by Ciaran Nagle
'There,' said Agatha, 'on the edge of that island. There's a town that's built out into the sea and right in the centre there's a cute-looking piazza. Let's stop there.'
'The map says the island is called Scarpa Trovata,' said Jabez reading from the Fundial's display pictograms. 'Says here it was settled by Venetians after the Great Plague hit Italy in 1630. After they passed, they brought all their artisan skills to Heaven and carried on where they left off.'
'Scarpa Trovata. Sure sounds a lot better than its translation, Shoe Found,' laughed Agatha. 'But the setting is absolutely stunning. Who wouldn't want to live and work here for ever, even if it's just making footwear.'
'Wait till you see what they make and how much fun they have making it. You may not want to leave.'
Jabez made sure the light hider was switched to 'off' and gradually circled the lightcraft over the all-shades-of-green island keeping in view the sunlit sea that surrounded it and a chain of other islands that stretched out towards the horizon in this industrial region of heaven.
The archipelago and its seas were a continent two hundred thousand miles below Paradise's surface and ninety thousand miles from its core. It was a land that enjoyed bright mornings, hot afternoons and warm evenings most days with just enough rain, mostly at night, to water its many fields.
Way above its skies were the jurassic jungles of Montefalco where dinosaur raptors fought with tooth and claw and angel-sized butterflies preyed on mouse-sized cats. And far below the Azurine's deepest trench were the Cascades of Arancazan, beloved of angels who liked to canoe to a waterfall's edge and then leap into space at the beginning of the drop, only opening wings near the end of the long fall.
All around the edge of the piazza there were tables and benches laid out where men and women were working busily. Leather was being cut to size, colours were being applied to fabrics, pins were being beaten into heels and soles were being stitched.
Heads looked up as the lightcraft's shadow was noticed and people paused from their labours to welcome the visitors. Hands waved and faces smiled. Jabez returned the greeting while Agatha surveyed the scene in delight at the cosiness of the community.
They closed in on the town centre with its architecture of Ionic and Corinthian pillars, Roman, Romanesque and Gothic arches, walls made from a hundred varieties of bricks and stone and leaded stained windows. These dazzled the eyes with moving images of life in medieval Italy.
Beyond the piazza, terracotta-tiled roofs serried out from the centre in joyful disorder somehow managing to pose themselves elegantly between a double helix of roads and lanes that curled itself around the neighbourhood on the landward side. Beyond that, the houses and mills surrendered to olive groves and vineyards that undulated out in sun-drenched ecstasy upwards towards the granite hills at the isle's centre.
A dozen shoe workers took to wing and flew up to greet the lightcraft, escorting it while nodding in admiration at the vessel's curves and styling. Some of them formed a circle above the lightcraft and flew around it laughing and waving olive sprigs. The others flew down to gather vine leaves and then formed a circle below the ship spinning in a countervailing direction. Jabez held the craft in a hover while the townsfolk below pointed up and laughed at the fun their friends were having. Those in the circles implored the left-behind land lovers to join them and make bigger circles. Soon the air was filled with fast-beating wings as angels ascended rapidly to join the two competing squadrons in the vault above them. The air was thick with calls and cries as angels hallooed and hollered to each other, spiralling like swallows enjoying a slipstreamed syncopated showtime. Now a third circle formed above the other two and then broke and began diving and weaving between those below. The circles and lines began to spin and weave faster and faster with the aerobatics becoming more and more elaborate. Finally, as though at a command, all the formations broke up in the same instant and the angels flattened out and glided down on full wingspan, exhausted, returning to land gracefully at their point of departure.
Agatha, inspired, leapt from the lightcraft into the void, stretching out her wings and making a couple of passes over the town before landing in the middle of the piazza with a polite curtsey and wing flourish to her new hosts. Jabez brought the lightcraft down beside her and jumped out, also bowing in appreciation for the dazzling impromptu flying display.
At one side of the square a shoe-shop quartet of non-flying cobblers assembled together to add their own latin sonics to Heaven's pervasive sensurround Music. At the same time boot makers tapped their lasts in rhythm with hammers, dance shoe makers tap-danced their wares and ballet shoe artisans performed a soft shoe shuffle supplemented with flashing fans and shimmering silks.
