by Mark Harritt
Sam was happy, so Lazarus was happy. He hoped they wouldn’t need to use them, but you never knew.
Lazarus frowned, “I hope we don’t get caught with this in Illinois. We’ll never get out of prison.”
Sam nodded, “Well, you have to figure it this way. If they catch us with any of this, in any state, we’re going straight to federal court. States won’t be prosecuting until after the Feds are through with us. You’re gonna see the FBI, the Marshalls, and the ATF.”
Lazarus took a deep breath, “On through Illinois.”
They put the cases in the back of the Econoline, and covered them with tarps and blankets. Sam drove down the secondary road to the main Highway, “So, where we goin’ now?”
Lazarus pointed west, “That away.”
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Chapter Seven – Mr. Mephistopheles plays hide and go seek
They began driving again, and quickly entered Illinois. A few hours later, they crossed the Mississippi River, and they were in Saint Louis. They stopped, and Lazarus sprung for rooms at the Ritz Carlton. The van would be parked in a parking garage with twenty four hour security. They made sure the tarps and blankets covered everything.
When Lazarus got to his room, he made a phone call. He talked for a few minutes, and got a telephone number. He called the number, got an address, and wrote it down. He hung up. He was hungry, and he decided to go down to the restaurant. He called Sam, but Sam had already ordered room service, and wanted to stay in to watch TV.
Lazarus made his way to the restaurant, and waited to be seated. He followed the hostess in, and did what he did everywhere. He evaluated the situation. Cautious men lived longer. He looked around the room as he walked. There were two of them, a couple. He recognized them as soon as he saw them. They were not hard to notice. To everybody else in the restaurant, they probably looked like they were on a date. He saw right through it though. They were on the job. He didn’t know who they were, or who they worked for, but they were too casual, trying too hard not to look at him.
He looked at the clothes. Comfortable shoes, relaxed dress, but not too relaxed. He could see the man’s sidearm, discreet, but noticeable if you knew what you were looking for. He assumed that the lady had her sidearm in her purse. They were police, but he didn’t think they were local. No, these were Feds. He just didn’t know what agency they were with.
They weren’t DEA. DEA wouldn’t be in a restaurant in the Ritz Carlton. Too upscale for most of the people they dealt with. Not FBI, no master’s degrees or accountants here, they looked like regular people. They might be US Marshal Service, but he wasn’t an escaped felon, and had no priors. He was thinking they might be ATF, or, more properly BATFE. His mind flashed back to what Sam had said about the machineguns.
He walked to his table, and took a seat, once again sitting to face the room. This had the added benefit of facing their table. He sat there, looked at the menu, and told the young, pretty waitress that he wanted the turkey club, sweet tea, and white chocolate cheese cake for dessert. He looked around the room. He didn’t see any others, so he pointedly looked at them and smiled at the agents, letting them know that he had made them. This immediately pissed them off. Still, they either had him, or they didn’t. He thought not. If they knew what he had in the van, he’d already be in handcuffs. So, they were back up.
“Who for?” he wondered.
He shrugged it off. He just hoped nothing happened until after he was finished eating. He didn’t like the idea of spending the night in jail without eating first. He knew that at this time of evening, he had already missed any meals that would be served in lockup. The agents didn’t do anything, so he sipped the sweet tea. A few minutes passed, and still nothing happened. His turkey club arrived, and he began eating.
The turkey club was good, though the bread was toasted a bit much for his taste. He soaked the French fries in ketchup, and took his sweet time eating them. He knew something was coming, but he waited for them to make the first move. The agents didn’t move, however, apparently satisfied to watch him. He finished, and the waitress took the plate away, promising to bring his dessert over right away.
The cheesecake arrived, and the waitress asked him if he wanted anything else. He asked for a cup of coffee to go with the cheesecake. She hurried away to get it for him. He waited for her to bring the coffee back before he started eating his dessert. Still, the two federal agents sat, doing nothing, keeping an eye on him. The waitress came back with the coffee, and he motioned for her to come close. She leaned in, and he whispered in her ear. She walked back to the kitchen. She walked out with two more pieces of cheesecake and sat them in front of the agents, then pointed over at Lazarus. They glowered in his direction, all pretenses gone. He smiled and motioned for them to eat up. They didn’t look happy.
