It turned out that more than one merc was unhappy with committing the atrocity.
Marduk noticed half a dozen men, all complaining, all whining about it. He couldn’t understand them. It was an easy kill. What were they worried about? All they had to do was shoot and stab two dozen men and women who wouldn’t put up a fight. Marduk thought it was a simple way of earning money.
And he put it that way to them.
Gathered outside his tent, he addressed them all as the afternoon waned. His simple opening comment was: ‘Do you want a pay rise?’ Most of them cheered. Some of the naysayers started to smile. Marduk reckoned he had just three rebels and fifteen minus three was still a passable twelve, plus Daga and Ivana. To be fair, he knew the latter two could get the job done on their own, and he considered it. But the other mercs needed to earn their pay, and there was no better way to show them who was boss than to make them kill.
The assault on the village was decided. It was about an hour before they were due to depart, as the sun dimmed across the western horizon, that Marduk received his visitor.
He sat on the floor inside his tent, welcoming the shade, but still hotter than a pepperoni in a pizza oven when a smaller than average merc thrust his head inside the flap. Marduk started, unused to intrusions.
‘What is it?’
‘Someone to see you, sir.’
‘Now? Here?’ His brow furrowed. ‘Who could possibly want to see me here?’
‘A man.’ The merc shrugged. ‘Says you called for him. Calls himself Keeva.’
Marduk was even more baffled. Instead of rising to his feet, which would cause him pain, he waved at the merc and attempted a smile. ‘Send him in.’
The small merc nodded and then departed. Two seconds later, another figure interrupted Marduk’s peace, this one the polar opposite of the merc. He was tall, at least six foot three, and wiry with long, lank hair and a bushy beard. His eyes glinted when they alighted on Marduk.
‘I am Keeva,’ he said, straightening to his full height.
Marduk recognised something in the glint of those eyes. ‘You are one of the Faithful?’
‘Prepared to serve in any way that I can, sir.’
‘How the hell did you find me?’
‘The Amori still check the old boards, sir. After your … abscondment … you mentioned you were returning to the Great Ziggurat. Luckily, I knew where to search.’
Marduk hadn’t expected the so-called ‘old boards’ to be quite so active. They were, at their basic level, an internet chat site known only to the Amori. Marduk had figured that anyone still faithful to the cause would monitor the boards. He hadn’t expected such fast results.
‘Well done for spotting my message and acting on it. I assume you are on your own, Keeva?’
The young man nodded.
‘Well, I am sure that will soon change. But for now, you are welcome. You will be the first of my special disciples, my Faithful. And you may serve me, Keeva. You will be my legs, my arms, when I cannot use them. And you will be the special one.’
‘I will serve to the best of my ability, sir.’
‘I know you will. And I am sure many more will soon join you.’ Marduk knew others would come. There were many ways to get the word out that the Amori was back in business. For now, though, a rich odour was wafting around Marduk’s nostrils.
‘Maybe you could go take a wash.’
With a shuffle and a bow, Keeva turned and disappeared, exiting the tent with a snick of canvas. Marduk was ecstatic. The Faithful were integral to his plan and had already started arriving. After they were finished here in Babylon, he would have to come up with a more appropriate meeting point. Keeva had certainly outdone himself and deserved the glory Marduk would heap upon him soon.
Marduk wiped sweat from his brow. He wasn’t looking forward to tonight’s trek. He wondered briefly if Keeva could carry him, but then decided the lack of dignity wouldn’t really send the right message. Marduk would get by. He was the monarch of the Amori. The coming dig at Etemenanki was the start of the downfall of the Vatican.
There were crunching footsteps at the entrance to his tent, and then another head forced its way inside.
‘Ready to go,’ a sullen-faced man said briefly and then withdrew before Marduk could speak. If the man had been Amori, Marduk would have had him lashed for his insolence.
The moment he’d been dreading had arrived. He rose to his feet, felt the pain lance through his knee. Every second of pain reminded him of Joe Mason and, by association, the Vatican. Cardinal Vallini too. They would all get their comeuppance.
Outside, the day was waning. Probably early evening, Marduk guessed. They would trek for twenty minutes to this new village in the middle of nowhere and then go to the ziggurat. Work would begin tonight and it would not stop until they found something. Of course, Marduk knew his Amori history to the nth degree. He knew exactly where to look for the old treasures and, because of his standing with the secret organisation during the last few decades, knew the right people to contact to turn the treasures into hard cash.
Marduk saw that the mercenaries had formed up. There were fifteen of them, which was good, no abstentions. They knew what they were going to do. Standing apart were Cassadaga and Ivana. Marduk made his painful way over to them.
‘Whatever you do,’ he said. ‘Don’t kill Keeva. I have plans for him. Big plans.’
Daga shrugged. ‘I heard one of your Faithful had turned up.’
‘The first of many,’ Marduk said, and then yelled: ‘Now, can we get this party started?’
