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SALVAGE
As the morning sunlight streamed in through the barred window, the prisoner got up from his sleeping place on the floor. He wondered what misfortune today would bring. He was an ugly young man, but his time in incarceration had aged him quickly. Despite that he carried himself with a poise and dignity few could muster. He couldn't even remember his life outside and when exactly he found himself inside.
A large cockroach scuttled across the floor and stopped immediately in front of him, hissing. One of the many other denizens of this dank and horrid place. The prisoner backed away against the wall, more out of dismay and disgust than fear.
The guard walked past. He was a large muscular man with a shaven head and covered in tattoos. As part of his equipment he carried a heavy truncheon. He was obviously amused at the situation he saw.
"Scared of a fucking cockroach, huh?" He took his keys off his belt, opened the cell door and marched inside, crushing the cockroach under his thick soled boots as he approached the prisoner.
"There. You see how weak and redundant you are, you useless bastard! Can't even take care of a fucking cockroach."
The guard reached out with his left hand, grabbing the prisoner by his throat and thrust a brutal right handed body blow into his abdomen. The prisoner slumped to the floor, barely able to breathe. "Just hurry up and die like the rest you useless piece of shit. You're the last one here. Once you're dead, I'm free to leave."
The agony permeating his body was terrible, but nothing compared to the pain in his mind. Somehow, without thinking his chest took over the work of his stunned diaphragm and his laboured breathing eased. But how.....vague memories flooded into his mind....."Good, now take short, sharp breaths from your chest........" Was it a memory or a figment of his imagination. A hallucination his agony fractured mind had created as it neared the end. A shameful fantasy of rescue.
"So you're a fucking wiseguy are you?" the guard spat out when he saw how quickly the effect of his punch had worn off. He aimed a football kick straight at the prisoner's head.....and missed by just inches. Again.....memories....voices......"Thats it, watch where its going then get out of the way. Now, what targets can you see?".....Had his mind finally broken and given way to the sweet insanity he craved?
"Aaaaarrrrggggghhhhhhh" the guard roared in frustration. "I'll kill you!"
His mind had given up the will to live but his body hadn't. Numerous times, he had wished, commanded, his brainstem to gradually shut down his systems and release him from this so called life. But each time it had disobeyed and kept his vital functions stable. Throughout his incarceration, his heart had kept beating and his lungs pumping. Each cell had continued to burn its share of glucose to generate the energy to keep it ticking over. And now, the ultimate act of rebellion.....despite his mind's passivity his body was somehow protecting itself from the sadistic brutality of the guard.
The guard raised his truncheon high overhead and brought it down hard with enough force to shatter a human skull. But it hit only the floor. The guard stared at the spot the prisoner had been at, stunned. Somehow, he had disappeared into thin air. "........if you don't evade, its just a game. Breathe, move, evade......" The memories were clearer now.....a large man with short cropped brown hair and a friendly smile.....foreign script on his t shirt.....maybe Russian.....
The guard spun around and started swinging his truncheon at the prisoner wildly. Even with awkward movements the prisoner avoided taking any full blows. Every shot seemed to roll off his body, until he found the truncheon momentarily lodged under his armpit. Using a wave like twist of his body he wrenched it out of the guards hand.
The two men locked gazes....the guards eyes full of disbelief, the prisoner expressionless.
"Not this time."
The guard threw a venomous shovel hook into to prisoners abdomen. Then something amazing happened. Muscles, tendons, bones, sinew....all working in unison under the leadership of the mind absored the devastating power in the punch and chanelled it into the prisoners hand. In less time than it takes for an eye to percieve what is happening, the prisoners right hand shot out, connecting with the guards chest and returning all this impact back to him. The guard was physically lifted off the floor and slammed into the wall behind him.
"Release me from this place. I want to leave now."
The guard rushed forward, again attempting to use brute force to subdue the prisoner......but then suddenly.......his groin.....on fire....... As he rushed forward, the prisoner had circled out of the way, leaving one hand where the guards groin would end up. Effortlessly, the prisoner bent his striking arm, leaving his elbow out for the guards chin to drop onto.