“Well, there is just no pleasing some people,” he thought.
Slowly, he made his way through the cheesecake, taking dainty bites and sipping small sips of coffee. He knew that if he got up to leave, one of the agents would attempt to stop him, and then it might truly get ugly in the restaurant. He didn’t want that, not with all of these people around. Plus, hurting federal agents really had no upside. He waited. He didn’t have to wait much longer.
Mephistopheles came strolling into the restaurant as if he owned the place. He was quite dapper, black suit, black shirt, blood red tie. He waved at a few people, chatted with a couple, and leaned over and said something in an attractive blonde’s ear that made her blush. Mephistopheles, like most demons, attracted attention wherever he went, from men and women. He had that modern, metro-sexual look to him. His hair was perfectly groomed, mustache and goatee trimmed to exacting standards, his nails meticulously cut and polished.
He waved at, and started towards Lazarus. He ignored the agents as he passed, but Lazarus knew who they were working for. A minute after he walked into the restaurant, two more agents, both men, walked in and sat closer to the door. Lazarus looked, and he was able to identify one of them. Special Agent Jerry Johnston was definitely on Lazarus’ to do list. He hoped he would be able to check that one off sometime soon.
“Too bad, Jerry, you missed the cheesecake, you should have been here sooner,” he thought.
Mephistopheles walked over, and held out a delicate, effeminate hand to shake, “Hi, how are you, Eli? Long time no see. Mind if I join you?”
Lazarus lightly held the hand, shook it, and motioned towards the chair on the other side of the table, “I was wondering when you’d show up.” He motioned towards the agents, “I didn’t know who they were working for, but I assumed I would find out eventually.”
Mephistopheles sat down and casually motioned towards them, “yes, I know, they’re good muscle, and the threat of the federal government behind them is often as good an incentive as the threat of violence.”
Lazarus looked around at the agents, “Still, your lap dogs should probably learn a little bit about the word ‘clandestine’ or ‘covert.’
Mephistopheles shrugged off the criticism, “No, I think they’re quite good at what they do. For instance, they made sure that you stayed in place until I arrived. Now we can have a little chat.”
Lazarus nodded, “As for minding, well, yes I do. I mean, come on Mephis . . Mephista . . .”
Lazarus stopped as if he was having trouble pronouncing Mephistopheles name, “Damn, have you ever considered something a little shorter than five syllables?”
Mephistopheles face darkened and he frowned as Lazarus went on his tangent.
Lazarus continued, “Let’s see, Meph, no sounds like Meth. How about phis? No, sounds like a venereal disease. Staphal? No that just sounds like a weirder venereal disease. Oh, wait, I’ve got it. Les, I’ll call you Les? How’s that? Better than having to stumble over all five syllables.”
Mephistopheles was not amused, “If you’re finished with your attempt at humor, can we start talking about why I’m here?”
&nbs
p; “Sure Les, but first, let me say, I do mind that you join me. Not that I am going to do anything about it, because, let’s face it, too many innocents here.”
Mephistopheles nodded, pleased with himself. He was fussy with his outfit. He pulled at the cuffs of his sleeves as he listened to Lazarus, brushing the lint off of his jacket, “Still, I know you won’t be disappointed with our chat.”
Lazarus spread his hands, “Depends, I guess, on what you want to chat about, Les.”
Mephistopheles exhaled dramatically at the nickname, “Yes, I guess it would depend on that. But, I think that you’ll be satisfied with the proposition that I have for you.”
Lazarus didn’t have a clue what Mephistopheles was talking about. He assumed it had something to do with his current mission. Things were getting crowded. It’s not every day that Lazarus had direct contact with demons and angels. He didn’t know what the angles were, but he knew that the demonic crowd wasn’t above trying to sabotage each other, or him. As for Mephistopheles trying to help him out, he knew that anything that the demon suggested would be self-serving.
