The Dirty Streets of Heaven bd-1

by Tad Williams

  “Tell that to my scrotum, Representative,” I said. My face was stinging as I wiped away the dried blood, and I was tired of playing Mary’s little lamb. “Because the bastard on the top floor of the Vald building kicked me there pretty hard, and no matter what any of his thugs or the SJPD said I didn’t do anything wrong.” Unless you objected to killing demons, of course, but I was relying on Eligor to clean up the mess I’d made of his secretary. He didn’t want publicity, and he didn’t want me in jail. He’d made it clear he had more personal plans for me.

  “I hope that’s true, Mr. Dollar,” she said. “Because somebody has gone very, very far out on a limb for you. You are no longer just an ordinary smart-mouthed irritation, you have become an extremely high-priced favor-the biggest I’ve ever done.”

  Who had that kind of clout? A sudden thought made my stomach flip-flop. “You’re not handing me back to Kenneth Vald, are you?”

  A cold stare. “Mr. Vald is no longer involved with this matter. And in a moment I won’t be, either.”

  “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “That’s good, too,” the congresswoman said, “because after you leave here you’re going to completely forget any of this ever happened…and that most definitely includes this little chat.” She shot me a hard, unpleasant look. “You and I have never met. Remember that.”

  “I’m leaving?”

  “When I walk out of this room the guards will walk out behind me, Mr. Dollar. You will then wait until you have counted to at least one hundred before you follow. The door will be unlocked. If you turn left and walk to the elevator it will take you down to the employee parking garage. There are a number of exits from there. Once you leave this property, I will no longer know or care what happens to you. Clear?”

  I was beginning to remember more things about Congresswoman Taccone now, and one of them was that she wasn’t just an ordinary politician. She had seats on some of the most important committees in Washington, and if the Democrats got back in control she was the horse some people were backing to finish in the money, either as House Whip or even Speaker. All of which made me wonder: who had the muscle to bend her?

  Still, only an idiot would have been counting the teeth on this particular gift horse. “All clear,” I told her. “Thank you, Ma’am. Thank you very much.”

  “Right.” She pushed my phone and my empty revolver across the table to me. “Then our business is done.” As I holstered my gun and slipped the phone into my pocket she stood and gave the cops behind me a look. They shuffled past me, all that gear rattling as they followed her out the door.

  Well, I thought, this is definitely some weird, weird shit. I counted to a hundred and then headed for the door, half-expecting to find it locked and the whole thing some bizarre infernal prank, a bit of morale-stomping before they got down to interrogating me properly, but the door was open and the hallway outside deserted. I tried to look as much like an unhurried and innocent person as I could, but it didn’t seem to matter. The couple of other civic employees I encountered barely glanced at me, although I must have looked like I’d lost a fight against a guy with a snow shovel.

  Same thing in the garage-cars rolled past me without the drivers even looking hard, a parade of stolid looking cop-types in their civilian rides, SUVs and sedans that looked like unmarked police cars. Instead of coming out on Broadway I went up the stairs on the Marshall Street side. It was dark, the lamps hung with Carnival bunting for the upcoming parade, the streets busy with people leaving work, but I still hoped I could find a cab without having to stand around too long in the open-I was very conscious that my gun had no bullets in it. As soon as I reached the curb, though, a long, black car pulled up alongside me, and the passenger-side window slid down. The passenger seat was empty. Nervous, as you can well imagine, I leaned down to peer into the dark interior and saw a shadow behind the wheel and a hint of hair as pale and shiny as Karael’s armor.

  “You are very predictable, Mr. Dollar,” the Countess said from the driver’s seat. “I suggest you climb in before someone notices you. No-the back, not the front.”

  “So what are you doing here?” I asked when we were rolling. “You always troll outside the Justice building looking to pick up newly released criminals?”

  “Who do you think got you released, you idiot?” This wasn’t anything like the last time we met, when I could briefly convince myself that she could sort of tolerate me, if not actually like me. “I called in my biggest favor. For you. And I’m regretting it already.”

