Fallen: The Demontouched Saga (Book 2) Page 6

  From my pocket, my Metallica ring tone goes off at the loudest volume possible. Map guy pulls his gun and takes a few shots at me before ducking into a nearby doorway. I let out a few choice words before running off after him.

  “You OK over there?” Az says through the headset.

  “I’m good. Forgot to put my phone on vibrate.”

  Az laughs. “Watch yourself. My guy is headed your way too.”

  I peek around the corner and see the other guy running around the balcony with a gun drawn. “Just the two of them?”

  “Yeah. Your guy is hiding behind the seats about six rows back. Keep your head down. I’m headed your way.”

  “I’ll do my best.” I reach around the corner and pop off a few shots at the runner. The shots aren’t even close, though that wasn’t the goal. I just needed to slow them down to give Az time to get to me. Runner starts to fire back, forcing me to duck back around the corner.

  The key to surviving a gunfight is movement. Smart movement. I know that if I stay here around this corner it is only a matter of time until they get to me. Then again, running in the open would be a worse choice. Buildings like this, with long, open hallways are the worst places to find yourself. The carts that are scattered down the hall would provide a little cover, but I can’t afford to be pinned behind one.

  I poke the gun around the corner and fire off a few more shots before retreating. Unless I can make it back to the stairwell, I need to move over a few more entryways. It will give me a better line of fire and hopefully catch them off guard.

  “How close are you?” I ask before I look around the entryway. There is no sign of map guy, but I see runner behind a row of seats at the balcony holding his arm. I must have managed to land a shot.

  “Four sections down.”

  That puts him six away since he doesn’t know I moved. “Your guy is on the ground, no sign of mine.”

  I feel the touch of cold steel on my neck. “Drop your weapons.”

  I do what he says and then raise my hands in the air.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “You stole my truck.”

  “So you were the one stupid enough to steal from Israfil. He has something special in store for you.”

  “I don’t do surprises.”

  “Oh, but I think you do. Walk.”

  I make it a dozen steps before I hear a gurgling noise from behind me. I look over my shoulder and see a sword sticking through Map’s neck. Az pulls the blade back through and the body falls to the floor.

  “Thanks for the save.”

  “Save it, we need to get out of here fast.” He says, handing me my weapons.

  “What about the cases?”

  “Unless you plan on taking out a couple dozen demons, they are going to have to stay.”

  I don’t like the thought of leaving the cases, but I hate the thought of losing my life more. I bend over and reach into map guy’s pockets and pull out a piece of paper. It is definitely a map of the center, with a bunch of little red circles marked all over. I put the map in my pocket and we high tail it out of the place.

  -11-

  “Why did we have to leave my car again?” I shift in my seat looking out the rear window of the Impala.

  “You like having demons chasing you around?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “They followed you once. They will do it again. Next time they will make sure they kill you.”

  He is right, but I still hate leaving the car. I pull out my phone and see who called earlier.

  Nal.

  I guess I should see what he was calling about.

  “What took you so long? I called you over an hour ago.”

  “Had some demon troubles. Find something out?”

  “Oh, did we! Your cases were full of some high grade explosives. I’m not sure what your friend has in store, but I’m sure it’s big.”

  “I think we may have a clue.” I pull out the map and start looking at the red marks. They are evenly spaced around the center. If I had to guess they are located around the support beams. That means the meeting in in two days is a trap. “Do you have a way to get the word out on the street to avoid the meeting?”

  “I can make a few calls.”

  “Do what you can. The meeting is a trap.”

  An hour later we pull up to my house. Az thought it would be better if we took a more scenic route back, in the off chance that we were being followed.

  I open the door and notice Sara slumped over her laptop asleep. I walk up and notice she has a page up with information about Mayor Goldman. He was the unfortunate sucker who was running the city when the Rising hit. Since then, he has been vital to getting things cleaned up and running. They have had some luck getting a few areas up and running, but the battle on the riverfront set him back a bit.

  I reach over and run my fingers through her hair. I hate to wake her up, but we only have about 30 hours until the meeting. She jumps slightly, but smiles once she notices it’s me.

  “Find anything else on the flash drive?”

  “I know the convention center is a trap. They are planning to load the place full of explosives, killing anyone who shows up.”

  “They already have the place wired to explode.”

  She opens up the file on the drive. The first file is a map showing the locations of the bombs.

  I pull out the copy of the map I found and show it to her. Sure enough, the two match up perfectly. “What else do you have?”

  “The mayor is in charge.”

  “Of the bombing?”

  “Yep. A few weeks ago some of his colleagues started noticing him acting a bit strangely.” She pulls up another file. “Half of his people disappeared last week. The others are still with him.”

  “If I had to put money on it, our the mayor is no other than our friend Israfil.”

  “So what’s our next move?” Sara asks.

  As much as I want to get back to the convention center and remove the bombs, the place is going to be heavily guarded by now. The way I see it, there is only one simple solution.

