Prologue
In which Kai throws himself upon the sword.
Kai…
The MacTavish Mansion, Edinburgh…
“What do we know about these arseholes?”
Da rubbed his eyes, he’d pulled an all-nighter with me as we reviewed the data our hackers pulled off the dark web. “We’ve narrowed it down to five families. Here’s the part that’s raging me. They’re all British blue bloods, exalted folk like the Armstrongs.”
Uncle Cormac, the MacTavish Chieftain, leaned forward.“SirGrayson Armstrong? That entitled prick isn’t bright enough to put something like this together.”
“He has just enough intelligence to hire the chemists who did,” Da says. “This nerve gas is like nothing we’ve seen. The spread can be targeted easily; it dissipates within ten minutes, and the canister holding the nerve agent can be shot from a modified long-range rifle. We’ve seen the video from the test site.” Very little shakes my father up, but he shudders. “This canna go into distribution. The families already have bidders clamoring for the first batch.”
Six of us are gathered around the table in the conference room. We all understand the gravity of the situation. Even UncleLachlan, who has no filter and can find the most appalling things entertaining, almost looks serious.
Uncle Cormac pulls up an overhead view of an island. “This is Morren Island, one of the little islands scattered off the coast near London. The Armstrongs own it. They’ve built a compound there that’s used as a playground for their sons. They call themselves the Lords of Chaos.”
There’s a collective groan of contempt.
“Ya know they’re feckin’ amateurs when they come up with feeble shite like that,” Uncle Cameron sneers.
“Amateurs or no, they’ve got one of the most destructive weapons we’ve seen in production,” Uncle Cormac says. “We canna tell if the lab is on the island, but the Lords know where it is. They’re young, stupid, and rich, and they have a crew of sycophants who are eager to do anything they want. They’re involved in drugs, gambling, underground fighting…”
“Let’s bypass the little rich pricks and incinerate the island, aye?” Uncle Lachlan suggests. “I might be able to get my hands on a nuke…”
Uncle Cormac reaches over and slaps him on the back of the head. “That’s your takeaway from this shite show, ya eejit?”
Unperturbed, Uncle Lachlan says, “Tryin’ to be helpful, oh mighty Chieftain. Like they say inStar Trek,‘Take off, nuke the planet from orbit. It’s the only way to be sure.’”
“That’s not fromStar Trek,”Aunt Mala says irritably. “Sigourney Weaver said the line inAliens.”
“No, it’s fromStarship Troopers,”Uncle Cameron adds.
“I’ll bet you both fifty pounds it’s fromAliens,” she challenges them.
“I’m lookin’ it up,” Uncle Lachlan grumbles, pulling out his phone.
“Are ya remembering that we’re talking about a deadly nerve agent?” Uncle Cormac snaps, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, you’re killing me.”
“Moving on,” Da says, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “The good news is that we have an opening. There’s always seven of theseLordsof Chaos. One of them, Terrence Malby, was killed in a car accident last week. The bawbag got hammered and plowed his Bugatti into a train. The car folded like an accordion with him inside. This means they’ll be holding what these arseholes call the Dark Games. I’d put one of our men up against their blue blood weasels any day.”
I shift in my seat. It’s going to be me.
“This assignment is going to be a mishanter,” Da says, his expression, if possible, is even grimmer. “Their games involve all the usual elements for the rich and stupid. Our man will have to contend with initiation rites that include violence, drugs and fuckingwhilesearching for the lab’s location at the same time. Any MacTavish can hold his drink, but the rest of it under such circumstances…”
“I’ll do it.” The thought of fighting, fucking and acting like a prick as a Lord of Chaos is about as appealing as having my leg eaten by a shark, but… I’d seen the videos.
Everyone turns to me. “Are ya sure, son?” Da asks.
“Aye,” I say, “I’m the logical choice of all the cousins. No attachments. I’ve kept a low profile.”
Da’s concerned, I can tell. But there’s pride there, too.
“Thank you, Kai,” Uncle Cormac nods to me. “Let’s make a plan.”
“Shite.” Uncle Lachlan says, looking up from his phone. “It was fromAliens.”