  “Whoa-you were the one who called in the Congresswoman? How do you know someone like her?”

  “From law school.” She kept her eyes on the road.

  “You were in law school?”

  She made a hissing noise. “No, fool, I just like students. I told you.”

  I let this slide. “So why did you do it? You don’t owe me anything. And what is this thing everyone thinks I have?”

  “You don’t need to know the answer to either of those. In fact, you’re better off not knowing, so instead of asking me rude questions like the little pretend-gumshoe you think you are, you might just thank me for keeping you from being turned into a flesh-and-blood accordion like our friend Grasswax and leave it at that.”

  “Hey, sister, he wasn’t any friend of mine.”

  “You’re right about that, Dollar, because he landed you right in the shit.” She turned onto Jefferson. It was strange to see her driving her own car. “In fact, I’ll give you one for free-something that even Chancellor Urgulap and his inquisition don’t know. Grasswax was the one who ratted you out. He was the one who told Eligor that you had the thing Eligor wants.”

  “That bastard! That gill-faced bastard! I don’t even know what the damn thing is-why would Grasswax blame it on me?”

  “Oh, maybe because they were pulling all his guts and wiring out at the time, and it really hurt, and he thought if he gave them a name they might stop.” She slowed as she approached a red light. I was watching out the rear window now, my eyes open for anyone who might be following us. “Maybe because he didn’t think anyone would miss you, and he already hated your guts because you screwed him in a case the day before?”

  “Shit, I didn’t have anything to do with that!” I had a sudden thought. “Hey, why are you driving? Where’s Sweetie and Honeybuns?”

  “If you’re talking about my bodyguards, the situation is going to be a little different from now on,” she said. “For me as well as for you. Because things around here have gone very seriously pear-shaped. Where are you staying?”

  “Huh? I don’t know. I need to find someplace. Can you take me back to get my car? I left it across the street from Page Mill Square…”

  She turned and gave me a hard stare. With the streetlights gleaming behind her pale golden hair she looked like a pissed-off Piero della Francesca portrait. “If you think I’m going anywhere near there you’re dumber than I thought you were, Dollar, and I don’t think that’s theologically possible.”

  “Shit. Okay, turn around, then, and take me down Veterans. I’ll grab a room in the Holiday Inn or something. I’ll get my car back tomorrow.” I slumped back in my seat, overwhelmed and exhausted. “So if Grasswax got me into all this, I still don’t understand why it’s you getting me out of it, Countess. I mean, I know I’m charming and handsome and everything, but…”

  “Spare me your bullshit, Dollar.” She turned right, then at the next block turned right again. “I have my reasons, and none of them have anything to do with your meaning anything to anyone.”

  “Okay, Countess…no, Casimira. That’s your name, right? Okay, like you said, no more bullshit. I think the person who needs to do the explaining now is you. Because not only don’t you and I work for the same side, we’re deadly enemies. Stay with me now. Somebody stole something from Eligor, right? And the Grand Duke or whatever he’s called, he’s not happy. He thinks it’s Grasswax the prosecutor who did it, and so Eligor and hi
s boys pull a bunch of stuff out of Grasswax that’s not supposed to be removed-at least not without anesthetic-and then the late advocate tells them he doesn’t have this whatever-it-is, he gave it to me. Which is an absolute lie because I’ve never had it and don’t even know what it’s supposed to be. But why should any of that matter to you, Casimira?” I was talking to the back of her head so I couldn’t tell if I was accomplishing anything. “No, I’m going to call you ‘Caz’ because it’s shorter-like my temper’s getting. Go ahead, Caz, tell me why Miss Cold Hands, Cold Heart is helping out an angel who even most of the other angels don’t like very much?”

  I waited out the silence. At last she turned onto Veterans Boulevard, a mess of neon and cookie-cutter commercial buildings-car lots, shopping centers and office complexes, all of them glowing with what looked like desperation, as if terrified they wouldn’t be noticed. “I’ll tell you one reason,” she finally said. “You remember that thing Eligor’s missing? Well, I’m the one who took it. And I was only safe as long as the Grand Duke thought I had it. And he doesn’t think that anymore.”