“And what would that be, Les?”
Lazarus watched Mephistopheles flinch every time he said the name Les. Mephistopheles was an ego guy. Mephistopheles knew that Lazarus was trying to prod him, provoke him. Lazarus was enjoying his consternation. Sometimes, useful things fall out when you shake the tree. He watched Mephistopheles closely, trying to glean clues as the demon dealt with the disrespect.
Mephistopheles was struggling to contain his anger. The eyes gave it away. Lazarus could see the hellfire grow behind the surface as he prodded. The anger was causing Mephistopheles to lose his control. Mephistopheles seemed to grow, to encompass more area, more energy, though he didn’t change physically. This was dicey for Lazarus. If he tipped Mephistopheles too far over the edge, a lot of people might get hurt. He knew he could only push him so far.
An enraged demon would cause a lot of damage. Unfortunately, Lazarus only had his Springfield XD with him. Dealing damage to Mephistopheles would be very hard. Demons, unlike the possessed, were much harder to kill. Lazarus had fifteen bullets in his pistol with three magazines in reserve, giving him sixty rounds of his special, frangible .45 caliber bullets. They would do a lot of damage to Mephistopheles, but they wouldn’t kill him. Lazarus would need his dual swords if he wanted to destroy the demon’s corporeal form. Unfortunately, the swords were in his room.
“So, are you going to tell me?” Lazarus asked.
With a shudder, Mephistopheles brought himself back under control. The eyes changed, and he was a good imitation of a human again. Even the smile came back, “Well, if you want to know, I came here to give you a warning.”
Lazarus feigned shock, “Wow, you came here to give me a warning? I’m touched that you have such an interest in my wellbeing.”
Mephistopheles’ face clouded again, “Please, your childish sarcasm isn’t helping this situation. I don’t want to be here, any more than you want me here. I have other things I could be doing right now, but circumstances dictate that I come to you about this.”
Lazarus nodded, “Okay, truce. What do you want to talk to me about?”
“I understand that you’ve been directed to work with a certain, ah, associate of mine.”
Lazarus thought about it carefully, then answered, “You understand, I can’t really go into any details with you about any of this. Anything that I’m doing right now was sanctioned by your boss, and my boss. You know this, right?”
Mephistopheles nodded, “Yes, I understand that completely. I know that she’s been directed to work with you. But, there are some,” he paused, “well, worries about her.”
Lazarus sat motionless, “Worries from your boss, or worries from you?”
Mephistopheles licked his lips, “Well, they don’t come from the boss, but I have some concerns.”
Lazarus looked at him, “So, what you’re telling me, is that you’re worried about her being on this mission? Why?”
Mephistopheles thought for a moment, “Something isn’t right. Not about anything, not about any of this.”
Lazarus nodded, “Yes, I agree. Nothing is right about any of this. Angels and demons are two worlds apart, and should never work with each other. I agree with you completely.”
Mephistopheles started to say something. Lazarus forestalled him with an upraised hand, “But, my bosses have talked to me directly about this, and there’s no mistake. This is what they want. They want Lilith and me to work together to fix this problem.”
Mephistopheles glanced away, bit his lip, and then looked back, “I think it’s a mistake. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know something isn’t right. I don’t think she’s working for anybody but herself.”
Lazarus studied him, “Yeah, what else is new? She always puts number one in the forefront. But, let me ask you this. If not us, then who will take care of the problem.” Lazarus took a drink of coffee, “I know that your boss and my boss seemed to have decided that this is the course of action to take. Corporate,” he pointed up, “well, they don’t particularly care what we want, as long as we do what they ask of us.”
Lazarus leaned forward, “I think that the consequences for any of us, to go against our bosses’ wishes, would be catastrophic.”
Mephistopheles nodded slowly, “I understand this, but I think there’s something else at play here, and I don’t know what it is.”
