Contract with an Angel

by Andrew M. Greeley

  There was a rustle in the large crowd of reporters who had crowded into the NE auditorium. Neenan, who was wearing a lavalier mike, stood in front of the podium. Next to him on a table were copies of a half dozen papers. On the cover of every one but the Wall Street Journal there was the picture of him and Anna Maria at the opera. It was probably on the front page of most papers in the country.

  He had called her earlier in the morning.

  “Good morning,” she had said sleepily.

  “Still in bed.”

  “You bet. I’m tired.”

  “I don’t know why.”

  “Too much wine maybe. Or maybe too much man.”

  “Possibly both … . Have you seen the papers?”

  “You mean with the picture? Sure I’ve seen it. What do you think?”

  “I wonder how that grumpy old man found such a gorgeous and smiling young wife. At least he’s in the background and she occupies most of the frame.”

  “You’re being obnoxious, Ray. It’s a splendid picture of you and you don’t look grumpy. You have a perfectly marvelous smile. And as for the young woman, she doesn’t have nearly enough clothes on.”

  “Matter of opinion. I hope you realize that you’re radiantly lovely in that picture.”

  “If you say so, I suppose I have to agree. But I don’t see it myself.”

  “Women claim that they never do.”

  She had snorted.

  “Will it help or hurt in your fight with World-Corp?”

  “My PR adviser, May Rosen, says it’s the best possible press. A man with a wife like her who supports great opera can’t be all bad.”

  She had snorted again, but she was obviously pleased.

  “A handsome and smiling man like that who is being so gentle with his wife can’t be all bad either … . Are you having that press conference this morning?”

  “In fifteen minutes. WorldCorp has issued a statement saying they have no designs on us.”

  “Do you believe them?”

  “Not for a minute. Not yet. When their boss calls me and tells me personally, I’ll sort of half-believe. Do you want to come over?”

  “I’d love to … but I must get myself in order and go home to get ready for tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “You may have forgotten it, but you have a golf lesson scheduled on Captiva Island.

  “Oh, yeah. And one last thing, lover boy, WorldCorp may not have any designs on you, but I do.”

  She had then hung up.

  See what I mean, he had said to the Occupant, just in case She was listening.

  Why She?

  If the Someone Else Altogether was like his wife, then She was definitely womanly, whatever else She might also be.

  Michael had then materialized in Neenan’s office. “About ready for your press conference?”

  “Just about. I’m busy now. What can I do for you?”

  “Raymond Anthony, need I remind you that I am the boss seraph and not one of your underlings?”

  “I am well aware of your rank, though I note you’re wearing a three-piece lawyer’s suit and not the dress of a field marshal.”

  “Smart ass … . In any event in response to your rudely phrased question, I want to know when you intend to call your son and inform him of your plans.”

  “Damn! … Ms. Jardine, will you see if you can get Vincent Neenan on the phone, please?”

  “Well,” Michael had observed, “you’re at least saying please.”

  “Ms. Megan Neenan on the phone, Mr. Neenan.”

  “Hi, Megan,” he had said genially, “how is the mini-vacation going?”

  “Wonderful, Ray. Hey, that’s a bitchin’ picture of you two guys on the front page of the Los Angeles Times.”

  “Bitchin’” he understood was high praise from those who were part of Megan’s generation—Valley Girls in their late twenties.

  “Even out there? Neither Anna Maria nor I was aware that the picture was being taken.”

  “She is like totally gorgeous!”

  “Funny thing, Meg, I’ve noticed that too.”

  “The opera was a huge success?”

  “Totally. The chorus has never been better.”

  Michael had rolled his eyes.

  “You want to talk to himself? I think he’s half-awake … . Hey, lover, your old fella is on the line.”

  “Dad?”

  “Sorry to disturb your sleep, Vincent.”

  “I was mostly awake, Dad. Time to get up anyway.”

  “I’m having a press conference this morning to announce our response to WorldCorp. I thought I’d fill you in before the fact.”

  “Great!”

  So easy was it to please this bright and able young man.

  “They’ve issued a denial.”

  “They would. Do you believe them?”

  “Hardly. It’s merely a preparation for a redeployment out of the battlefield, if they decide they can’t win.”

  “Figures.”

  “I suppose the L.A. Times had an account of the rumors we unleashed yesterday?”

  “Pretty garbled, but I thought I saw your hand in them. Sounds like fun.”

  “I’m sorry that I didn’t get in touch with you before now.”

  “Hey, Dad, not to worry. You had a few things on your mind yesterday and last night.”

  Neenan outlined the strategy.

  “You’re serious about the two new ventures?”

  “I’m serious about taking a much more serious look at them than we have before.”

  “I think they’re great ideas.”

  You’d better think that, kid, because you’re going to have charge of them.

  “If our preliminary analysis shows by the end of next week that they’ll fly, I’d be inclined to move to the pilot-project level, regardless of what WorldCorp ends up doing.”

  “What’s to lose?”

