by Alex Siegel
"Are you sure?" he said. "You have no information at all?"
"My ex-husband might have something to do with it," Gina answered through chattering teeth.
"Oh?"
"He bought the property, but I got it in the divorce. He was always into crazy religious crap. That's one reason I left him."
Virgil cocked his head. "What kind of 'religious crap' do you mean?"
"He drew maps of Heaven and Hell like they were real places. He performed strange ceremonies late at night. He claimed angels talked to him. He even wanted me to address him as 'reverend.'"
"I think we need to interview him. Where is he?"
"I don't know where he is right now." Gina swallowed. "But I have his home address. His name is Sebastian Miller."
Haymaker took out a notepad and wrote a note. "What was that address?" he asked.
After they completed the interview, the two men left the spa. They sat in Haymaker's car which the sun had made very warm.
"What happened in there?" Haymaker said. "She was suddenly terrified. Sara told me you had a special power. Did you use it?"
Virgil nodded. "If I look at somebody the right way, they get scared and guilty."
"Does it cause any harm?"
"Depends on whether you have good reasons to feel guilty."
Haymaker looked out the windshield for a moment. "Try it on me."
"Why?" Virgil said.
"I'm curious. I want to see if I'm tough enough to resist."
"OK, but you might not like it. Look into my eyes."
The two men gazed at each other. Haymaker blanched and cowered as if he were about to get hit. Virgil turned off his power.
"Well?"
Haymaker shuddered. "That was one of the worst experiences of my life."
"Describe it."
"Until now, I hadn't truly believed you had spent time in Hell. Now I know it's true. I felt the anguish, the desolation, and the hopelessness. It made me want to be an extremely good person so I'll never go to that place."
"Not all parts of Hell are equally bad," Virgil said, "Limbo is like being stuck in a dead-end job with people you can't stand, but at least it's not painful. The lower circles are much more sadistic."
"I don't want any part of it."
"A sound policy. Let's go."
Haymaker put the car key into the ignition and turned it.
* * *
The woman known as Gina Miller stumbled into the bathroom of the spa. She closed the door and locked it.
She took a moment to gather her wits. Despite being in countless difficult situations in the past, she had not been ready for that experience.
When she was a little calmer, she reached into her zebra skin purse and fished around for her phone. She finally found it buried under the tubes of lipstick. She called a number she had memorized and had never written down. An automated system asked for a passcode, and she entered another six-digit number.
The connection was finally made. She heard a ringing and impatiently waited for her employer to pick up.
A male voice answered, "Yes?"
She had never met the man who was paying her. All communication had been through trusted intermediaries or secure phone calls. She only knew him as Mr. W.
"This is the Cat Lady," she said. "I just had a visit from two cops. I'm pretty sure they were the guys I was told to expect."
"Describe them."
"One was tall and good looking. Brown hair with a bit of a curl. Brown eyes. Off-white skin. The other was short but looked pretty tough. Black, very curly hair. Thick eyebrows."
"The latter was Detective Haymaker," Mr. W said. "What did you tell them?"
"Exactly what I was supposed to, word for word."
"Excellent. You can disappear now. Your money will be in your account the next time you check it. Don't bother trying to call me again. This number won't work."
"Uh." The Cat Lady paused.
"What?"
"Something very strange happened. The first guy looked at me, and I felt very... guilty. I've lied and cheated my whole life. I've done every kind of dirty deal under the sun. It never bothered me until today."
"But you did your job?" Mr. W said anxiously.
"Yes, but it was hard. I almost confessed it was all a scam. It was like the Gates of Hell were opening for me, and this was my last chance at redemption. I could feel the fire scorching my soul."
"Now you're being overly dramatic."
She wasn't exaggerating at all. If anything, she was underreporting the experience.
She thought about the millions of dollars she had stashed away in secret bank accounts. All that money was dirty. She hadn't earned a penny of it honestly, and that had been a source a pride, but now she felt crushing shame and guilt. The mysterious man had showed her where her life would end if she didn't choose a better path.
She silently swore she would discover that better path. She would give up crime entirely. Then she would find that cop again and show him she had changed. There was something different about him, something special. He could tell her whether she had done enough to stay out of Hell.
"Cat Lady," Mr. W said, "are you still there?"
"Yes. That's all I needed to say. Good bye." She hung up. Tears dripped onto her phone.
* * *
"Nice place," Virgil said.
"Suspiciously so," Haymaker replied. "I've met rich guys, and I've met honest guys, but never at the same time. Maybe we should have the rest of the team here, just in case."
They were parked across the street from a huge mansion. It was three stories tall and occupied a lot big enough for two ordinary homes. The walls were made of granite blocks, and red Spanish tile covered the roof. The house had three chimneys. A combination of spiny bushes and iron fences created a formidable barrier at the perimeter of the property.
"Sure," Virgil said. "For all we know, Daniel could be in there."
He called Alfred.
"Hello?" Alfred said.
"This is Virgil. What's your status?"
"I'm making great progress. We had some difficult moments together, but we got through them. They might be ready to give up their suicidal fantasies and start their lives over. We're already throwing around ideas for new careers. Zachariah can fix cars...."