They both sat quietly for a moment, reflecting on the situation. Lazarus didn’t really know what the hell was going on. There was no real information being given to him. Mephistopheles wasn’t forthcoming. Mephistopheles’ unease and being uncomfortable with the situation wasn’t much to go on. That wasn’t enough for him to change his mind about the assignment. He thought about the other, possible party or parties, but he wasn’t going to give that information away to Mephistopheles.
“Mephistopheles, do you have anything you can tell me besides the fact that you have an uneasy feeling about this mission? That’s a little vague. I don’t think I can take that back to the Angels, and get them to change their minds.”
Mephistopheles traced a design on the table top with his finger, “You have to understand. I’m the guide. I’m the one who knows how things work. I understand the power, how it works, who it shifts to, and who’s who in the pecking order of Hell. I know who’s in favor, and who isn’t.”
Lazarus was getting tired of the conversation, “And? What does that have to do with this?”
“This thing with Lilith, it shouldn’t be.”
Lazarus asked again, “Please, come to the point. What shouldn’t be?”
“Lilith used to be his favorite, many, many years ago, before you were resurrected. Then ‘BOOM!’ You were snatched back, away from his ministrations. He was so pissed. In his own house as well. Plus, you started working against us. The boss didn’t like that, at all. Many of us took the hits, but Lilith was hit the most. You could feel her desperation. She wasn’t making her goals. The boss took an interest in her, and not in a good way. He blamed her for you. That failure, your loss from Hell, and the subsequent operations that you did against us, that became her failure.”
Lazarus started to get interested in the conversation again. Insight into the inner workings of the evil one’s minions could be useful in the future, “Continue.”
“Somehow, something changed. Dynamics changed, and they shouldn’t have. She’s in favor again, and I don’t know why. I want to know the answer.”
Lazarus thought about it, then he hit on one thing, “If she’s no longer the favorite, who took her spot? Who was the favorite after she began to slip?”
Mephistopheles didn’t say a word. An innocuous smile graced his lips. He looked up at Lazarus. Lazarus understood, “Ah, you were the favorite when I began tearing up her operation.”
Lazarus made a logical leap, “The tips, the leads I’ve been getting. You’re the one who’s been giving them to me. You’re the reaso
n that I’ve been so effective against her operations.”
Lazarus watched Mephistopheles for confirmation. The fact that he wasn’t saying anything, staring at his manicure with that innocent smile on his lips, was a screaming declaration.
Mephistopheles smiled, “It doesn’t bother you to know that you’ve been used as my cat’s paw, my instrument to attack Lilith?”
Lazarus shook his head, “No, not really. One dead demon’s as good as another in my book. If I can use you to capitalize on killing her possessed, that’s good for me. Besides, once I tell her what’s been happening, she’ll probably start feeding me information about your operations. All of that’s good for me. Hopefully, you’ll all start feeding me information about each other’s operations. Hell, a few more demons will probably be more than willing to give me information about you once they know you’ve been feeding me information about Hell’s operations.”
Mephistopheles eyes narrowed at this prospect, “That’s a possibility. They’ll probably applaud my efforts more than criticize them, however.”
Lazarus agreed, “It’s true, your team plays by a completely different set of rules than mine does. And you’re correct. They’ll probably admire your tactics, and your successes. But then they’ll start to wonder, ‘has he put the knife in my back, yet?’ And they’re going to start looking around. Anything that might be construed as an attack on them, no matter how insignificant, will get them thinking about how to get back at you. So, all things considered, I think this might be a win-win for me.”
Having made his point, he waited for Mephistopheles to put up a counter argument. Mephistopheles sat motionless, saying nothing. Lazarus could tell that he was considering the angles, “So, what were you going to tell me about Lilith? You’re telling me that she’s back in her boss’ good graces? How? If she’s not corrupting human souls the way the boss wants it, then how is she back in his good graces?”
Mephistopheles nodded, “Yes, that’s the question isn’t it? How is it that she’s back in his good graces?”
