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Peaceable Kingdom: The Angels’ Bower
Though Ray hadn’t exactly lied to Creighton, he had let him and Ackroyd both make unwarranted assumptions that he didn’t want to explain at this time. With Sascha on the scene, he decided he’d better split before the eyeless ace picked something awkward out of his mind. He had to report to Barnett anyway, and see exactly what the Hell was going on with Angel and the kid.
Ray made his excuses and dashed off, trying to diffuse any probes from Sascha by keeping a picture of Angel foremost in his thoughts. It wasn’t difficult. She had real eye appeal, even when she was being grumpy. Which was almost always. He couldn’t help but wonder what she’d be like in the sack. Wonder what that body looked like under all the leather. Maybe framed, for a change, with lace.
On second thought, Ray thought, screw the lace. He had the feeling that she was a woman who looked best naked. Or maybe wearing only a thin, slippery sheen of sweat.
“We’re here, sir,” the cabby said, interrupting the most pleasant thought Ray had had in months.
Ray tossed the driver a couple of twenties. He slung his bag over his shoulder, jumped out of the cab without waiting for change, and took the steps up and into the lobby. He went straight to the elevator bank and whisked himself up to the penthouse. To the tip of the great glass pyramid that was the headquarters of the huge entertainment complex Barnett had designed to separate the suckers from their money. The elevator came to a smooth stop, chimed softly, and let him out into a corridor that ended in closed double doors guarded by men in nicely tailored suits and dark sunglasses.
He went down the corridor with the jauntiness of a mastiff approaching a couple of Pekinese.
“Billy,” one said, stepping aside. “President Barnett is expecting you.”
He opened the door and Ray entered the antechamber where Sally Lou was playing at receptionist. She looked at Ray with the gleam of a hungry tigress in her eyes. “We heard you got shot,” she said.
“I got better,” Ray said briefly. He still hadn’t forgiven her for her prior treatment, but if she kept on looking at him like that he figured that eventually he’d forgive her for damn near anything. Angel was on his mind, but Sally Lou was definitely in reach. “Barnett—”
“—is waiting for you,” Sally Lou interrupted. “Go right in.”
Ray paused for a moment. “Later?” he asked.
Sally Lou looked at him coyly. “Maybe.”
Ray went by her desk to Barnett’s office door. He didn’t like games. It looked like Sally Lou did. He could put up with it for awhile if the end result was worth it, and it looked like Sally Lou might be. In the meantime, though, there was still a kid somewhere on the loose in the wilds of America in a van with Angel at the wheel.
Leo Barnett didn’t look too concerned about the still-missing John Fortune and the now-missing Angel, but then he rarely looked concerned about anything. He was on the phone when Ray came into his office, sitting behind his big desk of dark wood, cigar in hand, nodding expressively as he talked.
“I know talent is scarce right now, Sammy boy, but I tell you what—” He made some kind of face at Ray that the ace couldn’t interpret and gestured broadly for him to sit in the chair before his desk. Ray did. “You find me some boys who know how to do a job and will keep their mouths shut. Sure. Sure. Of course.” Barnett rolled his eyes. He hung up the phone and looked at Ray, smiling but shaking his head.
“I’ve got to find me some good boys, Ray. Boys like you who know how to take orders and keep their traps shut. Boys who have a little extra juice, you know what I mean?” Ray nodded. “Whatever happened to that Mechanic fellow?”
“Belew?” Ray shook his head. The Mechanic had led the first operation that Ray had ever been on—the failed attempt, through no fault of their own, to extract the American hostages from Iran, way back in the Carter Administration. “We haven’t crossed paths in years.”
“He’s a stud I’d like to have on our side when the Allumbrados come to town. How about that Straight Arrow?”
“Nephi Callendar? He’s a desk jockey now.”
“George Battle? He was just an ordinary joe, but tough as the dickens.”
“Uh.” Ray didn’t really want to get into much detail about Battle’s fate. “I’m afraid he’s dead.”
“Pity.” Barnett looked up to the ceiling. “Oh Lord, see me through these trying times.” He looked back at Ray. “What can I do for you, son?”
Ray remembered something Barnett had just said. “The Allumbrados are coming to town?” he asked. “Contarini’s outfit?”
“Of course, son. Of course. We’ve got the baby Jesus. They’re going to come after him sure as Satan is frying souls in the Fiery Pit right this very minute.”
Ray nodded. That was good. He’d like to get his hands on Butcher Dagon again. This time he’d bite the bastard’s tail off at the root and strangle him with it. Still...“They’ve got a whole cadre of credenti and believers and shit working for them,” Ray said. “Some tough ass mercs. Some aces.”
“Don’t I know that? That’s why I’ve been on the horn all day trying to beef up my forces.”
“Who do you have?” Ray asked.
Barnett looked at him. “Well, there’s you.”
Ray nodded impatiently. “Yes.”
“And Angel, of course.”
Ray pursed his lips. “I don’t know about her.”
Barnett leaned forward, pointing his cigar at Ray. “Well, son, she got the baby Jesus. You got bubkiss. Besides,” he leaned back in his chair, took a deep pull on the cigar and blew smoke towards the Heavens, “she said the same thing about you.”
“What exactly did she say?” Ray asked with narrowed eyes.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, son. I know she can be difficult. But if you handle her right, she’ll eat right out of your hand.”
Ray frowned. “Well, who else do we have?”
Barnett put his cigar in his mouth, his hands behind his head, and his feet on his desk. “Well, there’s Sally Lou. But she’s not much use, unless we want to screw the Allumbrados to death.”
“She can do that?” Ray asked, startled. There was an ace... years ago. But she had disappeared.
“Don’t be so damn literal,” Barnett said. “Maybe she couldn’t really screw those boys to death. But she could tire them out some.”
“Oh,” Ray said. He waited for Barnett to go on, but when he didn’t he finally said, “That’s it, then?”
“Oh, there’s Alejandro. And we got boys with guns. Plenty of those. But so has the Cardinal. And this battle won’t be won with guns, I don’t think. I’ve got some guys on the line who might be useful.”
Ray nodded. He agreed with Barnett. It didn’t seem to be shaping up in Barnett’s favor, but long odds never made Ray run from a fight.
“Well, what about Angel and the boy?” he asked. “Are they okay? Are they almost here?”
Barnett sighed. “She’s out there somewhere with the boy in tow. I expect she’ll be reporting in sometime soon.”
“She’s out there somewhere?” Ray asked. “That’s the best you can do?”
Barnett poured himself a couple of fingers from the decanter that sat on the side of his desk, added some ice, and took a long drink from his tall glass, the ice cubes tinkling merrily against its side. “You’ve seen her. She’s a big, strong girl. She can take care of herself.”
I hope so, Ray thought. I really, really hope so.
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Branson, Missouri: The Angels’ Bower
“A suite of our own,” Digger Downs said. “Pretty sweet, huh?”
Fortunato looked around the spacious living area with sofa, loveseat, wide-screen television and mini-bar. It was somewhat more luxurious than the quarters he’d shared with five score monks the past sixteen years or so. The angel decor, though, was not exactly to his taste.
“Does it have to be this... colorful?