The Code War (10 page)

'OK, why not.' Martin sat back
against the wall. 'Well,
you've just got
to hear about Professor Gibson and the striped cow…'

As
Martin embarked on his story, Nancy watched him tenderly.
Then she slipped off her shoes and went to sit beside him on the
bed. She drew her knees up to her chest and leant her weight
against the brawny scrum forward who didn't want her
like that
.
She giggled when he reached the bit about the sudden shower of rain
which exposed Professor Gibson's zebra creation. As he started to
tell her about the incident with the policeman and the frozen duck
she let her head fall against his shoulder and closed her
eyes.

And just for a moment she felt a
yawning gap in her heart as she wondered, for the millionth time,
what it would be like to have a brother.

Ten
minutes later, Nancy stripped off while Martin looked the
other way. She wrapped the towel around her and returned to the
bathroom. It was important to keep up the pretence. The mirror, she
noticed, was clear and bore no marks except the faint outline of
where she had rubbed it with her hands earlier.

She ran the shower
for a minute and then turned it off. But as she
gathered up her things and prepared to leave she had a shock. The
mirror that was blank just a moment ago had something written on it
once again. It was the same capital letter R that had been there
before. But this time it was twice the size it had been previously
and the serifs, curves, bowl and stem were as pin sharp as if they
had been etched. Nancy fairly hit the mirror with her hand and
wiped vigorously over the arrogant letter. It had no effect. Notice
me, it seemed to say. Don't ignore me.

Nancy
stared hard at the capital R. This time she knew she
couldn't forget it. A shiver ran through her as another thought
occurred. Was she being watched?

Martin's story and Nancy’s reflections
were interrupted as a waiter came and deposited some menus on their
table. This would be their first meal in Israel together and they
turned to concentrate on the choices awaiting them.

'
Chicken, chicken or chicken, it looks like', said Pete, as
he surveyed what was on offer.

'Shame, I was hoping for
chicken'
, offered Martin who always ate
the most. 'Do they really not eat pork at all in
Israel?'

Nancy
saw a shiny black Mercedes draw up to the kerb near where
the group’s table was set. Inside were three men of Arab
appearance, unshaven and smoking. One of these had been staring at
Nancy for some time. Now he managed to catch her eye. He smiled at
her and a moment later got out of the car and approached the
table.

'
Good
evening. English, American, German?' he asked in a voice that was
accented but richly-toned.

Nancy was just about to say
'
what do you want?' in her frostiest
voice. But brawny Martin, who was on his second beer and clearly
enjoying himself, butted in first.

'
We’re
English, my good fellow. Archaeologists actually. Just here for a
couple of weeks digging in the desert.'

'
Shut
up, Mart, don’t tell everyone our business,' hissed
Andy.

But it was too late.

'
Archaeologist? You all archaeologist?' smiled the Arab,
pointing in turn at all four of them.

'
Yes'
said Nancy.

'No' said Martin. 'We’re
archaeologists'
, indicating himself and
the two other boys. 'She’s our organiser. She looks after us'. He
ignored the savage look from Andy.

The Arab
smiled widely and turned to Nancy. 'Fixer. You’re the fixer
for them. You’re the fixer that make things happen'. He was
laughing now and leaning over the table, his hands resting on the
tablecloth. But his eyes weren't smiling. They were cold. They were
calculating. They were ruthless.

Nancy returned his stare evenly,
saying nothing. But when he remained grinning she spoke up
again.

'We're perfectly all right on our
own. We don't need any help, thank you.' Nancy continued to look
directly at the Arab all the while. Her words were sharp and her
message was clear: go away.

But
Nancy was surprised to see that her cold words were having
the opposite effect. If anything, he was looking at her with
increased interest. Respect even.

He
turned and cast a quick glance at the doorway through which
a waiter might come at any moment. Then looked back at them. He
dropped his voice to a whisper.

'
Look,
you like some hash? I get you very good hash at very good price.
You here for holiday or work, no matter. Enjoy good hash. Your
first evening here?' he addressed the question to Martin who had
been the most willing to talk to him.

'Yes, our first evening,'
said Martin who was finishing his
beer.

'
OK.
Look what I do for you. Because you nice people and you come to my
country. I give you special price for first night. Four hash
cigarette, four Israel pounds. One pound each.'

A moment later four rough looking rolled
and stuffed leaves had appeared on the table.

'
You
have nice time tonight,' he continued. 'Nice food and nice smoke
later. At your hotel. Not smoke here. Not safe. What you say, four
pounds?'

The boys looked at each other. It
was the p
erfect way to end a perfect day.
Sun, sex, food, beer and now drugs. In the morning they’d go to
work in the desert but tonight they were on holiday. They were
young, foolish and it was the thing to do.

A five Israeli pound note came out of
Pete’s pocket and landed on the table beside the joints. The man
snatched it up.

'
OK I
bring you change here tomorrow. You have good night.'

Then he was gone.

The four looked at each other.

'
You
three have got brains the size of peas,' exploded Nancy. 'What is
the matter with you all? We don’t know who that man is or what he's
going to do now. We’re in a effing foreign country, with not much
effing money and where they jail people who do drugs and throw away
the key. This isn’t effing Leeds students union you three great
effing idiots.'

'
Calm
down Nance. We’re here for a good time. They’ve been smoking this
stuff here for centuries, it’s just part of the landscape,'
defended Pete who was feeling guilty because he’d produced the
money.

Nancy was still feeling annoyed at the
risk they’d exposed themselves to.

'You boys need a drill sergeant to look
after you, not a mother hen at all.'

They stared at her. So she'd thought of
herself as a mother hen?

