The Valhalla Prophecy

22

Finding wood dry enough to burn in the depths of the jungle had been difficult, but Chase had managed it. The pyre he constructed in the centre of a small clearing was not large, but still enough to support the young woman’s body.

He used the gunpowder from some of his remaining bullets to help start the fire. The flames spread quickly, wood popping and snapping. Dark smoke swirled up through the trees as the blaze grew, swallowing the motionless figure atop it.

Chase watched the grim sight, his face set and expressionless. When he was sure that the corpse was completely consumed by flames, he picked up Hoyt’s backpack. One by one, the pieces of stolen Russian research it contained were thrown on to the bonfire. Papers curled into ash, discs melted. The laptop was the last item to be destroyed, acrid grey smoke belching from the vents in its casing as plastic sizzled and melted. There was a muffled bang and a sputtering gush of sparks as its batteries ignited. He withdrew from the stench — both of technology, and of charred flesh.

More time passed, the sky reddening as the sun dropped, but the Englishman did not leave. Instead, he added more wood to the pile, keeping the fire strong. Natalia had told him that nothing could be left for the Americans or Russians, and he knew she was right. This was the only way to end things.

But by doing so, he was giving away his position, sending a beacon into the sky that would lead his enemies right to him.

He pushed a last chunk of broken branch into the flames, then sat on a mouldering log, wondering what had happened to Castille. The smoke might also lead his friend to him — if he were still alive — but who else would he find waiting?

His macabre vigil resumed. He couldn’t leave until he was sure that the body was totally incinerated. If any part remained intact, there was still the danger that the Russians or Lock’s people might analyse it and discover the secrets it contained…

A bird chattered in alarm. Chase looked around, raising the gun. He saw nothing, but had a gut feeling that the disturbance had been caused by something more than an animal. ‘All right!’ he shouted, crouching behind the log. ‘I know someone’s out there. Come on, show yourself!’

A pause, then: ‘Chase!’ Lock’s voice. He couldn’t see the American, but estimated that he was about forty yards distant behind some bushes. That meant Hoyt and his men were also nearby… ‘If you hand over Natalia, I’m willing to let you live.’

‘Come and get her,’ Chase shouted back, checking the other approaches to his position. If Hoyt hadn’t already sent his team to surround him, he would be in the middle of doing so. He was not surprised to spot movement in the undergrowth. ‘Oi, you behind the bush! Yeah, I see you.’

‘And I see you,’ said another voice, closer. Hoyt. Chase spun to see the skull-faced mercenary rounding a tree twenty yards away, an AK pointed at him. ‘Don’t move. Drop the gun.’

Chase did so, then put his hands up. Hoyt cautiously advanced. ‘Move in,’ he called to the others. Four men in dark clothing rose from the undergrowth and closed on the Yorkshireman. Hoyt’s gaze flicked suspiciously from side to side. ‘Son of a bitch,’ he said. ‘This was another goddamn decoy, wasn’t it? Where’s the girl?’

‘She’s here,’ said Chase, letting an angry bitterness into his voice.

‘Where?’

‘Are you fucking blind? Right in front of you.’

Hoyt looked at the fire, still wary — then his eyes widened in shock. ‘What the— Motherfuck!’ he gasped. ‘Boss, get over here!’ He turned back to Chase, his expression for once completely devoid of its usual arrogance. ‘What the fuck did you do?’

‘What she asked me to,’ Chase replied.

Hoyt stared at him, still stunned, then yelled to the nearest of his men. ‘Bonnell, watch him! If he moves, shoot him.’ The mercenary guarded Chase as his leader ran to the pyre.

Lock made his way through the trees. ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded. ‘Where’s Natalia?’

Hoyt put one hand to his head in dismay. ‘She’s… she’s here, on the fucking fire! She’s fucking dead!’

Lock froze. ‘What?’

‘He’s burned her! And — son of a bitch!’ He snatched up his empty backpack, fruitlessly shaking it out. ‘He’s burned all the research I took from the Ruskies too. Jesus!’

The goateed man’s jaw dropped open as he looked at the shape in the flames. ‘Holy Christ. What did you do, Chase? What the hell did you do?’

