”

“They died fighting. They didn’t die crying.”

“Vlad the Impaler died mad, an arrow through his heart from one of his own men, a vampire queen in his arms. He was poisoned by his hatred for the undead, and he was killed for it. I have been poisoned too, and I’ll pay the same price.”

A key turned in the door and it swung open. A guard stood in the doorway.

“Out,” he said.

“Where are you taking us?” said Aaliyah.

“Fucking spa, where do you think?”

THE closer they got to Hillah, the more Lawton’s nerves jangled.

His head was still hurting, and his eye pulsed. He was hearing voices, and they were calling to him.

“One of us, one of us,” they whispered, barely audible.

He desperately fought with his demons over the last remnants of what was human in him.

It was nearly 9.00pm. Laxman dozed in the back seat, dried blood on his face, his eye swelling.

Ereshkigal sat in the front next to Lawton and stared ahead.

She’d hardly spoken. He didn’t mind that. But there were questions bugging him.

“Why did you come back for me?” he said

“I came for the Great Hunter.”

“You brought me the spear.”

“I am returning it to Nimrod.”

“And so am I.”

Make him one with himself, thought Lawton. He was starting to think he knew what that meant. He was starting to see how to kill Nimrod.

“This woman that Laxman spoke of,” said Ereshkigal, “this, how did he say, ‘fox’? Is she your woman?”

“She was.”

“You have lost her?”

“She left to come to Hillah with a man who promised her things.”

“What did he promise her?”

“He promised her me,” he said, and told her.

“My husband’s death would give you to this woman?” said Ereshkigal.

“Nimrod’s death would mean an end to all vampires – and then Aaliyah and me could be together, safely. That’s why she came here.”

“She loves you very much.”

He said nothing.

“Do you love her?”

His skin goosefleshed.

How would he and Aaliyah cope after this conflict was over?

It was violence and war that had brought them together, and it was violence and war that had kept them together.

Perhaps they could never be a couple under normal circumstances.

No threat, no danger, so maybe no passion.

Nothing but humdrum.

And humdrum scared him.

He hadn’t been the best at relationships in the past. He had tried. But he’d never had good role models – his dad had abandoned his mum before he was born, and his mum was a drunk. And sometimes Jake just panicked at the thought of being with someone for a long time. Although part of him craved it. The stability. The security. The sharing.

He and Aaliyah could make it work – he was sure of it.

But whatever happened, he would not let her die.

He would save her.

He would kill everything that threatened her.

He would destroy whatever Fuad dug out of that earth, and he would wipe out the vampire race.

Then Aaliyah could have peace. With him or without him. He was determined that she would have that. She would have that harmony, that tranquillity. It would be his gift to her.

As a child, he’d seen pictures of Scottish islands. The isolation had appealed to him. The silence sounded wonderful.

He must have been eleven or twelve when he’d seen them, and he’d probably forgotten about them as he got older.

Then he’d joined the Army. He’d found a family. He’d found mates. He’d found a purpose.

But they’d taken all that away from him when they’d kicked him out.

Recently, he had been thinking about those islands again recently. He remembered again how he felt as a boy, seeing those photographs. He could see the islands, and he could hear them. The rough landscapes of greens and browns and grey. The wild seas, lashing the rocks. The sheep dotted about. A sheepdog barking. The wind whistling. An old cottage, isolated, in need of care and attention. A home for them in the wilderness. A beautiful desolation they could share.

But for now it was a distant dream

A dream that might not come true.

But it was a goal at least. A gift to give Aaliyah. An island. A haven. A home.

It resurrected a determination in him to get this job done.

Kill this fucking monster; hand Aaliyah its head on a plate.

“Yes,” he told Ereshkigal, answering her question. “I do love her.”

LAXMAN farted and groaned.

“Lovely,” said Lawton.

“The man makes a terrible smell,” said Ereshkigal.

“Where are we?” said Laxman.

“Twenty miles to the outskirts of Al Hillah,” said Lawton.

“Ah, home,” said Laxman.

Home, thought Lawton. He looked at the clock on the Land Cruiser’s dashboard. It was around 9.20pm. Three hours ahead of London, he thought. Three hours before it would be dark. Three hours before the city would be crawling with vampires. But maybe he could stop them.

“Where’s the dig?” he said.

“South of the city,” said Laxman. “Runs alongside the Euphrates river.”

Lawton glanced at the man in the rear-view mirror.

“How long did you serve, Laxman?”

“Serve? Twenty years. Left in 2001, just before 9/11.”

“What regiment?”

“Royal Engineers,” he said. “And special services. You?”

“King’s.”

“The old Manchester regiment,” said Laxman.

Lawton’s old friend Tom Wilson had been in the Manchesters. Wilson had fought at Hillah in 1920. While seeing action in the region, Wilson had learned about the vampire trinity, about the Spear of Abraham. He’d looted the weapon, along with the remains of Kea, Kakash, and Kasdeja. Kept them in his loft for years to make sure the Nebuchadnezzars never got hold of them. But led by the old chemist, Afdal Haddad, the Nebs had tracked Wilson down. They’d stolen the jars containing the remains of the three vampires, resurrected them, and dragged Lawton, Aaliyah, Christine Murray, Tom Wilson, Fraser Lithgow, and everyone else into this cauldron.

Tom had been murdered by the Nebuchadnezzars. He was over a hundred years old. He’d seen wars and survived them. But he’d been butchered in his flat by thugs.

And they’d sent Lawton his head in a box.

“I’d heard of you,” said Laxman. “You had a name.”

“Bad one, I guess.”

“Yeah, shitty. But I never thought you’d murdered an innocent man in Basra. Guessed you’d have a good reason for doing it. You did the right thing.”