  “At this point, as far as I can see, not much.”

  “And a lot of potential gain … . The opera was a great success last night?”

  “As your good wife might say, like totally super!”

  Vincent laughed heartily. “Speaking of good wives, yours looked scrumptious in that photo.”

  “Funny thing, I thought so too. Positively angelic.” Michael had smirked.

  “We’ll see you both at supper on Monday?”

  “Yes. She’s giving me some golf lessons down on Captiva over the weekend. I think she might have eliminated my slice.”

  “Thanks for calling me, Dad. I totally appreciate it.”

  “Only sorry it was so late.”

  “Enjoy the golf, Dad.”

  Now what did he mean by that?

  It was pretty obvious, wasn’t it?

  “Thanks,” Neenan had said to Michael.

  “Don’t mention it. We have our uses, don’t we?”

  “I’d never deny that.”

  “Noticed that you went to church this morning.”

  “Another bad habit.”

  When Neenan finished his brief opening statement at the press conference, almost every hand in the room went up. This was the part he hated. The vultures could twist everything he said out of context and make him say what he had not said. Moreover, under pressure he could flub an answer and set off a firestorm of controversy. Even presidents did that. Some of the vultures even worked for him, but that did not make any difference.

  “R. A., what’s the point in another news network? Don’t we have enough already?”

  “I’m glad you asked that question, as a CEO of a much higher rank than mine might say. The concept behind Amnews is that it would focus entirely on news and features that are American and would be reported by local newspeople. This country stretches three thousand miles across a continent. It has many distinctive regions and subcultures. We don’t know much about the other subcultures, except for the stereotypes. I think it would be fascinating to have reports from inside them.”

  “R. A., do
you think that the local newspeople around the country are capable of doing national news?”

  A booby trap!

  “I think there’s a lot of talent out there and a lot of ambition. I also think that men and women who have been reporting, let us say, Oklahoma news for years might understand that state a little better than brief visitors from the Beltway or Midtown—or Lake Forest, as far as that goes.”

  “Why another network?”

  “There are a lot of TV outlets who are not affiliated with one of the four major networks, including some we own. Our investigations lead us to believe that there is a real possibility that many if not most of these stations would be interested in Amnet, or perhaps AMN, especially if it offered a richer, family-oriented service as opposed to sex and violence, which seem to obsess certain other networks, whose names I won’t mention.”

  Laughter.

  “This would be a somewhat more complicated task, but we would probably proceed incrementally by starting with a small number of network-programmed hours and increasing them each year.”

  “Are you going to try for NFL football, R. A.?”

  “Why not? If we go ahead with AMN, we are prepared to try for anything and everything. I think everyone here at NE would welcome the challenge and excitement of filling two previously unperceived niches in the American entertainment industry.”

  “Are these nothing more than ploys to fend off WorldCorp?”

  “We don’t need ploys.”

  “You own a controlling interest in NE, don’t you?”

  “That’s what my lawyers tell me.”

  “So no proxy battle is likely?”

  “I don’t see how there could be.”

  “How high would WorldCorp have to go to buy your control in NE?”

  “NE is not for sale at any price.”

  “Not at twice market value?”

  “Not at ten times market value.”

  The questions went on; Neenan handled them deftly, surprising himself at his control over his anger. The boss seraph nodded occasionally in approval. Finally the PR person called a halt.

  “Thank you, Mr. Neenan.”

  Wearily, he retreated to his suite.

  “Ms. Jardine, hold the calls … please.”

  “Certainly, Mr. Neenan.”

  That was like thirty-six holes of golf, he thought. I’m exhausted. Am I getting sick or coming down with something? Is this the beginning of a fatal illness?

  “Michael?” he said, looking around. “Where the hell are you? Why aren’t you here when I need to ask you a question?”

  Instead of Michael, Gaby appeared in a perfectly fitting and perfectly pressed dark gray business suit.

  “Something wrong?” she asked sweetly.

  “Where’s Michael?”

  “He’s temporarily engaged elsewhere. He asked me to take charge of you for a while. What’s the matter?”

  “I’m exhausted.”

  “Too much sex?” she asked with a sly smile.

  “I don’t think so … . Do you know whether I’m supposed to die from a fatal disease?”

  “We have not been told.”

  “Maybe I should see a doctor?”

  “Let me check you out.”

  She put her hand on Neenan’s forehead and gazed into his eyes, a deep and prolonged probe. It was an intensely soothing experience, like taking a strong dose of Valium.

  “Nope, you check out fine. Nothing wrong with you except nervous exhaustion from the various excitements of the last few days. Especially that press conference. You will need those two days off. They should relax you.”

  She withdrew her hand from his forehead.

  “Do you honestly think I will ever be able to relax again in this life?”

  She pondered that question for a moment.

  “I can understand why you would not, though I think it will grow easier as you gradually let go and trust us—and of course the Other.”

  “You expect me to let go of Anna Maria?”