Keeping his hands raised, Chase slowly straightened. ‘Natalia knew she was going to die young anyway, thanks to that shit her grandfather infected her with. And she told me she’d rather go out how she chose than like her mum and her grandma. She wanted to save lives. And by stopping you from getting hold of what’s inside her, she has done.’

‘So you killed her? You actually put a bullet in her?’

He looked down at the ground. ‘Yeah. I shot her.’

Hoyt shook his head, something almost approaching a smile of admiration on his lips. ‘I underestimated you, Chase. Never thought you’d be stone-cold enough to do something like that.’

‘It’s not like I enjoyed it,’ Chase said angrily. ‘Unlike you. Fucking psycho.’

Lock shook his head. ‘No, no way. I don’t believe this. It’s got to be a trick. Put that fire out and check the body. And see if you can recover any of the research.’

The other mercenaries used the butts of their rifles to knock apart the base of the pyre branch by branch, then kicked and scattered the burning wood. Hoyt probed the laptop’s remains with a stick. ‘This thing’s toast. So is all the rest of it.’

‘What about Natalia?’

One of the men gagged as the flames faded and he got his first clear view of the burnt body. Lock’s face twisted in disgust, but he leaned closer to look at the blackened skull. ‘Okay, definitely human… and one hell of an exit wound.’ A chunk of the dead woman’s face was missing, a ragged hole in the bone running from above her right eye down into her left cheek. ‘Dammit, everything’s been burned… Wait.’ His gaze flicked to a dark stain on the ground beside the fire. ‘Got some hair in the blood spatter here.’

He picked up a twig and very carefully used it to snag the dirty strands, then tipped his prize into a cupped hand. ‘Has anyone got water?’

One of the mercs produced a canteen. Lock poured a few drops on to his hand, then delicately ran the hair through it before using his fingertips to wipe away the caked blood. ‘It’s blond.’ He brushed the hairs from his palm and turned to Chase. ‘Jesus, you actually did it. You burned everything.’

‘To stop you,’ said the Englishman, stone-faced.

‘We’re on the same side, Chase! America and Britain, the special relationship! Remember that?’ Lock stalked towards him, the mercenaries following. ‘We bake the cake, and you get our crumbs. That’s the way it works. We had a chance to set back the Russians by years and give our own work a huge boost,’ he stabbed a finger at the empty backpack, ‘but thanks to you, we’ve got nothing!’

‘Good! Natalia told me all about what her grandfather did — and nobody should have that fucking stuff. Not you, not the Russians, not anybody.’

‘That’s not for you to decide.’

‘No. It was for her to decide.’ He looked past Lock to the remains of the pyre. ‘She decided what she wanted to do. And I helped her. God fuckin’ help me for doing it.’

‘Funny you should mention God,’ said Hoyt. ‘You’ll be seeing him soon enough. If Natalia’s dead and 201’s research is gone, then we’re done here. The only thing left for us to do is clean up after ourselves.’ He glanced at Lock, who nodded. ‘This is all your own fault, Chase. If you’d just done what you were being paid to do rather than play the bleeding-heart hero, you’d be on a plane out of here by now. Instead, well… we’ve already got a funeral pyre. No sense wasting it.’

He brought up his gun. Chase tensed. ‘Do I get any last words?’

‘Only if they’re quick,’ said Lock. ‘And if I don’t like them, you’ll never get to finish your sentence.’

Hoyt sneered. ‘Well, what you got to say?’

Chase took a deep breath, trying to control his fear. ‘Just that… at least I kept my promise.’

The tall American snorted sarcastically. ‘I’ve heard better.’ His finger curled around the AK’s trigger—

‘Nobody move! Drop your guns!’

Hoyt spun at the unexpected voice, his team doing the same — to find weapons aimed at them.

Men emerged from the undergrowth. Most were Vietnamese, but the man who had shouted was not.

Chase recognised him immediately. It was the commander of the encampment, the lean, pale-eyed Russian. With him was the sweaty younger man with the weak moustache who had found Chase and Hoyt in the cabin. ‘I said, drop them!’ the leader called again, firing a shot over the group’s heads for emphasis.

