Chapter Fourteen #2
They finished their beers and the server came by to bring them another round along with their food.
Nate was famished and he tore into the beer-battered haddock and chips while Wally went to work on his burger.
They were quiet for several minutes, feasting on their meals. Finally, Wally broke the silence.
“So you really think you can find this lost city, then?”
“I know it sounds crazy,” Nate replied.
Wally held his hands up. “I’m not saying that. You’ve sold me, mate, but how do you expect to find something that nobody has been able to for thousands of years?”
There was that question again. Dr. Martinez had brought it up during his thesis proposal, and now Wally had raised it. Nate would have to be na?ve to just assume that he would succeed where others had failed through sheer motivation alone, but there was more to it than that.
“For starters, those who searched before me didn’t have the benefit of collective knowledge. I don’t think anybody has reasonably put all the pieces together. Maybe T. E. Lawrence had a chance, but he died before getting the opportunity.”
“All men dream, but not equally,” Wally muttered, quoting the writings of Lawrence.
Nate gave him a surprised look. “Seven Pillars of Wisdom,” he said, noting the book written by Lawrence from where the quote had originated. Wally nodded.
“Nice,” Nate said in an approving tone, before continuing. “The other advantage I have is technology. Satellite photos and LIDAR…”
“Which you’re still missing.”
It was true. He still didn’t have what he needed, but he was hopeful.
“Ahmed is going to come through. You know what he went through with us. You don’t just forget things like that.”
“You’d hope not,” Wally said. “To be fair, you saved his arse that day too. He’d better remember.”
“Well, assuming he does, there is another technological advantage that hasn’t been used before.” Nate leaned in conspiratorially, as if anyone in the bar cared about what he was about to say. Wally leaned in too. “We have the advantage of airpower.” He sat back and smiled. Wally looked confused.
“Airpower?”
“Right. The ability to see things from the air. You see, satellites give you an overview, but not an overly detailed one. On the ground things are two-dimensional. But if you get above the ground, just a few hundred feet…”
“You can see details in the terrain that are missed by both angles,” Wally answered. “But how do you do that, mate? Charter a plane?”
“It’s funny you should mention that. That was Lawrence’s plan. He wanted to use airships to survey the area because he realized the same thing. We don’t have airships, but we do have drones.”
Wally seemed to consider it for a minute. “Brilliant” was all he said.
“Thank you.” Nate sat back in his chair, pleased with himself.
“So what is it you expect Mister Philby to tell you tomorrow?”
Nate shrugged. “Ideally, he’ll help me refine the start point. There are a lot of secrets buried out in that desert, and these explorers recorded everything. Hopefully there’s some substance in there that will prove useful.”
Wally lifted his beer again. “Cheers to that.”
After several more rounds and several more toasts, the pub was in full swing, with patrons flooding every corner of the place and multiple customers standing at the bar.
Wally ordered another round, and Nate was feeling the overwhelming urge to make room for more liquid.
He stood up, slightly unsteady, feeling the warm glow of inebriation.
“I’m going to hit the head,” he said.
Wally nodded. “Back of the bar,” he said, pointing to the restroom.
Nate made his way through the throng toward the restroom.
It felt good to be out with an old friend, remembering old times.
It also helped to have a purpose again, a mystery to solve.
It wasn’t quite as kinetic as things had been in the old days, but it gave him a direction to run in, and that was good enough.
Exiting the bathroom, Nate realized that his assessment may have been premature, and things might have been about to get more kinetic by the look of the argument Wally was having with a man near the bar.
It appeared to be a fairly animated conversation, and he couldn’t quite tell, but Wally seemed to be the aggressor.
The man said something while simultaneously giving Wally a shove to the chest, and it was enough to set off the former commando.
He reared back and rammed his fist into the man’s face, instantly causing a stream of blood to fly from his mouth.
The man crumpled to the ground, holding his face as one of his friends stepped up.
Wally grabbed him by the arm, locked out the elbow, and headbutted the man, allowing him to join his compatriot on the dirty bar floor.
Two more men were posturing for a piece of the action and Nate moved to intercept.
As one man attempted to throw a punch at Wally, Nate hooked him by the elbow with his own and bent at the waist, using his momentum to flip the man over his hip like an omelet.
As he moved to stand up, the man’s friend threw a punch that caught Nate right in the cheekbone.
He was rocked for a second before turning his attention to the attacker, who was coming in for another blow.
Nate stepped into the man’s punch, closing the distance and locking his hands behind the man’s neck, forcing his head down.
He brought his knee up to meet the man’s face and repeated the maneuver once more for good measure.
He didn’t want to seriously injure him, but he didn’t want him to get back up either.
The man dropped to the floor, increasing the number in the pile.
A hand grabbed Nate’s shoulder and he whirled around ready to strike.
Wally’s eyes were wide as he ducked his head back.
“Easy, mate, it’s me!” Nate grinned, and Wally grinned back. “We need to bug out before the plod show up.”
“Good plan,” Nate said, nodding.
With that, the two made for the door. Once outside they crossed the street and headed for a row of townhomes.
The sound of sirens grew closer as they hopped backyard fences, weaving away from the scene and putting distance between themselves and the police along a route that would be untraceable.
After twenty minutes of Wally leading them through the backstreets of Kensington, they stopped and charted a course back toward Wally’s flat.
“Fuck yeah!” Wally exclaimed. “Can’t beat a good scrap!” The SAS guys had always loved a good brawl, but Nate still wondered what had kicked this one off.
“What the hell was that all about?” he asked, rubbing his cheek.
“That cunt you saw me yelling at? He’s the new geezer. Hannah’s new guy.”
“Ah, got it,” Nate said. “Fuck him, then.” The two laughed, but then Nate stopped as he thought of something. “Shit, we just ran out on the tab.”
Wally waved it off. “Nah, don’t worry. I go there all the time. I’ll call and pay the tab tomorrow. Piece of piss.”
“Well, you still haven’t forgotten how to show a Yank a good time,” Nate laughed.
“You’re welcome,” Wally replied. “So what’s the deal for tomorrow? What time are you going to interrogate Mister Philby?”
“I have an appointment at eleven.”
“Right. I have to head into the office to wrap up some admin in the afternoon. Meet back at my place for scoff?”
“Alright,” Nate said, recognizing the term. “But maybe we can just do dinner this time and skip the entertainment?”
Wally winked. “No promises, mate.”