The Unhappy Medium 3: Wretched Things: A Supernatural Comedy, page 51
‘Sochi? Roger, Black Sea Princess,’ replied the Russian. ‘Have a nice day.’
With that, the patrol boat peeled away, disappearing back into the fog, leaving the Black Sea Princess and her deadly Iskander to sail under the Kerch Bridge and out into the Black Sea.
*****
Newton and his companions were now proper chilly. Shaking like a neurotic fern, Bennet was pushing his anatomy to breaking point, desperate to get the sock on his right foot within range of Gabby’s eager fingers.
‘Annnnnnnnother inch!’ begged Gabby through chattering teeth. ‘You’re soooo c-c-c-c-close.’
‘I can’t!’ said Bennet, slumping back down. ‘I’m sorry, but one just isn’t telescopic. I’m in agony here.’
‘It’s b-b-better each t-t-t-t-time,’ lied Newton. ‘Like a rubber band. Next g-g-g-go, you’ll g-g-g-get it easy.’
‘Easy for you to s-s-s-s-say,’ snapped Bennet. ‘I’m ripping all my ligaments.’
‘There’s no ch-ch-choice,’ said Viv. ‘S-s-s-s-sorry.’
‘I kn-n-n-n-now there’s no b-b-b-bloody choice,’ snapped Bennet. ‘But I’ve only g-g-g-got the anatomy the good Lord gave me.’
‘Do it, or we freeze,’ insisted Newton.
‘Argghhh … Ok,’ said Bennet, bowing to the inevitable. Closing his eyes in anticipation of the pain, he threw his leg up hard, producing an unpleasant click.
‘EWWWWWWW!’ said the rest of them.
It was a shocking moment, but it worked, the suddenly very pale vicar’s foot leaping in the right direction.
Gabby’s hands, pushed so far forward that blood was seeping from beneath the plastic ties, hooked onto Bennet’s cotton-rich sock. As one hand held on to the material, keeping Bennet in place, the other shot underneath it, frantically searching for the novelty gift.
‘Quick!’ begged the light-headed Bennet. ‘I’m going to fall in half.’
‘I’ve got it!’ yelled the triumphant Gabby, pulling the tiny little penknife out, then letting go of the vicar’s sock.
Set free, Bennet collapsed back onto the frozen Crusaders, muttering away the pain running riot in his spindly left leg.
Wasting no time, Gabby had the blade out, sawing at once into the soft plastic of her zip tie.
‘I’m free!’
Gabby dropped down, frantically rubbing at the angry red cuts in her wrists, desperate to pump blood back into her fingers.
‘Quick!’ urged Newton. ‘Cut the rest of us free before they come back.’
Five minutes later, all four were unrestrained, bunched up and ready behind the freezer door.
‘What are we waiting for?’ asked Bennet, massaging his leg. ‘Is it locked?’
‘I don’t think so,’ replied Newton. ‘But there may be a guard on the other side. Wouldn’t you put a guard outside? I would put a guard outside.’
‘Fair point,’ nodded Bennet. ‘You’ll have to take him down.’
‘I have to take him down?’ exclaimed Newton. ‘You’re the black belt in ping-pong. You take him down.’
Bennet shook his head. ‘Usually, I would. But one leg is now longer than the other, and I’m so cold, I can’t feel my ears.’
‘Look, we’re running out of time,’ lamented Newton. ‘They’re gonna use that bloody nuke, I’m telling you. Guard or no guard, we gotta get out of here. We’ve got to stop ‘em.’
‘Very well,’ replied Bennet. ‘Let’s do this. I can barely walk, but we can take him down if we do it together. Open the flippin’ door!’
‘Ok,’ said Newton. ‘Count of three. One … Two … THREE!’
Newton Barlow grabbed the metal handle and then yanked back the freezer door.
There wasn’t a guard.
There were lots of them.
Andronicus, several Myrmidons, and Dima were directly outside, weapons raised.
‘You going somewhere?’ laughed Andronicus.
‘Balls,’ muttered Newton.
‘How very frustrating!’ sighed Bennet.
‘And I’ll have that,’ growled Dima, spotting the petite knife in Gabby’s hand.
‘We’ve decided we want you alive long enough to witness what we’re about to do,’ cackled Andronicus, channelling his inner supervillain. ‘Dima, take them to a cabin and post a guard, inside, this time.’
