Chapter One

Chapter One

Remnants of Diplomacy

The night was young and closing time was far off. Yet only a few patrons of the Drowning Duck had been through the doors. Each visitor sat on his own decrepit chair, at his own table, with his own glass of cheap booze. The Drowning Duck was an old pub, surrounded and smothered by the city of Empire. The lamps had been doused by the publican and only candle light remained. But none here needed light to continue their lonely business. The Duck had the familiar smells of a pub, of beer and sweat, of rot and urine. The patrons were not remarkable, still one stood out. While the others were busy drowning out reality, Aquila struggled to retain lucidity. Augustine Aquila was a shorter man of average height about 5’10” in the old scale. He was solid, strong and muscular from head to toe. Aquila was not free from fat. His belly and flanks were slightly larger than he would have liked. He looked like a rodeo bull put out to stud. Aquila’s best days were behind him, though in his mind he was still that bucking bull.

The candle before Aquila was dim and burning low. However the ambient light, combined with the light of the room was enough to see by. He sat facing the door with his eyes intently upon its handle.

Aquila’s hair was black thick and lustrous, the kind of hair made for running hands through. His eyes were brown and dull like mud. They were empty and soulless eyes, missing the glint of a normal human being. A hard and troubled life had taken that spark from Aquila. He had smooth and unmarked skin yet wore a beard to hide it. The beard was short was short and well-trimmed and ran from ear to ear and beneath his rounded chin.

Aquila’s eyes flashed as the bar door began to open.

 ‘Bar’s closed’ said the publican as he saw the new arrival enter. The new man stared at his denier with a look of utter contempt.

 ‘Sorry mate’ said the publican as he quickly corrected his mistake.

 ‘He’s in the corner’ he added as he pointed out Aquila. Marc Titus crossed the room and took a seat beside his prospective employer. Titus was a very tall man, far taller than the average. He was incredibly strong, with a body like a mountain and muscles like stone. If Aquila was a bull then Titus was a thoroughbred stallion.

Nothing was said for a moment as Marc signalled to the barman for a drink. His hair was blonde yet shaved so thin it was nearly translucent. Titus wore no beard though sometimes he allowed short stubble to grow. The drink arrived and Titus finished it in one go and asked for another. His eyes were a blue that changed every time you looked into them. By day his eyes were grey, and by night they were almost black.

 ‘Don’t get drunk, we have business’ said Aquila with a disapproving look. Aquila was an impolite man but he never meant malice with his words. He simply lacked a complete set of manners.

 ‘Fuck off’ replied Titus as his second drink arrived. Like Aquila, Titus was gruff and blunt; he on the other hand always intended offense. He hated menial conversations and tried to end them abruptly. Generally Titus was an unapproachable man. Only his friends and employers would come to him willingly.

The slight brushed of Aquila’s shoulder without impact; he cared not for the words of this sordid man.

 ‘What do you want’ spluttered Titus as he finished his second drink and ordered another. Titus was direct and to the point. He was rude, argumentative and confrontational. He looked restless and perturbed and needed to stand up and walk around. Aquila transversely looked cool calm and collected. He was a loner and preferred his own company to the company of others. Titus needed constant stimulus and distraction; otherwise his mind would begin to wander.

 ‘Stop squirming and listen’ cried Aquila, as Titus watched to see where his drink was. Aquila thought of himself of a friendly person, and most saw him the same way. Yet his work often called for him to go against his nature. Time and practice had made him a master actor.

 ‘Get on with it’ moaned Titus. The larger of the two was usually a happy man and always wore a smile on his face. As long as he got what he wanted, and right now that wasn’t happening.

 ‘We have a contract for you’ began Aquila as he pulled an envelope from his jacket. He then placed the package on the table and after a moment Titus picked it up.

 ‘We?’ replied Titus with a wry grin. Aquila did not make a reply. He did not think Titus needed an answer.

Aquila was the leader of an organisation known as the Remnants of Democracy. He had the intelligence of a genius and was the brains behind the operation. He had an unquenchable and never ending thirst for knowledge. Aquila could have been anything, or done anything with his life. Yet he lacked the appropriate application to get the results he truly wanted. Titus too was quite intelligent, though not as brilliant as Aquila. He was well informed and knowledgeable none the less. No one quite realised the potential of Marc Titus, Except for his employers. Unfortunately his employers promoted that talent towards evil.

