‘Aye, so it is, so it is…’
William turned stared down the narrow alley at the main street, feeling temporarily hypnotised by the bustle of life that flowed past in a ceaseless deluge of organised chaos. On the other side of the wide road was the KSM Club, an enormous nightclub attached to Sigurd’s brothel that provided a legal front for all the dark activities that took place in the secret labyrinth of rooms at the back of the massive complex.
‘So, “King Solomon’s Mines” is the unabridged name of that club,’ William muttered as he came out of this minor trance. ‘Our Ice Bear evidently considers himself to be some sort of modern-day King Solomon, does he?’
‘He has the vast wealth and the enormous “harem”, if you could call it that, to fit the bill,’ Zakaria growled. ‘And he is a tyrant, of course.’
‘Whether king or pauper, in the core of that complex lies the devil’s headquarters, and it is into that heart of darkness that we will travel. Tonight, we take the fight to them.’
‘Thank the Great Mother for our man on the inside,’ Zakaria muttered. ‘Without him, this mission would never have been even remotely feasible. No map, no building plans, no smuggled-out keys and keycodes…’
‘Man and woman on the inside, brother,’ William said. ‘Don’t forget the unfortunate hooker who’s going to let Ranomi in.’
Zakaria whistled slowly through his teeth and shook his head.
‘It worries me greatly to put such an immense degree of trust and responsibility in a mortal, especially one that we have not even met personally. However, Kimiko assures us that she is trustworthy, so I suppose we must believe her. And our man on the inside, the Cambodian janitor, he too assures me that she is reliable and will do the job. He is a mortal I would trust with my own life … and there are precious few still alive who could claim that honour. Also, just as an extra precaution, he spun her a tale about Sigurd wishing to use her as a human sacrifice on this night. I think that was enough to scare her into doing what she needs to do.’
‘Kimiko seemed completely certain that this mortal woman could be trusted, and I fully trust her instincts,’ William said. ‘She’s never been wrong about such things before.’
‘Well, in this mystery woman we must then place our complete trust,’ Zakaria said grimly. ‘I can only hope and pray that my friend is right. Everything hinges on the prostitute doing what she is supposed to do at the time she is supposed to do it.’
‘As I said, in her we’ll just have to trust, my lad … and I’m pretty damn sure she’ll do it if she believes that it’s her only chance to escape her own death. Now, the weapons and Ranomi: is everything taken care of and running according to schedule?’
Zakaria nodded.
‘She’s inside the liquor crate, along with the guns. By the Great Spirit, we’re lucky to have such a tiny and flexible ally as her. I must admit though … I am a little worried about the weak link in our chain.’
William knew right away to whom Zakaria was referring. Chloe had grown increasingly nervous and jittery throughout the evening, but even though they had given her the opportunity to back out, she had stubbornly refused to do so, insisted that she wanted to fight. She, along with Kimiko and Njinga, was already inside the nightclub.
‘She’ll be all right,’ he said.
‘I hope so.’ Zakaria paused and released a long, slow sigh, his huge shoulders slumping with resignation. ‘You know, I’ve fought in countless battles, wars and duels over the centuries, and it never gets any easier. I still feel fear gnawing at my innards like a mass of hungry rodents before every battle. But despite this, my eyes remain focused on the prize, and always, always, I am willing to sacrifice my life if it will achieve that goal, which is to keep the torch of light burning bright, however dark and potent the storm clouds of evil may grow.’
‘Aye. And this mission is so much more important than any of us … we can’t let our own individual fears or worries get in the way, or cause us to halt or falter.’
‘Courage and grit will carry us through these dark times, my old friend. Courage and grit…’
‘Aye,’ William murmured, looking away. ‘Courage and grit.’
William wished he could wholeheartedly agree with everything Zakaria was saying, but the truth was that he never had learned to completely conquer his own fear. He never had fully learned to truly master the worries and terror that churned madly inside him all too often, and he could never detach himself from the fear to the point that he could be a self-sacrificing martyr, like Zakaria. All too aware of his own weaknesses, too frequently he dwelled with such persistence on them that they threatened to overwhelm him utterly, to swallow him up with the force of a rolling ocean wave in a typhoon.
He suddenly felt a desperate craving for a hit of heroin; his body had overcome the desire for warm oblivion, but his mind had not.
‘Hope … it fails you?’ Zakaria asked softly. He saw the fear in his friend’s eyes.
William shook his head and stared at the ground as he answered, trying to will away the craving for his opiate, and hoping that Zakaria would not notice the dark guilt in his eyes.
‘I cannot deny that I feel a dread rising within the depths of my soul, Zakaria,’ he admitted. ‘Now that we’re here, I do feel a sense of fear. And yes … a feeling of hopelessness too.’
Zakaria darted out a gauntlet-clad hand and gripped William’s forearm.
‘Don’t let them win already, Tiger,’ he growled through clenched teeth, his powerful fingers pushing like iron rods into William’s flesh. ‘Don’t let them win! You cannot, you must not! Let the power of the Eastern Council flow through you.
