HIMEOBS - the novel

[Cain]

Mostly writing this whenever I have writers block for my other (fantasy deconstruction) project.  I'll try and write a post's worth every week though, regardless.

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Prologue

Kutha (modern day Tell Ibrahim), American-occupied Iraq

Professor David Mallowborn looked supremely pleased with himself, and to be honest, this wasn't entirely unjustified.  The discoveries he and his archaeological team had made at the site in the past two months had been nothing short of extraordinary.  In particular, yesterday had been impressive.  Finally managing to breach the central nave of the sunken Ziggurat, they had unearthed a treasure trove of Sumerian artefacts, enough to silence the various critics of this trip from his own department, and more.  That he had surpassed the findings of Hormuzd Rassam, the famous Assyriologist who had spent 4 weeks here in 1881 and had only found broken pots, didn't exactly hurt, either.

He was broken from his self-congratulatory musings as he saw the "sergeant" from BlackRiver Security.  He felt somewhat uncomfortable about having mercenaries, especially ones as infamous as BlackRiver, guarding the dig, but he supposed, it was the lesser of two evils.  They had help pay for the expedition after all, and Iraq could be very dangerous.  Mallowborn remembered his brief time in Baghdad with a shudder.  The explosions, the gunfire by night, armed men everywhere... No, even if BlackRiver did have a reputation for ruthlessness, they were undeniably efficient.  Even the State Department was said to have a contract with them, preferring their security to that provided by the U.S. military.  And he might need that sort of protection here, since not only was Babil Governorate part of the infamous Sunni "Triangle of Death", there were more recent rumours suggesting that Al-Qaeda in Mesopotamia had established a base of operations near Al Hillah.

Despite his reservations about mercenaries, he got on well with their sergeant though.  He seemed a bright and affable young man, who had taken quite an interest in their findings.  He had explained, somewhat sheepishly, that he'd always had an interest in ancient history, and had paid rapt attention to the work that Mallowborn's team had undertaken. 
"Evening, Eddie" he said.  The man nodded, before pulling up a crate to sit on. 
"Evening doctor" he replied, "how goes the work?"
"Pretty good.  It seems that the account of the city in the Shalmaneser Obelisk and Bible is correct.  When we breached the inner sanctum of the Ziggurat, we discovered artefacts related to the worship of Nergal."
"He was that creepy god you were telling me about, right?  The god of fire and disease and the underworld, yeah?"
"That's correct" said the professor, pleased he had remembered.  "Though of course he was associated with other things, like war, for example", he said, thinking again of Baghdad.  Noontime and the summer solstice, too."
"Still sounds fucked up to me.  Why would anyone want to worship something like that?"
"My best guess is to prevent the destructive aspects of his power's being turned on them."
"I guess" replied the sergeant, sounding unconvinced.  "Is there anything more to get out of the temple then?"
"Not really.  There might be other sites nearby, but as far as I can tell, we're done with the Ziggurat."
"Good" said the mercenary, as he swung up a pistol he had kept concealed behind his leg, and fired a shot into the professor's forehead. 

Mallowborn didn't even have the time to look surprised as the bullet ripped through his brain.  Whatever words he had been about to say died on his lips, and he slumped then toppled out of his chair.  Eddie looked at him a moment, then got up and pulled out his radio.  "The professor is dead.  Kill the rest of his team and secure the artefacts for transport."
"Understood, sir" a voice crackled back.  "What should we do with the bodies?"
"We can dump then in the Tigris, once we're back in Baghdad.  No-one's going to notice a few more bodies floating down there nowadays.  Make sure they're unrecognizable first."
"Of course, sir.  Over and out."
"Over and out", he replied.  Eddie glanced again at the professor's corpse.  "Sorry about that, doctor.  But there are bigger issues than your vanity at stake here."  He glanced up at the brilliant night sky of Iraq, with the stars shining down, and went to work.

[Richter]

MOAR PLZ.

[Cain]

As with LMNO-PI, there will be cameos.  I actually have no clue where I am going with this, beyond more dakka and rule of cool, so it should be an interesting trip.

[Richter]

Cool.  First part was well done, I want to see where it goes.

[Shibboleet The Annihilator]

Hehe, BlackRiver...