Hoyt looked to Lock for instructions, his expression suggesting that he was willing to risk shooting his way out of the situation, but his boss urgently shook his head. The mercenary reluctantly lowered his gun. ‘Put ’em down,’ he told his men. Rifles thudded to the wet ground.

The new arrivals advanced, collecting the fallen weapons. The Russian stood before the suited man. ‘Mr Lock. I did not expect ever to meet the deputy director of the BSA in person.’

‘It wasn’t part of the plan,’ Lock growled.

The Russian half smirked, then cast an unfriendly eye over Hoyt and his men before turning to Chase. ‘I do not know if I should thank you, or shoot you.’

‘I’ll take the first one,’ said Chase, not sure what was going on but looking for any opportunity to take advantage of it. ‘Who’re you?’

‘My name is Grigory Alekseyevich Kagan. I am the field commander of a Russian special operations unit. I am sure you have an idea of its purpose by now.’

‘Yeah, I got the gist,’ Chase said with disapproval. ‘Why would you want to thank me?’

‘Because you did not deliver Natalia to these men. By keeping her from them, you have done a great favour not only for Russia, but for the whole world. And once we have her back, we can make sure they never get what they were trying to obtain.’ He looked back at Lock. ‘I would guess that you will be out of a job soon, no?’

To everyone’s surprise, Lock began to laugh. ‘Oh, you stupid son of a bitch,’ the American said between chuckles. ‘You haven’t realised what he’s done, have you?’

‘What do you mean?’

Lock gestured towards the fire. ‘See for yourself.’

Puzzled, Kagan moved closer — then whirled to face Chase in horrified disbelief. ‘What have you done? What have you done?’

‘What she asked me to do,’ Chase replied.

‘She asked you to kill her?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’ It was almost a shout.

‘To stop all you arseholes from restarting her grandad’s work. She made me promise that I wouldn’t let that happen. And now it won’t.’

‘But we were not trying to restart it! We were trying to end it!’

The sudden smug look on Lock’s face told Chase that things were not as he had thought. ‘Wait, how do you mean?’ he asked the Russian.

Kagan spoke slowly, trying to control his emotions. ‘How much do you know about the work of Serafim Volkov — Natalia’s grandfather?’

‘She told me that he wrote a letter telling his wife what he’d been doing — about that eitr stuff, and his experiments. And that your lot used the biggest fucking nuke ever made to seal up the pit where you found the eitr.’

‘She told you a great deal.’ He shook his head. ‘But not everything. The Tsar Bomba destroyed the eitr pit — but we knew from the Viking runestone that somewhere there was another. Unit 201 was created to discover ways to neutralise the eitr if it was found. But we did not know if they would work, because we had no samples — until we learned about Natalia. The mutations in her body should tell us the nature of eitr, and with that knowledge we would be able to destroy it.’

‘So you kidnapped her? Why didn’t you just ask her?’

‘We did not think she would believe our motives.’ Kagan jabbed a finger at Lock and Hoyt. ‘She thought we were like the BSA, trying to turn the eitr into a weapon. But we were not. We have seen what it does — and we will not let it be used again. So when we learned that Natalia was in Vietnam, we arranged for her to be brought to us, in a way that gave us total deniability. She and her friends would have been released unharmed, once we finished our tests.’ A glance at the fire, his expression now almost despairing. ‘We were not going to hurt her. But you — you have killed her! For nothing!’

‘Oh, fuck…’ whispered Chase.

Now it was Hoyt’s turn to laugh. ‘God damn, Chase! You were supposed to rescue her, and you fuckin’ murdered her! You really fucked up, didn’t you?’

The Englishman rounded on him angrily. ‘Killing you’ll be worth something, though.’

‘Enough!’ barked Kagan. He rubbed his temple, then stepped back to regard his prisoners. ‘Natalia is dead, and all our research is destroyed — but that means neither side has it. No one has gained an advantage. But…’ He faced Lock once more. ‘If I were to kill you, here and now, you would cease to be a threat.’

The American was no longer smiling. ‘If you kill me, someone else will take my place. This won’t end.’