 ‘Where are we going?’ asked Titus, as he tried to open the envelope without tearing it.

 ‘Don’t open that until we arrive’ instructed Aquila. ‘The target is in District 7’ he added softly. Titus looked around the bar for his slow coming drink.

 ‘When do we go?’ inquired Titus.

 ‘Do you have anything to tidy up?’ asked Aquila.

 ‘No’

 ‘Then we leave now’

The pair stood as the barman arrived with Marc’s drink. He finished it there and then, and passed the barman the empty glass and a fistful of small notes. Aquila opened the pub door and stepped into the cool Empire air. The threshold between the Drowning Duck and the city was like a time warp. Looking back into the pub was like looking back two hundred years. The city skyline was enormous; Aquila had to crane his neck to see the heavens. The light pollution kept the darkness to a hazy purple and smothered the moon and stars. The noise was intense, deafening and numbing. A lifetime had given the citizens of Empire a tolerance for sound.

 ‘Where’s Catherine?’ said Titus bluntly as he too stepped onto the street.

 ‘Inside’ replied Aquila, gesturing with his head towards the Drowning Duck.

 ‘I didn’t see her’ stated Titus coolly. Aquila smiled ‘she was there’ he insisted. The subject was dropped; Titus did not want to say another word about Catherine. Aquila knew that she and Titus had known each other before they left military service. Apart from that he knew nothing. Catherine was the only reason Titus had been given this job.

Cars, taxis, trucks and trains buzzed around like flies. Lights flashed in all the colours of the rainbow. People began to flood the city as evening became night. This was District 3, a grand soup of affluence, poverty, intolerance and inequality.

 ‘Any transport?’ said Titus after a moment of waiting.

 ‘Wait here’ replied Aquila. Titus knew he was a cold bastard and loathed himself for it. He was a brilliant liar with a ridiculous imagination.  Titus had long mastered the art of lying and wondered where he would be if he hadn’t. He was wise beyond his years yet never shared that wisdom with society. Titus could have been a great leader in a time of darkness; instead he chose to be another shadow.

Aquila arrived in his car and Titus promptly entered. The car pulled away from the Drowning Duck and headed towards District 7.

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The Ace of Spades

The car was armoured with Kevlar lined plates and Perspex windows. Yet on the road this car looked like any other. It wore government plates which was not unusual in the capital city. This car could have belonged to anyone, from the Emperor to a level 6 of the Department of Taxation. This car belonged to neither; this car belonged to Vulcan Valkeren, The Ace of Spades.

The rear seats of the car were separated from the front of the car by a black window. All the windows of the car were tinted. The sharpest of eyes could not see in. Valkeren could see out, but he did not care for the view. The car light was on, yet its bulb was very dim and next to useless. Valkeren sat upon a grand, comfortable and expensive leather seat. At his feet was a mini bar fridge and in his hand was a glass of scotch and ice.

Valkeren was a very tall, thin and lanky man. Every part of his body was long and awkward. He was in his forties but looked as if he were in his sixties. A life of stress followed by indulgence had taken its toll on Valkeren. His hair was almost all white and his face was lined and worn. His eyes sagged towards his cheeks and his eye brows drooped like overgrown hedges.

Valkeren was a very important man within the city of Empire. He was one of eight lords of Empire, and only two men could claim more power than he. Those men were the Emperor and his Prime-Minister. Valkeren was the lord of District 7, a tiny piece of land home to more people than most countries. The rich and the affluent middle class of D7 loved their lord. Unfortunately they only made up 5% of the population. The working class hated Valkeren, though few could say why. The lord of D7 had very little to do with the running of his district. He was given orders and saw them followed through. The people’s hatred should have been directed towards the Prime-Minister.

The car came to a halt and the chauffer opened Valkeren’s door. They had stopped before a restaurant near the high rises of D7’s south beaches. The establishment was entered facing the apartments and overlooked the water. Valkeren entered and was greeted most generously. A table was waiting for him and he was escorted to his seat immediately. The lighting was low, cosy and warming. The tables were numerous, neatly made, well-spaced and full. The conversation was buzzing and the music was pleasing and kept respectfully quiet. The waiters wore suits and waited on their customers like needy dogs. This place was fancy and exclusive; Valkeren would not have been here otherwise.