  I swallowed all of the dozen or so questions that burbled up, picked the one that seemed most germane. “So who does have it?”

  “Grasswax did-for a while. But obviously he got rid of it.” She pulled into the Holiday Inn driveway. “And nobody knows where or to whom. Your stop, Dollar.”

  I considered walking around to the driver’s side and asking her if maybe we should get a drink and talk about this some more, but as soon as I closed my door she was gone, rolling down the driveway and then pulling out into the flow of lights on Veterans like a fish tossed back alive into a swift river.

  fifteen

  dead yampy

  “SO WHAT have we learned?” Sam asked me as we waited for our coffee. “Don’t march into strange buildings and kill secretaries?” He squinted up at the menu board. “Do you think one of these is that expensive kind crapped out by a weasel?”

  “All of them, judging by the prices,” I said.

  Clarence’s face stretched in horror, and he looked like he was seriously considering dumping his caramel macchiato in the garbage. “Eew, what? You’re joking, right?”

  “He’s not joking,” I said. “You never heard that? Where did you live when you were alive, in a clothes hamper?” But I wasn’t in the mood for banter, not even with an inviting target like the kid. I turned back to Sam. “The whole thing kind of snowballed on me.”

  “Yeah,” he growled. “Remember what they say about the sort of chances a snowball has when dealing with the infernal powers? You dumbshit. Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I wouldn’t know about what I did when I was alive,” Clarence said loudly. A couple of the other people waiting for their drinks turned to look at him. He colored. “I mean, how would I know?” he said more quietly. “I don’t even know that I was alive.”

  I did my best to ignore him. “Okay, Sam, you’re right, I should have called you. I was just getting a little desperate, I guess-trying to make something happen. I’ve got the boys and girls upstairs breathing all over me and down here a bighorn something-or-other seems to want to take off my whole head and probably suck stuff out of my neck hole. And now I’ve got Vald Credit kicking me in the junk as well, so can we get off the street, please? I feel like someone’s going to recognize me any moment.”

  “Relax, B,” Sam said. “You’re with me. The bad guys know us and they leave us alone!” He continued singing “I Get Around” tunelessly to himself.

  “I mean, how do we know any of the story our bosses told us is even true?” Clarence asked, still off on his own little tangent. “Maybe it’s like The Matrix, and the computers are controlling our minds!”

  “Nice faith,” I told him. “Nothing’s even tried to eat you and you’ve already given up on the Divine Plan?”

  Sam rolled his eyes. “Just assume you’re being lied to by everyone, kid. That always works for me.”

  Sam’s double espresso and my latte finally arrived, and we walked out. With its motels and mini malls, Veterans Boulevard in the sunlight was like a little slice of the Anaheim resort district-yes, that charming. We climbed into Sam’s boredom wagon, and he drove me to the restaurant where I’d left my Matador parked. “Here you go,” I said to the kid, handing him the keys. “You said you’d like to drive it, so we’ll meet you in Mayfield Station parking lot.”

  “Really?” Clarence said, his eyes big. But as he got out both orbs went little and mistrustful again. “Hang on, you just want me to do this in case somebody’s been watching the car, waiting for you to come get it.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But what if they try to grab me?” He looked like he was about to climb back in through the driver’s side window.

  “Then we’ll come and help,” Sam told him. “Go on, don’t be a pussy-you’re an angel of the Lord, remember?”

  He went, reluctantly.

  “Not really very nice, using the kid,” Sam told me a few moments later. Despite all the things he says he’s a bit of a softy.

  “Trust me, they don’t want him. Anything really dangerous probably won’t even react to him.”

  We watched Clarence open the door, looking around as if any moment a bunch of paratrooping demons were going to come shrieking down out of the sky, but none appeared. He got in and started the engine. Nothing exploded. He rolled out of the parking lot and headed north. We waited to see if anyone was following, then set out after him.

