Iron Angels

by Eric Flint

  “What, his job? Hell if I know. Tell me, what happened to my van and where is that no good bastard?”

  Temple released two cheeks full of air through parted lips.

  “Your van is totaled and we’re not entirely sure where your nephew is.” Temple didn’t want to get into the gory details of the pile of meat that quite likely had been her “bastard” nephew.

  “Serve him right if he’d been thrown from the van and broke his neck.” The woman’s eyes watered and her cracked lips trembled. “My sister didn’t deserve a lousy son like him.”

  “Of course not,” Temple kept her hand on her arm. “Did you ever meet any of his associates?”

  “Pfft. Associates.” She certainly recovered from her sadness in an instant. “You make him sound like some kind of businessman or attorney. Ha. Alan hung around with a bunch of degenerates.”

  “But can you describe any of them?”

  “Odd looking. Ridiculous looking.” She looked up and to the right, and pursed her dry lips, deep vertical lines carved above her top lip like the ground splitting under the strain of an earthquake. “Their appearance—too similar, like they were all part of some weird rock group. Damn kids.”

  “Similar?” Jasper cocked his head slightly.

  “Generic, that the right word?” The old woman’s cloudy eyes gazed up at him.

  “No distinguishing features—”

  “Pale and plain. Their heads were all shaped the same way and their faces cut in the same manner.” She shivered noticeably beneath the blankets and the hand atop Temple’s trembled.

  “You don’t mean cut by a knife or blade—”

  “Oh, heavens no,” she said. “Like their heads, their faces were angled, yes, angled the same way. Sunken cheeks and bald.”

  “Alan was bald or he shaved his head?” Jasper asked.

  “He must have shaved; that boy had the most beautiful head of hair. People do the darndest things to themselves these days, it’s beyond my understanding.”

  Temple squeezed her gently. “There are many things about all of this we still don’t understand ourselves. But you’ve been a big help. You have anything you’d like to add or ask, Agent Wilde?”

  Jasper’s eyes narrowed and he bit his lower lip.

  “Do me a favor,” the old woman said. “Would you hold the cup to my lips? I’m so thirsty.”

  Jasper reached for the cup.

  “No. Her,” the old woman said.

  Jasper shrugged and stepped back.

  Temple held the cup to Hazel’s lips, leaning close. The old woman whispered in Temple’s ear.

  Temple straightened and sat the cup on the bedside table.

  “Let’s go,” Temple said. “Don’t we have another stop before we’re supposed to meet your source?”

  * * *

  Once back in the car, Temple sat for a moment in silence, as did Jasper, but she knew what was coming:

  “What was the whispering all about?” Jasper turned to Temple.

  Temple drummed the steering wheel. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

  “Go ahead. Try me.”

  “It’s nothing really, just took me by surprise.”

  “You seemed a little gruff after she whispered in your ear.”

  Temple made a face. “Apparently, Alan hates negroes.”

  “What?”

  “Direct quote.”

  “Well, I’m sure we can put the quote in the category of hated—past tense. We’re pretty sure the pile of meat behind the shed was Alan, right?” Jasper asked.

  “That explains the dead black woman at the accident scene—or at least why he chose to kidnap a black woman,” Temple said. “Hey, I think a search of Alan’s house would do us good, perhaps tell us more about him, perhaps he left something useful behind. You think Pete could score a search warrant?”

  “Maybe, I’ll ask him later on.”

  “All right, let’s go. Point me in the right direction.”

  Jasper directed her over to Euclid, then south, but just before East Chicago Avenue an excruciatingly slow train impeded their progress.

  “Look familiar?”

  “A little,” Temple said.

  “We’re near the Euclid Hotel. We have a few minutes before this thing crawls past, how about we go over what we know for certain.” Jasper faced her. “Sound good?”

  “Sure. You start.”

  “We have the first kidnapping—”

  “How do we know the cult didn’t kidnap and sacrifice before?” Temple asked.

