Gods of the Underworld by J.J. Carson

Author:J.J. Carson [Carson, JJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-03T16:00:00+00:00

Bristow grabbed the structure, with two hands and one boot. “OK. Who’s coming with me?”

“Easy! Easy.” Despite the clamor for immediate entry, the captain brought military caution to bear. “We need water, rest, ropes, lamp lighting, and flares.”

“There are flares.”

“We need more,” countered Caird. “Look, we think we’re flushed with success, but we’re drained of energy.”

The assembled bowing heads looked pleased to give up the ghost. Caird led. “Volunteers to stand guard?”

Charlie sprang to life. “I’ll take the first watch.”

“Wonderful. Well played, Charlie. Teamwork’s what will get us through this.”

“I’ll grab my gear and grub and be back in 15.”

“I’ll stay too.” Charlie looked askance. Bristow had turned from malcontent to volunteer. All it had taken was the chance to be alone with her to arise. Bristow didn’t do teamwork. He’s up to something.

“Very well. Many thanks, Bristow, that’s the spirit. Okay everyone, back to camp.”

As the crew turned for home, Bristow threw out a verbal broadside. “Bring me some grub too. None of that Muslim crap. Proper food. Stew.” Charlie stared again, but for totally different reasons. She turned for camp and hoped bigotry and misogyny were the worst of Bristow’s crimes. She was planning to find out.

The remaining crew wearied back to camp through an invisible fog of tiredness, sorrow, and excitement. Few words were spoken. Rehydration trumped emotion, as the water cooler gathering descended into a free for all. With varying levels of interest, the crew took their rest as Rashad pulled together a field ration feast, fit for foot soldiers. The exertions had taken their toll. When Charlie made her excuses and headed off under canvas, no one seemed to notice or care.

Inside or outside of Iraq, she gave no real value to relationships. That lack of friendships suited her. But the tragic loss of life at the hands of another soul cut more deeply than she could have imagined. Good people taken early in their lives forced her hand. These crimes could not go unanswered. Cries for justice rattled through the echo chambers in her mind. She hadn’t known the victims long, but they deserved better. Gino was dead, at his own hands, but was he acting alone?

She had been keen to discover treasure but was now desperate to understand the truth surrounding the recent events. She needed answers, and for that, she needed action.

With less than a fistful of suspects, everyone remained on trial. Bristow was the first to face her prosecution. He seemed the most likely criminal. Bristow, one of the dominant animals, had been cut from the herd.

It was cull, or cure.

Under the cover of canvas, she set to work. Body armor was pulled over a T-shirt. Her uniformed shirt went on top. She looked bulky, but to go out into the open sporting Kevlar would send all the wrong signals.

Stuffing a long length of rope into her rucksack gave her time to ponder Bristow’s next move. She felt convinced that once they were alone, the Londoner would make a move. Quite what that move was remained a mystery.

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