More memories....".......fighting skill should develop into an unconquerable weapon that cannot be seen and that cannot be taken away while its user walks the earth......."
As the guard slumped to the floor, the prisoner stuck out his knee, hitting the guards head and knocking him unconscious. Kneeling down, he took the keys from the guards belt and made his way towards the door.
It was clearer now. 30 years. He had lived his entire life in this penal institution. His crime had simply been being himself. Those who claimed to love him had sentenced him to rot in this hell. But now that he was out how would he survive? Despite his brutality and his ultimate desire to see the prisoner dead, the gaurd had provided him with his single daily meal every day. The dismal prison had provided him with shelter from the elements and the prison uniform had kept his degenerating body decently covered.
The sun was shining much more brightly now. People of all sorts went about their business. Surviving, even thriving. 30 years had been wasted but perhaps, there was still hope of salvage. The prisoner looked out of the window....and saw a brave new world....full of hope and opportunity.....a free spirit drifted into the daylight.
Operation Trojan Horse: Part 7
The group of underlings listened intently to the heated exchange from beyond the heavy door. It had all started pleasantly enough but there was no doubt that things would become heated rapidly once the king and the fat man were behind closed doors.
"We all know exactly who she is and thats why her antics have been tolerated up till now but this time shes gone too far. " The fat man was furious and made no attempt to hide it. His entire body shook with rage as he bellowed at the king.
"John, I'll pay you the cost of whatever was on that ship. And I give you my word this will never happen again."
"You're right it will never happen again because she won't be left in any condition to do it again."
"You know I can't do that."
"Its up to you. You might well be the king. But without my support........" The fat man grinned. It was an evil grin, full of malice.
The king shook his head in a gesture of sadness and defeat. "Ok John, I'll make the arrangements."
"Good. And while you're at it, try and find out which swine told her about my ship. When I find out whos responsible for this I'll have him skinned alive."
"You think there was someone else involved?"
"How else would she have known?"
Outside the room, the news spread like wildfire. The king was finally going to deal with Grace and her gang of pirates. It was inevitable. As her boldness increased, she made increasingly numerous and powerful enemies. Now the scales had finally tipped against her.
Grace was of royal descent. A distant cousin of the king. As a young girl, she had become known for her immaturity and obsession with pirates. Instead of growing out of it, her obsession got deeper and deeper till she finally she started living her fantasy. At first, she just harrassed small merchant ships but with time her audacity and violence grew. She evolved from a minor nuisance to a menace. The king did everything in his power to shield her and appease those whom she robbed. This time, however, it was beyond even him.
Operation Trojan Horse Part 6
The two men advanced and retreated in synchrony almost like a dance. Their fluid footwork accompanied by skilful thrusts, parries and ripostes, neither one able to gain the upper hand. The blades moved like flashes of lightning in an angry, stormy sky.
“Time out!”
The men relaxed and took off their helmets. They handed their weapons to the attendant and shook hands before walking off. The life of royalty and nobility consisted of very little other than eating drinking and leisure. Fencing being one of their favourite pastimes.
Unknown to them, they had an audience. The young girl watched in awe. She sat quietly at her vantage point. She knew better than to make her presence known. Last time she was discovered, she was caned and returned to her room, crying. She had no interest in ballet and dancing and dresses and other such things that young ladies were required to learn. Her young mind had been captured and held fast by those flashing blades.
When the bout ended, she waited quietly for the attendant to leave, then tiptoed back to her room. Earlier in the week, she had found a particularly straight branch that had fallen from a tree in the estate. She had taken it to her room and used it as a makeshift substitute for a foil when she was sure she would not be discovered. Twice that week, she had waited till everyone was asleep then practiced with her improvised weapon at the dead of night.