‘It will for you. And I know that your agency is, what is the phrase? On the bubble for its funding, that is it. With you dead and the BSA humiliated, the US government may shut it down completely. And that can only be a good thing for the world.’

Kagan’s sweating comrade spoke to him urgently in Russian, regarding Hoyt and Lock nervously. Kagan’s reply was impatient. ‘He thinks killing you will cause an international incident, and that it is a bad idea,’ he added, addressing the Americans. ‘But you tried to kill us with no such concerns, so…’ He thought for a moment, then gave an order in Vietnamese. The men accompanying the Russians raised their weapons to firing position.

For the second time in a matter of minutes, Chase found a rifle aimed at him. ‘You’re going to kill me too?’

‘I am sorry,’ Kagan replied, with seemingly genuine regret. ‘You thought you were doing the right thing — for Natalia, and for the world. And what you decided to do…’ He locked eyes with the Englishman for a moment. ‘I think you did not want to do it, no?’

‘You’re fucking right I didn’t want to.’

Kagan nodded. ‘But this must end. With Lock gone, the Americans will likely shut down their work on the eitr.’

‘But they’ll shut it down anyway, surely?’ Chase indicated Lock. ‘He failed! He had a plan to get Natalia and steal your research, but he blew it. He comes away with nothing, but you’re no worse off.’

‘Two of our best scientists are dead!’ snapped Kagan. ‘He did not destroy Unit 201, but he still damaged it.’

‘But you’re still in business. Lock won’t be! You were right, he’ll be out of a job once his bosses realise that he fucked everything up, and caused an international incident by doing it. He might have hired mercs for deniability, but just by being here, right now, he’s blown that excuse.’ He regarded Lock, who now appeared as fearful of the prospect of being at the heart of a diplomatic storm as of the guns pointed at him. ‘Nobody’s won here. Everyone’s lost. And killing us won’t get you any extra points.’

Kagan did not reply at once, again staring thoughtfully at Chase before turning his gaze to the funeral pyre. ‘You have done a very good job,’ he said. ‘It will be almost impossible to extract DNA from a body so burned.’

‘You just said this needs to end. Well, this ends it. Natalia wanted to make sure nobody could get anything else from her — you or them.’ He lowered his head. ‘Just leave her alone. Let her rest in peace.’

The other Russian spoke again, asking a question. Kagan considered it for a long moment, Chase hyper-aware of the Vietnamese covering the group, all with fingers poised on their Kalashnikovs’ triggers…

‘Nyet,’ Kagan finally said, shaking his head once more. ‘No, you are right, and so is the Englishman. Lock has failed — and that will embarrass Washington if we make good use of it.’

‘You son of a bitch,’ snarled Lock.

Chase made a sarcastic sound. ‘You’d rather he killed you?’

Kagan had a brief exchange with one of the Vietnamese, then turned back to Lock. ‘My associates from the Vietnamese secret police will take you and your men to Da Nang for… questioning.’ His tone made it clear that the interrogation would be more than verbal. ‘They are still angry that several of their friends were killed when the camp was attacked. I think they are keen to find out who was responsible.’ Hoyt’s facial muscles tensed. ‘As for you, Mr Lock, I am sure they will let you go in a few days. After making an official complaint to the US ambassador and the United Nations.’ Lock’s expression was much like his countryman’s.

‘And what about me?’ Chase asked.

‘You? What was your name — Chase?’ The Englishman nodded. ‘Your job here is over, Mr Chase. You should go home. There is nothing in this country for you now.’

Chase looked past him at the remains of the pyre. ‘There’s one thing that I need to do.’

‘What is that?’

‘Bury her. I’m not going to leave her body in the jungle to rot. She deserves more than that.’

Kagan nodded. ‘Very well. But once you have done that, you should leave. The jungle can be dangerous, especially at night, no?’

‘Yeah, I’d noticed.’

Kagan issued more orders, the Vietnamese herding the mercenaries into a group and marching them away at gunpoint. Kagan and his subordinate did the same with Lock and Hoyt, both still complaining angrily. The Russian reached the edge of the clearing, then paused, looking back at Chase. ‘Sometimes… sometimes we have to do bad things for good reasons,’ he said. ‘But knowing that you have done the right thing does not make you feel any better.’

