Tiamat chuckled. “Oh, you are precious, Special Agent Burton. Do you really think I posted that ad in an attempt to attract demonic henchmen to my cause? This was merely a ruse to gauge the FBI’s response. The fact that you are here tells me that you have no clue about the actual plot that is unfolding even as we speak.”
“You’re bluffing,” said Burton.
“Am I?” asked Tiamat. “Only one way to find out. Beat me at arm wrestling and I’ll tell you everything I know.” She pulled up her right sleeve and leaned forward, planting her right elbow on the spool.
“Fine,” said Burton. He holstered his gun and rolled up his sleeve. “Watch her.” Rogers and Dexter held their guns steady on Tiamat.
“Only one condition,” said Tiamat, glancing down at the Balderhaz cube next to her. “You have to get rid of this.”
Burton shook his head. “No sale. My boss said to keep that thing near me at all times.”
“And you’re always the good little special agent, aren’t you?” Tiamat said. “You always follow orders, no matter how silly they are. Your boss tells you to apprehend a crazy woman spouting ridiculous world domination schemes and you do it. He says, ‘oh, and make sure you have your magic box with you, or there’s no telling what she might do!’”
“You did just threaten to turn me inside out,” Burton noted.
“And how on Earth would I do that, Special Agent Burton? Voodoo? You’re smarter than that.”
“A lot of strange things have been happening lately,” said Burton. “The Anaheim incident, the Moon imploding, the Myrmidon project... Also, there’s the fact that there’s no way you could have known I had this—he glanced at the cube—Balderhaz whatsit on me. I don’t believe in magic, but something isn’t right. If you don’t want that black cube around, then I’m for damned sure keeping it in sight.”
Tiamat sighed. “You honestly believe that little black cube is the only thing keeping me—a woman half your size—from beating you at arm wrestling? And you’re so certain of this that you’re willing to forgo the possibility of obtaining critical information on an active terror threat?”
Burton shrugged. “If you’ve got that kind of information, then my boss was right about you being a threat. And if he’s right about you being a threat, then he’s probably right about this cube. Logically speaking, you’re either completely harmless and therefore useless to me, or extremely dangerous, and therefore not to be trusted.”
“I suppose that’s true,” she said. “All right, then. Take me in.” She held out her hands as if expecting to be handcuffed. “But first, tell me if you would: if you had to say, what would be your guess? Am I extremely dangerous or harmless?”
Burton regarded her for a moment. “I get the feeling,” he said, “that you could be dangerous under the right circumstances. It follows that you could be useful under the right circumstances. But at present, your circumstances don’t favor you.”
“You’re dodging the question, Special Agent Burton. Do you believe in demons?”
“Beliefs are a liability in my job,” said Burton. “They get in the way of facts. I will tell you this, though: I hope there are demons.”
“And why is that?” asked Tiamat.
“Because the greater the evil out there, the more necessary a man like me is.”
“Ah,” said Tiamat, smiling, “so you’re an opportunist.”
“Exactly,” said Burton. “Word around the office was that this meeting was a fool’s errand. Following up on a Craigslist ad for demonic henchmen. Nobody wanted to do it. But my boss insisted it needed to be done.”
“And that made you suspicious.”
“Yeah,” said Burton. “Made me think there was more to it than he was letting on. I had heard through the grapevine that he was looking for someone to head up a special division having to do with... unusual threats to national security.”
“A real-life X-Files.”
“Something like that. Anyway, I put two and two together. Figured worst case scenario, I waste a few hours apprehending some harmless nut. Best case, I neutralize one of these threats and put myself at the head of the line for the new division.”
“So you do believe in demons.”
“I suspect my boss believes in demons. If I act like I believe in demons, I’ve got an in with him. Like being a member of the same lodge, but without the silly hat.”
“Quite the schemer, aren’t you, Special Agent Burton?”
“I don’t scheme,” said Burton, shaking his head slightly. “I just try to stay alert to the scheming going on around me, and react accordingly. For example, right now you’re thinking about grabbing that cube and hurling it across the warehouse. My boss said it has a range of about fifty feet, so you could conceivably throw it far enough to escape the effect—assuming there is an effect. Of course, if you do, I will shoot you.” He produced his pistol from his coat.