Her heart was still beating fast from the spectacle she had seen. Her hands tingled with excitement as she picked up the branch. She began to slash and thrust with it, attempting to imitate what she had just seen.
“Grace!!!!”
“I’m coming mother.”
She quickly hid the stick under her bed and began to wipe the sweat from her forehead. It would be most unladylike to be seen in that state. She looked in the mirror and tidied her hair. Leaving any evidence of her transgression would result in serious punishment. When she was satisfied everything was in order, she made her way out of the room and downstairs.
Operation Trojan Horse Part 5
The captain sat at his desk, deep in thought. The dice had been thrown and there was no going back now. So many variables beyond his control. So many things that could potentially go wrong. Horribly wrong. It was a dangerous game he was playing. Gambling with his own life. If the source of the information leak were traced back to him, his lifetime would be reduced to hours, each one spent in excruciating pain.
He had built up his network of moles, spies and informers over many years. He knew the strengths and weaknesses of each man. Indeed, he had gambled on this knowledge before and had been vindicated each time. The chain was long enough, but all it would take is one weak link.
Ultimately, the gamble was like a double edged sword. The only thing more dangerous than wielding it would have been to leave it. Madness would have eaten away at his mind until he had either taken his own life or become a lifetime resident of some lunatic asylum.
His musings were interrupted by a knock at the door……
Sitting up straight, the captain regained his composure. “Come in.”
A junior officer walked in. “Its done sir.”
“Good.” He thought for a moment….”Ensign, do you have a wife, children?”
“I’m married sir, but no children.”
“Go home ensign. Shes probably waiting for you. Enjoy your life. You never know when it might end.”
The ensign knew something was wrong. The captain usually never spoke like this. But he knew better then to ask. “Yes sir.”
The door closed, leaving the captain in solitude once more. He felt his heart beat heavily inside his chest. All he could do now was wait.
Operation Trojan Horse Part 4
It was another busy Friday night at the watering hole. The workers at the port had been paid earlier in the evening and had turned out in force. Most drank to forget. To numb the pain of their dismal and dreary lives. To escape from the foreman, the work, the wife, their debts……whatever their nemesis in life might be.
Amongst the honest workers, the dishonest were also hard at work, planning and plying their nefarious trades. The inn had become notorious as a meeting place for criminals and other unsavoury characters. Life was precious to all of them, so nobody interfered in anyone else’s business.
A man in a shabby looking cloak entered the inn and looked around. In the corner, he spotted who he was looking for and began to make his way towards him.
“So, what do you have for me today?”
“That depends. What do you have for me?”
The man reached inside his cloak and pulled out a small bag. He took a gold coin and offered it to the other man.
Leaning forward, he whispered in a conspiratorial manner “The fat man’s ship should be coming in next week.”
“What? The fat man…..” He thought for a minute then jangled the bag of coins. “Tell me more.”
“This is the biggest one yet. Goods from everywhere. No guards. The fat man has always relied on secrecy and so far it hasn’t let him down.”
“If your information is correct, you will be richly rewarded”. He left the bag of coins on the table, got up and left.
Operation Trojan Horse Part 3
Chaos and carnage surrounded him, as the crew of his ship desperately fought against the pirates. Sounds of combat filled the air….musket charges going off, men shouting orders, screams of pain and death. Despite their brave and tenacious resistance, the crew had no chance against the viciousness and brutality of the pirates.
With tears in his eyes, he fired off his last musket ball, hitting a pirate in the chest and removing him from the fight permanently. Picking up a quarterstaff, he charged into the fight, ready to do or die. To defend his ship or perish in the attempt. Despite his young age, he fought with the courage and spirit of a seasoned warrior.
Out of the chaos of the melee a brutal right hand hit him square on the jaw, dropping him to the deck. The momentary pain gave way to darkness….
As consciousness returned, he felt a heavy weight on his left shoulder.
“Back to the ship you drunkards!!!!!” …..a female voice….She sounded pleased.