'Is all this just for us, two or'nery angels from nowheresville?' asked Jabez in amazement.
'Speak for yourself,' replied Agatha, 'I get this kind of reception everywhere I go.'
Within a minute all the angels had returned to their work tables and were picking up their tools. The chatter among them continued as they laughed about what each of them had done during the aerobatic 'promenade' as they called it.
A female angel approached Jabez and Agatha, smiling expectantly, a swatch of leather hides over one arm and a short bone-handled knife in her hand. 'Thank you for coming,' she said, looking from one to the other. 'We haven't had so much fun since yesterday. Now what can I do for you two lovely people? Are you buying or supplying? And while you're here, will you eat with us?'
Agatha spoke up first, 'This is my friend Jabez, he wore his feet out on Earth a short while ago and he needs some new soft boots to help him banish his blisters.'
The woman looked down at Jabez' feet.
'I think we can help you out all right,' she said confidently, 'My name's Maria. Come over to Gianni's bench.'
Maria led the couple across the piazza to a bench where a man was lifting a boot from a last after nailing on a new sole. He matched up the boot with its mate and held them up for inspection by the newcomers.
The boots were of soft doeskin leather on the inside and seasoned cowhide outside. Scenes from the Exodus ran around the sides etched in filigree silver while the uppers were stitched to the soles with gold fibre. The eyes were rimmed with brown mother of pearl which perfectly set off the brushed leather of the tongue.
Jabez's jaw dropped. 'Those should be put on a plinth. Surely no-one's going to do anything as vulgar as actually wear them?'
The cobbler smiled. 'Buon giorno, I am Gianni' he said, holding out his hand. 'You know, here we make shoes that are worn throughout Paradise. St Michael gallop his horse in our riding boots. Gabriel play golf in our spike shoes and Mary, Jesus' mum, she jog every day in our trainers.'
'Mary jogs?' said Agatha incredulous.
'Sure she does,' replied Gianni with a wide grin. 'Not for lose weight of course. But she like to jog through all the lands of Heaven while she pray. Last year she even pray for me personally. This I know because she put a note in my globe. She pray for me while she jog in shoes we make her. Is very nice.'
'I bet she doesn't jog through Montefalco,' put in Jabez.
'Even Montefalco,' replied Gianni laughing while Maria nodded in agreement. 'She can jog in Montefalco because she run in our trainers. I seen it on my globe. Those great big monster with the enormous teeth and the small brain.' Gianni waved his arms to illustrate his story. 'They think they got a little blue sandwich when they see her. But she go so fast in our trainers they just suck air. You look it up some time.'
'I will,' replied Jabez whose imaginative mind was now filled with pictures of the mother of the infant Jesus racing past razor-toothed cows in a stable whilst wearing superfast running shoes. For a moment Jabez and Agatha were both bereft of words.
'Now signore, what sort of shoes you like for today?'
Jabez could tell that Gianni had told this story before and enjoyed the effect it had on his listeners. His face bore a deliciously smug grin.
'Jabez requires a fix for sore feet,' said Maria,
breaking into the silence. 'What you got Gianni?'
Six hours later after a meal of pasta and sambuca-cooked mackerel washed down with prosecco and amarone, Jabez and Agatha left the party of twenty angel-cobblers they had spent the evening with and returned to the lightcraft. They had heard many stories from Gianni of how their hand-made footwear had been used by Paradise's many residents. In return Jabez described the wonder worlds that were awaiting mankind and Agatha recited a poem she had made up about their unexpected welcome reception that day.
Jabez was getting used to the feel of his new walking boots, which were both kind to his blistered feet as well as a marvel to look at. They were presented to him by Gianni fresh from the workshop just as he and Agatha were finishing their dessert of Boot and Shoe Archipelago ice cream and melon. If the name sounded less than heavenly, Agatha confided to Jabez, the flavour was definitely more so.
Their hosts waved green and red lanterns as they boarded the ship, then wished them Godspeed and a swift return.
