Operation Syria

— 14 —

Maggie struggled to drag her gaze from the tied up bundle of rucksacks, finding it hard to come to terms with how quickly Jim White had gone and been reduced to this state. She only managed to look away when she noticed that the soldiers had become silent and alert.

She looked up and saw what had caught their attention; dog-sized spiders, a score of them, lined the rooftops. They all stood on their back legs, their front legs raised in the air, as if tasting the breeze.

“What are they doing?” Wiggins asked.

“Do I look like the fucking spider whisperer?” Hynd replied.

“I can make a good guess,” Maggie added. “I think they can taste the decay. It was their venom that caused whatever happened to Jim. I think it’s part of the feeding process.”

A rat-a-tat clacking echoed around the courtyard as if in reply, all of the spiders in unison.

“They’re hungry? That’s what you’re saying?” Wiggins replied.

“No,” Banks replied. “She’s saying we’ve got bait.”

Maggie balked at that.

“That’s not what I said. I won’t let you use poor Jim as a fucking enticement.”

“Sorry,” Banks replied. “But he’s a tactical advantage.”

“Tactical fucking advantage? He’s a human being.”

“He was,” Banks said.

And as quickly as it had come, all fight left her. The bald declaration of fact hit her hard and she remembered Wiggins’ and Davies’ words from earlier. White was gone and these soldiers were only looking for a way out of the current situation, a way to keep her and Kim alive. She needed to start helping rather than hindering them.

No time like the present.

“So what can we do now?” she asked.

The spiders stood in a row along the rooftops, tasting the air but showing no signs of venturing down from their high position.

“If they’re happy to wait, I’m happy to oblige,” Banks said.

A high scream echoed through the building from deep inside.

Shit, it’s Kim. We left her alone.

Maggie was right behind Banks and Wiggins as they ran along the corridor and into the dig chamber, so she got a far too close look at the spider that was trying to force its way through the gap in the top corner where the walls met.

The only thing that had kept Kim alive was that this beast was too large to get through the hole and had only managed to get its mouth, eyes, and two legs into the room before getting itself stuck. It struggled, fangs clattering, caught in the gray webbing that had covered the hole. Pebbles and dust dropped from around it as it frantically tried to widen the gap enough to allow it through.

Wiggins raised his rifle, aiming for the cluster of eyes.

“Wait, Wiggo,” Banks replied, putting a hand on the barrel and lowering the corporal’s aim. “I want to try something. Fetch me one of the gas canisters we use for the stove.”

The corporal left and returned a minute later. In the meantime, Maggie went to where Kim sat against the wall, her gaze fixed on the struggling beast in the corner. When Banks took the canister, open the valve, and set the escaping gas aflame with his lighter, Kim spoke up, shouting, her voice stronger than it had been for days.

“Burn it. Burn the fucker.”

Banks turned to her and smiled.

“That’s the general idea, miss.”

He stepped forward, taking care to keep out of the way of the spider’s mouth and applied the flame to the webbing around it. The result was spectacular. Fire flared, yellow and green and blue as the web went up with a whoosh. Banks had to stand back as a halo of flames encircled the beast. It thrashed and let out a high wailing squeal. Its struggling became frantic as it tried to back away from the flame, only to get more entangled in web, which itself then caught fire, encasing the whole gap in the wall in fire.

By the time the flames started to die down, the spider had stopped struggling. The front end of it caved in, a lump of ash and burnt carapace, only a dark hole left where the eyes had been, and finally there was only two badly charred legs hanging from the hole to show it had been there.

“That went well,” Wiggins said.

“Thanks,” Kim said to Banks.

The captain smiled again.

“Your idea. Or, your wee mural here’s idea anyway,” he said and looked at both Kim and Maggie. “You two are the smart people here. Why don’t you put your heads together and see if you can come up with something else that might help us?”

Banks left, leaving Wiggins at the door to watch the gap in the wall. The hole looked wider than before, as if the spider’s death throes had caused structural damage to the wall.

“What do you think is through there?” Maggie asked Kim. “You mentioned tunnels earlier.”

“I did? I don’t remember. But yes, the literature talks of tunnels, mine workings, perhaps even tombs from several different cultures.”

Maggie stepped over to pick up one of the lights and took it over towards the gap.

“Careful, lass,” Wiggins said from the door. “Don’t get too close. Spiders are sneaky wee buggers.”

“I want a wee look through there, that’s all,” she said. “Keep me covered.”

She had to stand on tiptoe to see anything, then had to push the light through the gap at the full extent of her arm. She got a sight of a wall covered in ornate carvings, the paint on the rock looking fresh and vibrant although she knew it must have been hidden for centuries, perhaps millennia. The whole expanse of wall she could see was covered, ranks of carvings reaching to the limits of her light. When she called out, the echo from the new chamber beyond told her it was a much larger space than the room in which she stood.

“Kim, come and look,” she said. “We’ve got a major find through here.”

“Come away, lass,” Wiggins said. “Find or not, there’s no way you’re going through there. It’s not going to happen, so put the idea away.”

“I’m an archaeologist,” she said. “It’s what I do.”

“Aye, maybe. But you can’t take it with us when we get out of here tonight. So let it be. You might get a chance to come back at a later date, when it’s safer.”

Maggie looked through to the new chamber again.

So close.

“Look, I’ll only be a minute. I’ll take a camera through, at least get it recorded. You can cover me from this side.”

Wiggins shook his head.

“No can do, lass. The cap would have my balls for breakfast.”

She smiled.

“Not even for a promise of a curry and a bottle of wine when we get home?”

He laughed.

“And I thought the spiders were sneaky buggers. Sorry. I’m in no hurry to get busted back to private on my first trip out. And that’s what you’d be doing to me if you push it. Please. Don’t.”

“Then I’ll see if I can appeal to your captain,” she said and made for the door.

“Good luck with that,” Wiggins said with a laugh. “He doesn’t like curry.”