Valkeren sat at his table and greeted two others who were waiting for him. His companions were a high level employee and his wife. A waiter began to pour a glass of wine brought to the table especially for the lord of D7. Valkeren let the drink breath before raising it to his lips. He took a sip and smiled warmly before opening his mouth to speak.

There was a shattering sound as a window exploded and crashed to the floor. All eyes were upon lord Valkeren. A dozen men and women had been sprayed with his blood, yet no one made a sound. Not before a second bullet entered his forehead.

*

The apartment was emptied of all possessions and had been cleaned professionally. The lights were switched off, making the room dark and full of shadows. The light pollution had been enough for Titus to see. A rifle was upon its tri-pod and dangling over a window sill. The window over looked the south beaches of D7 and a restaurant frequented by its lord. A lock clicked softly as the door closed and the apartment was vacated. On the floor was a playing card, the Ace of Spades. Upon the card was a face, the face of Vulcan Valkeren.

Titus quickly moved down the stairwell as quickly and quietly as he could. He cleared twenty floors in a minute. As he reached his exit he stopped and breathed deeply for moment. Titus made sure he looked calm and was not sweating across the brow. He finally decided he was ready and stepped out into the open.

Aquila was waiting for Titus only a block away, and the former made a B-line for his getaway. As Aquila saw Titus approach he started his engine, but when he looked back his view was blocked. A patrol of imperial soldiers were responding to the situation down the street. In Aquila’s mind there was no way these men could be after them. He caught a glimpse of Titus as he slipped down a side alley. Aquila breathed a sigh of relief but the relief was short lived. The patrol had followed Titus down the alley, and at speed.

Titus sprinted down the narrow alley and could hear hard foot steps behind him. He heard a gun cock and unload. A millisecond later a bullet blew a hole in a concrete wall before him. Titus found a new passage but not before catching the second bullet between his shoulders. He slid into shadow and watched his pursuers pass him by. A moment later he faded from consciousness.

*

Aquila burst into the Drowning Duck at frightening speed. The old wooden door slammed into the wall and then slammed shut. He stormed across the pub and headed for the back wall. As he reached the wall he put a hand out and a part of the wall collapsed upon contact. Aquila moved through the newly made doorway and disappeared as fast as he had arrived. A few seconds passed before the doorway closed, apparently by itself. The wall was sealed seamlessly as if there had been no door. Not one of the patrons so much as twitched during this disturbance. Even the bartender kept his eyes upon his business.

The hideout of the ROD organisation was a small office like room. However the room was filled with everything the terrorists needed. There was a bunk bed that could fit four, in case of emergency. There was a television for entertainment and information gathering. In the centre of the room was a table covered in sheets of paper. Most of the sheets were covered in printed and written sentences. The rest were maps of Empire and its eight districts.

 ‘Hey boss, where’s Titus?’ Inquired Uriel, Aquila ignored his subordinate and made straight for the television. He switched it on and moved through the channels until he reached the news. The three other members of ROD were talking amongst themselves. Aquila hushed his soldiers and gave his full attention to the television. The news anchor was midway through a report when a familiar face appeared on the screen.

 ‘Vulcan Valkeren – R.I.P – 2312-2357’ read a subtitle beneath the photograph.

  ‘Vulcan Valkeren, lord of District 7 has been murdered this evening. Lord Valkeren was at a business meeting at Piccolo Mondo restaurant. A sniper managed to shoot the lord of D7 twice in the head. He was pronounced dead at the scene. The police are saying this was a deliberate assassination. There is a single suspect on the run in D7. The police are yet to identify the suspect; however they have given us a brief description. The suspect is a very tall man of solid build with short blonde hair. He is believed to be badly wounded. Citizens who have any information are asked to call their local district police.’

 ‘Fuck’ exclaimed Aquila as he switched off the television and threw a balled up piece of paper at the screen.

 ‘No one is to leave this room’ he ordered angrily, no one dared speak for a long time.