“You’d shoot an unarmed 45-year-old woman?” Tiamat asked. “Won’t that be difficult to explain to your superiors?”
“I’m not going to have to explain anything,” said Burton. “You’re a narcissistic sociopath, but you’re not delusional. And you clearly know more about that cube than I do. So if you pick up that cube, it’s because you know it really does have some kind of mystical power over you. And if that’s true, then I have to assume you are not what you appear. Which, given my boss’s level of concern, presumably means you really are some sort of malevolent supernatural entity. In which case, I suspect that it’s going to take more than bullets to put you down.”
Tiamat stared at him coolly. “You’re going to feel differently when you’re standing over the bleeding corpse of the unarmed woman you just murdered in cold blood.”
“Maybe,” said Burton. Before he finished the word, the cube was already in Tiamat’s hand. She pushed her seat back and twisted to the right, bringing the cube to her shoulder to hurl it across the warehouse. Six shots rang out in the vast space, tearing holes in the back of her jacket. The cube clattered to the concrete floor and Tiamat collapsed face down, not moving. A pool of blood spread out from underneath her.
The three agents got to their feet and studied the scene for a moment. Rogers and Dexter holstered their guns. Burton did not.
“So, do you?” asked Dexter, after some time.
“Do I what?” asked Burton.
“Feel different.”
Burton walked to the Balderhaz cube and picked it up with his left hand, as he was still holding his gun in his right. He walked to the table and put the cube back in the box, keeping one eye on Tiamat the whole time. By the time the box was back in the backpack, the fingers on her right hand had begun to move.
“I feel like you should handcuff that bitch,” he said.
Chapter Ten
Mentzel Ranch, just outside Elko, Nevada; October 22, 2016
Mercury, Eddie, Suzy and Balderhaz stood on a small desert plateau a few miles outside of Elko, Nevada. The dry air was cool, but the sun climbing the sky to their left cast a warm glow on their shoulders, promising to bake the shit out of the already parched ground before the day was done. A tiny dust cloud on the horizon indicated that a car was headed their way.
“What a Godforsaken place,” said Suzy. “Does it really have to be so remote? Are we worried about radiation or something?”
“I am,” said Balderhaz, who was slathering some sort of thick gray cream on his mostly bald pate. He had applied the cream unevenly, so that while most of his thin hair was now cemented against his scalp, a few errant wisps still undulated in the breeze, reminding Suzy of seaweed on an ocean floor. “Zinc oxide with lead shavings,” said Balderhaz, holding the jar out to Suzy. “SPF eight hundred.”
“You know lead is poisonous, right?” said Suzy.
Balderhaz frowned, staring at the glob of gray goo he had just scooped up with his fingers. He gave the glob a sniff and then stuck his fingers in his mouth.
“Tashtes okay to me,” he said, working the stu
ff around his mouth.
Suzy grimaced and forced herself to look away. Despite his brilliance, Balderhaz was the sort of person who would long ago have been eliminated from the gene pool were he not immortal.
“Not radiation,” said Eddie. “Prying eyes. Building regulations. Zoning regulations.”
“That and the possibility of an uncontrolled surge of interplanar energy, sucking everything for miles around into another dimension,” said Mercury.
“You mean like what happened in Anaheim?” Suzy asked.
“Same principle, yes,” said Mercury. “Interplanar energy channels can be capricious beasts. Although obviously we’d have safeguards to avoid something like that.”
“Safeguards designed by him?” asked Suzy. She indicated Balderhaz, who was now on his hands and knees, dragging his tongue across the parched ground. Evidently he had decided he wasn’t enamored of the taste of the gray goo after all.
“Don’t let him fool you,” said Eddie. “He really is a genius. Nobody on Heaven or Earth knows more about manipulating interplanar energy than Balderhaz.”
Mercury nodded. “And frankly, if we have an uncontrolled energy surge, being a few hundred miles away from civilization probably won’t help much. I mean...” He glanced at the misshapen Moon that was still visible in the western sky.
