Clearing his throat, Julius continued, a rush of anger taking him through his final thoughts. How dare these people intrude on Charlie’s final moments. Gripping the lectern, he brought the speech to an end and walked down the aisle and out into the churchyard. Convention be damned. He had no desire to stay for the rest of the service, nor engage in small talk afterwards. He was also uncertain what the presence of the strangers indicated, and he had no desire to find out. He was angry, and he needed to walk it off.
Outside the sun was shining and the street beyond was quiet. It seemed mad that the world just continued on whilst his life seemed in utter disarray. He knew that was just life, but he was jumping at shadows and sleeping badly.
He had almost made it to the lych-gate when two men approached him. They looked like the two thugs who had come into the church first. He chided himself for not being alert, but just as he was about to politely smile at them, one of them stepped forward and grabbed his arm. Angry and feeling foolish, he took a deep breath to shout out when a rough hand clamped over his mouth. These guys weren’t playing, and he slumped like a dead weight to destabilise them. As one of them stumbled, he shoved at him and was gratified as he lost his grip on Julius’ arm. Struggling with the other assailant, he realised other people had joined the fray. As far as he could work out, it was the other two thugs from the church and the four who had followed them in.
He looked over at the church, but the door was closed so no one else from the eulogy would be coming to join in the fight. Within seconds, the scene was chaotic. He paused, as a tall and utterly stunning woman ran towards him and then kicked him in the belly. He doubled over, falling to his knees, though as he did so he felt something pass over head. There were fights breaking out all around him. The woman who had kicked him grabbed him by the arm and started calling his name. He didn't think he could breathe. The pain in his stomach was immense, and he thought he was going to be sick; this was worse than rugby. She grabbed his arm again and then stood up, punching a man in the throat who ran towards them.
‘Get in the fucking car! Ramin, help me carry him.’
That was enough for Julius. No one was going to carry him. He tried to stand up but was still heavily winded. The other woman, Neith, was spinning and kicking, fighting against two men. Beside her, a huge beast of a man covered in tattoos and bad life choices was trading blows with one of the two men who’d entered the church. She glanced over briefly and grinned, giving him another thumbs up. That decided it. She appeared to approve of the two people now trying to get him to a car. He stumbled along with them, and was all but thrown into the backseat whilst his two rescuers jumped into the front seats and sped off.
He stared out the back window, trying to make sense of what had just happened. The congregation was still safely ensconced within the church whilst the fight continued amongst the gravestones. As his eyes followed Neith in admiration, a man crept up behind her. He tried to wave at her and alert her to the danger, but she simply waved back as the man punched the back of her head.
Julius watched in horror as she collapsed in a heap.
#19 Neith – Beta Earth
I knew it was all going to go belly up when I flicked Julius a thumbs up in the church. Nothing good ever came of churches. This was proving to be no exception. A thumbs up, like a stupid kid. I deserved all I got.
The day had started better. Ramin had spent the previous day at the museum and library, posing in turns as a visiting academic, a reporter, even an undergrad. Every time he spoke to someone the topic would weave back to Charles or Julius, as though it were the speaker themself who introduced the topic. It was always the best sort of interrogation technique, as the blabbermouth would be slow to reveal, if later questioned, that they had raised the topic of conversation.
Talking to people and getting them to relax in his company was a particular skill of Ramin’s. He might go toe to toe with Clio when it came to paper and internet research skills, but when it came to humans, he was out ahead by a country mile. I reckon it's because he liked people and Clio didn't. Clio has never been what you could call a people person.
He also discovered that someone else had been asking about Julius and Charles. This wasn't good. We still didn't have a clear idea of who our opponents were. Normally it was your local bad guys or meddling do-gooders. The former camp was easier to deal with, in that we didn't need to worry about hurting their feelings, or themselves for that matter. I mean, no one dies. Well, rarely, well apart from Napoleon, but that absolutely wasn't our fault. Well, not absolutely, but I wasn't on that team anyway, so absolutely not my fault. For once.
So, sometimes people die. The ones we try not to have die are the good-willed meddlers. Like Charles, the dealer and Julius. Two out of three was not a good strike rate. The death of the old Polish lady also seemed suspicious. I didn't like the idea of losing another innocent party, especially a fellow curator. His looks had nothing to do with it. Honestly, at that point, so far I had seen his angry face, his scared face,
