The Pestilence (22 page)

***

STEFANO had joined Dressler squinting up at the morning sky, where now there were two objects hovering in the air ten metres above the towering South Stand.

“Drones. Big ones. Eight rotors each. Looks like a camera slung underneath. Perhaps one of the news crews?” said Stefano.

Dressler shook her head. “Why two?”

More and more people in the stadium had noticed the CineStars and were craning their necks to view the floating oddities. As interest in the CineStars rose the general noise level in the stadium fell. The sound of the sixteen rotors, akin to a swarm of angry bees could now be heard. The cameras in the two CineStars roved left and right relaying the images back to Ashen and Black. They had set up in the car park over the pedestrian footbridge linking the stadium to the Malha Mall. Three hours before the mall opened, the car parks were wide, empty expanses, a perfect base from which to set up and launch the attack.

“Not good,” said Dressler.

“I know. It looks wrong. Three of them now.”

The first rotor copter dropped low over the seats of the South Stand and took up a hover five metres above the goal posts. Dressler grabbed Samuel's sleeve and pulled him down forcing him to kneel behind her. Two of the Healed volunteers broke off from tending the sick and completed the shield, instantly Samuel disappeared into a 49,000-strong crowd. The copter hovering above the South Stand goal suddenly changed direction and swept along the pitch. Those underneath raising their eyes as it flew overhead. At the half-way line, the copter started gaining altitude darting above the goal-mouth and perching above the North Stand behind them.

Black had packed the PETN, detonator and cord into an aluminium tray which was soldered to the struts above the video camera. The carbon fibre and aluminium frame of the multi-rotor copter would in itself provide shrapnel to increase the killing radius of the two kilograms of PETN but for completeness Ashen had insisted on sprinkling the top of each tray with four inch hardware nails. Fastened to the lid of the nail bomb was a remote detonator in the shape of a pay as you go cell phone.

Stefano felt a swell of pride as Dressler watchfully protected Samuel and the semblance of an idea began to form. He removed his suit jacket, discarded his tie and holster and tucked his Beretta into his trousers. As he did so the second CineStar descended majestically from the South Stand. It repeated the same manoeuvre as the first but this time flew from the halfway line to hover above the East Stand. The three copters were now high above the North, South and East Stands gently panning ominously left to right. Speaking into the microphone on his wrist Stefano radioed for four of his investigators to converge on his position. His men formed a diamond around him and Stefano placed his hand on the shoulder of the investigator at the head of the diamond.

“Go,” Stefano shouted. The investigators moved for the car, straight down the length of the pitch. They moved in formation, Stefano at the centre; his head down, relying on his arm on the investigator's shoulder to guide him. As they advanced, his team carved people out of their way. The ripple of their urgent progress spread through the crowd and the eyes of the watching sentinels tracked their progress. Five-hundred-metres away in an empty car park Ashen watched as the agents hustled their VIP towards their getaway. He smiled; the VIP was too big to be the False Messiah, nevertheless he changed controllers to the copter marked “South” and removed the machine from its automatic hover. He rotated the CineStar centring the video screen on the dark blue getaway car and dropped altitude rapidly. He hovered five metres above the car, the camera now fixed on the approaching security team. Ashen waited until the investigators were a few metres away then brought the CineStar gently down to land on the roof of the car. He picked up a cell phone; from the phone book selected the number stored as “South” and pressed call.

Stefano and his escort were about three metres from the car when the drone dropped out of the air and Ashen detonated the PETN. The blast stripped Stefano's shirt from his body and he felt as if he was being lifted up into the heavens.

A split second of absolute silence followed the crump of the explosion. Then screaming started. Limbs and body parts littered the penalty area and the stand behind the goal. Shrapnel and four inch nails had penetrated deep into the crowded stadium almost to the halfway line. The blue sedan was a burning carcass and the South Stand echoed with the cries of the fallen and the smell of charred flesh.

Few ran, but the majority of the crowd watched in a bemused reverie at the carnage occurring around them, struggling to process the horror unfolding. Dressler, however, was moving. She was moving fast. She barked orders into her comms link to the remaining investigators warning them to stay away from her and Samuel. She didn't want suited agents running to her position directing the next strike down upon them.

