Marduk had the best view of all.
It started with one motorcycle. Marduk was with the rider all the way, swerving and swaying through the thick traffic, almost colliding with a car’s metal bumper – that would have been catastrophic – but staying upright. The rider wasn’t particularly accomplished by any means – in fact, this was the first time he’d ever ridden a bike. Marduk was pinning a lot on the man’s uncertain skills.
He sat in a plush chair, his aching leg elevated, but was along for the ride through the body cam that they’d attached to the man’s vest. They’d fitted all the Faithful with body cams – including Keeva – so that Marduk might glory in their sacrifice from close range. His lips were dry in anticipation.
The first rider’s body cam showed him veering off from traffic, mounting the pavement and passing between two startled ladies. Marduk laughed at the looks on their faces and the way he imagined they’d try to berate the rider.
Only this time, they wouldn’t have a chance.
Because the hard wall was coming up, the end of the line. The rider flew at it without slowing down. The brick and the block, the surrounding glass, filled the camera lens. A second later, the camera went blank and Marduk heard the sound of the explosion echo across Rome.
What a vantage point, he thought. What a show. I can see and I can hear and I’m sitting in comfort in this hotel room with my bodyguards at my back.
Bodyguards?
A dubious statement. Cassadaga and Ivana weren’t the most reliable of shields because they were so … unpredictable. Of course, he couldn’t have anyone better beside him in a fight, but it was their other proclivities that worried Marduk. At any moment, they might decide they wanted to go out and make a kill.
Daga was bitching about the teeth he’d lost in the fight with Mason. Ivana was coaxing him into another kill to help reset his mind. Marduk reminded them they were here to protect him and should stay in the room. Neither of them looked happy about it, but Marduk reminded them of the bigger picture, of the wealth they were due that, after today, would set them up in their murderous ways for the rest of their lives. Both nodded, and Marduk went back to watching the TV.
The second of the Faithful exploded gloriously. Marduk clapped. He was so happy that his long-planned strategy was working, or at least appeared to be. Two open laptops were tuned to news channels and showed emergency services and police racing to the scene. That was a good start. Yes, he knew security across Rome would be heightened because of the attacks, but there was no doubt in his mind that – with more to come – resources would be taken from the perimeter of the Vatican.
Which wasn’t exactly required for his plan to work, but it would help.
All this for a few less men to deal with. All this because he could, to prove that he – Marduk – was still the monarch of the Amori and at war with the Church.
‘Your suicide riders are doing their jobs?’ Ivana asked from the back of the room.
Marduk didn’t look at her. ‘As expected. They will all succeed.’
‘You mean they will all die?’
‘That is their job.’
‘For you.’
‘Yes, for me. Who else? I am worthy of their sacrifice, am I not? It is their Bible, their Book of Exodus, which proclaims we take “an eye for an eye”. The Creed has no such equivalent, but we are dealing with Christians here. We will deal with them as they suggest, harshly.’
‘I must say,’ Daga said drily, ‘your Creed is missing a trick there.’
Now Marduk swivelled to look at him. ‘The Creed contains the highlights of old Babylonian law, which is a subset of cuneiform law. Babylonian law has received a lot of archaeological attention through the years simply because of the wealth of information available. Now, this law postulated that a hurt individual, or their relative, would take unforgiving vengeance on the person who caused the injury. Perhaps even worse vengeance to the point of death. The Creed softened that commandment. The worst crimes, of course, those punished most severely, were crimes against the monarch.’
Marduk turned back to the screens that were arrayed before him. The third of the Faithful was cutting through traffic as though he was in a race, narrowly missing cars and vans and making even Marduk wince. Through the wide window to his right, he could see one column of smoke snaking up towards the sky. It was beautiful. It was all because of him. The Church’s day of judgement was here, and there would be no hereafter for them, no eternal life. They would simply be … dead.
Marduk rubbed his hands together, unable to stop grinning. He cheered when the third of the Faithful exploded. The anticipation was running through him in warm tingles. He ordered champagne and popcorn. He slipped his bare feet into warm slippers and tied a soft, plush robe around his waist. Then he lounged back with arms dangling across the arms of the chair.
‘This is my moment,’ he said. ‘Every explosion, every death, every drop of blood is a win. I simply cannot lose this day.’
He sniggered at the sight of blood that slicked the floor at one scene, cheered when the news channel’s cameras showed the devastated bike. He licked his lips when the fourth of the Faithful approached his final destination.