“Holy shit,” said Suzy. “Are you saying that could happen on Earth?”
“Could and almost did,” said Mercury. “You know, I get a lot of shit from people about imploding the Moon, but they don’t realize how close the Earth came to—”
“Mercury,” said Eddie. “I don’t think you’re helping to reassure Suzy.”
“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” asked Mercury, regarding Balderhaz, who was now sitting up on his haunches, pawing at his tongue.
“Did you guyth bring any water?” Balderhaz asked.
“In the car,” said Eddie, pointing to the Lincoln Navigator they had driven out to the ranch. Balderhaz nodded and ran to the car. He opened the rear door and climbed inside, slamming the door after him.
“Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” said Suzy, watching the dust cloud in the distance. She could now just make out a red pickup truck at the front of it. “I didn’t realize it was so dangerous.”
“Danger is relative,” said Mercury. “As much as I hate having to be the responsible one, Eddie is right about Tiamat and Michelle. They’re always scheming, and for once we have a chance to get out ahead of them. If we don’t reestablish interplanar communications, someone else will.”
“Hmm,” said Suzy.
“What?” said Eddie. “If you have doubts about this plan, you should let us know.”
“Hey, I’m just a hired gun,” said Suzy. “I’ll order materials, apply for permits, pay off local officials, whatever you need me to do to get this thing built. I’m happy to have any job after the Brimstone debacle.[7] But all this interplanar portal stuff is above my pay grade. You guys are the angels.”
“No,” said Eddie. “We’re a team. If something’s bothering you, you need to tell us.”
The red pickup was now only a hundred yards or so away.
“Well,” said Suzy, “it does occur to me that maybe you two haven’t been completely honest about your motivations.”
“Meaning what?” asked Eddie.
“Meaning that although my understanding of celestial politics is limited, from what I gather you two have been on the outs with the Heavenly authorities for some time now. Mercury in particular has been playing pretty fast-and-loose with the rules. He screwed up the Apocalypse, wrecked the Moon, blew up the planeport—”
“Saved the world, saved the world, saved the world,” Mercury muttered.
“Look, I get it,” said Suzy. “I’m on your side. But I know a little something about how bureaucracies work. And if Heaven works anything like Washington, D.C., when the dust settles the higher-ups are going to be looking for a scapegoat—or scapegoats—to pin all these debacles on.”
Eddie shook his head. “I’ve documented everything. We had no choice. Even blowing up the planeport was the least bad option. The Senate will see that.”
“You’re not listening, Eddie. Bureaucratic finger-pointing has its own logic. Somebody is going to have to pay.”
“Spit it out, Suzy,” said Mercury. “Eddie can be a little dense.”
“Fine,” said Suzy. “Eddie, I think Mercury talked you into building this plane generator because when contact with Heaven is reestablished, he wants to be in control of it. He wants to have a monopoly on interplanar travel so that the Heavenly authorities won’t dare try to punish him.”
Eddie frowned and looked at Mercury. “Is that true?” he asked.
Mercury shrugged, watching the red pickup come to a halt in front of them. “Does it matter? It doesn’t change anything. You know this is our best chance at forestalling Tiamat’s schemes.”
“It matters,” said Eddie, “because the whole point of this project is to thwart the plans of a power-hungry despot. It doesn’t help to stymie Tiamat if another despot steps into her place.”
Mercury laughed. “Me? A despot? I think you overestimate my ambition, as well as my attention span. Look, even if we can get the portal generator to work, it’s going to be capable of opening a single portal, connecting this spot to one particular place in Heaven. That’s it. It’s hardly going to give us absolute control over time and space. Might it someday lead to the construction of another planeport? Maybe. Would it be cool if the authorities decided to name the planeport after me out of gratitude, and perhaps commission a gigantic bronze statue of me in the center of it? Sure. But that’s as far as my ambition goes. I’m not cut out to be a dictator. All right, everybody, pipe down. Let me do the talking.”