This was at least an upgrade for the deep-chilled Purgatorians, with an ensuite, carpets, and room temperatures. After several failed attempts to befriend the taciturn guard, they gave up and endured the several hours’ wait as the Black Sea Princess sailed south-west.
Finally, their captors returned.
‘Showtime,’ announced Andronicus, having installed the bemused Astrid in a ringside seat in the main observation cabin. ‘Dima, take our guests up to the stern.’
‘You plan to kill us?’ asked Newton. ‘That it?’
‘Not at all,’ replied Andronicus. ‘Not yet. No, … I want you to bear witness to a moment of true history.’
Newton, Bennet, and Valenti together with Viv and Gabby were grabbed and roughly dragged up the stairs into the dark night air. Guns in their back, they were then force-marched up the stairs to the top deck.
‘Patroclus, … take the women, the pilot, and this priest to the bows,’ ordered Andronicus. ‘Tie them to the rail where they can get a good view of the proceedings. Dima, … tie this one up here with me,’ he added, jabbing his finger at Newton. ‘I want him close when we launch. I want him to see … what I see.’
‘Get your effin’ hands off me,’ swore a defiant Gabby, as Patroclus dragged them away. Newton looked back, unable to help, his hands once again zip-tied to an immovable object as Dima fastened him to the handrail.
With his four companions gone, Newton turned his head out to sea.
There, in the stubborn mist, was the barge. Sat ominously aboard it was the squat eight-wheeled launcher. Upon its back, the rocket had risen to the vertical, its needle-sharp nose and steaming motors hinting at a terrifying finale to a less-than-satisfying vacation.
‘I hope you’re not thinking of launching that,’ said Newton. ‘Cos, that would be very, very naughty.’
‘Naughty?’ replied Andronicus. ‘You dare to imply my heroic machinations are simply “naughty?”’
‘Oh, ok. You’re a terrifying supervillain who should be feared and admired in equal measures. That better?’
‘Much better,’ nodded Andronicus.
‘Dickhead,’ said Newton. ‘Get back to Purgatory this very instant, without any supper.’
‘I’m never going back,’ laughed Andronicus. ‘I belong here, in the mortal world, gaining my place in the history books by taking millions of lives. I never got the chance I deserved last time. This time, I’m not just going to be Andronicus the “Terrible”; I’m going to be Andronicus the …’
‘Pathetic?’ suggested Newton.
‘I was going to say “horrific”,’ snapped Andronicus.
‘Don’t stand here debating with him,’ insisted an impatient Homer. ‘Get on with it. We need to see what this weapon can do.’
‘Prepare the launcher!’ ordered Andronicus.
‘No!’ pleaded Newton. ‘For God’s sake, man, … don’t!’
‘God?’ snorted Andronicus. ‘You think I’m worried about what God thinks of me? I have no faith in God! God didn’t lift a finger to help me when that mob tore me in half. When those traitorous Constantinopolitans were pissing all over me, did God do a single thing to ease my suffering, eh? No, … he did not! He can stuff it, as far as I’m concerned. He didn’t scratch my back, so I’m not going to scratch his … ever again. It’s all about me now. If I want to nuke a city, then I will. God can mind his own bloody business. It’s nobody’s business … but mine.’
‘Nuke where?’ asked Newton. ‘Istanbul?’
‘I’m not calling it that,’ protested Andronicus. ‘It’s Cons-tant-in-ople. CONSTANTINOPLE. And it’s mine to do with as I please!’
‘Whatever it’s called,’ said Newton. ‘You just can’t … nuke it! Millions will die.’
‘Gosh,’ enthused Andronicus. ‘What a lot of people. The more the merrier!’
‘For God’s sake!’ pleaded Newton. ‘What the hell have they done to you?’
‘What did they do?’ asked Andronicus. ‘What did they do? I’ll tell you what they did … they threw fruit at me.’
‘Oh! That’s a good enough reason to nuke someone now, is it?’ asked Newton. ‘Just my opinion, but that sounds a tad harsh!’
‘And they’re heathens,’ added Andronicus.
‘You hate God! You just told me so. Why should you care if they are heathens?’
‘They’re foreign heathens,’ explained Andronicus. ‘Which is even worse. They took my city when I wasn’t looking.’