  “Good point, the basement, the stone slab, and the wall appeared used, as if they’d performed rituals below the hotel before.”

  “Right.”

  The train clacked, and eased to a stop.

  “I hate when they do this. We definitely have time to sort through things.” Jasper rubbed his chin. “They kidnapped a girl. Me and Pete thwarted the sacrifice and they offed themselves in a bizarre manner. When you and Vance examined the basement, he found what appeared to be an alien element.”

  “Alien as in foreign. You don’t think he meant from an actual alien, do you?” Temple had one eyebrow raised.

  “Well, I took his comment as alien, little green men kind of alien, even if I don’t believe in them, but you on the other hand, you think we have demons flying about like evil harbingers of an unknown apocalypse—”

  “You make my beliefs sound infantile,” Temple said. “I think the demon angle makes a lot of sense.”

  “All right, moving on—and I’m not dismissing you or your luna—”

  Temple poked him.

  “Kidding. Totally kidding.”

  “Go on.”

  The train’s boxcars in front of them, labeled Santa Fe, edged forward and squealed and screeched once again as they halted. Temple put the windows down and turned off the car.

  “Aw, come on,” Jasper said, “and I’m not just talking about the behemoth of a train—I’m talking about why turn the air off? It’s sweltering out.”

  “Being bitchy again, the malady comes and goes. As you were saying before the train stopped?”

  Jasper sighed. “Vance found foreign material amidst the detritus, both human and otherwise, in the basement. Next up: we find a mangled corpse near Animal Control.”

  “Don’t forget the vehicle racing away from Animal Control yesterday,” Temple said.

  “Oh yeah, we’re still figuring the vehicle out, aren’t we? The plates came back as belonging to a rental company. Figuring out who rented the vehicle is a matter of liaison with the rental company. And the victim of the first mauling near Animal Control appears to be circumstance.”

  “Yes,” Temple said. “Wrong place, wrong time. Blah, blah, blah.”

  “And later another kidnapping, but this time the driver of the vehicle, and possible cult member, was snatched and subsequently mauled in the crotchety old man’s backyard. Anything else?” Jasper stared at the car’s headliner, his face blank—and was he keeping something from her?

  “You forgot one or two items there, chief.”

  “Such as?”

  Temple started the engine, rolled up the windows, and hit the air.

  “Bitchiness subsided?” Jasper grinned.

  She put her hand back on the keys. “Don’t make me.”

  “All right. All right. What did I forget?”

  “For starters, you forgot the absence of blood the mangled bodies displayed. A pinkish substance coated them. Not to mention the strange animallike haze materializing, or perhaps a demon like the one you’re raking me over the coals over.”

  He swallowed, and took a deep breath.

  “What else?” Temple asked. “You’re withholding something from me.”

  “Wow. My ex, Lucy, used to accuse me of not telling her everything all the time.”

  “Did you withhold?” She raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t be the first time a male agent used the title to score pretty young things.”

  “You’re no
t quoting Michael Jackson, are you?”

  “What if I were? And you know what you’re doing? You’re evading both questions now.”

  “Damn it.”

  “I have to say,” Temple said, “your casual blasphemies aren’t attractive. Maybe that’s your problem. You toss around a sacrilegious attitude like confetti.”

  “Yeah, I’m a regular Rip Taylor, but enough about me, let’s talk about you.”

  “Nice confetti reference, but no. Let’s get back on point here,” Temple said. “We have work to do.”

  A squeal got their attention.

  “Was that the train?”

  “Don’t think so.” They both bobbed back and forth attempting to peek between the cars, to the other side of the tracks.

  Jasper’s cell went off, generic beeps. “Ah, saved by the phone.”

  Temple rolled her eyes.

  “This is Wilde.”

  Temple imagined he loved saying that when he picked up the phone.

  “Right, thank you very much. I’ll have to think on that a bit. Hold on, I’ll put Temple on.”

  “What is it?” Temple asked.