  “I have to go to the mayor’s office.”

  “Seems rather direct.” Az says. “We could kill Israfil before he has a chance to throw the switch.”

  “If the mayor is a demon, why would he let you anywhere near the building?” Sara asks.

  “Demons are cocky. He probably believes that he can handle anything that comes through that door short of an angel,” I look over at Az, “which we happen to have.” Demons are arrogant by nature. Especially ones that have been around as long as Israfil. He has swatted plenty of lesser beings before me. When I walk through that door he will look at me like I am another cockroach under his boot.

  “What if that doesn’t work?” Sara asks. “You don’t have that long to get this figured out.”

  “It has to work. If it doesn’t there is no way we can keep the place from blowing.”

  The mayor’s office is located about a mile away from the convention center, dead in the middle of downtown. We approach from 64 to the south which gives us a nice clear view of what is left of the Arch. It’s been a while since I came this way in the middle of the day. The south side of the monument is about half intact, which is more than you can say about the north side. After the explosion, I’m surprised there was anything left.

  Four years ago this area of town would have been a madhouse in the middle of the day. Double that if the Cardinals were playing. I’m thankful that the streets are fairly quiet today.

  I pull up the the front of the building and get out of the car. The first thing that catches my eye are the two armed men near the front door. In the past there would have been a few police officers stationed near the entrances, but something tells me these two guys aren’t cops.

  We take our time walking up to the front door. The two guys look at each other and move together to block the doorway.

  “What business do you have here?” The bruiser on the le
ft says.

  “We want to talk to the mayor about the meeting tomorrow. We have a few ideas on how we can speed up the restoration of power to the south side of town.”

  They look at each other for a moment, clearly contemplating what I just said. It was a pure line of bullshit, but these two don’t seem like the type who would get that.

  “The boss doesn’t have time to see anyone today.” He reaches in his pocket and hands me a flier. “He says you can ask him questions at the meeting tomorrow.”

  “Clearly, you don’t know how this works.” I reach into my jacket and pocket and pull out my demon killing knife. I don’t notice smoke in their eyes, but I need this to be quiet. I slit the throat of the guy on the left while Az manages to impale the one on the right with his sword.

  “So much for doing this the easy way.” Az says, entering the building.

  “I don’t think those two would have let us past any other way.”

  Azrael grunts and rushes down the right hallway. I follow close behind.

  If our intel is right, the office is at the end of the hallway and to the left. I hate working with some outdated floor plans, but I’ve never had a reason to be here before. Politics are well beyond my skill set. The only thing I know about politicians is that they will promise you the moon to get elected into office just to give you a picture of a wheel of cheese when they got in. The higher up the ladder they got, the worse it was. I can’t say I blame them, though. Getting elected to congress or higher would have been a sweet gig. Sure, you had to put up with 6 years of bullshit once you got in, but once you did, you would be set for life.

  The hallways are littered with layers of old papers on top of a filthy tile floor. I pass the bathrooms and notice a rat huddled underneath a rusty water fountain.

  I let out a chuckle under my breath. How ironic that the place looks like a rats nest now. Now we just need to find the king rat.

  We go around the corner and we see the office.

  At least I think it is the office.

  Every other door we have passed has been wide open. I can’t think of any other reason to keep the door shut.

  “Shall we bust this party?” I ask.

  “We shall.” Az kicks the door open and rushes up to the mayor. I walk into the room as Azrael puts his sword up to his throat.

  Without a hint of panic the mayor asks “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

  I sit down in a chair on my side of the desk and stick the tip of my knife into the wood. “You can start by telling me why you plan to kill thousands of people tomorrow.”

  He tilts his head sideways. “What do you mean?”

  I pull out the map and pass it to him. “There is a bomb at every red mark on that map. Someone is planning on destroying the convention center tomorrow during the meeting.”

  “Where did you find this?” He asks, face starting to pale.

  “On the body of one of the men placing them.” I pull out the knife and make it float just above the desk. “You have about ten seconds to tell me why you had the bombs put there before I push this knife into your skull.”

  “Killing me won’t stop it. There is something much larger at work here. You either become a part of it, or you die.”

  “I beg to differ.” I push the knife forward and stop it an inch before his face.

  “Where do you think I am going to be when they set them off? I am going to be right in the middle of it all.”

  “Then why do it? What did they promise you for doing it?” Azrael asks, lowering his sword.

  “They promised to release my wife.”

  “Who?”

  “James Benson. He owns the the strip club Gemstones on the east side.” His face turns red and he starts to cry. “They took her there.”

  I stare into the mayor’s eyes. It is hard to tell with the redness in his eyes, but he does look sincere. That doesn’t mean I am willing to step into a trap, so it is time to lay down the law.

  “Here is what is going to happen. I am going to Gemstones to scope out the joint. My friend Azrael behind you is going to keep you company. If even one part of your story is a lie, he is going to cut your heart out. Am I clear?”