He received several glowers, probably from those discontents who weren’t happy with killing the villagers. Marduk didn’t see it as his problem. The damn civilians shouldn’t be there in the first place. Let them suffer.
The small team moved out, leaving their assortment of tents behind. The sun had vanished behind dark clouds, casting long shadows over the land. The ground was hard, rocky, and brown. It gave the impression that the Hand of God had beaten it up. They walked at a decent speed, Marduk included, across the rolling landscape.
Marduk was concentrating on tonight’s goal. Those thoughts were awe-inspiring and took the focus away from his agony. Keeva was walking at his side and one step back as befitted his station. Marduk wanted to keep up with the soldiers and make the journey as swiftly as possible.
They trekked through the desolate countryside. A harsh wind blew, a reminder that the temperature could plummet at any minute. It stirred up the dust, which then blew at their faces. The mercenary leader sent out scouts in all directions, making sure nobody surprised them, and the twenty minutes’ journey was uneventful.
Finally, the mercs sank to the ground. Marduk gladly stopped walking and dropped with them. He was too far back to see anything properly and noticed that the ground fell away ahead. The lead mercs were lying at the top of a hill, tugging binoculars out of their packs. Grimacing, Marduk shuffled his way to the front.
On arriving, he didn’t need binoculars to take in the scene below. First, the greatest thing that screamed out at him was the site of the great ziggurat. It made a magnificent imprint on the land, a vast square of darker terrain that marked the four walls, clearly visible. Marduk took a moment to experience the sheer joy that filled him. This was Etemenanki, the ancient legendary site of the Tower of Babel.
Thoughts of past glories fired his imagination. He saw in his head the vast numbers of restrained workers struggling, heaving and dying as they worked on their tower of stone. He saw their flesh and bone striving, heard the clanking of their chains, smelled their sweat and their fear. He saw the magnificent structure taking shape, the topmost temple approaching the heavens. It was Babylon in its prime, his Babylon, the Amori’s Babylon, the jewel of all the ages. It was the greatest wonder ever built.
Even now, he saw, thousands of years later, the ziggurat still dominated the landscape in which it lay.
His attention was then dragged to the west, since that was the direction in which everyone else was looking. The ground was flat there; a narrow, winding stream split the monotony. Marduk saw a makeshift huddle of tents and small timber homes close to the banks of the stream, and though the light was dying, he made out at least a dozen shapes either sitting peacefully or walking among the abodes.
‘The villagers,’ someone said. ‘I don’t think they’d bother us.’
‘A chunk of cash would silence them easily,’ someone else said.
Marduk couldn’t believe their disrespect. This scum of the earth was living in the great shadow of the wondrous ziggurat. Their very impudence deserved a slow death. To Marduk’s mind, being shot in the head was a mercy.
‘I want them all dead,’ he said.
Daga and Ivana crept to his left side, knives in their hands.
‘I want them all dead,’ he repeated. ‘Every last one of them.’
Some soldiers were already moving, scrambling down the slope with their guns in their hands. They weren’t moving carefully. They were treating the civilians as the untrained, inexperienced fodder that they were. Marduk rose to his knees and then his feet, favouring his good knee. He wanted to be among the killing. Soon, even the most reluctant soldiers were scurrying down the slope as an ever-growing darkness spread across the night sky. They were deadly shadows against the backdrop, demons from the lowest level of Hell. Marduk hobbled along behind them as the most eager men entered the village.
The first silenced gunshot rang out, and then the screams started. Figures rose and stared, wondering what all the commotion was about. Mercenaries sprang among the tents and homes. They ran down the narrow alleyways formed by the abodes. They ducked inside the shelters and grabbed men, women and children, dragging them outside by their hair or executing them where they stood. It all happened quickly in the end. Marduk couldn’t keep up. He limped across the hard ground, eyes focused on the massacre, blood boiling. Daga and Ivana had raced off like man-eaters, leaving his side, not wanting to miss out on the bloodshed. More silenced gunshots filled the air.
Marduk arrived at the first tent. He smelled blood. He looked down to see the dead, upturned face of an old man. Marduk wanted to smash that old man’s skull under his boots, but the pain in his knee wouldn’t allow it. He contented himself with spitting on the corpse. He moved forward, threading a way through the tents. Ahead, the mercs were doing their work well. Screams rang out left and right. A long-haired woman struggled as a man held her with one hand and put a gun to her head with the other. She soon stopped struggling. The ex-soldier grinned in her face and then pulled the trigger, letting her collapse to the ground.
A young man was rising from his knees after witnessing the murder of his mother and sister, throwing himself at two of the mercs. They let him bounce off them, laughing, and then, big men that they were, they holstered their guns and took out their knives to give him a chance. Closer to the river, Marduk smiled to see some villagers being drowned. He revelled in that kind of initiative. Closer, a male villager burst out of a tent, saw Marduk and flew at him. Marduk cringed, not ready for the attack and unable to help himself, but at the last moment something fast and shadowy flew past, grabbed the man and took him down. Marduk recognised Daga’s shape even as the thief slashed his knife back and forth, opening up the villager’s throat and face. With relief, Marduk sighed.