[Cain]

Yeah, I decided being subtle was not the way to go here.

There can only be one top Private Military Company, and Erik Prince cannot jump high enough.

[Kai]

I like. 

[Shibboleet The Annihilator]

Looking forward to the next one.

[East Coast Hustle]

totally awesome. looking forward to more.

[Tempest Virago]

Neat. I'm interested in reading more of this.

[Cain]

Chapter One

London, United Kingdom

Alex Reynolds woke up suddenly, pulling himself up straight in the bed.  For a moment he was confused, until he remembered where he was.  The woman in the bed next to him shifted slightly under the covers, making a vague sound and then settled down.  It was quiet, unusually so for the city.  What had woken him?

Then he heard the door downstairs open and a man's voice say "Darling?  I'm home!"  Oh shit. He should've trusted his senses.  No-one ever wakes up like that without a good reason.  Damn, damn, damn!  He jumped out of the bed and attempted to pull some trousers on, and then fell over.  He hastily made a note to himself to not drink so much next time he decided to sleep with another man's wife – assuming of course there would be next a time.
"I'm too pretty to kill" he muttered under his breath, as he managed to get the trousers up on a second attempt.  The woman on the bed, Emily or Emma or something, was now wide awake, and looking at him, wide-eyed and fearful.
"Don't just lie there!" he hissed.  "Stall him!"
"What?"
"I suppose you could just let him in, and we could have a nice chat about this, but it wouldn't be my first choice."  Walking over to her side of the bed, he pulled her up and shoved her gently in the direction of the door.
"What do I say?" she asked, obviously still half asleep and confused.
"He's your husband, how should I know?  Oh good grief, tell him you're glad to see him, how was his trip etc etc."  He managed to, more or less, button up his shirt.
"Alright" the woman smiled.  "Here I go then.  See you another time, Richard" she kissed him, and then walked away, closing the door behind her.  That was right, he remembered, he had called himself Richard Tomlinson when introducing himself to her.  Only the other week he introduced himself to another woman as Phillip Agee.  Do none of these people use Wikipedia?  Then again, it's not like disgraced spies are exactly the sort of topic most people take the time to specialize in.  Most normal people anyway.

Looking over the dressing table, he pocketed an expensive looking necklace and a couple of earrings.  He doubted he would be coming back here, the half empty bottle of wine, the obviously messed up bed...the husband would figure it out, though hopefully only after he had made his exit.  So, some compensation would be nice, even if it wasn't up to his usual haul.  Taking one final look around the room, he snatched up his tie, looped it around the window latch in a loose knot and then climbed out.  The foothold below was slim, but barely manageable, and he could hold onto the outer part of the window ledge to steady himself.  Pulling at the tie, the window closed with a satisfying "click!", and Reynolds permitted himself a small victory dance.  Which is how he ended up falling backwards into the bushes, instead of dropping behind them as he had originally intended.

"Oh shit" he moaned weakly, lying in the dirt and fallen leaves.  Today just wasn't a good day.  Allowing a moment for the world to stop spinning, he pulled himself into what he guessed was an upright position, and crept along the length of the hedge towards the side wall.  Finding the crack in the wall which served as a foothold, he smiled and then hoisted himself up and over, before landing in the quiet and expensive London street.  Brushing some dirt off his shirt, he proceeded to take the long walk home.

***

A couple of very weary hours later, Reynolds arrived at his office-turned-flat.  Or was it flat-turned-office?  He couldn't remember now, anything that required more than a second's thought made his head hurt and thoughts turn muddy.  He stared at the sign which read "Alex Reynolds – Private Investigator" as if he'd never seen it before, and then stumbled in.

The young woman at the desk didn't even look up from her magazine as he steadied himself against the wall and tried not to heave up...what had he been eating last night, anyway?  After the little sausages on sticks, his mind was a blank.  Still, curiosity wasn't worth this high a price.  Pulling himself up, he straightened his tie and said "good morning, Miss Casslemont."
Still not looking up, she waved a hand, and then turned a page.  He sighed.
"No messages for me, I'm guessing?"  She didn't make a move.  He decided to take that as a no. 
"I'm going to be asleep for, oh, the next 15 hours.  Do please try and any calls, this time.  It'd be a terrible shame to have to dock your pay, or something.  Oh, and get these to Frank on your lunch break."  He threw the jewellery on to the desk, and then made his way to the back room, where a vaguely comfortable couch awaited.

