Jonathan was seriously not impressed. "Dear Christ, you got jumped?"
"You try taking on ten at the same time in the dark." The kid hissed, holding his head at a weird angle to keep the fleshier part of his throat away from the blade.
"Lower your arms."
"No thanks, lady." Rick said gruffly. Adela arched an eyebrow at him before snapping her fingers. And from behind the other Nubian pyramids stepped the rest of her remaining strike force, automatic weapons aimed to kill.
"We don't need everyone." She said coldly, cocking her own pistol and placing it firmly against Hallet's temple.
"My God, you are just so bloody dramatic!"
"Do you ever think before you let words come out of your mouth?" Rick hissed.
"Now that would be boring." Jonathan retorted.
"I am running out of time." The woman said.
"What do you want me to do about it?" Jonathan shouted.
"Will you shut the fuck up?" Hallet hissed, lips barely moving.
"It seems we're at something of an impasse." Adela said.
"Not from where I'm standing." Jonathan called. "Of course, you could go about and kill everyone. But sooner or later there's only just me left and you'll have nothing to hold above me. How about we just skip that pesky middle step and go straight to the negotiating?"
"Does this ever work for you?" Sigrun hissed. He shushed her, taking a step forward and spreading his arms wide. "Now, we can stand about looking appropriately threatening and snarling at each other, or we can stand down and reach an accord that benefits us all."
"Jonathan." Rick said warningly and Jonathan ignored him.
"Adela, I can assure you that none of us here will go willingly into the night. Your boys and girls look like they've already been put through the wringer, so how about you let them off easy and put the gun down?"
"God, I hate you." Adela hissed, but she lowered her pistol from Hallet's temple. The next instant the kid was released and almost slammed face-first into the ground before he caught himself.
"Oh, Sheila, I know." Jonathan said.
"Don't call me that." She snapped back.
"What's the plan?" Rick asked.
"I'm kind of working on the fly right now, so feel free to step in at any time."
After a moment a few jeeps escorting a lorry rumbled into the square, and Jonathan blinked at the cargo lashed to the bed. "You've come all this way to do a spot of plumbing?"
From the bed of the truck, Adela pulled a long pole, and slapped it into her palm with a threatening thwack. She extended it toward him and after a moment Jonathan hefted the pipe in his hand. Lead. Of course.
"So you want to turn your plumbing fixtures into gold? Going to give the prime minister a sparkly shitter?"
"You will turn them to gold."
"And then we walk away?"
"Of course." She said airily, and Jonathan wasn't dumb enough to believe her in the slightest. Well, he'd bought them some time, now it was time for someone else to come up with the next step. he exchanged a look with Sigrun and the two of them walked up to the lorry, Jonathan with his lead pipe and Sigrun with the book bag.
"Are you sure about this?"
Jonathan slid the Tablet from the bag. "Absolutely not in the slightest." He opened the book and immediately frowned.
"What?"
"This page." Jonathan stared down at the characters. "It's… changed."
"That's impossible." Her brow furrowed. "Books don't just change."
"You don't need to tell me that." Jonathan said. "I'm telling you, what's here isn't what was here before."
Sodding magic, just going about and making a complete and utter cock-up of things that should have been otherwise simple and straightforward.
Jonathan hated magic.
"Okie dokie, here we go." He cracked his neck, trying not to think of what was likely to happen if he couldn't turn this ruddy load of lead pipe into gold.
And he started reading from the Tablet again, suddenly plunging back into that odd fog again.
Before all, there was chaos-
As he spoke, the words seemed to lose more and more context, simply flowing over his brain like honey. He moved a hand to all the lead piping, resting it there, his other still on the Emerald Tablet. Jonathan's words trailed off, staring down at his hand on the lead pipe. And after a long moment where even the wind seemed to be holding its breath, rings of gold appeared like halos around his fingertips. It was like Dragovitch had explained, not painful, not exactly, but there was the utter confidence that should he remove himself, flesh may tear clear away.
And with that, the fog receded. Snapping back to himself, Jonathan ripped his hand away, shaking out his tingling fingers as he stared at his hand. It was his same hand, unchanged, shaky crescent scar across his palm, and his hand flexed tightly closed.
"Fuck me." Rick said, and Jonathan looked up at his brother-in-law, who's gaze was transfixed on the lorry. He looked where Rick was looking and blinked in shock.
"Bugger me."
And like it had been branded into the lead, his own handprint stood out in gold. Jonathan knelt down so he was eye height with the handprint. Cautiously he raised a hand and lightly prodded the print.
He jerked his hand away again as the gold stain spread to encase the entire pipe in gold. Jesus H. Christ. He had turned lead into gold.
Evy was going to lose her mind that she missed this.
"Bloody hell." He breathed.
Everything seemed balanced precariously on a knife-edge for a moment, everyone seemingly awed and struck dumb at the miracle that had occurred before them.