  He just nods in agreement.

  “Before I go, I need one thing from you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A picture of your wife.”

  -12-

  Gemstones is one of those upscale strip clubs that caters primarily to the rich and privileged. It’s not the kind of place I would have been able to get in before, but they have lowered their standards a bit since the Rising.

  I pull up to the front and immediately I can tell the Impala is going to stand out like a sore thumb in the parking lot. There isn’t any time to find a more appropriate car, so I pull into a spot towards the back of the lot.

  I get out of the car and walk towards the entrance. I feel out of place wearing one Mayor Goldman’s suits, but my priest garb would stand out otherwise.

  I walk up to a large bouncer that looks eerily like Mr. Clean and hand him two crisp Benjamins. Not every bouncer is corrupt, or can be bought, but most of them can. Why wouldn’t they? They could take your money now and just kick your ass out later if someone had a problem with it. Bouncers are not usually on the bright end of the scale, but they aren’t stupid enough to take cash from someone they don’t feel they can handle.

  Too bad for Mr. Clean here, he doesn’t know what I am capable of.

  I walk inside the club and take a seat on one of the middle tables. The stage seats are usually reserved for the high rollers or the extremely intoxicated. I don’t fit into either camp.

  A waitress walks over in a short skirt that is leaving little to my imagination and a top that might as well not be there. I order a Jack and Coke and hand her a twenty. Freeloading is a quick way to get booted from a place like this. On a busier night they would probably charge a fee to get in, thankfully tonight is slow,

  The waitress brings my drink and hands me a schedule. I look it over to see if the mayor’s wife is mentioned, but all the names are stage names. I’m just going to have to kick back and enjoy the show.

  The first one up is a girl named Chandra. She is a dark skinned gal with some amazing legs. She has the attention of one of the high rollers up front who is throwing bills at her to the tempo of the jazz music on the sound system.

  I look around the room and see three guys sitting at a round table in the corner near the bar. Apparently they don’t like Jazz Hands up there stealing all of Chandra’s attention. While a guy like that can be great for a woman like Chandra, it hurts the flow of money in the club.

  A few moments later, Mr. Clean and a larger black man walk up to Jazz Hands and escort him out of the front door. Jazzy there is getting the equivalent of a slap on the wrist. If they wanted to send him a message they would have taken him out the back door and beat the crap out of him. That is more of a problem for the lower end establishments than places like this.

  Chandra exits the stage a short time later. Normally when one girl leaves the stage, another one steps up on it. This goes back to the principals I set earlier. If the girls aren’t on stage, the guys are not as interested in keeping the booze flowing. If the booze isn’t flowing, the club isn’t making any money. Even if they were to take a portion of the girl’s money, they still need alcohol sales to operate in the black.

  According to the schedule, up next is a girl named Kirstie. Unlike the other girls, this one doesn’t have a bio. I signal my waitress for another drink. Something tells me that this place is about to get crazy.

  I get my drink when I notice a girl being escorted to the stage in full leather suit complete with a full face mask with a side of chains. I know these rich fucks can be some of the biggest freaks out there, but this doesn’t scream fetish to me. The man walking her up handcuffs her to the stripper pole which is followed by her announcement.

  “Please give a warm Gemstones welcome to our newest girl, Kirstie. She is
a huge fan of bondage and torture.”

  The announcement goes quiet and is replaced by Michael Jackson’s ‘Beat It.’ I know they are promoting her as a BSDM fetish, but I think they could find a better song for this. Shit anything Nine Inch Nails would be perfect.

  Oh well. I finish off my second Jack and Coke and make my way to the stage. I don’t have the cash to hang out up here for too long. The second Mr. Clean back there realizes that I handed him most of my cash, I’ll find myself out the rear door.

  I take a seat around out of sight from the guys in the corner. If they are the ones in charge, I need to avoid their notice for as long as possible. At least until I can ask a few questions.

  Kirstie is not like any other stripper I’ve met. Sure, the handcuffs on her wrists probably make it impossible to take her clothes off, but that’s not what I mean. She absolutely has no rhythm. Where the other girls sway their hips to the music, she is just standing there hugging the pole.

  I lean to my left and take a look at the boss’s table. There is a guy in the back with a huge cigar in his mouth, getting visibly heated with a another man in a sweet looking bright blue suit. It is hard to tell from here, but I don’t think Kirstie is going to be up front much longer. It’s now or never. Time to roll the dice.

  “You don’t seem like you like it here, Cindy.”

  She turns and faces me with a look of disbelief. “You know who I am?”

  I nod and peek back over towards the back. Cigar tilts his head slightly to the left before getting back into his discussion with Blue Suit. I don’t know what that meant, but something tells me that I am going to find out soon.

  “I’m going to get you out of here.”

  She smiles, but her look quickly changes to one of horror when I get lifted up out of my chair.

  “The boss wants you to leave.” Mr. Clean says, pulling me towards the door.