Simon Toyne - The Key

‘Twenty-six,’ Gabriel said, showing her the chit he had just been given. ‘I’m going to have to chat with some of these guys, see if I can’t get us moved up the list.’

‘Let me try,’ Liv said, taking the chit and heading over to the four card sharks. ‘Have you got any money?’

‘A little.’

‘Give me enough to grab these guys’ attention. And translate for me, would you.’

She arrived at the upturned oil drum that served as a card table and smiled broadly. ‘Hey, fellas. Any of you guys got a lower number than me?’ She held up the chit while Gabriel translated. They each reached into various pockets and produced their own chits. Unsurprisingly, they all had lower numbers. She turned the full beam of her smile on to the driver holding up the number 14, a short, tubby man with a beard and the sort of glasses that went black in sunlight. ‘How would you like to win some money?’ she said. His face clouded with suspicion the moment Gabriel translated.

‘Stick down twenty bucks’ worth of dinars and ask him again,’ she said to Gabriel out of the corner of her still-smiling mouth.

With the appearance of real money the man was suddenly interested. Liv scooped up three cards from the pile and held them up: a three of hearts, a seven of diamonds and the queen of spades. ‘All you have to do is find the lady,’ she said, flipping them over and mixing them up in such a way that it was easy to follow the queen. ‘If you guess right, you get the money. If you guess wrong…’ she held up the chit with 26 written on it, ‘… we swap numbers.’

Gabriel explained the rules. The man still wasn’t convinced, but Liv was undeterred. ‘OK, free go. No bets down.’ She shuffled the cards some more. ‘Find the lady.’ The man hesitated then pointed to the middle card. Liv flipped it over to reveal the queen. ‘Hey, we have a winner.’ She handed him the cash.

‘I thought there were no bets on that one,’ Gabriel whispered.

‘I can’t see him complaining,’ she muttered back. ‘Stick some more money down while I’ve got the hook in him.’

Gabriel did as he was told while Liv shuffled the cards. Again she did it so slowly that following the queen was easy. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Your number against my bet. You want to take it?’

The man was staring at the card on the left and clutching the money he had just won. He nodded and laid chit number 14 down next to the cash.

‘OK, then. Find the lady.’

He pointed to the card he’d been looking at. Liv flipped it over. It was the three of hearts. She scooped up the cash and the chit and shrugged. ‘You can’t win ’em all,’ she said. ‘But everyone gets a prize in this game.’ She handed him the chit with 26 written on it and walked quickly back to the car.

Ten minutes later they were driving over the bridge and crossing the border.

Gabriel shook his head and smiled. ‘Where on earth did you learn to do that?’

‘Coney Island. I did a series of articles on classic boardwalk cons and an old-time grifter showed me how they worked. When all this is over, I’ll show you how it’s done.’

Gabriel’s smile deepened. ‘Deal.’

They passed under the sign welcoming them to Iraq and Gabriel parked in the shade of the arch ready to go through the whole process again with Iraqi customs and immigration officials. The office on the other side was almost identical to its Turkish counterpart — the only difference being the uniforms. The patrol guards here wore drab green fatigues with military-style badges showing palm fronds encircling a sword and an AK-47. There were plenty of US military personnel around too. Gabriel had spotted a small enclosure of field tents set up off the road behind the main buildings. The Hummer they had seen earlier was parked in front of one and several other vehicles suggested there was a full platoon stationed here — thirty men at least.

The border guard studied their passport photographs, checked them against their faces, then handed them back. He finished his checks, stamped the vehicle documents and that was it.

‘Welcome to Iraq,’ he said.

It had been easier than Liv had thought. All they had to do now was drive for several hundred kilometres along some of the most dangerous roads in the world with no escort and no real idea of where they were going, to a place they hoped would lead them to the ancient site of Eden. It wasn’t the most promising of missions, but even so, it felt like a minor victory to Liv as she pushed through the office door and back out into the blinding sun. Then she saw the welcoming committee.

There were three of them, all wearing the chocolate-chip fatigues of the US Army. Two were inspecting their vehicle, the third faced them, his eyes hidden behind standard-issue Oakleys. ‘Could I see your passports, please,’ he said, his finger resting on the trigger of his cradled weapon.

‘Is there a problem?’ Gabriel stepped in front of Liv, as if that might protect her from what was happening. The soldier said nothing, he just continued to hold out his hand for the passports. Gabriel handed them over. The soldier didn’t even look at them.

‘Follow me, please. We need to ask you a few questions.’

Brother Axel was strapped to his bed and stripped to his loincloth. He lay moaning, his fingernails drawing blood from his palms as they worked away at the only bit of skin they could reach.

Athanasius, Thomas and Malachi were in the washroom, silently scrubbing their hands and faces with antiseptic soap in the stone sinks, wondering if the same poison that had claimed Axel was now working its way through them. It had taken all three of them to hold him down until the attendant Apothecaria had eventually managed to subdue him with a well-aimed shot of strong sedative.

They emerged from the washroom and were met by Brother Simenon, drawn here by the news that the contagion had claimed a new victim. He was hunched over the pustulant chest of Brother Axel, drawing a sample of fluid from one of the larger boils. When he finished, he handed it to an assistant then turned to the group, unsnapping his gloves and lowering his mask. The face beneath was drawn and hollow. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in a month, though in truth it was only a few days.

‘Well, at least this solves one problem,’ he said, moving away from the bed to the far side of the room and perching on a reading desk. ‘Brother Axel is not alone; there have been three other new cases of the Lamentation in the past few hours, apparently unconnected to the initial outbreak, which changes the game somewhat. I was wondering where we could put these new patients to keep them isolated; I might as well put them here. We can easily fit them in if we take more desks away and convert the second reading room. As you said earlier,’ he nodded at Athanasius, ‘the sealed nature of the library makes this a perfect isolation ward.’

‘And what about us?’ Malachi asked, his magnified eyes terrified and tearful. ‘Are we to stay here too, sharing a room with the infected?’

‘I see no reason to keep you. The purpose of your quarantine has now been negated by the fresh outbreak. I have recommended a new form of general quarantine within the mountain. From our studies of existing cases we have managed to identify a few early-warning symptoms. Anyone displaying these should be moved immediately to a containment ward. Everyone else should restrict themselves to their main area of work, and general movement throughout the mountain must be forbidden.’

‘And has Brother Dragan sanctioned this?’

Simenon shook his head. ‘Brother Dragan has locked himself in the forbidden stairwell and retired to the chapel of the Sacrament, advising everyone to pray for salvation.’