Further ahead, several soldiers were dragging the bulk of the villagers out of their tents and homes and pushing them towards the banks of the stream. It was chaos, and it was a beautiful hell. Marduk could smell fresh blood, see ripped-open bodies and the holes where bullets had smashed people apart. It was only what they deserved; he knew. The gods of the Amori demanded their sacrifice and he, Marduk, was about as close to a god as anyone was going to get.
The villagers, shoved and prodded until they lined up along the riverbank, stood with their backs to the water. Then, there was no ceremony. One merc opened fire and then all the others. Bullets smashed into hearts and skulls and faces and sent the villagers crumpling and twisting. The waters ran red. The bodies fell and twitched and bled into the ground. Marduk watched from a safe distance, licking his lips and enjoying the slaughter.
Finally, the leader of the mercs turned to him. ‘All dead,’ he said.
‘Are you sure? I don’t want even a snivelling child left alive.’
‘There isn’t,’ Daga said from the side. ‘Ivana and I took care of that.’
Marduk was glad he was in the company of such consummate killers. It made his life far easier. ‘Then let’s get to work,’ he said.
The mercs posted four guards just in case, wary that someone may have overheard the screams. They didn’t want anyone coming over to investigate. Everyone, especially Marduk, was very much aware that they couldn’t remain here for long. Iraq was a powder keg, still simmering, and incredibly unpredictable. Every second they were here was a risk.
The entire team left the massacre behind and walked three minutes to the site of the ziggurat. Marduk saw they were coming upon it from the western side. Now, the mercs were all turning to him.
‘Pull out your spades, boys,’ he said. ‘Now, the proper work begins.’
He walked to the eastern side of Etemenanki and then paced all the way to where that wall met the rear wall. There, he stopped and beckoned the others. ‘Start here,’ he said.
Others may have tried to find riches around the site, but only Marduk knew the exact spot in which to dig. Only he had the impeccable knowledge. He drifted away as the mercs bent their backs to the task of digging, of creating a hole in the ground. He found a rock to sit on and started rubbing his throbbing knee.
It was the first time he’d thought of it since the killing began.
What a wonderful distraction the slaughter had been. He reflected on it again now, the sound of bullets and knives sinking into flesh, the smell of fresh blood. It soothed him; it was an anaesthetic that calmed his pain.
Daga and Ivana came to stand close to him. ‘Whilst we had fun,’ Daga said, ‘I have to ask if you need us for anything else?’
‘We’re bored,’ Ivana said.
‘Need you?’ Marduk said. ‘Yes, I need you. I need you for all of this. There will be good times that offset the bad, times of senseless assassination. That is coming. I want nothing more for the Vatican.’
‘Perhaps it would help if you explained your plan,’ Daga said.
‘I can’t reveal all,’ Marduk said. ‘I won’t. It is too soon. But I will take my enemies apart. I will attack, all at once, and they won’t see me coming until the moment is upon them. It will take preparation, weeks of it, dedication of the highest order, skills that will be hard to find. I will—’
‘But what of us?’ Daga asked. ‘I know of your hatred of the Church. It doesn’t concern me. You are digging our payment out of the ground. We trusted you with that. Now, I want to know what you have planned for the greatest thief that ever lived.’
‘Thieves,’ Ivana said.
Marduk stared at them. ‘I have just the thing to keep you fully entertained,’ he said. ‘The perfect job.’
Daga’s eyebrows rose slightly. ‘Go on.’
‘My plans are ongoing,’ Marduk said reluctantly. ‘I prefer not to disclose them right now. But have I let you down yet?’
Daga bared his teeth. ‘You’re still alive, aren’t you?’
‘Remember,’ Marduk said, ‘the Faithful will grow. Their number, I mean. It will grow. Today, we have Keeva; tomorrow perhaps a half a dozen more.’
‘And what will you do with this so-called Faithful?’
‘They are part of the same plan. You cannot underestimate their usefulness. We need them.’
‘You need them.’
‘The ruin of the Vatican will bring much glory for you as well as me. It will involve great bloodshed. Surely, there is no better feeling. You make do for now so that you can revel in the butchery later.’
Daga glanced at Ivana and shrugged. ‘He’s been as good as his word so far.’
Ivana looked at the dark landscape, her hair tousled by the wind. ‘I like it here,’ she said. ‘The smell of fresh blood carries on the wind.’
Marduk took that as a sign of acquiescence. ‘Then you’re with me,’ he said gladly. ‘We’ll see this through together.’
‘Just keep the bodies coming,’ Daga said with an evil leer.
‘Speaking of that …’ Marduk said. ‘I’d like to tell you all about your next job.’