The Demon Deception

by Mark Harritt

  Lazarus nodded, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s going to happen. I don’t think Mephistopheles is going to give up that easily.”

  Sam agreed, “I don’t think Agent Johnston was too happy with the outcome today. I get the feeling we’ll tangle with them again.”

  “You’re right, and it’ll probably happen when it’s most inconvenient.”

  “Come on, Eli, do you expect anything else? You expecting a walk in the park or something?”

  Lazarus shook his head, “No, I’ve learned that’s never going to happen in my life. I’d never get that lucky.”

  “Yeah, so let’s not worry about them until we have to.”

  Lazarus shrugged, “Yeah, I guess so. Hey, enough talking. Fire up the engine and let’s get out of here. They may not look for us, but let’s not give them an easy target if they do.”

  “Alright boss man, where to next?”

  “Well, let’s drive straight north for about thirty minutes, that way we’re away from the river. Then we can start heading west again. We need to drive to Kansas City. I have to make a pit stop with the guy that makes my bullets.”

  Sam fired up the engine, checked traffic, and pulled away from the sidewalk. He found a rural road that headed north, and took it. He didn’t know where it led to, but they could readjust. Like all rural roads, it had to hit a small town somewhere. From there, they should be able to find another road leading west.

  “We need more ammunition? I thought we had plenty.”

  “Yeah, we have enough conventional bullets to start our own war. But I need some special bullets.”

  “What’re you thinking on that one?”

  “Well, I think that we not only have to worry about Lilith and whatever she’s going to drag us into, but we have to worry about Mephistopheles and whatever he has planned. So, we have at least two demons, and their possessed to contend with. On top of all that, we have to worry about this third entity. Oh, and the other dimensional beings as well, whose capabilities I know nothing about.”

  “So you think we need some more of your special ammunition. The frangible ammunition with silver in it.”

  Lazarus nodded, “Yeah, but I went a bit further with this. I didn’t know what we’d be facing, so it has silver, gold, platinum, and palladium in it. Oh, and I had it all blessed, and dipped into holy water. And hand grenades. I have a case of hand grenades as well. If that doesn’t do the trick, nothing will.”

  Sam looked over at Lazarus and thought about the implications. He could see that Lazarus was worried. Lazarus being worried, worried him. Lazarus had been fighting the forces of evil for two millennia. If he was going to these elaborate lengths to prepare for what might be coming at them, then it was possible that there was no walking away from it. He was kidding when he told Lazarus that they would be surrounded by targets. Now he wasn’t so sure it was a laughing matter anymore.

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  Chapter Eight – Kansas City Fry Cook

  They turned west in the town of Winfield, drove a while, then turned south to Interstate 70. It was late by the time they got to Kansas City. They stopped on the Missouri side, found a hotel, and went out to sample some of the local barbeque. Lazarus made Sam drive around to several different places to pick up sandwiches. Sam was happy to do this. Kansas City was prime country for barbeque. There were so many cooks with their own recipes, it would be a crime not to try as much as they possibly could. They went back to the hotel, stuffed. It wasn’t hard to fall asleep.

  They woke up early, and met downstairs at the van. They drove out of the hotel parking lot, found a Waffle House and pulled in for breakfast. They walked in and sat down at one of the booths. The waitress looked like she had taken orders when JFK was still president. She had a voice that sounded like she smoked three packs a day. Sam ordered his hash browns all the way, and had scrambled eggs to go with them. Lazarus ordered an omelet, with his hash browns plain.

  Sam stared at Lazarus in amazement. “That’s just un-American,” Sam proclaimed.

  “What?” Lazarus asked.

  “Your hash browns, Eli. You’re at a Waffle House. You have to at least get them smothered and covered.”

  Lazarus shook his head, “No I don’t. I like my hash browns plain.”

  Sam was stunned at the cultural insensitivity of his friend, “I bet if you were in Paris, you wouldn’t ask them to hold the pate or the caviar because you don’t like it.”

  Lazarus nodded, “Yeah, you’re probably right. You know why? Because I happen to like pate and caviar.”