Slowly people were beginning to awaken from their stupor. Many of the Healed rushed to tend the injured, but the smell of fear and death began the stampede for the exits.

The sentinels still flying above the North and East Stands continued their slow, deliberate pan of the stadium. The South Stand exit onto the road was blocked by the flaming wreckage of the car so Dressler grabbed Samuel and hurried west. Keeping him close, keeping him safe. Behind them, Ashen floated down the CineStar hovering atop the North Stand. Ashen manoeuvred the north copter into the goal-mouth, amongst the beds and wheelchairs of the acutely sick, where Samuel had stood only moments before. Death hung five metres above the turf then with devastating force he announced himself.

Landing the south copter on the blue sedan had caused much of the force of the first explosion to be absorbed by the car. The north copter was an airburst which arced shrapnel in a 360-degree radius with viciously more intensity and killing velocity. Many were frail and infirm, the loss of life in front of the North Stand was catastrophic.

Samuel was knocked to the ground, not by the blast but by a woman falling onto him. She had a large piece of shrapnel buried in the back of her head. Samuel instinctively reached for her face, but Dressler quickly hauled him to his feet; in this stampeding chaos there was a real risk of being crushed underfoot as the entire stadium hurtled towards the West Stand entrances. Samuel knew he could have saved her. He knew that all who had fallen could be raised, he knew all who were injured could be cured. The cheers and adulation that had greeted him earlier had been replaced by the wailing and sorrow of the injured and dying.

Ashen panned the last remaining copter using the controller labelled “East” and the hi-resolution digital camera attached to the CineStar picked out Dressler. Ashen had watched Dressler as she breakfasted with Stefano that morning at the hotel. She was unmistakeable. He panned the copter a little more and clearly picked up the stumbling figure of Samuel Srour. He gave the CineStar a touch of left spin and brought Samuel into the centre of the display and calmly proceeded to guide the CineStar towards its target.

Above the noise of the devastation Dressler knew they had been spotted. The last flying bomb was descending from the East Stand, swooping directly towards them. She looked to Samuel then pointed to the West Stand exit. “Run,” she screamed. “It's coming.” She spun back towards the copter drawing her 357. The high angle was against Dressler, the speed of the approaching copter was against Dressler; even the position of the sun hanging just above the East Stand meant the copter was shrouded in its glare. It was an impossible shot. Dressler discharged two bullets in quick succession. The CineStar continued serenely on its trajectory. It was now forty metres away. Two bullets wasted in haste. Dressler took a moment to compose herself, spreading her feet a little wider, gripping the turf through her boots. She took a deep breath, held it and squeezed off two more shots. Miss, miss. Two rounds left, no time to run, no time to reload and no time to summon support. The CineStar kept on coming.

As he ran across the turf, Samuel was centred in Ashen's video monitor. He ignored Dressler's valiant attempt to shoot down his flying bomb. His target was in his sights and Ashen was relentlessly homing in.

Dressler was down to her final bullet, the copter was twenty-five metres away and closing. She looked down the barrel sighting the drone for the last time. Dressler tracked the 357 forward to shoot in advance of the fast approaching copter. She closed her eyes and pulled the trigger sending the bullet and a silent prayer on their predestined path.

On Ashen's monitor, Samuel's image began to track right from the video frame. Ashen was sure Samuel was still running towards the exit so he compensated by nudging the CineStars' rudder slightly to the left to begin a slow spin on its axis. The image now began to spiral, slowly at first then steadily increasing in speed. Ashen battled to stabilise the machine, but it was now corkscrewing wildly, losing altitude and plummeting to the earth.

Dressler's final bullet, a lucky shot, had winged one the CineStar's eight rotors and she watched in delight as the copter span out of control and crashed into the technical area just beyond the managerial dugouts of the East Stand. The dugouts were full of people cowering from the attack. Dressler made up her mind rapidly. She checked behind her to ensure that Samuel was safe, but she couldn't see him; she had to assume that he had made it to the exits. Dressler dropped her empty gun and took off in a full sprint towards the downed copter. There was something profoundly exhilarating about running at maximum effort; Dressler for a brief, blissful moment was flying covering the twenty-five metres in just over three and a half seconds.

