Part 25 (1/2)

It's impossible to do an accurate SPP over the phone. I had to rely on ordinary clues, the sound of her voice, the way her mind jumped back and forth, my former impression of her. I decided that she was telling me the truth as she saw it.

”I'm sorry he didn't.” I put as much sympathy as I could into my voice. ”If you can think of anything else that might be relevant, call me.” I gave her my landline number. ”Leave a message if I'm not answering.”

”I will, yeah.” She paused for a long breath. ”Do you think you can get whoever it was?”

”I don't know yet. One last thing. Don't go anywhere near the ocean for a while. And be real careful if you go out at night.”

”I haven't been going out at night at all,” Karo said. ”You mean I'm not just being paranoid?”

”That's exactly what I mean. And especially, stay away from the ocean.” I had a rational lie all ready. ”I have reason to suspect that the killer's stalking the coast. He may even be camping out on the beach at times.”

”Oh, jeez! Okay. I won't. Oh, c.r.a.p!”

I signed off, then wrote up the conversation for my files and sent a copy off to the Agency. A blackmailer, and he claimed Belial was his familiar-the probability of there being two men like that, even in the Bay Area with its b.u.mper crop of would-be occultists, was low. When I remembered Caleb remarking that his resources were limited at the moment, the probability dropped to zero. With Evers gone, he lacked fresh manure to sell.

Which raised the question, why would Caleb kill Evers, if Evers was his cash cow? Unless Evers was getting ready to do what Karo wanted and go to the police? I remembered him saying how much he wished he'd listened to his girlfriend. He might have been ready to take Karo's advice-too late. I remembered my feeling that the murder had happened on a sudden impulse. If Evers and Caleb had been having that four o'clock drink together, Evers might have told Caleb that the game had ended. Might, maybe, possibly-I didn't know, and it rubbed on my mind the way a stone in a shoe rubs a foot.

By then, it was almost time for the boys, as I was thinking of them, to return. I went into the kitchen to put together some sandwiches. As soon as I opened the refrigerator door, I felt someone staring at me from behind. I turned around and looked out the window on the side wall. No Fog Face, no one at all hovered outside. The feeling vanished as fast as it had begun.

I shrugged and went back to the counter where I had a loaf of French bread and the bread knife.

”Remember the angel's gifts,” a voice said from behind me. It sounded high and lilting, to the point where I wasn't sure if it were a man or a woman speaking.

I spun around: no one there. I wondered if I were having a simple IOI, because sometimes the ”images,” that is, the intuitions I have, do materialize as sound, not sight. Still, this voice had presented itself to my mind as something completely outside of myself.

”Belial?” I said. ”Is that you?”

I heard a quick laugh and a snort of scorn. ”Belial?” the voice said. ”Small fry. Calamari.”

”Then who are you?”

No answer, no nothing. I could feel no presence in the flat but my own. I shuddered all over, then went back to making the sandwiches, but I kept my big German steel cooking knife right at hand. When I heard Ari and Michael's voices on the stairs, I felt like cheering in relief.

Michael went straight to the bathroom, which gave Ari a moment to ask if everything had been all right during their absence.

”I guess,” I said. ”I heard someone talking to me, but I couldn't see him or anything. That's kind of common around here.”

”Then why do you sound so worried about it?” Ari said.

”Do I? Well, yeah, it was kind of creepy, but I didn't get an ASTA or SAWM.”

”Do you remember what I said about trusting your sodding talents too much?”

I did, and he had a point. If Cryptic Creep, as I named him to myself, was hoping I'd join whatever group he belonged to, he posed no threat-yet. If I kept saying no, as I intended to do, the threat might move a whole lot closer. When Michael returned, I changed the subject. I didn't want him worrying about something I couldn't explain.

The guys pitched into the sandwiches as if they were starving, though Michael talked almost as much as he ate. Guns, apparently, were his new love in life, though he did allow as how Sophie came first and guns, second. I listened politely to the details of how loud and smelly the guns were, though Michael didn't use those particular terms. After they ate, we all went into the living room. Ari and I sat Michael down on the computer chair, while we sat on the couch and faced him across the coffee table.

”Okay, bro,” I said. ”Let's discuss this crazy idea. I've heard from the Agency. They're going to try to get Sophie her papers. Now we have to get Sophie over here to use them.”

Michael started to smile, then got up. He walked over to the window and turned his back on us so fast that I realized he was crying-in sheer relief, an SPP told me. When Ari started to get up, I grabbed him by the s.h.i.+rttail and yanked him back down. Ari opened his mouth to protest, but when I pointed to my tear ducts, he got the message and stayed silent.

First love, I thought to myself. It's always the worst.

With one last sniffle, Michael made a great show of wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his T-s.h.i.+rt, then turned back with a smile that amounted to rictus.

”Sorry,” he said. ”It uh must be uh tree pollen or something.”

”Yeah,” I said. ”Your eyes are red. Allergies.”

Michael glanced around, saw a box of tissues on the floor by my computer desk, and snagged a couple. He blew his nose before he sat back down. Ari, bless him, picked the conversational thread right up.

”What's this Jose going to think,” Ari said, ”when you show up with a gunman?”

”He'll be real impressed, that's all,” Michael said. ”You'll be, like, my wingman. In that world, it'll mean I'm seriously somebody.”

”I'm very glad,” Ari said, ”that you don't want to take up permanent residence over there.”

”Yeah, it would suck.” Michael considered this for a moment. ”Y'know, I was kind of afraid that maybe the BGs weren't going to let me leave one of these days. That's another reason why I want to get Sophie out of there.”

”Why wouldn't they let you leave?” I said. ”That scheme of Jose's?”

”Yeah, whatever it is. Sophie can tell us once we get her here.”

”I'm willing to go with you,” Ari said, ”but can I? Nola has some share of your talents. I don't.”

”c.r.a.p.” Michael slumped a little on the chair. ”Yeah, maybe you can't.” He straightened back up. ”Although, if Sophie can do it, you should be able to. I guess we'll just have to try it and see.”

”Michael Eamonn O'Grady!” I said. ”Are you telling me she's already been through once?”

Michael turned bright red. ”Just into Nanny's old room. I mean, why go to all this trouble if she couldn't make it across?”

”Okay, you're forgiven. Does she have talents?”

”She doesn't think she does, but she can see Or-Something.”

”Once we get her here, we'll find out more.” I glanced at Ari. ”The question now is, when are we going to try this out?”

”The sooner the better, I suppose,” Ari said.

Michael was looking at me with those ”you're my second mom” begging eyes.

”Yeah,” I said. ”The sooner the better.”

Which is why, at five o'clock the next morning, I drove Ari and myself over to Aunt Eileen's house. Ari carried his sample case inside, where Michael, dressed in his best jeans and a white s.h.i.+rt with an actual collar, was waiting in the living room. I could smell coffee cake baking and hear the occasional noise of Aunt Eileen working in the kitchen.

”Is Uncle Jim up yet?” I said.

”No,” Michael said. ”Bri's still asleep, too. You can wait in the kitchen with Aunt Eileen if you want.”

”Wash your mouth out with soap,” I said, and he grinned at me.