by Mark Harritt
Lazarus leaned forward, and pointed at Mephistopheles, “So I guess this means that you aren’t exactly the top guy anymore? I guess your power base is eroding, and you’re probably pissed about that fact? Am I close to the truth here?”
Mephistopheles hesitantly confirmed this, “Too close to the truth, if you should know.” He paused, running his hand over the tablecloth, then continued, “So, what you should be asking yourself, is: what has she promised to deliver to the boss to get back into his good graces?”
Lazarus thought about this. He knew that Lilith wasn’t going to play by the rules. The fact that she might have done something or promised something to please her boss didn’t surprise him. Lazarus knew it might have something to do with him. Her boss was still pissed that Lazarus had been plucked from his ministrations just when things were getting started. Satan probably had special joys planned for him, a damned soul sprung from hell. So, no new information there.
Lazarus still wondered about the third party interests, though, that was working around this situation. He wondered if it was Mephistopheles. If Les wanted to put the kibosh on the mission, that might explain a few things. Still, there was the fact that Lilith had gotten a leg up, more power, more face time with her boss. Lazarus just didn’t know. He would have to let it play out and see what happened.
“So, Les, what you’re telling me right now, is that you’re pissed that daddy isn’t paying as much attention to you as he is to Lilith. I suppose that could be a problem from your perspective, but you have to look at mine. I have clear marching orders from my boss. He’s pretty persuasive. He wants me to go ahead and work with Lilith. So, I don’t think that I’m going to be able to help you with this problem of yours.”
A frown crossed Mephistopheles’ face. Lazarus could see the hellfire dancing in the eyes. Mephistopheles was definitely not happy now, “That, is very,” he paused, “unfortunate.” He continued, “You need to understand, Lazarus. This may not just be my problem. YOU need to stop this. There’s something else going on here.”
Lazarus nodded, “Yes, there usually is. But until I figure out what it is, the mission continues as planned.”
“You’re making a mistake, a big mistake.”
“Could be Les. But I’ve made mistakes before. I just have to see how this all plays out.”
Mephistopheles studied Lazarus’ face. He stood up, and pushed the chair in. He adjusted his jacket, and brushed the sleeves for nonexistent dirt. Lazarus could bet that he was probably picked on when he was a little demon, by all the big bully demons in the school yard.
“You’re going to regret that decision, Lazarus.”
Lazarus nodded, “Could be. I guess we’ll see soon enough, won’t we.”
Mephistopheles smile was cold when he replied, “Yes, I guess we will.”
He started to turn away, but Lazarus wasn’t finished with him yet, “Mephistopheles.”
Mephistopheles turned back to him, “What?”
“Do you know anything about shooters at the Poconos?”
Mephistopheles considered the question, “No, why? What’s in the Poconos?”
Lazarus smiled, “Just curious.”
Mephistopheles watched him for a sign that Lazarus was going to say something else. When nothing else was forthcoming, he turned and walked away. As he passed the four agents, they stood up, dropped money on the tables for their bills, and followed him out the door.
Lazarus called the waitress over and asked her for the check. She gave him a lovely smile, and because of that, he left her a twenty five percent tip on the credit card receipt. Since everybody evidently knew where he was, he didn’t feel the need to use cash. He stood up, and decided to go to the bar. It was one of those nights. He walked in, found a good location where he could look around and see if anybody had bad intentions, and sat down. He ordered a Glenfiddich, neat, and sat back to drink the single malt.
He turned the new information around in his head. There was a stalking horse out there, just outside of his vision. He didn’t know who it was, or what it meant. He just knew it was probably bad news, since it meant collusion with the outside forces that were hell bent on destroying his world. He was worried. Not for himself, but for Sam. Sam was like a son to him.
