Interlude

Death at Cairo

South of the Kasr Al Nile Bridge in the middle of Cairo, the Hadiqat al Hurriyah park had been a common place for the locals – too far from the tourist industry for any foreigners – to relax during lunch breaks from work or on days off. For years it had been carefully cultivated by a charity that sculpted the land into something that was quite frankly beautiful, growing trees and flowers that flourished in the heat of the Egyptian air.

That was until 2001, when the charity was brought out by a multi-national company that needed a new office. For the public and officials of Cairo, the tall, grey building was just another office complex to do with data and communication however in reality it was the Egyptian HQ of the Department of Supernatural Investigation, headed by the CEO, Zeina Morcos, a rising star within the DSI and a vital member of the African communication team before she was assigned the job.

Now Zeina Morcos stood outside the glass doors of her own building, a feeling of dread on her shoulders. She was a slim woman, attractive under her flowing silks. Her pitch-black hair was tied back into a ponytail that hung down to her waist, braided with small bells that chimed with every movement. Zeina's friendly blue eyes would usually be glittering with happiness but not today. As she stood outside the door of the headquarters, her eyes were closed.

"…Tafeal ma yajib ealayna…" Zeina muttered in her native Arabic language, her voice as gentle as her appearance. She was well loved within the Department of Supernatural Investigation, especially with her own Egyptian comrades.

Opening her eyes, Zeina took a deep breath and pushed open the glass doors to enter the wide foyer. It was extremely quiet with only the receptionist sitting at his desk, peering absently at the wall. Zeina looked at him as she passed and couldn't help but grit her teeth in anger. The receptionist's eyes were dull and had it not been for the faint rising and falling of his chest, he would have looked dead. He wasn't too far from it, Zeina knew.

Passing him, Zeina came to the elevator, calling it down. She stood with her hands clasped behind her back, hoping that today was the day that everything went back to normal. It was do or die. Either the plan would work or it wouldn't.

If it didn't Zeina Morcos was certain this was her last day on Earth.

The elevator doors swooshed open and Zeina stepped within the small compartment, pressing the button for the top floor. Immediately the elevator doors closed again and Zeina felt herself moving up.

Everything was in place. She had managed to get in contact with the best Egypt had to offer to do the job that needed to be done. She wasn't able to use the DSI's network, else he would find out. No, she had to use other means. Luckily for her, she had connections to the Talon, a black market group that operated throughout Africa and Asia. Talon had provided her with the means Zeina needed to end it.

Once more the doors opened and Zeina strode through the corridor without pause. She barely glanced at the figures sitting at their desks, staring absently at the computer monitors. They were just like the receptionist – dulled eyes, pale. These were people Zeina knew, the people who worked under her. They were people she had shared drinks with and people she had comforted. People who devoted their lives to her and the DSI; lives that were now on the line if Zeina didn't walk the path set before her by him.

A set of glass doors stood at the end of the corridor and it was these doors that she stopped in front of. "…Iinah daruri…" She whispered. It is necessary.

Opening the doors, Zeina let them softly close behind her as she faced the desk. It was her desk though in the last two weeks she hadn't sat at it. The high-backed green felt chair was looking out the massive window that made up the back wall, looking out over the river Nile and the white rooftops of Cairo.

"Welcome back," the voice that spoke was masculine and sweet, almost musical. It was a voice that promised that everything would be okay, that everything that could go right would go right.

It was a voice Zeina Morcos despised with every fibre of her being.

The felt chair turned and Zeina looked at the man sitting in the chair. Completely bald with dark skin, the man would have been attractive had he been a normal man. He was wearing traditional Egyptian garments as if he had just walked in from the desert. Robes hung down his body and he wore a white head wrap around his head. Bands of gold hung around his neck, glinting in the sunlight. "How are you?"

Zeina masked the expression on her face. She couldn't let it all fall apart now. She forced her mouth to open and spoke in the same English that the man spoke, "I am doing well."

"Did you have a good night's sleep?"