  “Tomorrow we’ll be attending a few autopsies,” Jasper rubbed the bridge of his nose, “but there are problems.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, they may not have the resources or forensic abilities to provide us with any answers, well, useful ones at least.” Jasper shrugged, and passed her his cell. “Here, speak with Vance.”

  “What’s going on?” Temple asked Vance. “Fine…You know what to do…Uh huh…Great. That will work just fine then…Thank you.” She handed the cell back to Jasper.

  “What did you have Vance take care of?” Jasper raised an eyebrow.

  “I asked him to secure assistance, nothing big.”

  “Right. Anyway. I’m going to have to inform my boss, you know. Hopefully he doesn’t make a big deal about the autopsies.”

  “Do what you have to do, Agent Wilde.” She looked him in the eye and said, “Now, back to my questions you thought you had escaped—”

  A sick rumble followed a high-pitched whine, like an engine winding down after being revved hit them. Had to be one of those rice burner motorcycles with an overly large tailpipe. Temple hated those things.

  “I think we’re a little jumpy is all,” Temple said. “Look, the train’s moving again, but I’m not letting you off the hook, so to speak. Spill it.”

  “Fine. You know why Pete isn’t working with us on this? He’s spooked.”

  “What? I don’t understand.”

  The loosely spaced clacking picked up in speed and the train rattled by, car after car and the end was in sight.

  “The Asian-style dragon appeared the night of the first kidnapping. After we’d rescued the girl.”

  “In the basement?”

  “No. We’d pretty much buttoned the place up and we’re standing curbside outside the Euclid when Pete and I both see a giant mist. I perceived the haze as an Asian dragon, but when I turned, Pete had collapsed to his knees. The encounter, the vision, was religious to him, and you’re approaching this as he did.”

  “Oh my,” Temple said. “You witnessed a demon outside the hotel.”

  “So?”

  “Well,” Temple said, “and this is a theory, of course, what if the demon went looking for food?”

  “What if it did?” Jasper asked. His eyes and demeanor told her he understood where she was headed with this line of thought, but wanted her explanation, from her lips.

  “You found the first pile of dead human near Animal Control, not far from the Euclid Hotel. The mauling took place sometime during the night, right?”

  “As far as we can tell. Vance’s assessment too, right?”

  “Yes,” Temple said. “So, this thing went and found the guy in the SUV on the side of the road, and carried him over to Animal Control.”

  “How? What I saw was mist or gas or haze or something.”

  “What makes you think I have the answers? I’m just tossing ideas out.”

  The train passed and the gate rose, granting them passage across the tracks.

  “The Euclid Hotel’s just up ahead. Animal Control, as well as the old codger’s residence, is nearby. Park after you get through the intersection and we’ll walk back.”

  Traffic had piled up behind them while they waited on the train. Temple pulled over in front of a small house with a meager, rough-looking front yard.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll get to the hotel,” she said. “Wait, that sounded bad. We’ll get to the scene.”

  “I didn’t take offense, besides, you’re acting like you have warm feelings toward my friend Lando at the university.”

  “He ever get cross with you on account of the ribbing?”

  “You kidding? He eats it up. No doubt.” After a pause, he added: “If you’re wondering, he’s not married. Used to be, but he got divorced…what’s it been? About four years ago, now.”

  Temple felt a little edgy, partly because she wasn’t certain yet of her own interest in Ed White and partly because Jasper could be more astute than she expected. “We should move on, get off this topic. I just met the man, you know?”

  “We’re running out of time,” Jasper glanced at his watch. “We should meet Carlos over at the diner. I think we dallied too long. Maybe we’ll have another shot at the hotel after the meeting.”

  Chapter 19

  Temple stopped, placed her hands on her hips, and stared at the diner. “This is gonna be outstanding.”

  “Don’t let the charming facade fool you, this place has great food. Just don’t expect any frou-frou coffee-type drinks here.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of fancy here,” Temple said. “This is a diner. Plain old coffee, or milk shakes, or soda.” She licked her lips. “I love diners.”

