The Sword of Fire

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

He reached out and grabbed anything he could find to save his life. His hands found a wild array of root complex pushing out the side of the cliff-edge from one of the umbrella pines above him. He wrapped his fingers around them as hard as he could to stop his fall, but he was still dangling hundreds of feet above the rocks.

He took a second to get his breath back and realized both Lexi and Devlin were still fighting for their own lives and unaware of his plight. He felt the wind blowing through his hair as he swung off the root complex. His mind raced to come up with anything that would get himself out of the situation.

He was too far from the top of the cliff to attempt to climb back over to safety without help, but he was way too high up to consider leaping and aiming for the sea. He’s done enough tomb-stoning in his youth to know he was too far away from the water to guarantee hitting it, and if he landed on the rocks they’d be taking him home in a bucket.

The roots started to break way from the crumbling rocks above his head — slow at first and then more rapidly. He felt something snap and then he slid rapidly down another half-meter. Releasing the handful of dead, broken roots he realized there was now nothing more than half a dozen of them keeping him alive.

He looked up to see a boot flying down toward his hands. The man he had been fighting was now intent on finishing the job and kicking his hands away from the crumbling roots.

The blows rained down, smashing into his fingers. He cried out in pain and every instinct told him to move his hands out of the way, but that meant certain death so he had no choice but to hang on and let the man break his fingers and hands.

But then the kicking stopped and a second later he saw his assailant fly over his head in the night sky and fall down into the rocks with a distant crunching sound.

A cloud of root dust and rock chips fell into his face and he blinked his eyes to clear them. “What the..?”

“Give me your hand!”

It was Devlin, leaning dangerously over the cliff to save Hawke’s life.

“Don’t be an idiot, Danny!” Hawke yelled out.

“It’s fine,” Devlin said, panting. “I’ve got me a good hold on one of the boulders.”

“You’ll kill yourself!” He looked down for a second to relieve the tremendous tension in his neck and saw the smashed bodies of the men down on the rocks.

“Just give me your hand.”

Hawke stared up through what was left of the root complex to see the Irishman had wriggled even further forward now. His entire upper body was hanging off the cliff as he strained to extend his arm down to reach him. He knew he had to let go of the roots with one of his hands to reach up to Devlin, and if the roots in his other hand should snap in that second…

He let go of the roots with his weaker, left hand and thrust it up as far as he could toward the Irishman’s hand. The two men used all their strength and after a few seconds of struggling Hawke clambered up over the edge of the cliff and took a deep breath.

“I owe you,” Hawke said.

“Think nothing of it,” Devlin said, dusting his hands off.

“I said I owe you,” Hawke said. “And I mean it.”

“Next time we’re in Flynn’s you can buy me a pint.”

They shook hands. It felt to Hawke like they had crossed a bridge, but he still had his reservations about Danny Devlin. The man’s bravery was beyond question, but his judgement was still hanging in the balance.

Lexi Zhang finished heaping up the last unconcious man into her collection and then strolled over. The moonlight shone in her eyes as she looked at Hawke. “I think it’s time we picked up that shipment of heroin from the sub, don’t you?”

Hawke smiled. “One thing I like about you, Lex — you’re always up for it.”

“I bet that’s what all the lads say, eh?” Devlin said.

Lexi gave him a stern look. “I see you’re not overly attached to your balls, Mr Devlin. Would you like me to kick them over to Zito’s island?”

A mischievous grin spread on his face. “Sorry, I was sure you could take a joke.”

“Of course I can,” she said, returning the grin. “Where would you like to go?”

“Touché,” Devlin said, accepting defeat.

Hawke had already started to walk down the cliff path that led to the pick-up point on the beach below. “Can leave the foreplay for later, girls?” he called over his shoulder. “We have work to do.”

Vice President Davis Faulkner was tense as the limousine cruised behind the police escort. They were driving south along Rock Creek and Potomac Parkway on their way to the Capitol building where he was due to break a tie on a vote in the Senate. As ex-officio President of the US Senate, the Constitution gave him the power to make the casting vote when the Senate was tied, and today his vote was required to pass the nomination of the Secretary of Veterans Affairs.