  Sam looked at Lazarus as if he had just sneezed on the Mona Lisa, “You just don’t understand.”

  Lazarus spread his hands, “What do I not understand, Sam?”

  Sam forked a thumb over his shoulder at the cook, “This man is an artist. You stifle his creativity. Waffle House hash browns is an art form that needs to be expressed. When you order them without the extras, it’s like asking to see the Elgin Marbles without the horses.”

  Lazarus gazed at Sam, surprised. It wasn’t the impassioned plea about the hash browns. Lazarus was stunned that Sam knew anything at all about the Elgin Marbles. Sam wasn’t exactly an art aficionado.

  “What?” Sam asked.

  Lazarus conceded the point to Sam. He looked at the waitress and asked for the hash browns to be smothered and covered. Sam sat back and smiled, very pleased with himself, “So, have you talked to your supplier?”

  Lazarus waved the question away, “You make him sound like he’s delivering heroin.”

  Sam waved his fork and talked around a mouthful of hash browns, “Whatever. Have you talked to him yet?”

  In fact, Lazarus had talked to him. He used one of the burner phones and set up the meet a little after breakfast, in a small town that lay south of Kansas City. The drive wasn’t far, about thirty minutes. With the ATF on his heels, he wanted to practice due diligence and ensure that they wouldn’t be interrupted. They would drive a counter-surveillance route before they drove to the meet location.

  “Yeah, I have the location. It shouldn’t take long to get there.”

  “You think our friends from St. Louis might complicate things?” Sam asked.

  “Probably not. This guy is strictly legit. He flies so far under the radar, I doubt anybody knows about him. He doesn’t do jobs for other people. I’m the only person that he works for. I pay him a salary to make sure that he doesn’t need to stray. The last thing I need is for him to be targeted. That would be bad for operations. He gets paid out of an account in Vanuatu.”

  “I didn’t know Vanuatu was a financial center.”

  “It’s not, that’s the point.”

  They finished breakfast, and the waitress put a ticket down in front of Lazarus. Sam looked up and asked, “Where’s my ticket?”

  The waitress pointed back at the elderly guy that cooked the food. The cook had faded tattoos up and down his arms, and wore an old, button down, yellowed shirt that may have been white at one time. The cook looked over and waved.

  “Don’t worry about it, honey. Earl paid your check. He’s never been called an artist before. Said it’ll probably never happen again in his lifetime.”

  Sam waved over his shoulder at the cook. The cook smiled and nodded back. The teeth were stained yellow from years of cigarettes and coffee. Sam didn’t have to pay for his meal, so he left a ten dollar tip in two fives, one for the waitress and one for the cook.

  They climbed into the van. They both had coffee to go. Lazarus drank his as he gave Sam directions to the meet location. A thirty minute counter-surveillance route, and then they drove to the meet. They got there an hour after they left the Waffle House. The meet location was in an old tobacco barn. They pulled the van into the barn, and a pickup truck was parked to one side.

  A man was pulling cases out of the bed of the pickup truck. The guy was medium height, average build with a spare tire around the waist. He was losing what little hair he ha
d in a strange balding pattern that left hair in the middle of his forehead. He wore blue jeans and had on a red and black patterned flannel coat.

  Lazarus and Sam stepped out of the van into the chill of the afternoon. Even with the colder air, the smell of cured tobacco lingered, the essence steeped deep into the old, musty wood.

  Lazarus introduced him to Sam, “Sam, this is Micah Winthrop. Micah, this is Sam Diabo.”

  Micah drew back at Sam’s last name, “Diablo, like Spanish for the devil?”

  Sam shook his head, “No, Diabo.” He spelled it out, “D, I, A, B, O.”

  The guy smiled, “Oh, okay, sorry, my hearing isn’t what it used to be. I guess I’ve spent too much time shooting rounds down range.”

  They shook hands, and Micah winced at Sam’s grip. Sam smiled and pulled back on the pressure, “Nice to meet ‘cha.”

  “Nice to meet you. Quite a grip you’ve got there.”