By morning they arrived at Agatha's downtown warehouse where she alighted. 'Take care Jabez,' she whispered. 'Don't relax your guard for a moment, the enemy is watchful.'
Jabez took off. 'Hong Kong,' he said to the Fundial lightcraft's autosystem. 'Slowly. I need to sleep off my Italian ice cream.'
When he awoke he was in a hover several miles above Yaumati. He yawned, stretched and took back the controls and brought the craft down on Nathan Road. Soon he was back at work distributing the 1.11 code where it would be seen by Nancy. He was getting to enjoy his work.
Jabez slowed his stride and concentrated on listening. Lafarge was on the other side of the road and had him in view. Down the side street where he was headed he knew that there would be no human eyes on him. But he still needed that distraction to be sure.
Here it came, just as Luke had promised. The sound of the ambulance's wail grew loud very quickly - all the better to surprise everyone in the area and cause them to look. Jabez knew it was a false alarm. No-one had been injured. The ambulance would soon return to its base.
As heads turned away from him he summoned the Fundial with his will and heard its peculiar purring that told him it was right in front of him. He felt for its door handle, opened it and jumped in. A final glance down the road reassured him that Lafarge had seen nothing. The demon would look back this way in a moment and see that he had disappeared. Another round to the angels.
He looked ahead. Dark blob above. Coming fast. Crash.
Zhivkin slammed into the lightship and momentarily praised himself for correctly predicting where it would be. The impact winded him nonetheless but there was no time to waste on getting his breath back. He raised his right arm bearing the hydraulic hinge that he had ripped from the Tai O's rooftop firedoor and brought it down hard onto the craft beneath him. The thin skin was not made for such treatment and rent asunder. Two more powerful thumps from the hinge and he had made a big enough hole to squeeze through. Inside, Jabez, frozen in shock had barely moved. Angel and demon in close confinement, a rare event. Jabez stared at the hard expression on the demon's red face trying to comprehend what had just happened and what he should do about it. But he had little time. Zhivkin's fist slammed into his face, once, twice, three times. He was hardly conscious as Zhivkin found the door handle mechanism and opened it. He kicked the angel savagely in his side and propelled him through the door. Jabez felt his right wing catch on the door frame but another kick from Zhivkin broke the wing and he found himself lying on the pavement with the limb sticking out in front of him in an unnatural way.
Jabez still hardly knew what had happened except that it was very bad. His breath came in short bursts and he knew he had broken ribs. Zhivkin's arm came out, grabbed the door and slammed it shut. Sitting inside the cockpit he looked for the controls knowing they would be intuitive to operate. There were fewer than he expected. How does it fly? He thought furiously. No controls, so…must be thought-controlled. He was sitting in the pilot's seat, where Jabez had been. He projected his thought. Move backwards, he ordered. The craft made a slight shift to the rear. That worked. Time to go.
Outside, Jabez rolled on his side towards where he knew the Fundial must be, even though he couldn't see it. Despite his pain he kicked out with his foot and connected with the ship's hull. He kicked again and again and within a moment found what he was looking for.
Inside, Zhivkin gave the order with his mind. Ascend. The craft lifted. Faster, he commanded. The Fundial picked up pace and started to leave Nathan Road behind. He looked out below to where Lafarge was still at his post. The French demon was staring up at him in shock. How can he see me, thought Zhivkin, I thought this craft was supposed to be invisible?
He returned his attention to flying. Quite simple really. So long as you make your thoughts strong and clear, the craft picks them up and responds. Clever angels. But not clever enough. It's mine now.
As he rose through Earth's atmosphere accelerating rapidly and burst into space Zhivkin felt the craft offering him the option to leave the Fourth Dimension. He reviewed the many choices available to him and was astonished at the places that he could go. All in good time. There might be a pursuit so best take it home where the prize can be defended. He transited the Fundial into the Fifth Dimension, found his bearings and ordered it towards Inferno. As he flashed across huge distances in fleeting moments he found he was enjoying himself.