Three of the CineStar's rotors were crumpled into the turf, the other four span on uselessly. Dressler yanked the machine upright. A little boy in the dugout began to wail a mournful, incessant cry rising above the sorrow-filled stadium. Dressler caught the eye of the father of the boy. The man was uselessly trying to shield his family with his body. They were less than five metres from the bomb. Dressler knew they would be shredded by an explosion. She saw the cell phone taped to the aluminium tray. Wires ran from the phone to a thin plastic cord which snaked into the container. Dressler reached into the workings of the machine to wrench the phone from its housing. As her fingers closed round the phone, its screen powered up to receive Ashen's incoming call. Dressler didn't even have time to shut her eyes before the device was triggered. Dressler and all those she was trying to save were instantly vaporised.

***

STEFANO lay numb beneath the eviscerated remains of his team. His ears rang and his vision was blurry. A piece of the CineStar's rotor arm had cleaved its way through his hip severing his left leg just below the waist. Stefano, exhausted and bare-chested from the explosion, struggled to sit upright. His vision slowly cleared and he saw around him hundreds of dead and dying littering the stadium, attended by the few remaining Healed. Stefano felt his right rib snap back into place and watched in wonder as his abdomen ejected a succession of four-inch hardware nails driven into it by the explosion. He felt various bones re-aligning in his face and neck. He looked down at his shattered leg. New bone was growing out from his femur shooting down the length of his leg connecting to the patella, fibula, tibia and then the twenty-six bones that were forming in his left foot. Nerves, sinew, muscle and tendons wrapped round the regenerating skeleton sealed with a layer of skin. After a few minutes Stefano flexed the toes in his new left foot and to his relief they moved as he commanded. He cautiously tried standing, waiting until he was fully upright before tentatively shifting some weight onto the new leg.

Stefano found himself in a sea of shrapnel, drying blood and human detritus. He looked down at his feet, the right shod, the other pale, bare and new. Stefano turned about searching for his left shoe the sudden movement caused him to sway momentarily. He turned again, slower this time and spotted his shoe a few metres behind him. It was still attached to his old left leg. Stefano grimaced as he fished for his leg, movement coming sluggishly. Stefano retrieved his shoe and placed it on his new foot; unsurprisingly it fitted perfectly. He hated the thought of leaving his old leg lying in the South Stand goal of the Teddy Stadium so he tucked it under his arm and went searching for Samuel and Dressler.

Stefano wandered slowly across the pitch, tentatively making his way through the flesh and body parts. He stumbled through a slick of greyish liquid. His stomach churned as he realised that it came from the crushed skull of one of his investigators, trampled by the fleeing crowd. All around Stefano were the remains of strangers and friends. He had seen death many times but had never known the taste of charred flesh which now hung heavily in the air. Stefano's comms link to the other investigators was gone as was his Beretta. He gingerly turned over bodies desperately seeking Samuel and Dressler.

Standing in the centre circle he immediately noted the pattern of the explosions: To the south, destroying the car and the easiest escape route, then north, then east, channelling the able-bodied out of the stadium by the west exit. Stefano understood the attack pattern clearly and recognised instantly what was still to come. He broke into a trot, confirmed his new leg was functioning properly, then a full sprint as he charged into the West Stand.

He could see neither Samuel nor Dressler in the annex between the stand and the pitch so Stefano pressed on through the turnstiles, his dread increasing as he ran.

Outside the stadium the able were streaming away by road and over the footbridge into the Malha Mall. By the corner of the access road and the pedestrian bridge was a small knot of people; at its centre Samuel was healing. He saw Stefano emerge from the stadium and shouted and waved over the swirling crowd. Stefano eased towards him and they embraced for a long moment.

“Why are you holding that?” said Samuel pointing to the severed leg.

Stefano forced an embarrassed smile. “It's mine. Didn't just want to leave it in there. Have you seen Dressler?”

Samuel shook his head. “One drone came directly after me. She told me to run and I did. I haven't seen her since.”

“I couldn't see her inside.” Samuel thought he heard a faint quiver in Stefano's voice.

“We will find her. I can fix this, I can fix everyone. I just need to get started.”