  Small talk continued as they worked. They pulled the remaining cases of ammunition out of the pickup truck and placed them into the van. Sam continued with the cases that were stacked next to the pickup truck and began loading them. Lazarus and Micah were talking about the bullet specifications.

  “Yes sir, I made sure that everything you wanted in the bullets was present. I made sure that the precious metals were a very fine powder. I experimented with different ranges of the metals, and modified these bullets so that they shatter easily once they penetrate the body.”

  “You have the different calibers I asked for?”

  “Yes sir. I brought you 5.56, 7.62, .338 Lapua, .45 and 9mm. Three thousand of each of the rifle calibers and five hundred each of the pistol calibers.”

  “Good. Thank you for your help. I really do appreciate everything. Oh, for the .338 Lapua, I need it sent to this address. Do me a favor and send it overnight.”

  “No problem sir. If it weren’t for you, my family wouldn’t eat. I appreciate your business.”

  “What about the blessing of the Monsignor?”

  “Well, I gave him a call, and he told me that you had already talked to him about this. So, when the bullets were finished, I called him back. He came over, dipped them in holy water, and blessed them all.”

  “Fantastic, thank you.”

  “Thank you, sir. But, I added a little something as well. Something you didn’t ask for.”

  Lazarus stopped, and studied Micah, wondering where this was going, “Something I didn’t ask you to do?”

  Micah nodded, “Yes sir. This seemed above and beyond what your usual specifications called for, so I added a small cross to each bullet. I did it before the Monsignor blessed the bullets. I have a laser engraver, so I was able to just impress the shape of the cross on the bullets without decreasing any ballistic integrity. I tested them myself to make sure there was nothing that might interfere with the flight of the bullet. Here, let me show you.”

  He pulled a few rounds out of his pocket. He handed them to Lazarus and Sam. They looked at the bullets. Sure enough, there was the faint impression of a cross on the bullets. Lazarus ran his finger over the impression, but it wasn’t deep enough for his fingers to feel it.

  “Wow, I can’t feel it at all.”

  Micah nodded, “Yes sir. I didn’t want the air to drag on the cross, which would decrease your accuracy.”

  Lazarus put his hand on Micah’s shoulder, “Thank you, old friend. You are truly a craftsman.”

  Micah blushed at the praise. Sam finished transferring cases from the truck to the van. Lazarus pulled five cashier’s checks made out for amounts around four thousand each, some a little bit more, some a little bit less, “This should take care of the cost of the materials. Let me know if you need more.”

  Micah nodded, “Yeah, the amount is perfect. That shouldn’t raise any concerns with the bank.”

  Lazarus agreed, “Just make sure that you don’t deposit them all in the same month. Your regular payment will be sent to you as well.”

  Micah thanked Lazarus, climbed into his pickup truck and drove out of the tobacco barn.

  Sam watched him go, “Wow, what an incredibly nice guy. He got this order done real quick for you.”

  “Yeah, and he’s a very, very smart man as well. He has a Bachelor’s degree from Cornell and a Master’s degree from MIT, both in material’s science. I’ll take you to his work shop when we’re done with this. Believe me, it’s pretty amazing, geared to produce what I need for operations. Highly automated, it can knock out five thousand rounds in a half day of work.”

  “Why’s he working for you? With degrees like that, I’d think he’d be working in the private sector and making a lot of money.”

  Lazarus smiled at Sam, “Well, working for me is the private sector, and yes, he does make a lot of money. Plus, there’s an added advantage. Nobody knows where he is. He ran into some problems back in Boston. He saw something he shouldn’t have.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “He saw people from the Irish Mob kill some rival gang members: wrong place, wrong time. Worse than that, he saw the cops that were working with the Irish. So, he had to find a place that he could hide out.”

  “How’d he find you?”

  “He’s a good Protestant. He went to his pastor, and his pastor knew some people, who knew some people that knew me. I was able to get him and his family out of there before the bad guys could find him. Then I paid a visit to the bad guys.”