'Let's not do anything more that's
stupid, OK?'

'That's quite a temper you've got there,
Nancy,' said Pete. 'There's more to you than you let on. Look,' he
said, glancing meaningfully at the other two boys, 'we promise to
behave in future. We may have placed too much trust in people who
don't deserve it, that's true. We were a bit rash, and we're very
sorry. So it's time to put the incident with Mr Hash…'

'…and his four Israel pounds…'
interrupted Martin.

'…behind us.' Pete pretended to
throw a salt cellar at Martin. 'And get some food ordered. Come on.
Let's see what's on offer.' He picked up his menu again. 'But while
we're choosing, I couldn't help noticing your surname on your
passport when we came through the airport. Nancy, where does the
name Kay come from?'

'
Oh,
trying to change the subject and thought I wouldn't notice?'
Nancy's good humour was restored. 'I can see you should be a
diplomat, Peter Temple. Unfortunately, a career like that requires
connections. Which a poor boy like you hasn't got.' She gave the
future Duke of Buckinghamshire a knowing look. 'So you'd better
stick with working hard.'

Pete maintained a steady smile.

'But since you
ask
,' she continued, 'my ancestors came
to Britain a long time ago from foreign parts. And they had an
unpronounceable name. So they abbreviated it to the first letter.
Which was K. But K isn't a name so they expanded it to K-A-Y which
is why it's Kay.'

'Fascinating.' Andy decided to join in
to show he wasn't asleep. 'So you're really just an ordinary
English girl through and through.'

'I suppose I am. Now.' Then with
pretended nonchalance, 'But since you've asked, I may as well tell
you. All my grand-parents were Russian.'

'Russian?' they all shouted at once.

People at other tables were turning
around at the outburst and looking at them.

'Calm down, for goodness sake,' ordered
Nancy in a whisper.

'Russian. Yes. B
ut not communist Russian,' she answered their unspoken
question.

Seconds went by, all three staring at
Nancy waiting for an explanation.

She looked back and then sighed in
exasperation. 'You know, for a bunch of archaeologists you three
seem to know nothing about history. Look, if you need me to spell
it out for you, I'm a Jew.'

A waiter came out and stood beside the
table, pencil poised over notepad to take their order.

Nancy picked up her menu, smiled
at the waiter and wished him shalom. She glanced down at the
descriptions of the dishes, all laid out in English and Hebrew.
Then with the boys' eyes still on her, she looked back at the three
of them, smiling sweetly. 'It's a tough choice but I think I'll
have the 'tender white breast surrounded by three thick
dumplings'.' She paused for effect. 'Then I can eat and think of
all of you.'

Kodrob's Squadroom,
Pentacurse
Region,
Inferno

Kodrob watched as Bezejel
strode
back and forth in front of them
like a tiger. Only Bezejel could give off the air of a predator
when performing the role of teacher. Her gaze darted from one to
the other of them constantly, ensuring their full concentration. In
truth, none of them had problems keeping their attention focused on
her. She was easy to look at. But she had brains as well as beauty.
She was using them now.

'Nancy i
s hugely talented, Kodrob. She's got empathy. She can
manipulate others. She's brave. She uses fear to get what she
wants. She uses sex to get what she wants. She has a mind for
detail
plus
she can see the big picture. That's very
unusual. But if it wasn't for us, Nancy would have a very ordinary
life.'

'How ordinary, ma'am?'

'Without us, her life path shows
she gets married. Her husband is a car dealer. She has three
children. One of them is disabled. She sets up a children's
charity. Her husband leaves her age fifty. She works in the charity
for the rest of her life. Always worried about money. Eventually
her children put her in a care home where she dies.' Bezejel was
smiling now. 'So ma'am,' interjected Holzman, 'she is a failure.
She doesn't really achieve anything.'

'That's right, Holzman.
She fails. A thousand people come to her funeral
to mark her failure. Most of them are in wheelchairs. Not a warrior
among them. And that is why our project is so important. To the
world but also to Nancy herself. When she follows our code trail
she is led to a life of power. A life of significance. A life of
meaning. She pulls the strings behind many governments. She causes
the implosion of entire nations. People learn how to fight again.
They rediscover survival skills. She is remembered by billions, not
just a few thousand here or there.' Bezejel's face glowed as she
continued her prowling in silence for a moment.

'
There's
only one thing Nancy is missing. Do any of you have the wit to tell
me what it is?'

Bezejel looked around the
table
from Kodrob to the others of his
squad, Lafarge, Holzman. Lafarge responded first.

'An army ma'am?'

'No, Lafarge. There are lots of
armies on planet Earth. Another one, even under Nancy, won't make a
difference.
'

'A philosophy?' suggested Kodrob.

'Explain.'

'Well, ma'am, lots of souls have
been brought to us by men who found a philosophy, a political
philosophy that is, and forced others to follow it. This brought
conflict and war. Like communism and fascism. Maybe that's what
Nancy needs. A philosophy.'

'
Hocus
pocus, burn and smoke us,' laughed Bezejel, slapping Kodrob on the
shoulder. 'You're a smart demon, Captain Kodrob. I understand now
why the Leader gave you to me. But philosophies are unpredictable.
The men you're talking about pushed their philosophies too hard.
And that's why they didn't last. Their enemies eventually pushed
back against them and crushed them. We've learnt from that. We're
steering Nancy away from politics and into good old-fashioned
corruption. Corruption works for us precisely because it's almost
invisible. It doesn't make enemies in the same way politics
does.'

'But ma'am,' interrupted Holzman.
'Nancy is kind. She gave money to a beggar. How can she become a
serious corruptor of men with behaviour like that?'