‘May I ask where that footage you showed us came from?’ asked the second priest. ‘My understanding is that most electronics won’t work on Teijouan.’
‘All the cars are required to carry cameras mounted front and back that shoot with physical film stock, since that’s unaffected by the island’s derangement field. And while we’re on the subject, remember that the sponsors require you to keep those cameras rolling as long as possible. The more footage you get, especially if it features encounters with Kaiju, the more money you receive after crossing the finishing line.’
‘And that’s on top of any prize money, right?’ asked the Australian. The roster said his name was Casey Vishnevsky, but the name wasn’t familiar to Dutch.
‘It is,’ Andrew confirmed, pointing the remote control at the screen. ‘All right, let’s move on.’
The screen changed to show another Kaiju loping along a beach past the tumbled ruins of a deserted village. Its tail brushed against a copse of trees, sending them crashing down. It had smooth grey skin like a dolphin, and shark-like fins on its broad back. The focus blurred, then sharpened again, as if taken from a distance. Most likely the footage had been taken from one of the ships that formed a permanent blockade around the island.
‘A Gogoro,’ said Llordes for the benefit of the less experienced drivers. ‘Twelve confirmed kills in total.’ The beast turned towards the ocean, sending up a great spray of water as it swam out from the shore. ‘They swim fast and deep, which apart from proving a challenge for the blockade authorities means they can sometimes crop up unexpectedly at different locations around Teijouan. However, this one’s been sticking to the area around Truku Gorge, so be alert when you reach that part of the course.’
The screen darkened. ‘And that, ladies and gentlemen, is pretty much that. Time trials begin one hour from now. Order of departure is posted in each pit building booth.’ He nodded to them all. ‘And good luck.’
People stood and began milling about. A couple of caterers had set up a trestle table at the back of the room while Llordes talked and loaded it with soft drinks, beer and finger-food. Dutch, famished from a long and sleepless night, piled a paper plate high with turkey sandwiches.
‘Dutch McGuire,’ said one of the priests, coming towards her.
‘Nice to meet you,’ she said, shaking his hand. ‘Mr…?’
‘Iommi,’ said the priest. ‘Padre Antonio Iommi.’ He turned to his companion. ‘And this is my navigator, Padre Ian Kilmister. We’re great fans of yours.’
‘That’s…nice.’ Dutch put her plate down long enough to crack open a beer and swallow most of it down. ‘So…are you real priests?’
Iommi laughed in a good-natured way. ‘Quite real, I assure you.’
Dutch felt like she was a long way from believing that. ‘It seems kind of weird for a priest to be taking part in the Devil’s Run. Given how dangerous it is, and all.’
‘We’re here with the support of the Vatican,’ said Kilmister, his accent English and laden with gravel. ‘Our mission is to exorcise the Kaiju.’
Dutch stopped chewing the chunk of turkey sandwich she’d shoved in her mouth. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Our car is equipped with rocket launchers modified to fire canisters of Holy Water at any beasts we encounter,’ Kilmister explained. ‘It is his Holiness’s belief that the Rift, and the creatures that emerge from it, are of Satanic origin.’
‘You can’t be serious. You’ll get killed out there!’ She looked between them, waiting to see if one of them cracked a smile to let her in on the joke. Instead they gazed back at her with solemn, if polite, expressions.
‘Our fate is with God,’ said Iommi. ‘As is our faith.’
‘Then why even take part?’ asked Dutch. ‘You don’t need to be in a race to—’ to throw bottles of fucking water at Kaiju, she almost said. ‘I mean, there has to be some other way…?’
‘Our initial plan was to fly the Holy Water here aboard drones that could fire it at the beasts,’ said Iommi. ‘The Holy Pontiff, unfortunately, was unaware that the island’s derangement field prevents advanced electronics from functioning within its borders. That leaves us with no choice but to carry out the exorcisms in person.’
‘Right.’ As far as Dutch could see, they’d be lucky to get to the end of their first day on Teijouan without getting torn apart. ‘And of course the only legal way for you to be on Teijouan is if you’re racing.’
Kilmister nodded. ‘Not to mention that the first prize is over five million dollars—more than enough to rebuild the Saint Fabius Claudius Gordianus Fulgentius School for underprivileged children after the terrible earthquake that struck Mozambique two summers ago.’
Shysters, thought Dutch. Con-men. They couldn’t be for real.
‘It’s for the children, you see,’ said Iommi. ‘They suffer so very much. And winning would bring such joy to their hearts…’ he peered at her. ‘I don’t suppose you’re a person of faith, Miss McGuire?’
‘No, I’m not,’ Dutch replied through gritted teeth.
‘Ah, well. Anyway…we wanted to wish you good luck,’ said Iommi. ‘And if we don’t win…’
‘Then it’s God’s will,’ added Padre Kilmister, putting one hand on his co-driver’s shoulder. ‘But we do hope we can win. For the children.’ He bowed to her. ‘Good day.’
‘Assholes,’ a voice muttered from Dutch’s other side once the two priests had moved on to their next target.
Dutch turned to see General Hurley standing on her other side.
‘It’s good to see you again, Fred.’ She glanced at the two priests, now deep in conversation with the Countess. ‘Those two can’t be for real, can they?’
‘Hard as it is to believe, they are real. Or so I’ve been told.’
‘I thought you’d have retired by now,’ she said.
He grinned. ‘You mean retired again.’ Hurley had spent a few years in command of the UN naval blockade around Teijouan before surprising everyone by taking part in the race himself. ‘You know I couldn’t keep away from the island any more