As she surveyed the carnage, she came to rest with one foot on the fallen crewman’s shoulder. The crushing pain was unbearable, but the moment she realised he was alive…..
Waking up, he rubbed his left shoulder. It was all a dream. A terrible nightmare. A decade had passed, but very little had changed. Running had solved nothing. Mastering the arts of war had likewise done little. The pirate queen Grace continued to torment and torture him in his nightmares. It was time to stop running and put an end to his nightmares…..
He looked at the clock. Almost 5am. There was no point attempting to sleep now. Besides, he had a long day ahead of him…..
Operation Trojan Horse: Part 2
The captain walked into the locksmith’s workshop. He looked around with a sense of curiosity. All round him, men were busy at work. Some used heavy tools to sculpt crude pieces of metal into the desired shape. Others were doing more intricate work.
The master locksmith came out and greeted the captain. There was mutual respect between the two men. They both recognised the other as an expert in their respective fields. After exchanging pleasantries, they got down to business.
“Is it ready?”
“Its ready.” Replied the locksmith. “I have two. One to demonstrate how it works, and one for you to use.”
“Excellent, lets see…..”
The master locksmith led the captain to a large room just off one side of the main workshop. There was a heavy looking chest in the centre of the room. A large lock kept the chest securely shut. Against the far wall, there was a selection of muskets, ammunition, gunpowder and heavy cudgels and quarterstaffs.
The captain walked up to the chest and inspected the lock.
“Go ahead, see if you can open it.” The locksmith gestured towards the weapons lined up against the far wall. “Use any of those.”
The captain walked up to the wall and picked up a heavy cudgel. He began to bludgeon the lock with it but it stubbornly refused to give way. A thin film of sweat formed on his forehead.
“Impressive. Lets try the muskets.”
The captain again made his way to the far wall and picked up a musket. He loaded and aimed it with quick precise movements then fired it at the lock from close range. He walked forward and inspected the lock. Not even a dent. He nodded with approval.
“So how do you open it?”
The master locksmith smiled. “It has a built in weakness. Four blows with a cudgel delivered in the correct sequence will break it. A blow in the correct direction will cause the crack to widen. Each of the four hits is from a different direction. Hit it incorrectly and it will just push the crack together. Watch….”
“Twelve o’clock, one o’clock, eleven o’clock and straight ahead”
He picked up a cudgel and demonstrated. Four precise hits and the lock fell off, neatly broken into two pieces.
“Very well done. I will recommend to the king that you are richly rewarded for your efforts.”
Operation Trojan Horse
Prologue
“Be fierce, be brutal my loyal warriors. Do not fail me now. Our fate now rests with you…….”
The king always did have a flair for the dramatic. And this occasion was no exception. He had finally authorised the military to move against and crush the infamous pirate queen Grace.
One week earlier…… The messenger tiptoed his way through the crowd sheepishly. The air was thick with the aroma of rich food, drink, expensive perfumes and smoke….perhaps tobacco, perhaps other things. People ate and drank and talked and danced.
At the far side of the room, the fat man held court. He was a decadent man. Hideously obese from his gross overindulgence. He was rich beyond the wildest dreams of most in the room, and canny enough to keep the cash flowing into his coffers.
The messenger whispered something into his ear. The fat man started screaming. The others in the room began to laugh, believing this to be another of the fat mans bizarre forms of entertainment. However, he continued to scream and it became clear he was in genuine distress.
His ship, returning from the east had been hijacked by pirates. Every three months, he ordered a consignment of luxury goods from the east. Fruits, spices, delicacies, perfumes, artwork. There were rumours he had also started dealing in opium. Most of it was for his own enjoyment but he made a substantial amount of money selling a portion of it to those who could afford such things.
This consignment was by far the most expensive and ambitious. As well as the usual goods, he had asked for well trained chefs from China, India, Thailand and other countries en route. The pirates had seized his goods and were holding his chefs hostage. The messenger had brought the bad news of their capture and the pirates' demand for a substantial ransom.
