“We’re ready for anything,” he said. “The soldiers are laying low for the time being. There’s not much anyone can do until the mayhem dies down.”
“Of course,” said Kalakia. “We are in unprecedented territory.”
“That’s an understatement,” said Scheffler.
“We’ve got to focus on finding Stirner,” said Marco Lessio, signalling his re-engagement. “He’s the key, right?”
“Right,” said Scheffler. “We spotted Vidrik while he was leaving Paris, but we lost him once the crowds began to gather. We’re scanning the area, in case he shows up. I’ve got a feeling he can lead us to Stirner.”
“Vidrik knows our intelligence network well,” said Kalakia. “It is no coincidence that you lost him.”
“Well, here’s hoping he slips up.”
“What about Frederich?” said Kalakia. “Clearly he failed in his pursuit of Vidrik.”
“He caught a gunshot from the police. Our soldiers just picked him up from the hospital.”
“Is it serious?” said Kalakia, leaning forward.
“No. It’s a leg wound, went straight through without touching any bones or nerves. He’s young. He’ll be fine.”
“Where is he now?” said Kalakia.
“On the way to Berlin. He’ll need to rest that leg for a little while.”
“Is he fit to speak?”
“Are you kidding? Even with one leg, he got into a dust-up with a policeman in the hospital and almost killed him. I think he’s fine.”
Kalakia relaxed back into his chair.
“Not sure he’s happy about being thrown into the spotlight like that though,” added Scheffler.
“His situation is of his own making,” said Kalakia. “His idolisation by the masses is a consequence of his reckless actions.”
“Fair point,” said Scheffler. “Nobody told him to walk into a London pub and start a brawl in front of fifty people.”
“His face is now recognisable all over the world,” said Tamju Lau. “How will he do his job?”
The table fell silent. It was a good question.
“He will need to become one with the darkness,” Limbaba said finally. “You say he is wounded?”
“Yeah,” said Scheffler.
“Don’t take him to Berlin,” said Limbaba. “He needs more than rest. He is the people’s hero, but he is far too troubled to meet their expectations. He is not ready for what lies ahead. I propose we take him to the witch doctor of my hometown. His name is Fourtani. He can help the boy heal his body and spirit, and he can show him how to blend into the night.”
“People still believe in that shit?” said Marco Lessio.
Limbaba shrugged.
“I don’t understand it, but it works. I send my soldiers to Fourtani when I see them in distress, and he heals them every time.”
“What do you think?” said Scheffler, looking at Kalakia.
“Do it,” said Kalakia. “Nothing else has succeeded.”
“Fine,” said Scheffler. “I’ll have him flown out asap.”
When the matter seemed settled, Tamju Lau leaned forward and steepled his hands.
“We must move quickly,” he said. “With chaos comes opportunity.”
“Correct,” said Kalakia. “Our window is short, and we must act while we have the backing of the people. Stirner is cornered. He will be at his most dangerous now. We must strike hard. We must hunt him and his people down, and we must kill them all.”
“I guess the time for misdirection is over then?” said Scheffler.
“Now is the time to bring down the hammer,” said Kalakia with a tiny smirk.
Scheffler smiled and nodded.
“So let’s talk strategy,” said Marco Lessio, shuffling around in his chair to prepare for the night-long discussion. “I’ve got a few ideas.”
Brunswick was jolted from her sleep, waking up to the pitch black of her room.
She oriented herself in a state of numbness. All she could hear in the dark was her heart beating. Her lips were dry, and her nose felt stuffy. Damn hay fever season. She felt the urge to go to the bathroom, and reached over and switched on her lamp. She almost screamed when she saw Stirner standing beside her bed looking down at her.
“God!” she squealed, falling back and lifting her hands defensively.
Stirner looked like death. He towered above her with no sign of his pretend charm. His squint was gone, and pursed lips had replaced his ugly smirk. The severity in his wide-open eyes alarmed Brunswick.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Stirner did not move, only remained staring at her. She prepared to defend herself, sure now that he would lash out with a concealed weapon. There was a glass of water on her side table which she could toss at his head. Should she make the first move? Or wait for him to strike first? She stood by, carefully watching his eyes for clues. There was nobody there. They looked grave and lifeless.
“You have a deal,” said Stirner suddenly. “Secure the nuclear missiles, and you’ll have everything you asked for.”
Stirner then turned around and left the room. Brunswick remained frozen for a long time before rolling onto her back and looking up at the ceiling. Only then did she remember to breathe again.
The slow, thumping beat of Manowar’s ‘Warriors of the World’ instantly lifted Vidrik’s spirits. He turned the volume knob on the stereo to the maximum and stood nodding to the beat with his eyes closed. In the spirit of an archetypal Manowar album illustration, he pictured himself standing atop a fiery mountain of rubble and corpses, gloriously raising Frederich Abel’s severed head to the sky while Ida lay naked at his feet, holding up his victory crown. The image brought him incalculable pleasure. If only.
He picked up the photo of Ida from the cocktail party and lay back on his bed, studying every inch of her. For a moment he grieved the loss of her innocence while his chest ached. He longed for the starry-eyed, ignorant little girl.
She was gone now. In her place was the new Ida; a goddess yearning to be fucked. Only it was clear by that little scuffle of theirs that he would need to earn the right. He knew from the countless whores he had left in his wake that a real woman did not come easily. And what a fight she had put up! Vidrik had no idea