“No, no, no,” said Stefano with a steely firmness. “The drones were sent to degrade security and remove you from a protected environment. Targeting you in the crowd was an opportunistic move. They herded us out through the west exit like fucking sheep. They did it for a reason, there will be another attack. We need to move. Now.”

Sirens wailed in the distance and the injured and maimed were pressing round Samuel for succour. Stefano scanned the crowd for anything out of the ordinary. He turned 360 degrees scrutinising the clear skies. It was a chaotic, unstable environment and they were naked, without support and completely exposed.

It took Stefano less than a second to make up his mind. “Back inside the stadium. I don't know what's coming. You can't heal anyone if you're dead. We can hide between the stands until the emergency services get here.”

Samuel nodded.

Across the footbridge came the roar of a high-powered motorcycle weaving through the escaping masses, horn blaring, engine revving, clearing an indiscriminate path through the pedestrians. It was too late. They were coming.

Stefano sprinted for the bridge. The fleeing crowd parted for the bike and Stefano stood in the breach, a direct line-of-sight towards the approaching motorcycle.

Black ducked into his seat and opened the throttle fully. The bike roared, throwing the front wheel in the air then hurtling forward. Black was the man Ashen had chosen as the harbinger of the last and definitive attack on the False Messiah. The motorcycle's saddle-bags were laden with the remainder of the PETN. Black would usher in the eternal rule of the King of Light. The False Messiah was just over the bridge and Black wasn't about to be deterred by a semi-naked man with a severed leg tucked under his arm.

As the rider streaked towards him Stefano screamed and swung his severed leg with all his might. He put his soul into the swing, scything his old leg into the side of Black's helmet. Stefano's old knee shattered ripping the leg in two. Black tumbled off the bike and Stefano braced his body for the terrible impact. The motorbike was travelling at forty miles per hour and hit with such force that Stefano was scooped up and catapulted over the rail of the pedestrian bridge onto the highway below. Stefano crashed onto the roof of a passing lorry and was spun into oncoming traffic. In the seconds before he passed out again, Stefano realised he had failed and that Samuel would pay for his failure with his life.

High above Stefano's prone form, on the corner of the access road and pedestrian bridge, Ashen remotely detonated the explosives in the saddlebags.

The blast of a great trumpet enveloped Samuel: A single destructive note rapidly increasing in volume and intensity, drowning out the searing pain which enveloped his body. Above him the clouds were parting and lightning streaked down from the heavens. Once more Samuel felt himself being lifted high into the clouds.

***

STEFANO shuffled through the stadium in a daze, the landscape desolate and bleak. Save for the cries of the maimed the atmosphere was solemn and reserved. Paramedics were attending the wounded and the dead were being removed for formal identification. Stefano grimly checked corpses and ambulances for signs of Dressler. He moved like a man lost in a dream. Across the pitch by the centre circle, a metallic glint caught his eye. He drew towards it and discovered Dressler's 357 lying empty on the grass, the epicentre of the East Stand explosion some twenty-five metres away. Stefano looked over towards the charred remains of the dugouts and he knew she was gone. He sank to his knees cradling the gun lovingly in his hands. He had held her most of the night and her smell was still on his skin. He could feel her lips on his neck, her hands interlocking with his. With Samuel gone, there would be no hope of bringing her back. He lifted the gun to his bare chest pressing it hard against his skin, the cold steel offering him no sustenance. He dropped the gun to the floor and curled up on the blackened grass. Stefano wept.

***

Timeline: The Pestilence minus 1 day. Information source: Email intercept between unknown and Mariko Tanaka.

Subject:

White

Our mission is complete. It is time for us to be reunited.

Ashen

***

Timeline: The Pestilence minus 1 day. Information source: Email intercept between Mariko Tanaka and unknown.

Subject:

Father

I have witnessed your success. Tell me where and I will be there.

White

***

Timeline: The Pestilence minus 1 day. Information source: Email intercept between unknown and Mariko Tanaka.

Subject:

White

Meet me in the Christian Quarter of the Old City. There is a cafe opposite the Damascus Gate. I will be there tomorrow at 7 a.m.

Be ready to travel. We must leave Jerusalem to prepare for the coming of the King.

Ashen

Timeline: The Pestilence minus 1 day. Information source: Email intercept between Mariko Tanaka and unknown.

Subject:

Father, I will be there.

***