  They covered the extra ammunition with more blankets. Sam had to move things around to make sure everything was hidden, “I think we’re going to need more blankets. We’re starting to get a pretty big stack of weapons and ammunition here.”

  Lazarus looked at the stack that was growing in the van, “Yeah, I think you’re right. Good thing we only have a few more stops.”

  Sam closed the back door, and started towards the driver’s side. Lazarus walked around to the passenger side, opened up the door, and slid in. Sam opened his door, pulled the key out of his pocket, and slid in behind the wheel. He put the key in the ignition, turned over the motor, and looked expectantly at Lazarus.

  “Were we goin’ to next?” Sam asked.

  Lazarus looked straight ahead, not meeting Sam’s eyes, “You’re not going to like it.”

  “Well, there are a lot of things I don’t like, but I’m a professional. What now?”

  “Our next stop is Tulsa.”

  “What do you want to get there? You know the next weapons pick up from my guys is in Amarillo, right?”

  “Not what, Sam, who. We have to pick up Lilith.”

  Sam’s hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Lazarus was afraid he was going to break the steering wheel. A mask descended on Sam’s face. The handsome, craggy faced man disappeared, and a bleak, dangerous man appeared. It was a face of death and fury. It was a face that made the blood of hard, dangerous men turn cold.

  “You okay, big guy?

  Sam nodded, “Yeah, I got it under control.”

  He looked over at Lazarus, and saw the concern on his face, “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna snap. I’m a professional. I’ll get the job done. Mission first.”

  Lazarus studied him for a good long minute. Then he nodded, “Okay, I know. I trust you. I think you’re the only one I could trust with this.”

  Sam took a deep breath. The bleakness disappeared, the death mask pulled back, and Sam was once again the man who dropped bits of cheese to his cat. He shrugged, “Yeah, we’ll get this done. I don’t want to do anything to make this any harder than it already is.”

  “Yeah, this deal is already sour, no reason to curdle the milk.”

  “Alright, I’ll just have to pretend I don’t want to rip her apart with my bare hands,” Sam turned and smiled at Lazarus, “It's 106 miles to Chicago, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses.”

  Lazarus smiled back at him, “Oh man, great movie”

  Sam looked a
t him, expectantly. It took Lazarus a moment, “Oh, right. Hit it!”

  Sam shook his head, “No, good quote, but the wrong one.”

  Lazarus was confused, “Isn’t that what Jake says to Elwood?”

  Sam nodded his head, “Yeah, it is, but that’s not the quote I’m looking for.”

  Lazarus thought about it, then comprehension dawned on his face, “Ah, I understand now.”

  Sam smiled and nodded. Lazarus supplied him with the quote he was looking for, “We’re on a mission from God.”

  “Exactly,” Sam put the van in gear and drove out of the barn towards Tulsa.

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  It took them four hours to get to Tulsa. They drove down Interstate 35 and then took Highway 169. By the time they got there, it was already starting to get dark. They pulled into Embassy Suites off of Interstate 44 and spent the night. Lazarus woke up at seven and called Sam’s room to make sure he was up. When they walked out, there was a light rain, and the moisture and cold settled into Lazarus, making him shiver. They had breakfast at an ancient diner, the parking lot filled with older cars and beat up pickup trucks. It was a working man’s diner.

  “What’s with you and diners? You want to stop at every greasy spoon on the road.” Sam asked.

  Lazarus smiled. They ordered, and tucked into the omelets and home fries. Lazarus was still concerned with Sam’s reaction yesterday, so he brought it up again. Lazarus put both hands on the table and looked at Sam, “You’re sure you can do this?”

  Sam looked back at him, “What, drive to the east side of Tulsa?”

  Lazarus watched him, waiting.

  Sam relented, then shrugged his shoulders, “Yeah, no problem. Don’t worry, Eli. I understand what’s at stake here. I can manage my grudge until we deal with this problem.”

  Lazarus relaxed. It was still a potentially explosive situation. Lazarus trusted Sam. The wild card was Lilith. He had no idea what she was up to. He just hoped that Lilith didn’t do anything to goad Sam into an irrational action. She had that kind of effect on people.