Sam was the most capable human being he had ever met. His combat skill was like nothing Lazarus had ever seen in a mortal human before. Sam was intuitive, competent, and skilled. He was tactically and strategically proficient. Hell, Sam should be a general in the military. He had that kind of grasp on the use of violence. Sam had one problem, though. He didn’t suffer fools, which meant that he would never rise to a high level in that type of political environment. Sam was not, and never would be, a political animal. He was a rarity, an honest man.
Lazarus was also worried that even he, with two thousand years of experience, wasn’t up to this task. He had dealt death to thousands of possessed over the years. He knew violence. He was willing to deal with the filth of the world. He knew the depravity of human beings, and what they were willing to do to grasp at power.
This was different though. This was dealing directly with demons. This was dealing with interdimensional horrors. This was completely outside of his comfort zone. He just hoped that two thousand years of combat had prepared him for what was going to happen next. He hoped that he would be able to keep Sam out of harm’s way. He didn’t know if he would be able to do that, though, not with this problem set. Still, they had weapons, munitions. Those items should help mitigate the problem. At least, he hoped it would.
He ordered another Glenfiddich. Now he turned the problem of Mephistopheles around in his head. Even if Mephistopheles wasn’t the stalking horse, he was still intent on stopping the mission. The BATFE agents gave Lazarus a good idea about how that was going to happen. He just didn’t know which stop they would try to intervene at. While they knew where he was, there was a good chance they didn’t know what Lazarus and Sam were driving. Lazarus was glad that they had switched from the truck to the van. Lazarus would have to take countermeasures to ensure that they didn’t find out.
Two was his limit. He paid his bill and decided to go to Sam’s room, to give him the bad news. He took the elevator, and got off on Sam’s floor. He walked to the room and knocked. He saw the light in the peephole dim. Sam opened the door. He was standing there in a pair of shorts. Two women walked by and openly stared at Sam’s cut physique.
“Don’t you know you can catch cold dressed like that?”
“Not in my hotel room I can’t.”
Lazarus could feel the heat coming from the room. The temperature was turned up until it was almost uncomfortable. Lazarus conceded the point, “True, but you might give a few women a heart attack if you stand around in the hallway dressed like that.”
Sam shrugged, “So I won’t stand around in the hallway. That should take care of the situation.”
Lazarus smiled at the simple solution.
“What you doing here so late? I thought you were going to get something to eat?” Sam motioned for him to come in, out of the hallway.
“Yeah, I got something to eat, and I had a visitor while I did so, kind of unannounced.”
Sam motioned towards the chair in the room, “So, come on. Give it up. Who was it?”
Lazarus walked over and sat down. Sam had an unopened bottle of coke and offered it to Lazarus. Lazarus declined, “Mephistopheles decided to sit down with me.”
Sam went still. Lazarus could tell he was thinking about the implications. Sam spoke, “So, in the last five days, you’ve met with two demons and one angel. Somehow, I think things are beginning to get complicated.”
Lazarus nodded, “Yeah, I agree. The worst part was, he was there with ATF agents.”
Sam’s eyes grew big, “Whoa, yeah, that could be very bad for us, especially if they interfere with us when we grab the explosives or AT-4s.”
Lazarus continued, “There’s some kind of power thing going on between Mephistopheles a
nd Lilith, and unfortunately, we’ve landed right smack in the middle of it.”
“How’s that going to affect what we’re doing?”
Lazarus shrugged, “Don’t know. I think we have to keep moving forward until the other shoe drops. Then we find out.”
Sam shook his head, “I don’t think I like that idea. Too many bad things could happen.”
“Yeah, I know. But we have to play the hand that’s dealt us, and that means dealing with Mephistopheles and the ATF. We have no choice. We have to do a little counter-surveillance and see if they’re trailing us.”
“If they are, what’s our next move?”
Lazarus thought about it, “I don’t think they know about the van, otherwise, we’d already be in jail. We need to make sure they don’t find out. You and I are too noticeable, so we need to get somebody else to move it for us.”
Sam popped the top on his coke, “You have someone in mind?”