‘It’s gonna be no one’s city if you nuke it, dumbass,’ replied Newton. ‘It’s gonna be nothing more than a smoking ruin.’
‘It’s a ruin already,’ insisted Andronicus. ‘Have you seen the state of the city walls? They’re a mess!’
‘It’s a World Heritage Site!’ said Newton. ‘What do you expect?’
‘It will be an example to others,’ declared Homer. ‘Once it is obliterated, we will threaten more cities. The world will have to listen to us. They will do our bidding, or we will turn them to ash!’
‘Only the one missile, then?’ laughed Newton. ‘Hardly an arsenal, is it?’
‘We will get more,’ promised Andronicus, pointing to what had until recently been Colonel General Viktor Nahrapov. ‘Podalirius here has the possession of a powerful Russian warlord. He has many more terrible missiles at his base.’
‘Excuse me, Comrade Boris. I couldn’t help overhearing you. Did I hear you correctly? Are we really going to use a nuke on a city?’ asked Dima. ‘I mean … isn’t that a bit … extreme?’
‘Be quiet!’ barked Andronicus. ‘Know your place.’
‘But … there will be huge repercussions!’ continued Dima. ‘The Kremlin. NATO. They will be all over us. Plus … it’s just ….’
‘What?’ snapped Andronicus. ‘WHAAT?’
‘Wrong!’ replied Dima. ‘Look. I would follow you anywhere, Comrade Boris, you know that. But this isn’t like you. I’ve always admired your ruthlessness … your cold-blooded lack of concern for human life, but this … this just isn’t your style.’
‘That’s because it’s NOT him,’ said Newton. ‘Comrade Boris here has been piggybacked by a Byzantine fruitloop with a God complex, a crazed murdering narcissist with his brain in his underpants.’
‘Is this true?’ asked Dima. ‘Have you been possessed?’
‘So what if I have, you irrelevant lump of pork,’ snapped Andronicus. ‘Just do as I say, or I’ll have you skewered.’
‘But my men and I ….’
‘… are prisoners,’ said Andronicus, as the last of the gunmen’s colleagues were suddenly overpowered by the Myrmidons. Thrown down upon their knees, their weapons were appropriated, and their hands tied before they’d even registered what was happening.
‘But Comrade Boris would never be possessed,’ wailed Dima. ‘Not my Boris! Boris had other people possessed. Damn. This is terrible.’
‘Join the club,’ sighed Newton. ‘Now we’re all buggered.’
‘We’re wasting time,’ complained Homer. ‘I feel a wind upon my face. If the weather freshens, we will be thwarted. We have to launch now … while the conditions are right!’
‘Brave Achilles!’ Andronicus shouted across to the barge. ‘Tell them to point this monster at Constantinople. Let’s get this done!’
‘You heard him,’ said Achilles, addressing the commander of the launcher. ‘How do we aim this thing?’
‘You want us to allocate a target?’ queried the nervous commander. ‘Are we cleared for that?’
‘Certainly are,’ claimed Achilles. ‘Your commanding general needs you to select a target for the … er … drill.’
‘It is a drill, though? Da?’ asked the commander, his fingers hovering over the keypad. ‘It’s just that ….’
‘Of course, it’s a drill,’ confirmed Achilles. ‘Select … Istanbul!’
‘A city?’ exclaimed the commander. ‘But it’s a tactical nuke. Shouldn’t we select –’
‘Istanbul!’ insisted Achilles. ‘And get on with it.’
The crew looked at each other doubtfully, but given the sheep-like obedience which came with the job, they eventually shrugged and punched the buttons.
Istanbul appeared on the screen.
‘Target co-ordinates 41 degrees, 54 minutes north, 28 degrees, 46 minutes east,’ said the tremolo-voiced commander. ‘Initiate launch protocols.’
‘Launch protocol passed,’ said his lieutenant. ‘Target, clarified, launcher clear.’
‘Launch conditions met, Comrade …?’
‘Achilles,’ replied Achilles.
‘Launch conditions met, Comrade Achilles, sir. Awaiting firing instruction.’
‘Is that it?’ asked Achilles. ‘Is it ready … to fire?’
‘It is. If it was a real launch, all you’d have to do is hit the button.’
‘And what button would that be, then?’ asked Achilles.
‘That big red one, just there. The commander pointed to an oversized knob covered with a protective Perspex cover.