"…Yes."

"Wonderful." The man's eyes gleamed. Zeina hated those eyes – there was no emotion to those eyes. It was like staring in the void. "It is time." The man raised his fist and for a moment Zeina had the terrible thought that he was about to end her… but instead the man just continued to talk. "My power has come back, Zeina, to the point where we can move on with the plan."

The plan. He always spoke of this plan. The plan to find his two children – the very same demand he had made of Zeina back in the stadium. Zeina winced remembering back to that stadium, that place of death.

She had gotten a report that the Alexandrian Stadium had gone dark in Alexandria. Immediately she had set out with her team to find out what had happened. When she had arrived, the amount of dead bodies… Zeina had never seen such devastation. Thousands of people all just… sitting or lying down without moving. Dead in their seats.

And there he was, sitting in the middle of the stadium, amidst the corpses of the football players, of police who had come to investigate, of innocent people. Then without warning he had swept his hand through the air and her whole team had collapsed. Zeina was the only one who was spared the sudden death. Somehow, the man had known that she was important, that she was a member of the DSI.

Zeina couldn't contain the shiver that ran up her spine, remembering how he had introduced himself.

"You mortals commonly know me as Death," he had said in the middle of the field as he and Zeina stood among the corpses.

Death.

Zeina could hardly believe it yet the evidence was there. Without a touch he had slaughtered so many people. That power was too much for a normal ability user. His eyes, his aura, it was so very clear that this man was who he said he was – Death himself.

There was nothing Zeina could do. The smart move was to follow Death's lead and see what he wanted. It would do nobody any favours if she had tried to shoot him then and there. In a single moment that would have killed her and without a CEO in the Headquarters, the African Department of Supernatural Investigation would crumble.

Death had but only one request. He wanted to know where his children were and Zeina had promised that she would be able to find out – and with the names Death himself had provided, Zeina was able to locate them.

"You will continue to help me, I trust?" Death said, the void of his eyes staring at Zeina.

"If you keep your promise," Zeina said.

"I have no care for you mortals," Death said slowly. "I want my children. When I find them, I will leave you be." He glanced around the room. "I have no care to be in the presence of things so beneath me."

Zeina didn't reply to that. If he was truly Death as Zeina's gut believed then he represented so much that humans couldn't comprehend. Even the Department of Supernatural Investigation, who dealt in their namesake, the supernatural, couldn't understand what happens after death. They were concentrating on the Doomsday Clock, on demons and horrors of the abyss, not of Death. Zeina had read many reports on so-called Lists and reports on the concept of the being known as Death but the DSI had felt that these things weren't important, that they weren't connected to the Doomsday Clock.

But being in Death's presence, staring into those eyes, she knew that it had to be connected. This being that sat in front of her was beyond comprehension and it seemed to Zeina that Death was the link between everything the Department of Supernatural Investigation had focused on over the last thirty years. The Doomsday Clock, the men and women with those strange Abilities, the Rifts that opened up all over the world. Zeina had no doubt that is was all connected.

Hopefully she would be able to contact the Board very soon to report on it all. That is only if her plan went off successfully. The signal would be soon and then everything would change. The question was whether it would change for the better or for the worse.

"You have arranged transport?"

"Of course," Zeina nodded. That was one of the reasons Death had kept her of all people alive. As the CEO of the African branch of the DSI, she was able to put a cover on everything that had happened. She had to report the deaths in the stadium but she explained it away as an Ability user who spread a disease that would kill instantly. Zeina had reported that they had to kill this Ability user. She had faked the autopsy report and everything else that was needed – taken pictures of one of the corpses in the field, made it seem like her story was authentic… after all, everyone else who had witnessed the event was dead.

There was a buzz in the pocket of her thin white trousers underneath her silks. She stiffened momentarily afraid that Death would recognise her reaction for what it truly was but it seemed as if his mind was elsewhere. He was leaning over the desk, looking at the information on it. The information regarding his children that Zeina had tracked down for him.

Five.