And then the spell broke.
An instant later Adela went for the Tablet. But Hallet, perhaps still a touch bitter about the whole machete thing, immediately stuck his leg out. And in a scene that seemed entirely too comical for the situation at hand, the woman went down hard, groaning. Jonathan snatched the Tablet, immediately raising it to block the fist that was flying towards his face, and there was a pained shout as the hand connected with the block of gemstone and bone shattered.
Another of the Israelis made to seize him and Jonathan wildly snatched up his lead pipe, parrying the blow in a rather awkward fashion that would have had his old fencing teacher spitting in a frenzy. The chap banged against the side of the truck like he was made of rubber. Jonathan tucked the Tablet under his arm and stepped out of the way as the fellow hit the ground.
"Oh, please. I didn't hit that hard," he scoffed, throwing an arm out for emphasis. There was a clunk and a pained groan, and Jonathan glanced over his shoulder to see that one of the Israelis had tried to sneak up on him.
And Jonathan, with the lead pipe, had smacked him fair in the family jewels.
Oops.
"Sorry about that, old chap." He winced. "Children are highly overrated anyway!" He awkwardly hopped over the chap, cracking open the door to the lorry. And he found himself staring into the face of the driver, who looked about twelve. "Oh, do excuse me."
The boy stared at him with wide eyes that actually started to make Jonathan feel a little bad before scooting across the bench seat and bolting out the other side.
"Well, that was rude." Jonathan pulled himself up into the driver's seat, angling the rear-view mirror. "I don't look that bad."
Through the mirror, he saw his friends break for the truck. Seconds later his brother-in-law ripped open the passengers' side door. "Gun it." He demanded, and Rick wasn't fully in the cab when Jonathan slammed down on the accelerator. The lorry jumped forward but rapidly started lagging behind due to the additional cargo of people and the newly-gold pipes.
Rick and Jonathan's eyes met.
"No." He said instantly.
"Yes." His brother-in-law insisted.
"No!"
"Yes!"
Jonathan's nose screwed up. "Oh, fine, you bloody curmudgeon."
Rick stuck his head out the window. "Alex!" He bellowed. "Cut 'em free!"
Alex nodded. He and Hallet dropped the lorry's tailgate before scrambling to the front of the bed where Kurt, Sigrun and Dragovitch released the cargo straps. And Jonathan sighed wistfully with a feeling of loss as he watched through the rear-view mirror as the load of gold piping tumbled out of the back of the truck. Smashing into the few pursuing vehicles.
He watched Adela jump out of one of the ruined jeeps and stomp around for a moment before flashing a double-handed two-fingered salute at the swiftly retreating lorry.
"Jonathan! Eyes on the road!" Rick snapped. Jonathan jerked the lorry back onto the road.
"Yes, Mother." He grinned.
It was probably quite a good thing that Jonathan was pretty good with directions. He had the refined homing sense of a trained pigeon, and the nose of a bloodhound. When he was sober, that was.
"You know, I finally remembered where I knew her from." Rick said casually, his arm resting out the window and letting the wind slip through his fingers.
"Oh, good, your mind hasn't gone entirely yet."
"She's the girl from the cupboard."
Jonathan sighed again. He was never going to live that down.
"Though she was blonder then." Rick said thoughtfully. "And with bigger-"
"It's called a disguise, Richard."
His brother-in-law cast him an amused look, immediately aware that he had landed on a nerve. "I'm curious now. So what was really happening before the snake lady ruined the fun? I thought it was just you being you, but-" He shrugged.
"Now that would be telling."
Rick arched an eyebrow. "So."
Oh, here it comes. "So."
"You know, I always knew you were a sneaky bastard."
"And?"
"A spook, huh?"
"What on earth makes you suggest something like that?"
"I'm not an idiot, Jonathan."
His brother-in-law's look said he wasn't going to drop it until he got an answer he was satisfied with.
"I have had… a variety of investments over the years."
"That's not an answer."
"No, it's not." Jonathan said. "It was code work at first. Mathematics. Then a touch of engineering. I knew the languages and the maths and the people and I liked puzzles. Then I… might have been bounced to Section D during the war for a little bit of light demolition work."
Rick nodded, like it was all making sense to him. "How long?"
"What?"
"Were you working when we met?"
God, that made him sound like a prostitute. And a cheap one at that. Well, arguably there wasn't that much difference between the two sometimes, but- Jonathan's brow crinkled. "When we met?"
His eyebrows went up. "At Akbar's."
And immediately Jonathan was back to 1926, swirling Turkish coffee around his cup as he watched with shrewd eyes the loud, lumbering American across the pub in his old French Foreign Legion uniform downing beer after beer, drunkenly complaining about how he'd crossed the desert to find a city of endless treasures only to watch everyone die. Jonathan, having intimate knowledge of watching people die, empathised with this neanderthal, but if he kept blabbing about 'city of endless treasure' he was going to get stabbed.