Lazarus nodded, “I think so. Only way to do it is with a cut out. I have a friend that’s good at that kind of thing. She has an interesting background. I have a burn phone. I’ll contact her, and we’ll set up the dead drop for the keys and the location for the meet.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Lazarus continued, “Well, she’ll be doing the heavy lifting. When she does the pick, and moves the van, all we have to do is lose the agents, go to the new location, and get the van.”
Sam nodded, “Sure, just tell me what you need.”
Lazarus smiled, “Well, it would probably be a good thing to split them up. That way, I have a better chance to pass the information with less company.”
“How do you want to do it? You want me to try and draw them all off of you? Meet you at the pickup site?”
Lazarus thought for a moment, and shook his head. He stood up, found the hotel pen and paper and began writing, “No, just go out to this mall for a while, and wander around, maybe watch a movie or two. That will give me time do what I need to do. Then go into a counter-surveillance routine and act like you’re trying to make and shake them. Do all the tradecraft, make them think you’re serious about it. After all of that, about 6pm, you just need to go to this address, and pick up two pastrami sandwiches. Get the sandwiches, come back here, and you and I will eat two of the best pastrami sandwiches you’ve ever had.” Lazarus wrote down all the directions for Sam.
Sam frowned, “Pastrami, in St. Louis? Come on, I can take you to two dozen deli’s in Brooklyn that make fantastic pastrami sandwiches.”
Lazarus looked at him and smiled, “Sam, you’ve got to have faith in me. Trust me, you’ll love the pastrami at this shop. When you get there, ask for Angelo, tell him it’s for me.”
Sam wasn’t too sure. He still had that suspicious look on his face, “Okay, I’ll do what you say. I’ll make sure the ATF guys think I’m going to a meet or something. No way the sandwiches are as good as the ones in Brooklyn, though. ”
Lazarus stood up, “Good. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised about the sandwiches, though. Okay, I’m out of here. Have a good night’s sleep.”
Lazarus walked over to the door. He opened it and stepped out into the hallway. The next part of all of this was going to be tricky. He’d have to do a hand off. It would have to be a live handoff since he didn’t have any dead drops set up in St. Louis. He needed someone with skills.
He only knew of one person in the area that was capable of pulling it off. Pastor Jean Lemarcke, of the United Methodist Church in St. Louis. She was a skilled pickpocket, something she picked up before she joined the church, got her degree in theology and became a Pastor. Lazarus thought about it. He had strange acquaintances, but then he lived a strange life. When he got back to his room, he pulled out a burner phone, and made the phone call to set up the hand off.
----------------------------------------------------
The next day was a beautiful day, crisp and sunny. It was Friday, so there were going to be crowds in the areas that he and Sam were using. Sam was already off to the mall. He said something about catching up on the new superhero movies that were out. Lazarus hoped Sam could pull a few agents off so that he could get something done today. It wasn’t going to be too hard. All he had to do was walk around like an easy mark and let Jean do all the work. He had an envelope with directions and the keys to the van in his right coat pocket. It was up to Jean to scope the situation and pull off the pick without letting the agents around him know that a hand off was occurring.
The area was fantastic for this kind of operation. The Ritz-Carlton was located in Clayton, an area lined with art galleries, restaurants, and boutiques. The St. Louis Galleria, with 165 stores, was within walking distance. If that didn’t do it, he could hop the train at the Forsyth Boulevard Station and take them on a tour of St. Louis.
He began with a brunch at a small cafe just off the street to start his counter surveillance. Lazarus ate his baguette, drank his coffee, and read the newspaper. The table he sat at was far enough back into the café that he couldn’t be seen from any convenient spots on the street. They had to stand directly across the street and look into the café, which he’d spot, or send someone into the café to check on him. They ended up sending someone in. It took a half hour, then the first agent came in to make sure that Lazarus hadn’t snuck out through the back.