"OK! Sounds great, but to be brutally honest, I don't care."
"I appreciate your honesty," Alfred said.
Virgil rolled his eyes. "I gather the reverend never showed up."
"Correct."
"I might be at his house now. I want all three of you to meet me here." Virgil gave the address.
"We'll be there as soon as we can."
Chapter Twelve
The team's blue Altima parked behind Haymaker's car twenty minutes later.
Virgil had watched the house during that time, and he hadn't seen any movement. A setting sun made the granite walls glow slightly red.
Lisa, Sara, and Alfred got out of their car. Virgil and Haymaker stepped out of their own and joined their teammates on the sidewalk.
Virgil quickly summarized the situation.
Alfred looked at the mansion across the street. "My intuition is telling me we're getting close to finding Daniel."
Virgil nodded. "Which means taking more precautions. We need two people around back in case somebody tries to run. I nominate Lisa and Haymaker. She's fast and tough, and he can legally arrest people."
"Why can't you wait in the back?" Lisa said.
"Because I have the power to make people talk. I need to be inside the house, and the same goes for Alfred. Sara can heal anybody we injure along the way."
Lisa sniffed unhappily.
"Let me have the gun," Virgil said.
She handed over the bag containing Furies' Bane.
Then she turned to Haymaker. "Come on, buddy. We'll go around to the other side of the block."
The two of them jogged off.
"Call when you're in position," Virgil said.
Lisa nodded without looking back.
He turned to Alfred and Sara. "How do you want to do this?"
"What's wrong with just walking up to the front door and knocking?" Alfred said.
"Daniel might be in there," Virgil said. "I think we need to be more covert."
"He doesn't know who we are. We just need a believable cover story. We're here to meet Sebastian Miller on business."
"What business?"
Alfred pursed his lips. "We're lawyers. The ex-wife sent us to complain about late alimony checks."
"That's certainly believable, but it may not produce a warm, friendly reception."
"Once we're in the room with Mr. Miller, a.k.a. the reverend, we can use our powers to interrogate him."
"OK," Virgil said. "I'm in. Sara?"
Sara shrugged. "Fine by me. Just be careful, and let's stick together."
They waited until Lisa called to say she was in position. Then Virgil, Alfred, and Sara went to the front gate. Virgil tried the handle, but it was locked. He pressed a button on an intercom beside the gate.
"May I help you?" a man said through the speaker in a British accent.
"We're lawyers from, uh, Bickers and Associates. We represent Mrs. Gina Miller. We need to speak with her ex-husband."
"Mr. Miller isn't home."
"When are you expecting him?" Virgil said.
"This evening."
"Could you be more specific?"
"I cannot," the man said. "Good bye." There was a click.
"Hello?" Virgil said.
He was answered with silence.
Virgil looked at his friends. "Do we wait out here or bust in?"
"We should wait," Alfred said, "at least for a while. If it gets late and Mr. Miller still isn't here, we'll go in."
Sara nodded in agreement.
"Both of you are no fun at all," Virgil said, "but that's fine. Let's go back to the car and wait."
* * *
Haymaker shifted his position in an attempt to make himself more comfortable. He was crouched in a narrow space between a rear garage and a fence. The location gave him a good view of the back of the Miller's house, but it was a tight squeeze. Trespassing on private property without any kind of warrant was another source of discomfort. If he got caught, he would have some difficult questions to answer back at police headquarters.
Lisa was kneeling in front of him, and her beauty was a distraction. Haymaker was married, and he normally didn't go for African-American women, but Lisa was special. Her skin was flawless, and her hair flowed over her shoulders like black silk.
"Somebody told me you were a Chicago cop once," Haymaker said.
"Fifteen years patrolling the West Side. Is it still a war zone?"
"Not as bad as in your day. Some parts have been cleaned up. You can still find pockets of hardcore ghetto though. There is a homicide almost every weekend, especially in the summer."
Lisa shook her head sadly. "When I came back from the dead, I was hoping to find a nicer future."
"People don't change, but I think the world has gotten a little better. There are fewer wars and less starvation."
"If you say so. You certainly have better toys these days."
Haymaker was amazed at Lisa's ability to hold still. While he was shifting and twisting to keep his blood moving, she remained as motionless as a statue. She hadn't moved a millimeter since taking up her position. He couldn't even see her breathe.
"Which was worse," he said, "the West Side or Hell?"
"I was stuck in Limbo, same as Virgil. We were just barely bad enough to get into Hell. It wasn't constant torment but it wasn't much fun either. The demons had me counting loose change."
Haymaker smirked. "Really?"
"It's worse than it sounds," Lisa said. "Truckload after truckload of coins. You can't imagine how good it is to be back on Earth and doing something useful, even just for a little while."
"What happens when Daniel is destroyed and the mission is over? You go back?"
"Mammon didn't say, and I didn't ask. I was too excited about getting out of Limbo. Virgil and I assume we'll go back, but maybe this mission will earn us enough extra credit to flip us to the other side. It's a unique situation. Final Judgement is supposed to be final, and souls usually don't get second chances. We'll find out what will happen when it happens."