‘Well, thanks for telling me,’ said Achilles, running the three men through with his rusty museum piece. ‘Much appreciated.’
Achilles opened the door of the cabin, raising himself up as one of the crew flopped inert to the metal deck of the barge below.
‘Locked and loaded!’ he bellowed, cupping his hands to his mouth.
‘Oh crap,’ said Newton, pulling manically at his restraints. ‘They’re really gonna do it.’
The base of the Iskander was now hissing and popping, a pre-launch steam issuing out as the missile made itself ready for the one-way trip to Istanbul.
‘Don’t,’ pleaded Newton. ‘Don’t!’
Andronicus looked back at Newton, struggling pathetically on the rail like a doomed fly in a spider’s web, and smiled.
It was a horrible smile, the kind only the complete and utterly psychotic can master. It instilled in Newton the most appalling sense of futility and uselessness he had ever felt.
Istanbul, the capital of modern Turkey, a city of some fifteen million, had but minutes to live.
‘Ready when you are!’ yelled Achilles across the short expanse of sea. ‘Let’s do this.’
Andronicus the Terrible lifted his hand, his thumb out to the side of a clenched fist, Colosseum style.
‘Don’t do it,’ begged Newton. ‘Don’t bloody do it!’
As Achilles eagerly awaited the command, the Former Emperor of Constantinople began to slowly rotate his hand, thumb downwards as he prepared to sentence his home city to death.
Splosh.
Andronicus stopped.
It came again.
Splosh.
Andronicus turned his head, looking back over his shoulder, trying to pinpoint the sound.
Splosh.
Creak.
Splosh.
‘What’s happening?’ yelled Achilles, his hand itching to launch. ‘Why won’t you give the command?’
Splosh, creak, splosh.
‘Wait!’ yelled Andronicus.’… There’s something ….’
Now, there came an almost musical rhythm to the sounds, including a chanting male chorus that pulsed beneath the sploshing and the creaking.
‘In, out, in, out.’
And … it was getting closer.
SPLOSH, CREAK, SPLOSH, CREAK, SPLOSH, CREAK.
‘IN, OUT, IN, OUT ….’
The thinning hairs atop Andronicus’ head prickled, his senses switching to high alert.
‘What the hell?’
Something was emerging from the mist heading directly at the Black Sea Princess. Two evil eyes had materialised behind him, a maritime nightmare driven inexorably towards Andronicus and the superyacht.
The Olympias had arrived
.
Chapter 40
Asunder
The Olympias slammed dead-centre into the Black Sea Princess. Driven into the superyacht by a galley deck rammed with monks, the trireme’s battering ram tore through the state-of-the-art aluminium and composite fibre like a truck through a greenhouse.
Anyone not zip-tied to something solid was thrown straight off their feet, scrambling for support as the superyacht split like a warm baguette. The Black Sea Princess lifted … then separated, leaving half the actors in the unfolding drama on one side, the rest equally flabbergasted on the other.
Horrified, Newton turned to see Gabby, Viv, Valenti, and an opened-mouthed Reverend Bennet on the vanishing top deck ahead of him, wrenched away as the trireme tore the Black Sea Princess in half.
‘Newton!’ yelled Viv, as the section containing her boyfriend lurched away.
The Myrmidons, meanwhile, had gathered in the bow of the Black Sea Princess to watch the Iskander launch from its barge. They were thrown into a confused heap as the Olympias dug itself further into their side of the ship, its momentum driving them away from an already listing stern.
Andronicus the Terrible, just feet away from Newton on the aft deck, was spitting feathers.
‘Nooooooo!’ he wailed demonically. ‘You Purgatorian swine! I hate you … I hate you … I hate you. I hate you all! Why won’t you just leave me the hell alone!’
‘Told ya,’ laughed Newton, baiting him from the handrail. ‘We never give up. Never!’
Locked together, the Olympias and the Black Sea Princess’s front section had come alive with scrambling figures. Surging from their replica trireme, the Purgatorian monks were heaving themselves up the tilting superstructure onto the shattered superyacht’s deck, Enrico Pescatore at their head.
‘Forward, Purgatorians!’ he yelled enthusiastically, his piratical past coming gloriously back to life. ‘Taka da bastards down.’
‘Myrmidons!’ screamed an equally motivated Patroclus, glaring back with fire in his eyes. ‘Kill these holy devils!’
The fight was joined.