There was Inferno, straight ahead. He ordered the Fundial to make itself visible then he made a pass across the surface of Hell and was rewarded as heads popped up to look. On his second pass there were even more. By his third pass almost the entire population of Inferno had come to see the strange apparition. As he brought the craft lower Zhivkin realised that the huge crowd of demons were not looking at him or the craft, they were looking at something else. He opened the door and peered below. Suspended underneath the lightcraft by a leather boot hooked around a grab handle was an angel. Its wing protruded sideways at a very odd angle. Zhivkin cursed. He'd brought an angel to Hell.
With great foreboding Zhivkin landed the ship above Kodrob's squadroom in Pentacurse. The crowd parted and Bezejel came forward with thunder in her eyes as he got out. 'What have you done?' she shouted. 'Fool. What have you done?'
To his side, Jabez groaned and tried to stand up. But his foot, still encased in Gianni's protective boot, remained caught in the Fundial's grab handle.
The crowd of demons continued to stare at Jabez's handsome face, his scuffed costume, his elegant shoes, but mostly at his beautiful broken wing.
'Get him out of there. Take him below while we think what to do with him,' shouted Bezejel to the nearest demons. 'Quick.'
Deep Water Bay Restaurant, Yaumati, Kowloon, Hong Kong
'Excellent noodles, don't you think Monkey? Even in Singapore they don't make noodles like they do here.' Fatty lo was in expansive mood. His famous paunch was expanding too and he lay down his chopsticks for a moment to loosen his belt.
Two of his newest and youngest hostesses from one of his Mongkok nightclubs sat, one on each side, with their legs drawn up underneath them. Two roses around a thorn.
'Singaporeans are amateurs when it comes to food,' agreed Monkey, biting into the head of a deep-fried prawn. 'And they're lazy. And they talk funny, all that Mandarin nonsense. You may as well be in Beijing. Who'd want that?'
'Keep it quiet, Monkey,' advised Fatty Lo in a hushed voice.' You never know who's listening. One day Hong Kong will be part of China again and your words may come back to haunt you.'
'That's a long way off and it may never happen. The English may decide to stay here,' said Monkey who was on his fourth beer of the night.
'That's why Golden Horse needs to come under my protection,' insisted Fatty. 'The winds of change are blowing. We need to embrace the big world, not just our little corner of Asia. Brother is an outward-looking business, Monkey. We aim to replicate our business model in London, New York, Moscow and Paris. We're thinking big and you
're still thinking small.' He paused to pick up three rings of squid in his chopsticks and guide them into his mouth. 'You know, those Italian thugs, the mafia,' he continued. 'They tried to take over Chicago and New York like they ran Palermo. But they weren't smart enough. They upset too many people and brought the law down on top of them. We're not going to make that mistake. That is, Brother is not going to make that mistake. You understand me, Monkey? We're going to take over all the gambling, prostitution, drugs in all those countries because we're going to be patient and work with the system, not against it. Now I've been patient with you Monkey, because I want you to come into Brother and work with me. But I've made you an offer and I haven't heard you accept it yet. I want you to accept it. Are you with me Monkey, or against me?'
Monkey also had two of his favourite girls seated with him. He put down his chopsticks and placed an arm around each of them.
'You know, Fatty,' he said slowly, 'I knew you were going to ask me again. And I'm ready to agree, but only if my men agree. So before you say anything to anyone, let me tell my organisation first. I'm planning a big party tomorrow night where all my senior managers, that's my closest friends, men who've been with me for years are coming to eat and have some fun with me. I'm also inviting the enforcers, the street fighters and the messengers. Everybody. I'm going to discuss the matter with them then. So, let me do that and then I'll come back to you with a final decision. It's best if they know up front before something leaks out.'
'Monkey, you're testing my patience to the limit,' said Fatty, clearly unimpressed. 'You should have done this a long time ago. It's a bit late in the day to begin sharing this with your people. Very well then. But I'm going to send one of my assistants to your meeting to make sure you do as you say.'
Fatty spoke to one of his girls who stood up and went to the back of the restaurant. She returned with Nancy who was looking stunning in a black cheung sam with embroidered red dragons, slit to the thigh.