That buzz signified that after five seconds it would happen.

Four.

Zeina couldn't help but count down in her mind.

Three.

She clenched her fists, staring at Death's smooth face. He was still focused on the desk.

Two.

Each second seemed to drag on. Zeina could feel the bead of sweat run down her forehead.

One.

Would it work? Could it possibly work?

BANG!

The gunshot echoed out louder than Zeina had expected. In an instant the front of Death's face burst outwards in a crimson cloud. His head banged against the desk and Zeina could see the massive hole in the back of his head. Bits of brain and gore were scattered all over the desk and dripped from the gaping wound. She slowly looked past the top of the chair – which had been torn off as if by a wild animal – then to the window which had a hole about seven centimetres in diameter, cracks criss-crossing from the hole, across to the rooftop on the other end.

While she couldn't see the figure, Zeina knew that the assassin she had hired from Talon was on that rooftop, sporting a custom M107 Barrett .50 Caliber rifle.

Zeina stood frozen for what seemed an age before she found the courage to move forward. Death was still there, slumped on the desk, his head practically gone the hole was so large. Then the feeling of triumph ran through her chest. She reached under her silks to pull out the communicator in her pocket. "Target is down," Zeina whispered. The tension had made her throat hoarse. "I repeat, target is down."

"Talon expects the payment within the hour," was the only response on the other side of the communicator. Zeina lowered the communicator, standing in front of the window. She could hardly believe it. The last two weeks had been devastating both physically and mentally. But it seemed Death – or at least the person calling himself Death – truly could be killed. The triumph blossomed and bloomed within her chest and Zeina Morcos allowed herself to smile.

Then she heard the deathly rattle as if someone were choking.

The triumph plummeted away and Zeina turned, dread running up her spine.

Somehow, impossibly, Death was standing. Zeina could see straight through the bloody chasm of his face to see the wall behind him. But that chasm was slowly growing thinner; bones connected like puzzle pieces, skin stitched itself back together, the nose and lips reformed into their smooth, natural shape.

Death opened his eyes and smiled.

It was a smile that felt like Zeina had been shot herself. "No…" She whispered.

She had failed. This man was truly what he had said he was. Death was real. His brains were still spread across the desk but here he was, standing in front of her with that horrific smile.

"I commend the effort," he spoke and Zeina's legs gave way, the bells in her hair tinkling mournfully. She fell to the floor and could only look up at Death and found herself finding that seeing your life flash before your eyes was a true statement. She saw herself hugging her parents when she moved out of her home, she saw her first kiss, her marriage and subsequent divorce. She saw the day she joined the DSI and saw the people she knew, the people she had seen live and die for her and the Department they worked for.

Everything had been for naught. Her life had been so short and so utterly wasted. It had all led to this moment where it would end.

Zeina refused to close her eyes. She refused to give him that satisfaction. She would face Death, stare at him, until it was over.

"Such a fierce expression…" Death whispered. "But I won't kill you."

Zeina remained staring at him. She couldn't speak nor did she want to. He must be lying. He had to be lying.

"Yet you must be punished. Such a shame…" Death turned around and raised his arms. "I truly intended to leave them alive."

"No!" Zeina found her voice but it was too late. Somehow she knew. Every soul that Death had controlled in the headquarters had been extinguished. All the lives he held hostage, all the hundreds of people in the office building… in one single moment they had all died.

It was her fault.

Zeina Morcos shook, her limbs quivering, her teeth chattering. Her decision had wiped out every single person in the building. Hundreds of lives on her shoulders, crushing her to the floor.

"We must find my children, Zeina," Death continued as if he hadn't just committed genocide. He put a finger on the desk, flicking a small piece of brain away from the piece of paper. "You will take me to the transport you have arranged." He wiped his finger across the two names on the list. "We will head to Eastbourne," and said the names to himself as if saying the names would help him find them. "Robert Isaac Yates…" He said the first name. "Paige Theresa Calloway," he said the second. "My children… Wait for me. I shall be with you shortly."