***

However, it wasn't to be, as Alex suffered his second rude awakening of the day.  Miss Casslemont, looking somewhat concerned, was stood above him and holding his mobile.  He went to say something cutting to her, only to find his tongue was still stuck to the roof of his mouth.
"I know what you said, but you want to take this.  Really."  She handed him the piece.
Finally getting his mouth working, he whispered "even goddamn Afghan warlords know better than to wake me up after a heavy night out.  Oh, alright, shoo."  She left the room, looking back once, with faint worry in her eyes.
"Yes, who is this?" he asked wearily.  "It's been a long two days, so I really hope it is good news."
"Good to speak with you too, Alex" the phone replied.  Reynolds tried to place the voice.
"Ferguson?"  Yes, had to be.  The slight Irish accent, humoured tone, they gave him away.  He was some security consultant with...that's right, a healthcare consortium.  One of the big one's, though Reynolds couldn't recall which.
"Ah, I knew you wouldn't want to turn little old me away.  OK Alex, I know you're a straightforward guy, so I won't mess you around anymore and get straight to the chase: I've got a job, and it's a very lucrative one, quite well suited to your particular talents as well."
"All right, give me a moment to get something to write on... OK, I'm listening."
"How does £100,000 for a little hide and seek game with a lorry sound?  Look, you know this H1N32 business-"
"Yeah, I do.  These are vaccines?"
"They are, yes.  Only the shipment got hijacked.  Nominally the reward is for the safe return of the driver, but really it's about getting the drugs back."
"I didn't even know they were ready, I thought it was going to be another three weeks until they started rolling them out."
"Well, these aren't exactly for general consumption, you see." 
Ah.  He did see.  Government shipment, for ministers and security services, guys manning the nuclear bunkers and so on.
"Why are they so concerned, anyway?  They can just declare the line a loss and send out another shipment, this time with some squaddies, real ones, not these wannabe soldiers with BlackRiver or Aegis or whoever.  Anyone attempting to hijack that would get a nasty surprise, and with a few ID'd corpses, your lorry would soon be tracked down."
"Listen", Ferguson was now whispering, "you didn't hear this at all, and certainly not from me, but management doesn't think this is an attempt to contaminate the line or anything like that.  They think this is black market stuff, organised crime.  Maybe they have actual intel, maybe they're just bullshitting, it's hard to say.  The thing is, this drug isn't the same drug as what'll be going out for mass consumption.  The real worry is that someone will notice this stuff doesn't have the same side effects as what everyone else is going to have in a few weeks time.  Hell, it isn't even the same colour, someone is bound to realise the company is screwing the public around.  And after the latest bank riots, no-one wants to take that risk."
"Alright.  So, obviously, I'm going to need some more details.  Last known location and so on,  but before all that...what's your cut?"
"45%" came back, without hesitation.
"Oh you must be shitting me.  You are not getting nearly half while I drag my hungover arse around half the city.  I'll give you 15% and that's because we're mates.  Usually you'd get 10% and that'd be it."  He waited for the counter offer.
"Ah come on, I know you can stretch to twenty."
"Deal."
"Excellent.  One more thing though, before I tell you the boring stuff, that you should probably know...you're not the only one hunting for it."
"I suspected as much.  Names on the losers they're paying for this?"
"Not sure.  Unsurprisingly, I wasn't asked.  They went to some outside company, and seem pretty confident their guys will get it back, even if it is going to cost them an arm and leg.  You might want to get your arse in gear, Alexander."

[LMNO]

Thickening plots...

I like the smooth introduction of the conspiracy theories, as well.  And, how the prologue and the first chapter don't match up (yet).

[Cain]

Yeah, the prologue wont play a part for a good long while.  Depending on how long I can string it out.

And yes, this is going to be a conspiracy kitchen sink, mixed in with internet culture just to see what happens.

[Shibboleet The Annihilator]

Normally I do not read anything here that is more than 1 to 3 paragraphs. I bothered to read this.

TL;DR: (seriously?) Nice work.

[Reginald Ret]

This could become very enjoyable.