“Does that come with dental and a company car?”
“This is a onetime offer. You can be my friend or you can be my enemy. It’s your choice.”
“Is this Aelita’s idea? If she’s that bored, hire me to find what’s left of the Kissi and bring them back. She can have fun fighting them.”
“Were you even listening? This isn’t Vigil business. It’s DHS.”
“Bullshit. In L.A. they’re the same thing.”
“Let’s say you’re right. It doesn’t alter your situation. New DHS policy says that we can no longer work with questionable outside vendors.”
“I was right. This is all Aelita.”
“Lucifer’s name is on the national terrorist watch. The classified one. You’re not yet, but you’ll be happy to know that your friend Kinski is on there, too.”
“Why?”
“We can’t let fallen angels run around the countryside any more than we can allow terrorists to drive around with vans full of kerosene and fertilizer.”
“When do I go on the list?”
“That all depends on whether you’re my friend or my enemy.”
“It was you who ambushed us after the party the other night, wasn’t it?”
“It wasn’t the Little Rascals.”
“For a while I thought it might be you, but then I remembered what Aelita said. That you don’t care about Lucifer. He’s past his prime.”
“Don’t try to think. It doesn’t look good on you.”
“Ever since then I’ve been trying to figure out who would be a better candidate. I was starting to think it was Ritchie, the guy who runs the studio. He hires off-duty cops to work security and has the money to throw his own Apocalypse Now ambush. But it was the simple answer all along. Serves me right for trying to be creative.”
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
“I thought you people were all about keeping the universe in balance, not handing the whole thing over to one side. This is definitely Aelita’s idea. You haven’t got the guts to think this big. So, what’s she getting out of this? A shinier halo? A transfer off this rock?”
“Answer the question.”
“I gave Aelita my answer six months ago. None of you own me. Go ahead and put me on your list.”
His lips tug up in a little smile.
“I’ve already drafted the memo. I knew you couldn’t respond reasonably to a reasonable offer. You’re just like my dog. Entirely predictable.”
“What happens now? Do you have snipers on me already? Or do the two of us go outside and have a Tombstone showdown? If you’d told me we were going to party, I’d have brought Wild Bill’s gun.”
“Nothing like that. You just walk on out of here and don’t ever walk in again. You and I will settle this in time, but right now the grown-ups have bigger fish than you to fry.”
He gets up and nods to someone, then heads back to his office. When I turn around, six of his people are spread out in a semicircle around me. No one is pointing a gun at me, but together they look like little Grim Reapers reincarnated as bouncers at a Beverly Hills yuppie bar.
“Admit it. You used canned olives in your martinis.”
Nothing. Tough room.
Maybe Wells is right and it’s time to pick a side. If I’d said yes to him, do you think any of these dour cocksuckers would have cracked even a polite smile? I’m not holding my breath. Lucifer wouldn’t have laughed either, but at least he wouldn’t be morally superior about it.
We’re just bugs on God’s windshield. No one owns me.