‘No,’ Chase replied. ‘It doesn’t.’

‘She has found peace,’ Kagan went on, with a tip of his head towards the fire. ‘I hope that some day, so do you.’

The Englishman did not reply. Kagan turned and followed the others into the jungle.

Chase remained still for a minute, waiting until the sounds of movement had faded. Then he picked up a large piece of broken branch and began to gouge a hole out of the damp earth.

The sun had almost set by the time Chase finished his task. Hands dark with mud and ash, he looked down at his work, face solemn. The shallow grave was marked by a crude cross, two pieces of branch bound together by a length of vine. The logical part of his mind knew that the marker would not last long — jungle decay and the ceaseless gnawing of insects would see to that — but he felt better for having built it. At the very least, the dead woman deserved some form of remembrance.

He lifted his head at a distant, but familiar, shout. ‘Edward! Edward, can you hear me?’

‘Hugo!’ Chase called back. ‘I’m here!’

Castille appeared a few minutes later. ‘Edward!’ he said, with a huge beaming grin at the sight of his friend. ‘I saw the smoke. Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Chase replied, managing a smile. The two men embraced. ‘What about you? You managed to get away from ’em, then.’

Castille pursed his lips. ‘It was a close thing! Hoyt would have killed me if the police had not arrived.’

‘So much for there never being a copper around when you need one.’

‘I know. I was quite surprised!’ Castille released the Englishman. ‘Where is Natalia? Is she safe?’

There was a lengthy pause before Chase finally answered. ‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘She… didn’t make it.’

He stepped aside to reveal the grave. Castille did not seem — or want — to believe his own eyes. ‘Mon dieu! What happened?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘But — but I thought that surely you were clear…’ He took in the churned ground, seeing the footprints. ‘They were here? They caught you?’

‘Hoyt and Lock — and then the Russians. They had a bit of a stand-off.’

Castille surveyed the whole clearing. ‘There is no blood, no spent casings. They did not fight?’

‘No.’

‘Then where are they? Why did they leave?’

‘They didn’t get what they were after.’

‘But what happened to Natalia? Did they kill her? Hoyt and Lock — or the Russians?’

Chase shook his head. ‘Like I said, I don’t want to talk about it. What I do want to do is get out of this fucking jungle. How far away’s your jeep?’

‘About a kilometre, not far from the rendezvous point.’

‘Great. Let’s go.’

He started to walk away, but Castille remained still, staring at the grave. ‘Edward,’ he said. ‘What really happened here? I am your friend, you can tell me — you know that.’

‘Yeah, I know.’ Chase gave him a small, sad smile. ‘I made Natalia a promise. And… I kept it.’ He sighed. ‘That’s all I want to say for now. Maybe sometime later, when things are different, I’ll tell you everything. Right now, though? I need a shower.’

Castille decided not to press the issue any further. ‘Yes, you do,’ he said instead, with overstated lightness. He started walking towards the edge of the clearing, Chase alongside him. ‘But then, you are English. You always need a shower.’

‘Oh, fuck off, Hugo.’ The Yorkshireman gave him another small smile, then hesitated as they reached the trees, glancing back at the grave. ‘Goodbye, Natalia,’ he whispered. Castille gave him a look of deep sympathy, but remained silent out of respect for his friend’s wishes. Then Chase turned away, and the pair set off into the jungle.

‘You do realise that we will not get paid for the mission,’ said Castille.

‘Yeah, I know. Think we could get any money for the jeep?’

‘Hmm. I am sure Bluey knows someone who would buy it, no questions asked. So what are you going to do when you get home?’

‘Who says I’m going home? There’s fuck-all there for me now, just a big pile of solicitor’s letters from Sophia. You know what? Fuck her. She wants her divorce, she can have it. There’s more important things in life.’

‘Then what are you going to do?’ Castille asked.

‘What I’m best at. Troubleshooting, like Mac said. The fist in the glove. I reckon I could do that.’

‘Well, you can always rely on me to help, Edward. We will fight to the end.’

‘Yeah, I know.’ Chase clapped his friend on the back. ‘Fight to the end.’