A leathery, weather-worn old man had gotten out of the red pickup and was walking toward them. Mercury took a step forward and held out his hand.
“Marcus Uittenbroek,” he said, shaking the man’s hand.
“Good to meet you, Marcus,” said the man. “I’m Steve Mentzel. I understand you’re interested in buying my land.”
Mercury opened his mouth to reply, but was distracted by a knocking sound coming from his left. Looking to the Navigator, He saw Balderhaz’s face pressed against the glass.
“I’ve got it,” Suzy said, and walked to the car.
“Who is that?” asked Mentzel, watching as Suzy opened the door and climbed into the backseat next to Balderhaz.
“That’s Uncle Stan,” said Mercury. “He’s got an eight-inch stainless steel bolt in his head.”
“Oh my God,” said Steve Mentzel, staring at Balderhaz in horror. Balderhaz now had his head in Suzy’s lap, and was sobbing uncontrollably. “Construction accident?”
Mercury shook his head. “No, he was born that way,” he said. “Weirdest thing.”
Steve Mentzel regarded him speechlessly.
“So,” Eddie interjected, “I assume our offer is acceptable to you, Mr. Mentzel?”
Mentzel nodded. “More than acceptable,” he said. “Suspicious, even. You’re offering double what I asked.”
“We didn’t want to get outbid,” said Mercury. “The family is building a house for Uncle Stan, and we let him pick the location. He doesn’t get to make a lot of decisions, so this was kind of a big deal for him. Look how excited he is.”
Mentzel frowned, looking at Balderhaz and Suzy in the backseat of the Navigator. Balderhaz was still weeping, and Suzy was wiping gray goo from his scalp with Kleenex. “He picked this spot?” Mentzel asked.
“Well,” said Mercury, “he drooled on a map, which is about as about as clear an indicator as you’re going to get from Uncle Stan.”
“I see,” Mentzel said uncertainly. “You know, I’m not sure how I feel about taking advantage of a man who is clearly... mentally defective.”
“Don’t worry about that,” said Mercury. “Uncle Stan is broke. I’m the one with the money.”
“You’re the one I’m talk
ing about,” said Mentzel.
“Oh,” said Mercury.
Eddie chuckled nervously. “We’re an eccentric family, Mr. Mentzel. But we’re honest people. This is where Uncle Stan wants to spend the remainder of his days, so this is where we’re going to build. Assuming you accept our offer. We can pay in cash.”
Mentzel nodded slowly. “Well, that’s all good. I wanted to ask you one other thing, though.”
“Sure,” said Eddie.
“You’re not religious nuts, are you?”
“Uh,” said Eddie. “No. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve had some problems with these oddballs from California. End of the world types. I put up signs, but it doesn’t keep them out. I haven’t seen them for a few years, but I keep expecting them to show up again someday.”
“Well, you won’t have to worry about them anymore,” said Mercury. “Once you sign the land over to us, they’ll be our problem.”
“Unless you’re them,” said Mentzel.
“We’re not,” said Eddie. “But even if we were, like Marcus says, it wouldn’t be your problem anymore.”
“Thing is,” said Mentzel, “I’m a little concerned you’re going to go all Heaven’s Gate on me. I don’t want to get a call from a TV reporter in six months and have to talk about how you all seemed like nice people and I can’t believe you all drank cyanide because you thought some damn comet was going to take you to Heaven.”
“No worries there,” said Mercury. “Next major comet sighting isn’t until 2037. What you should really be worried about is asteroids. Did you know that the Tunguska meteor knocked down 80 million trees? And it might have been less than a hundred yards in diameter. An asteroid the size of—”
“What Marcus is trying to say,” Eddie interjected, “is that we have no suicidal or otherwise destructive intentions. We just want to build a nice place where we can cherish our remaining years with Uncle Stan.”
“While he slowly dies of natural, non-comet-related causes,” added Mercury.
“That’s right,” said Eddie.
“Fine,” said Mentzel. “What you do on your own property is your business. I mean, as long as you aren’t trying to open some kind of mystical portal to Heaven.”
Mercury Shrugs Page 7