Surveillance is always a tricky proposition. You couldn’t just have one person follow the target. The best way to do it was to have several individuals tracking. That way, fresh faces could move in and out of the target’s immediate area. This made it much harder for the target to spot his tails. If this was a sanctioned surveillance, there would have been as many as seven or eight tails.
This guy was a little too obvious though. He didn’t seem to have much experience in surveillance. That was good for Lazarus. It meant that they probably weren’t using a trained surveillance team. So, this was probably not a sanctioned operation. That meant that they would have fewer options to interdict. It also meant that the ATF agents would be covering their tracks to make sure their bosses didn’t find out what was going on.
The agent was tense, and tried to be too casual. Lazarus knew he was making an effort not to be noticed. It was very hard for any person to hide their intentions around Lazarus. The body language screamed at him. This was one of the reasons that he was good at what he did, and one of the reasons that he was still around.
He finished with his breakfast and newspaper. Now it was time to break out some serious counter-surveillance, and find out how good they were. He threw the detritus of his breakfast away, but kept the newspaper. While he was sitting, he folded the sections up so that they were easily separated. The portions of the newspaper would be used as a distraction. He stood and began walking.
He chose an alley at random and turned into it. He looked around, and placed one of the folded paper sectionals behind a dumpster. He walked back and crossed the street. He used the surfaces of the windows to watch the alley as he walked away. He slowed the tempo of his walk and was able to see a different agent go into the alley. Now he knew two of them.
He did quick stops and double backs as he walked from store to store. He used the angles and surfaces of the windows on the street. It took a while, but he finally spotted the third agent. They were doing the switch and follow, with one agent in range to watch him, then a switch and another agent was close enough to watch him. He had to give them credit, they were not bad. They weren’t great though. Not like the Bulgarians during the height of the cold war.
Now that he knew their pattern, he just had to fill in the blanks. He used it to find the missing agent or agents. One agent kept him in view at all times. Since he knew three agents, he could time the pattern. When he couldn’t see one of the three, he knew there had to be another agent. With this information, he just had to watch for the gap. The gap appeared, and he watched. He noticed another agent. He kept going for another hour, just to make sure that the timing was correct and that he
had spotted all of the surveillance team. He didn’t see anybody else, so he was fairly confident that he had spotted all of them. None of the surveillance team here had been in the restaurant when he talked to Mephistopheles. That meant that Mephistopheles had a team of at least eight ATF agents.
He walked around some more. He placed the other newspaper sectionals so that they would have to expose themselves to investigate. Lazarus was having great fun with all of this. It had been a while since he had used this level of tradecraft, and he enjoyed blowing the dust off of his skills to see if he still had the capabilities. The last time he had used this level of tradecraft was before the Berlin Wall fell. He was a little worried though. He hadn’t seen Jean at all.
He ducked into old record shop. The record store had aged gracefully. The store looked like it had been here forever. It expressed the history of the building without seeming old. It was aged, but not dilapidated or decrepit. This wasn’t one of the glitzy, upscale stores of the area. Lazarus was amazed that it had escaped the fate of the buildings and stores around it. It was inviting and comfortable. It welcomed people in to enjoy the history of music and the ambiance of the building. It was filled with bins of old records, some with music that hadn’t been heard in seventy years or more. It had 33s, 45s and 78 rpm records. Lazarus let the feeling of the place seep into him, and wandered around, flipping through old jazz records.
He faced the street. None of the agents came into the shop behind him. As he flipped through records, a woman walked into the shop. She was average height, about five foot four, dressed in a military style jacket, old torn blue jeans, and had blue hair. Lazarus kept the smile off of his face. There weren’t too many customers in the record shop, and he didn’t want to give away the game.
He pulled out two Miles Davis records and walked up to the counter, “Excuse me, do you take American Express?”
The man behind the counter shook his head. He was an older man, mid-forties, balding. The man looked like a living extension of the record store. He was wearing a gray sweater, brown corduroy pants, “I’m sorry, we only take MasterCard or Visa.”