  She laughed softly. “Have we ever said that?”

  “I certainly won’t let her go!”

  “You’d better not! … You will be separated for a time, Ray, but even then you won’t ever let each other go, and then you will be together forever, more deeply in love than you were last night.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “As sure as I am that I will meet my first companion again.”

  “That’s only because this Other entity—”

  “Person. Most definitely a person.”

  “—has told you so.”

  “We have every reason to trust the Other. She is often tricky, but that comes with the job,” Gaby said, shrugging her wonderful shoulders. “She is never dishonest.”

  “Tell me more about the Other.”

  “What is to tell? You know us to be creatures of great knowledge and deep love, do you not?”

  “Yes.” It was obvious enough, though, that he had not thought of them that way before.

  “Compared to the Other, our light is darkness, our knowledge is ignorance, our love is unreliable.”

  “A great and overwhelming force?”

  “Perhaps that too, but we experience as your kind does—a tender lover, for me not unlike my Michael and for you not unlike your Anna Maria. Note my words: I do not say ‘like’ because that might be blasphemous. I merely said ‘not unlike.’”

  “And you’re His … Her messengers?”

  Gaby smiled affectionately. “Are you planning on doing a TV program on us, Ray?”

  “It would be a good idea, but I don’t think you’d cooperate and I’ll be dead anyway.”

  She winced in pain and her eyes filled with tears. “To answer your questions, the word angel is the translation of our name in Hebrew—Malek. We are the Malek Yahweh, the messengers of the Lord. That only refers to one of our tasks. We call ourselves merely ‘people.’”

  Like the Inuit. “Are you, ah, in contact with the Light Bearer?”

  “In a certain sense we feel him very close to us. He is always near.”

  “So there’s an angel heaven where there are millions of you distinct from your own world.”

  “Something like that except that there are certainly not millions. There have never been many of us. We’re a very small species.”

  “What do you do with your spare time?”

  “You must not look at me with so much desire. We are different species and you already have a satisfying companion of your own species.”

  “Sorry, I was just thinking how beautiful you are.”

  “If I should take off my clothes?”

  “Er, well, I mean …”

  “Do not turn red with embarrassment, Ray. I am merely joking with you. Michael has already told you that we are vain beings, not that we don’t have much to be vain about.”

  “I repeat the question: What do you people do when you’re not out on assignment?”

  “We like the work which the Other gives us, but to tell the truth we are very lazy creatures. What we like to do most is to sit around and talk and sing and tell stories and argue and engage in athletic games—and of course love. Very decadent lifestyle by your human standards, but it is our way.”

  She was telling him a lot. It was probably part of their plan.

  “Do you just patrol our world, earth I mean?”

  She laughed and then quickly apologized. “I’m sorry, Ray, for laughing, but you humans are so terracentric. The correct answer is that we are responsible for this cosmos and several others besides, though we have reason to believe that there are other cosmoses about which we know practically nothing.”

  “So Earth is not all that special?”

  She sighed patiently. “Every world that the Other has created is special—that should be evident. To be fair to you humans, we take a special delight in your kind. You really are so much like us. You have a passion for knowledge and love that is not unlike ours. We admire greatly how much your kind has
done with the talents you were given.”

  “Kind of like humans admire smart chimps?”

  She chuckled gently. “Certainly not … . I must leave you now. The good Amy has many calls that you must answer. First you must call your splendid wife, who has just arrived home, and report on your press conference.”

  “Thank you for holding my hand and for telling me so much about your kind. I’d much rather deal with you than that Michael fellow.”

  “I should hope so.”

  Then she abruptly disappeared.

  “One more question?”

  She reappeared even more abruptly.

  “Why all the changes in clothes?”

  “Our clothes?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know that we are very vain. I wore this suit partly to show off, partly because it fits your office, and partly because we also have our world of business where we engage in activities not unlike your business, though far more interesting. It is fitting that I appear in my business garb.”

  She disappeared again.

  Uh-huh, Neenan thought to himself. They tell you a lot and they tell you nothing. Jealous of their private lives.

  Or maybe afraid that we’d be terrified if we knew what they did with their time.

  I’d sooner have a mother angel than a father angel.

  Somehow that thought seemed filled with profound meaning that he could not comprehend.

  “Amy, would you please get my wife on the line? Then I’ll take the calls. Thank you.”

  “How did it go, Raymond?” Anna Maria said as she picked up the phone. “I’ve been praying for you.”

  “I need the prayers … . It seemed to go well. Our media people were pleased. They say that our ideas are appealing. Heaven knows how the reporters and the news editors will play it.”

  “I’m sure you were wonderful … . And, Raymond?”

  “Yes?”

  “I love you—wildly, desperately, passionately!”

  “I’ve noticed!”

  “And?”

  “Um, I reciprocate in kind.”

  “I worry about you,” she said, suddenly sad.

  “I worry about you too. But neither of us should worry. God will take care of both of us, one way or another.”

  “I know that.”