Nimrod didn’t have to fake pleasure at those words, he felt it deep inside his chest. Bacchus’s trust made his heart glow brighter than any desert sun.
“Thank you, Master,” he said. “I will not let you down.”
Nimrod had grown up on the hard streets of Cairo, in the manner of most impressionable, dirt-poor, abandoned young children dragged into service by wealthy men and women. Nimrod found a place in Bacchus’s army, and enjoyed the training and the discipline, the knowledge that he could rely on a bed every night, a set of walls around him and plenty of food to nourish him. Bacchus’s generals, the men that trained Nimrod, offered no love, no affection or happiness, but they did offer appreciation when their students did well. And enjoyment came from impressing the generals.
There were rewards too; vengeance undertaken on those that had wronged Nimrod in the past; being able to assist his new brothers on similar tasks; promotion and a wider acceptance that led to new adventures.
Nimrod worked hard for his new masters, learning more of their purposes, objectives and place in the world as the years passed. Their calling excited him. Nimrod was part of a secure group that could manipulate governments, world leaders and public opinion.
Social media was the key to manipulating the uneducated, the bored, the conspiracy theorists and the haters. Fuel them, fuel their beliefs or offer them new ones, and they spread like wildfire, infecting every part of the world’s infrastructure. It was a method the governments either didn’t understand the true depths of its ability to undermine, to destabilize and damage, or didn’t care about. It either showed that those that ran the country were intensely out of touch with the people they governed or... well, Nimrod thought ironically, even more intensely out of touch.
These last few months he had achieved everything he had always wanted and was now appraising higher goals. Then Bacchus’s next few words brought him back down to ground level.
“Guy Bodie and his friends continue to harass and impede us. You have had no sign?”
“They are not near these ruins, Master.”
“Perhaps it was a mistake to bring them in so close to an operation,” Bacchus mused aloud.
Nimrod knew he would never admit a mistake to a subordinate, so this was either a test or a moment of rhetorical speculation. Nimrod elected to remain silent.
“But no... the opportunity was there to rid ourselves of the virus that infiltrated our organization. That threatened our very existence. That put us back decades. The opportunity was there...” Bacchus repeated firmly. “And we took it.”
Nimrod’s training and loyalty was so ingrained he never thought to question the result of Bacchus’s decision, not even in his head. The Master and his Minervals were above questioning.
“Yes, it would have been simpler to kill them at the scene. To drop them out of a helicopter.” The Master seemed to be working something through in his mind. “But I wanted to see them suffer. To see those that had so terribly wronged us die badly. Did I put my own feelings above the cause? No... no, I didn’t.”
Nimrod waited patiently, wondering where this was going and keeping an eye on the well. He also watched the lookouts he’d positioned, making sure they stayed alert.
“So, no sign of them?” Bacchus finished.
“No, Master. I am ready for them. I pray that I will be the one blessed with the task of breaking their necks, one by one, until our order is fully avenged.”
Bacchus looked pleased with that. “Do not underestimate them. Above all, they are thieves, skilled in sneaking, crawling and creeping around. This scenario is the perfect situation for them. Do not allow them to slip past you and retrieve another ore sample. You are my best, Nimrod, and I rely on you.”
Nimrod swelled at that, feeling able and willing to fly to the stars and back if his master suggested it.
“We are ready for them,” he said. “The years of training were not wasted on me, Master.” Nimrod wasn’t being boastful. He’d taken in and excelled at all the fundamental years, and then the advanced lessons. Classes in combat and intelligence gathering, in weapons handling and fighting, all undertaken by military gurus, men that were at the top of their field around the world.
He really was ready.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Nimrod almost cheered when the first Hood poked his head up above the rim of the well. The man’s face and head were bare, and Nimrod didn’t blame him. In fact, he appreciated the inadvertent assistance, because all he could see was the man’s large smile.
He’d done it. They’d all done it.
As soon as it was respectable to do so, he ended the video conference with Bacchus, closed down the laptop and hurried over to the well, looking up at the man whose name was Damien.
“You have it?”
“Every bit. Once we’d uncovered the bottom, it was easy. Uncovering the bottom—well, that was the stuff of nightmares.”
Nimrod could believe it. All four men were filthy; arms, legs, faces and clothes caked with dirt. One of the men carried a backpack holding a titanium vessel the size of a water bottle, which he threw down to Nimrod.
“Well done, Brothers. The Master thanks you. Come down now, we already have our next assignment.”
Nimrod turned away. As he did so, something caught his eye, a movement far away or perhaps the faintest glint of light. It was fast and it was inconclusive, but Nimrod knew better than to ignore his instinct.
“Location One, to the south. What do you see?”
The response was instantaneous. “Eyes peeled, sir. Nothing moving.”
Nimrod asked the same question of Location Two, not moving, keeping his eyes fixed on the same spot. Nothing could be seen, and there were no other movements so that, after five full