“I’m filling up,” said Lawton.

“Soldiers always get blamed first.”

“Like Fuad will blame you, if things go wrong.”

Laxman sighed. He realized Jake was trying to play mind games.

“What are you going to do with this vampire at the end of all this?” said the mercenary. “You’re not going to let her live are you?”

Playing some of his own, now, thought Lawton, but he said nothing.

Ereshkigal stared ahead.

“I mean, you can’t let her live, can you?” said Laxman.

Ereshkigal was as still as a statue.

Perhaps when the time came, he should leave it to Aaliyah.

He glanced at Ereshkigal. She had once been a beautiful woman, but now only the shell of what she’d been remained. Human emotions had been stripped away. Only an instinct to kill was left.

But she was still beguiling.

Desire simmered in his blood, a poisonous need, and those voices echoing in his head were getting louder.

What’s happening to me? he thought, his head throbbing, the pain in his eye getting worse.

He braced himself for whatever was to come and drove towards the tower blocks and sandstone buildings and street lights and traffic of Hillah.

It was a modern Middle Eastern city.

But lurking beneath this modern chaos was an ancient bedlam, a place that could drive men mad.

THEY were deep underground. Deeper than ever. Deeper than Aaliyah had thought possible. It was stifling. It was hard to breathe. Her chest was tight, and she had to gasp for air. It was like being close to hell – hot and terrifying.

It felt as if the tunnel went on and on endlessly.

Neon torches were attached to the walls and they hummed like bees. They showed the way and gave her a glimpse of the darkness.

As they walked, their footsteps echoed.

Alfred Fuad led the way. Behind him came Aaliyah and then Goga, looking worse for wear. He was hobbling and coughing, and Aaliyah had to help him along. The Romanian had aged so quickly. After the beating, he’d gone downhill. But the damage wasn’t just physical. He’d realized that his lifetime’s crusade was going to end in failure.

Behind them came three guards, all armed.

All around them, workers troweled in the dirt. They were like ghosts, coated in dust and debris. They watched as Aaliyah and the others passed, their eyes glittering as if they’d not seen other humans in a long, long time.

Maybe they haven’t, thought Aaliyah. Maybe Fuad had been using them as slaves, imprisoning them down here for months, forcing them to dig and dig and dig.

Fuad stopped. “This’ll do,” he said.

Some two hundred yards down the tunnel, a huge drill was tilted on its axle, its bit pointing upwards. It was like a monster at rest. Around it, people smoked and drank from Styrofoam cups. They leaned on the drill, and they sat against the walls of the tunnel. They looked exhausted.

“That’s it,” said Fuad. “The gates of Irkalla. City of Nimrod. Beyond that opening we’ve just made is a gatehouse, which then slopes downwards towards the city itself. You’ll have the honour of being among the first humans to enter Irkalla for about 5,000 years. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds crazy, Fuad,” said Aaliyah.

“You and your mad brother will pay for this,” said Goga. “You all will.” He looked at the guards. Their eyes strayed from him. He said, “Do you hear me? This man is taking you to your doom.”

His warning echoed down the tunnel.

“Shut up, Goga,” said Fuad. “I’m resurrecting him. He’ll be grateful. He’ll recognize me as an ally.”

“He will recognize you as a slave – if you are lucky – or he may recognize you as food.”

“He’s already got a meal planned,” Fuad said.

Aaliyah glanced at the guards. They looked worried. And some of the workers were talking among themselves.

“Do you realize that Babylon was a slave nation?” the Romanian said. “Nimrod built the Tower of Babel using slaves, and the city was fuelled by slaves.”

“That’s how we’ll run London,” said Fuad. “We’ll run it with slaves. The world will be feudal again. It’s the best system. The best when it’s run properly, by a group of select humans, supported by vampires. That’s the way forward. That’s the way to save England, mate. Save the world. Democracy has failed.”

“Democracy has given my country hope, Fuad,” said Goga.

He buckled. Aaliyah held his arm to brace him.

“My country is now healthy and thriving because of democracy,” he said.

“It’ll soon be dead and decaying, like the rest of Europe,” said Fuad. “Come and see what’s going to kill it, Goga. You too, darling, come and see your fucking god.”

Goga and Aaliyah were herded down the tunnel. The place smelled of diesel and blood. Fumes rose from the drill. It was huge. They had to squeeze past it into the opening, and when Aaliyah slipped through the gap between the drill and the wall and stared ahead, she stopped dead.

Her mouth fell open, such was the awe-inspiring sight.

A huge gateway, three-storeys high, towered above them. It was in the form of an arc. Gargoyles and demons had been carved into the stone. The walls into which it was built were long gone, fallen to dust, crushed by time.

Aaliyah craned her neck and gazed beyond the gateway.

Pillars of sandstone extended into the darkness above them. Where did they end? she thought. There had to be a roof, surely. But it seemed the pillars were never-ending, as if reaching to heaven. Not only did their height seem impossible, they also stretched away as far as the eye could see. It was a forest of pillars, spreading out into the dark distance.

An endless distance.

Many of the columns had collapsed into piles of masonry. Some that stood teetered precariously.

Aaliyah scanned her surroundings. She was trying to take it all in, trying to understand how this place – its dimensions – could be real.

Dread filled her. The thought that in this vast, underground, unchartered frontier, something horrific lurked. Something ancient and powerful. Something more frightening than she’d ever known.

“Welcome to the Gates of Irkalla,” said Fuad.

Aaliyah’s astonishment suddenly dwindled, and she came to her senses. The smell wafting out of the distance struck her. It was putrid. Like death.

And then, from mountains of rubble up ahead, figures crawled. They reared up, the masonry falling off them like water, and they lumbered out of the gloom.

Aaliyah froze.