From the back of the room, Cassadaga watched him through narrow eyes.
Cassadaga was a lot of things, but he was no fool. He knew when the writing was on the wall. Marduk was spiralling out of control, worsening with every minute and fresh scene of devastation that flickered across the screens, lost in the quick and carnage-filled progression of death.
Daga put a hand to his mouth and touched the two empty spaces where Mason had knocked his teeth out. The pain didn’t matter; it was the ignominy of it all that made his blood boil.
Ivana saw him and slapped his hands away. ‘Stop that,’ she said with an odd compassion in her voice. ‘You’ll make them bleed again.’
The killer regarded her softly. He viewed Ivana through rose-tinted glasses. She was his soulmate in terror, his one loyal companion. They understood each other in life and – even better – in death … in the death of others, that was. Ivana was the only person on this earth who could get away with slapping him in such a manner.
‘They don’t even hurt,’ he said grumpily.
Ivana pulled out the sharp, long blade she kept holstered at her waist. ‘Do you think he’d notice if we slipped away?’
Daga smiled knowingly at the blade. ‘To do what?’
‘That which we do best together.’
‘Death and madness reigns throughout Rome today.’
‘And there’s nowhere I’d rather be.’
Daga nodded and grabbed her, pulling her close. He ground his hips against her, feeling his passion rise. She held the knife between them. The more he saw the terrible images on the TV, the more he wanted to rush out the hotel doors and find someone to kill.
‘Do you think he’d mind if we did it right here?’ Ivana breathed.
Daga glanced over at Marduk. ‘I doubt he’d even notice. He’s way too far gone.’
Ten minutes later, Daga was readjusting his jeans and Ivana was pulling herself up from the back of the couch. Marduk had turned around once, averted his eyes, and then shouted out a warning that Keeva was approaching the centre of St Peter’s Square.
Daga had watched the explosion over Ivana’s shoulder. The sight of it spurred him on. When he and Ivana were decent again, he stood back and watched Marduk enact the next part of his plan.
‘My infiltrators,’ Marduk said into a handheld radio. ‘Attack.’
The message would need relaying by several people across the city because of the short-range radios they possessed. But it wouldn’t take long for it to reach its intended target. Daga knew Marduk had thought of everything.
Currently, the man was ecstatic, rapturous after seeing the explosion in St Peter’s Square. He had screamed out when it happened, a euphoric moment that filled his body with joy. He’d fallen to his knees as if in worship and now couldn’t take his eyes off the TV. There was a media camera focused, by chance, on St Peter’s Basilica.
Marduk saw his attackers begin their assault.
Daga and Ivana had other urges. It was time to act on them. Daga drew Ivana to the back of the room and started whispering in her ear.
‘This room is a kill zone,’ he said. ‘And that man will not come out of all this alive.’
‘His plan’s working.’ Ivana looked towards Marduk.
‘Yes, that’s not the point. He’s gone mad … well, even madder. Can’t you see? The guy’s totally off his head.’
Ivana watched. It did indeed seem that the sequence of events, the success of the attacks, had stretched Marduk’s sanity to beyond breaking point. He was on his knees, hands on his head, chewing his lips until they bled. He held a radio in one hand, the bringer of death to some, a glass of sparkling champagne in the other. He cackled, he cheered, he laughed as if misery and blood and slaughter were the gods he worshipped.
‘It’s the end of the road for him,’ Daga said. ‘No matter how many casualties he causes, he can’t possibly win this.’
Ivana squeezed his hand. ‘Did he pay us our money?’
‘Most of it, yes. Enough.’
‘Then we should leave him to his butchery and go spread some of our own.’
Daga grinned. ‘It should be prime pickings tonight,’ he said. ‘With the authorities engaged elsewhere. It gives us more scope to have more fun.’
‘Then what are we waiting for?’
Without a word, they turned and walked away from Marduk, abandoning the mad monarch to his crazed plans, shedding any responsibilities that might tie them to him. They made sure their weapons were at hand as they approached the hotel room door.
‘It feels … perfect,’ Ivana said. ‘We are walking into a city already floundering in death.’
‘We will also make a mark,’ Daga said.
Ivana opened the door and led the way out of Marduk’s bedroom all the way down to the lobby below and then out into the street.
‘Which way?’ she said.
‘I don’t care,’ Daga said. ‘Just lead me to fresh blood.’