Her body produced an odd aroma. It reminded him of fertilizer and peat moss, but it wasn't bad.
"I know you're made of mud," he said, "but how do you move? What gives you energy?'
She shrugged. "The fires of Hell, I guess. Enough talk. We need to pay attention."
His knees hurt, but he ignored the discomfort and focused on the house.
* * *
Ken Walton's limousine parked in front of the abandoned candy factory. The cement trucks were gone along with most of the other construction vehicles. Only a handful of cars and pickup trucks remained. Even those would be gone within the hour.
Walton got out. Heat and humidity persisted in the air even though the sun had almost set. He heard noisy insects in the jungle of weeds around the base of the factory.
Gadberry hurried out of the factory to greet his boss. Black grease stained his blue jeans. Stubble on his chin and exhaustion on his face suggested he hadn't been home in a while. He had a bandage wrapped around his right forearm.
"Ready for the final inspection?" Walton said.
Gadberry nodded sluggishly. "Yes, sir."
They walked inside. The interior of the factory was a dark, cavernous space with walls made of concrete, bricks, and rusty steel. It looked like it hadn't been touched in twenty years. Even the cobwebs and dust were realistic. All the modifications were cleverly disguised or hidden.
Walton looked up at the ceiling. The small amount of light in the factory revealed only steel beams and shadows. It was impossible to see all the equipment which had been added. The massive tanks full of holy water were just amorphous brown shapes.
"Very good," Walton said.
"Thank you, sir," Gadberry said.
Walton walked over to a circular wooden platform in the center of the factory. It looked like a stage, but there was no seating around it. He climbed a short flight of wooden steps. A stainless steel table stood at the center of the stage, the type used for autopsies. Grooves and channels guided bodily fluids to drain holes above collection buckets.
"Let's check the lighting," Walton said.
Gadberry yelled to a worker on a high catwalk. Floodlights focused on the stage came on, and Walton squinted in the sudden brightness. The rest of the factory now seemed even darker.
"Do you approve?" Gadberry said.
Walton nodded. "It's good."
He left the stage and walked across the floor. He stared down at the dirty, cracked surface.
Gadberry followed. "We mixed a little dirt into the new concrete to make it look old."
"It worked beautifully," Walton said. "I can't tell the difference."
He imagined the layout of the demon trap in his mind. Thick bars of special iron formed a star with seven points, and a moat filled with saltwater surrounded the star. The trap covered almost the entire floor of the factory, but it would be invisible until it was sprung.
A few workers still lingered, mostly on the catwalks suspended from the ceiling.
"I need you out of here," Walton said.
"We'll be done in half an hour," Gadberry said.
"You have twenty minutes. Your payment is already deposited in your checking account. Thank you for your excellent work, but this is the last time we'll ever see each other. I want you gone. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
Walton returned to his car. Once he was comfortably seated in the cool interior, he made a call.
A man answered, "Yes?"
"It's show time."
* * *
A silver-blue Bentley approached Sebastian Miller's home. Virgil watched with great interest as a sliding car gate opened aut
omatically. The Bentley drove around to the back of the mansion as the gate closed behind it.
"Looks like our guy has arrived," Virgil said. "Let's go."
He, Sara, and Alfred walked to the front gate, and Virgil pressed the intercom button.
"May I help you?" a voice said in a British accent with a patronizing tone.
"It's the lawyers again. We need to talk to Mr. Miller."
"He's not here."
"Who just showed up in that Bentley?" Virgil said.
There was a pause. "Good bye." Virgil heard a click.
He rattled the iron gate angrily. "No more messing around. We're going in."
"Better warn Lisa," Sara said.
Virgil called Lisa and told her the situation.
"We're ready in case he comes out the back," she said.
"Bye." He hung up.
Virgil was still carrying Furies' Bane. He shifted the gun around and held it in his left arm like a big football. He grabbed the top of the iron fence with his right hand. Using a combination of climbing and vaulting, he pulled himself up and over the tall barrier.
Alfred and Sara followed Virgil. The three of them landed in a huge front yard with a perfectly manicured lawn. They jogged towards the front door.
Security cameras were placed high on the walls of the house, so Virgil didn't expect the intrusion to go unnoticed. Before he even reached the front door, a big man came out to intercept him. The security guard was wearing a black suit and a white shirt but no tie.
"Stop!" the guard yelled.
Virgil had studied martial arts during his prior life. He leapt and spun in the air with his leg outstretched. The side of his foot struck the guard in the head, knocking him to the ground and out cold. The maneuver worked better than even Virgil had expected. The strength and speed of his new body was very satisfying.
The team entered the house through the open front door. Virgil walked into a foyer with a marble floor. A sweeping staircase went up to a second floor and then continued to a third floor.
He listened and heard voices to his left. He ran in that direction, followed by Alfred and Sara.
Two more guards met them in a dining room, and these guys had guns. Virgil instinctively dodged. A bullet whizzed past his arm, but he didn't slow down. He struck one guard with a punch to the jaw which dropped the man like a sack of rocks. Virgil expected the impact to hurt his knuckles, but he felt almost nothing.