  “Looks like the Lords of Hell refused to believe you were stupid enough to drive your own car,” Sam said, “because I can’t believe they wouldn’t have been able to find that garish piece of shit if they’d bothered looking.”

  “Naw, they just knew I’d be coming with backup this time. You know, a couple of local tough guys.”

  “Yeah, me and the Tiniest Angel. Oh, and that female demon who’s got a crush on you. By the way, I can’t believe she did all that for you.” He turned down California Avenue, heading for the station. “She must have mistaken you for me.”

  “You wish. It’s my natural charm-even Hell itself isn’t immune.” But I didn’t really want to talk about her even with Sam. The Countess was a bit too complicated a subject. “Speaking of Clarence, how’s the kid doing? Any hope for him as an advocate?”

  “Well, as you saw, he gets whiny and he’s going through a bit of an existential crisis,” Sam said. “Like we all do. But he’s not all bad. If he really is a snitch for the House, they’ve used worse.” Sam had always been convinced that we were surrounded by our bosses’ spies. He was probably right but I couldn’t really live that way myself. “By the way,” he asked, “what are your ideas for the afternoon? Not planning on storming the gates of Tartarus or anything, are you?”

  I frowned. “If nobody dies on my watch today, I thought I’d see if I can talk to the Sollyhulls, get a few more answers. I’m sure not going to figure out this puzzle with the pieces I’ve got so far.”

  “Hey, that would be perfect for the kid,” Sam said. “You could take him along, couldn’t you? He’s always asking about the big picture-you know that kind of stuff bores the shit out of me. And I’ve got some other things I’d like to get done without having to answer questions the whole time.” His voice rose to an imitation of his young protege: “Sam, why don’t the nice Buddhists go to Heaven?”

  “Don’t they?”

  “Fuck if I know. I’m just telling you: questions, questions, questions. Like someone else I used to know.” He glanced over at me. “That would be you.”

  “Yeah, I got it, Mr. Sentimental. Everybody’s like that at first. You probably were, too, Sammy-boy.”

  “I have never, for one instant, been a millimeter less than cool. Look, just take him off my hands for the afternoon, will you? Because I swear, B, he ain’t a bad kid, but I’ll go back to drinking if I don’t get some time away from him.”

  This from a man who’d previously boozed two bodies to death, so it wasn’t
a completely idle threat.

  “But doesn’t this stuff bother you, Bobby?” Clarence asked me as we left the drugstore parking lot. I stashed the Thrifty bag in my jacket pocket and took the ramp onto the 84, headed west. In the last decade or so, a lot of tall buildings had sprung up around what had been the old Woodside Expressway, but when the traffic was moving slowly you could still see between them to the flatlands of Spanishtown on either side, block after block of two- and three-story apartment buildings. “I mean, that there are so many questions about what we do-questions without answers?”

  “I got enough of those already, Junior, and mine are going to get me killed if I don’t answer ’em, so I don’t really have time for the other kind. Look, like I said, it turned out that there really is a Heaven, there really is a Hell, and this is what happens after we die. What’s so hard about that?”

  He scowled. “You don’t get what I’m saying.”

  I hit the brakes hard as some moron tried to catch the yellow at Valota Road, missed it by three seconds, and would have t-boned me if I hadn’t seen him coming and waited to start into the intersection. “I hope when you kill yourself they send Young Elvis to plead your case, asshole!” I yelled after him. “No, check this, Clarence-I do get it. Because I had more questions than you when I started, and I still ask questions all the time. But some things we may just never know. As living beings, humans don’t understand completely how the universe works, and as angels there’s still stuff that hasn’t been revealed to us yet. I decided I can live with that.” Which was not entirely true. I was pretty sick of unanswered questions, but you can only bang your head against so many walls before you either rethink your approach or knock your brains out once and for all.

  “But what about the religious thing? Why is it that the whole operation is run by Christians and Jews? Were they right about everything all along? Were the Buddhists and-and the Ba’hai, and Muslims and everyone else wrong? That just seems so…American.”