"Oh, are you still going on about that?"
Rick slammed his hand down on the seat. "You pickpocketed me! And then started a barfight and got me arrested."
Jonathan rolled his eyes, keeping his gaze on the road. "O'Connell, there had been three different gangs heading right for you. If I hadn't got you arrested, you would have been killed."
"I was hanged!"
"I got you arrested." Jonathan said sternly. "You were the one responsible for any additional charges."
Rick looked sour for a moment, and then he actually chuckled.
"So that's the excuse for pickpocketing me?"
Jonathan side-eyed him. "Would you rather I hadn't?"
"Fair enough. Now what happens?"
"Go home. Get yelled at by Evy." Jonathan said. "You're not going to tell old mum about, you know-?"
"Tell my wife that her brother is one of the Baker Street Irregulars?" Rick chuckled. "D'you think I'm completely crazy? That's a conversation I'm leaving just for you."
Jonathan slumped a little in relief.
During the time he had been driving, Jonathan had been stupidly lulled into thinking that they might have actually been in the free and clear when they rumbled into town.
But then Rick sat up high in his seat, frowning.
Jonathan glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, most of his attention on the road ahead. "What is it?"
"Seem a little bit quiet to you?"
"It's not that far off midnight, Rick."
His brother-in-law shot him a dirty look. "That's not what I mean and you know it."
Jonathan hummed, but now he was looking for it, he could see the shutters bolted firmly over the windows, blocking any possible light from escaping, doors barred fast. Even the pub on the corner that Jonathan once would have sworn would have remained open and trading during the Apocalypse was boarded up tight.
"That's odd." He murmured.
Rick tapped the back of the cab to get their passengers attention. "Keep an eye out."
The words were barely out of his mouth when the sky lit up with a flare.
"The hell was that?" He demanded.
"I don't-" Jonathan wrenched his eyes from the sky and back to the road.
And immediately slammed on the brakes with enough force that the lorry completely stalled in its tracks. He could hear his passengers cursing at him from the bed of the truck, but they were ignored. Both he and Rick sat up straight, staring out at the man that was standing bathed in the lorry's headlights.
The chap was in military fatigues but wore no identifying patches, and knowing that they were looking at him, he smiled.
"Reverse?" Rick suggested in a faux-light voice.
"Reverse." Jonathan agreed, turning the key in the ignition.
The engine turned over, spluttered, and then died.
He swore.
"Jonathan!"
"I'm working on it!"
Panicking, Jonathan looked up to see the man approaching them through the darkness, and from over his shoulder he pulled a rocket launcher.
"Bail out!" Rick cried.
Jonathan seized the door handle and threw himself out just as a blaze of heat rippled across his skin, the world suddenly fire and noise and pain as he hit the ground hard, shoulder crunching in a way he definitely didn't like. He covered his head with his hands as the lorry exploded in a shower of sparks, raining glass and shards of burning metal on top of all of them.
After what seemed like forever but was probably only mere seconds, a rough hand grabbed Jonathan's arm and he looked up to see Sigrun's wide grey eyes.
"Get up." His ears were still ringing and he made out her words mostly through lip reading. "We have to move."
Coughing, Jonathan got waveringly to his feet, his brain still not having entirely processed what happened as Kurt made to seize the bag with the Tablet. Sigrun's hand firmly in his, the two of them made to move when Jonathan realised he could make out more figures moving in the smoke and fire, as lithe and stealthy as wild animals.
And seconds later the four of them were surrounded by the second military force, and Jonathan swallowed. Because the second military force was decidedly not the enigmatic Mr Talbot like he expected. Their leader had a serene face, his hands folded calmly in front of him, but his eyes were shrewd and cold. Almost reptile-like. There were no patches on their uniforms, no flags or identifiers of any kind.
Except the plan wooden crucifix that hung around his neck.
Jonathan had gone to plenty of Catholic schools in his time and he'd even spent time in a seminary after the Great War in a rather doomed attempt to try and use faith to help him discover himself again. He could quote the Scripture backwards and forwards but ultimately religion had very little meaning to him, and it had been that way for quite a long time now.
The leader with the crucifix instructed something to his men in Italian, and Jonathan's ears were still ringing so much that his brain refused to unjumble the words. The chap with the rocket launcher came forward once more as others dragged the bag from Kurt's hands.
"Nien!" Kurt shouted.
The bag burst into flame, the gemstone shattered and crumbled. Jonathan stared dumbly at the crater for a long moment before looking back up at the man with the crucifix.
The man looked down at him for a long moment before raising his hand before him and making the sign of the cross as his men faded into the Sudanese night.
"Ad tuendam Fidem."