  Jasper held the door for Temple and followed after her. A hostess walked up—no, she was the waitress from his previous time here, he’d recognize her piercings and tattoos anywhere.

  “Hello again,” Jasper said.

  “You’re with Carlos,” she said. “Right?”

  Temple glanced at Jasper in disbelief. Bad tradecraft for sure—but how many agents changed venues for every single meeting? This wasn’t an espionage investigation.

  “This way. He’s already here.”

  The waitress seated them—Temple slid in, Jasper sat next to her and made the introductions.

  “Where is Pedro?”

  “Pete isn’t coming, so Special Agent Black will be sitting in on these for the time being.”

  “You some kind of replacement?”

  “Something like that, but I’m pretty sure Pete can’t be replaced so easily.”

  “Eh,” Carlos said, playing with the fork in front of him on the table. “He’s kind of a sell-out.”

  “Watch it,” Jasper said. “What’s wrong with you today, anyway? You seemed friendlier during our last meet.”

  “Trouble at work.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m not trusted with stuff as much as I should be.”

  “What do you do?” Temple asked.

  “Machine shop. Cutting metal, that sort of thing. Handyman on the side.”

  “Carlos called in the tips on the first kidnapping,” Jasper said to Temple, “which was why we met and why we’re talking now.”

  The waitress came up and spread her hands, a pencil in one hand and a small notepad in the other. “Well?”

  “Water for me,” Carlos said.

  “Figures,” the waitress said with a derisive snort.

  “Quit with the wise remarks for once, Lali,” Carlos said.

  “You two know each other?” Temple asked.

  “Yeah, Carlos here is a real treat. A stand-up guy,” the waitress said.

  “All right,” Jasper said, attempting to interrupt the mutual love festival, “I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries.”

  “What to drink?”

  “Just water.”

/>   The waitress didn’t bother writing down the order. She looked at Temple. “You?”

  “Water, please.”

  “That all?”

  “Give me a second.” Temple flipped the menu over. “Chicken Caesar salad, light on the dressing.”

  “Nope.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Dressing’s already mixed in. So—nope.”

  “Whatever.” Temple handed back to menu. “I can live with it.”

  The waitress stomped off.

  “What in the Lord’s name is her attitude all about?” Temple asked.

  “She’s loco. Messed up in the head.” Carlos pointed at his head and twirled his finger. “Bad upbringing, bad relationships, whatever. If I cared enough, I’d attempt to figure her out, but she falls in the I-don’t-give-a-damn category.”

  “You seem to be in a less than chipper mood today, so we’ll make this quick,” Jasper said.

  “Sure. What do you need from me?” Carlos raised his eyebrows.

  “I didn’t have anything to ask you, not until last night. You heard what happened?”

  “The accident? Yeah, how could I not hear about it? Some serious twisted metal.”

  “And twisted up people,” Temple said. “You hear anything about the kidnapping last night?”

  “Why would I?”

  “Cut the crap,” Jasper said. “There’s no need to play coy like this. I’m not—we’re not—accusing you of anything. Did you hear anything? Do you think last night’s kidnapping relates in any way to the kidnapping of the little girl—”

  “Teresa, remember?” Carlos filled in the blank, an empowering ploy by Jasper, making Carlos feel like he’d done something good, which he had.

  “Yeah, the little girl you had a hand in saving, Carlos.”

  A glass of water clunked down in front of Jasper. “Yeah, he’s a real American hero, this one,” the waitress said.

  Jasper glanced up at her. She’d worn makeup the last time he’d seen her, but now she’d applied thick layers. Not thick enough, though, to cover a few marks on her face, as if someone hit her recently.

  “You okay?” Jasper asked the waitress, who clunked down two more glasses of water, and stared at him.

  “All the sudden you care about some waitress at a greasy spoon?”

  Jasper shrugged. “Have it your way.”

  “I will,” she said, “and that’s the way I like, uh huh, I like it. Uh huh, uh huh.” She sashayed off.