It was not exactly his idea of a good time, but the machinery of the US Government was surprisingly delicate and responsive and he had a role to play in that; a role he would continue to play until he got into the Big Chair.

It was also not why he was tense, and now his eyes crawled over the soft leather seats to the car-phone. When it rang, he nearly had a heart attack, then he flashed a tongue over his dry lips and picked up the receiver. “Faulkner.”

“Mr Vice President,” the voice said. “I’m so glad you found time to speak to me.”

“I serve at your will, sir.”

A low chuckle. “Of course… of course.”

“Let me start by apologizing for…”

“I’m not interested in apologies or explanations, Davis. You were ordered to destroy Elysium and kill Eden. You failed on both counts. The Valhalla idol is still in their possession and Eden lives.”

“Yes, sir. The man I put in charge of the assault failed me.”

“The man I put in charge of the assault failed me.”

Faulkner swallowed hard and pulled his pocket square from his breast pocket. He dabbed at sweat beading on his forehead. He was the man the Oracle was referring to, and he didn’t like where the conversation was going. “I can make amends, sir.”

“You can and you will. Say it.”

“Yes — I can and I will.”

“Good. We need those idols, Davis. Not just the one ECHO removed from Valhalla, but each and every one of them.” He paused and Faulkner heard him sucking on a cigar. “The most devastating power you can imagine is locked within the idols, Davis; the secrets they guard will rock this world like nothing that has ever come before and elevate me to my rightful place above all of humanity.” Another pause, and a deep, masculine exhalation of thick smoke. “You want to be…part of this pilgrimage, don’t you, Davis?”

“More than anything, sir.”

“This is also good. An obedient servant is a happy servant.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So let me make this clear: I want ECHO terminated and I will not ask you again.”

“Yes sir,” Faulkner said. Then, trying to look on the ball, he added, “When do you want me to move against Brooke?”

The Oracle chuckled again. “Assassination of a sitting President is high treason, Davis, and yet you talk about it as if you’re playing chess with a man in a park.”

“I just want to serve the cause, sir.”

“You will be given your orders when I want Brooke removed from the White House and not before. Let’s just say his days are numbered.”

“Yes, sir. it’s just that I can serve the cause better from the Presidency. The Vice President has very limited powers. There’s no way I can deploy serious forces against ECHO or anyone else from this office.”

“I know the way the system works, Davis. I was in the room when the Constitution was written.”

Davis swallowed again but tried to keep his voice straight and level. It wasn’t easy when the Oracle said things like this. He had no idea if it could be true; it sounded insane but he had faith in his master and the cause he was leading. Besides, he had seen things… things that had convinced him of the Oracle’s claims. How could he dare argue with a man like this? That is, even if he was a man. “Please, accept my apologies.”

“I don’t accept failure, Mr Vice President.”

“No.”

“Which way were you thinking of voting today?” the Oracle said.

“For McKinney.”

“Wrong. You’ll vote for Stafford.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Oracle cut the call and the line buzzed. The sound of the disconnect tone filled the rear of the limo until it almost felt like it was drilling into his head. He fumbled it down onto the cradle and linked his fingers. As they passed the Lincoln Memorial and turned east toward the Senate he realized his knee was jogging up and down like a jackhammer, but no matter how much he tried to rein it in, it just kept going up and down.

What had he done? People talked about selling your soul to the devil, but he felt like that would almost be a relief compared with what he had gotten himself into. What was it Marlowe said about this? He searched his mind for the words he had learned so many years ago when his mind was still young and his conscience fresh and clear.

Hell is just a frame of mind.

Yes, that was it — and it made him feel a little better until he remembered the part where the devils came for Faustus and dragged him down into that hell.

He shuddered but a smile crossed his lips: no devil was dragging an immortal soul into hell, and only the Oracle could offer him this blessed salvation. That is why he would do anything to serve the Man and the Cause.

Anything.