'Good point.' I looked back at the dead Nazis, trying to summon up some sympathy, and failing. Given a chance, they would have done this to the whole world, and laughed while they did it. To hell with them. A thought struck me. 'Men with guns did this, Suzie. Not angels.'
Suzie nodded. 'Hard to visualize an angel with an Uzi. What do we do now?'
'We search the place thoroughly. Just in case whoever did this missed something. Something that might tell us where to go next. I'm a private detective, remember? Find me some nice juicy clues, so I can smile enigmatically over them.'
It took us the best part of an hour, but eventually we found our clue. He was kneeling behind a piano at the far end of the hall, next to a half-open fire exit door. A white statue of a man, dressed in a smart black suit. He was crouched down right next to the piano, as though trying to hide from something. And given the horrified scream still fixed on his gleaming white face, a pretty damned awful something at that. Suzie and I studied him carefully.
'Just when you think you've seen everything,' Suzie said finally. 'Marble?'
'I don't think so.' I touched a fingertip to the contorted white face, brought the fingertip to my mouth, and tasted it.
'Well?' said Suzie.
'Salt,' I said. 'It's salt.'
'A statue made of salt?'
'This isn't a statue. I've seen this work before, at St. Jude's. Someone, or more properly something, turned a living human being into salt, just like this.'
Suzie curled her upper lip. 'Kinky. Why salt?'
'Lot's wife looked back to see the Lord's angels at work. And was turned to salt.'
'Creepy,' said Suzie. 'Big-time creepy. But why just this man, and not any of the others?'
I considered the matter. 'This isn't one of the Nazis. He isn't wearing a uniform. More likely, this was one of the people who wiped out the Nazis. Because they couldn't, or wouldn't, deliver the Unholy Grail to their attackers. Then... the angels turned up. The ambushers disappeared out this fire exit at speed, but this poor bastard either didn't move fast enough, or thought he could hide here. Search his pockets, Suzie.'
She looked at me. 'Why do I have to do it?'
'Hey, I tasted his face.'
Suzie sniffed, put away her gun, and frisked the statue's clothing with practiced thoroughness. A small pile of all the usual junk formed on the floor before him, while I studied the silently screaming face.
'You know, Suzie, there's something familiar about this guy.'
'Nothing in the coat pockets.'
'I've seen him before somewhere...'
'Nothing in the trouser pockets... except a piece of old gum in his handkerchief. Now that is really disgusting.'
'Got it!' I said triumphantly. 'This guy braced me in Strangefellows, earlier tonight. He wanted me to work for his boss and didn't take it at all well when I declined.'
'Who was he working for?' said Suzie, straightening up and rubbing her hands briskly against her jacket.
'He didn't say. But he knew my client was a priest, even though Jude was traveling incognito. Called him a 'pew-polisher.' Which means this guy has to be working for one of the major players. Someone with real information as to what's going on in the Night-side.'
Suzie frowned. 'Walker?'
'No. This isn't his style. Too crude. Besides, he said he'd taken all his people out, and I believe him. No, this has to be the work of some of the real movers and shakers. The Collector, Nasty Jack Starlight, the Smoke Ghosts, the Lord of Tears...'
And then my eye fell on something on the floor, tucked under the statue's ankle. A small black case, almost hidden in the shadows. I gestured to Suzie, and she helped me manhandle the salt statue to one side. It felt eerily light and strangely delicate, as though it might shatter and fall apart under rough handling. I pushed the black case out into the light with the tip of my shoe. It was about a foot long, eight inches wide, and its surface was a strangely dull matte black. Suzie prodded it with the barrel of her gun. Nothing happened. We both knelt down to study the case more closely. Neither of us felt like rushing things. We both had extensive experience of booby- traps. It took me a while to make it out, but I finally recognized a familiar symbol, set out in bas-relief on the case's lid. A large initial C, containing a stylized crown.
'The Collector,' said Suzie. 'I'd know his mark anywhere.'
'Whatever's in the case must be important,' I said slowly. 'This guy stopped here to try and open the case, and the angel got him.'
'A weapon?' said Suzie.
'Seems likely. But he never got a chance to use it.'
'Do we open it?' said Suzie.
'Give me a minute,' I said.
I couldn't afford to open my gift for finding things all the way, not with angels hovering in the over-world, waiting for the chance to grab me again. But I could ease my third eye, my private eye, open just a crack, just enough to find out what defenses the Collector had built into the case. I braced myself, ready to shut down all of the way if I even sensed anyone watching me, but it only took me a few seconds to sense there were no defenses, and no booby-traps. Faced with an angel, this guy must have revoked all the case's protections to try and get at the content faster. I shut down my third eye, and re-established all my mental shields.
And then I opened the case.
The smell hit me first. The smell of hardworking horses, the scent of dogs maddened on heat, the stench of freshly spilled guts. I pushed the lid all the way back. And there, nestled in a bed of black velvet, was the ugliest handgun I have ever seen. It was made of meat. Of flesh and bone, dark-veined gristle, and shards of cartilage, held together with strips of pale skin. Living tissues, shaped into a killing tool. Thin slabs of bone made up the handle, surrounded by freckled skin. The flushed skin had a hot and sweaty look. The trigger was a long canine tooth, and the red meat of the barrel glistened wetly.
'Is that... what I think it is?' said Suzie.
I swallowed hard. 'It fits the description.' We were both speaking very quietly.
'The Speaking Gun. The Collector had it after all.'
'Yes.'
'Is it... alive, do you think?'
'Good question. No, don't touch it. You might wake it.'
Suzie leaned in close, wrinkling her nose at the smell, then frowned and turned her head to one side. Strands of her long blonde hair fell down, almost touching the thing as she listened. She straightened up again and looked at me. 'I think it's breathing.'
'The Speaking Gun,' I said. 'A gun created specifically to kill angels, from Above and Below. Damn... We are in deep spiritual waters here, Suzie.'
'Who made it?' she said suddenly. 'Who'd want to be able to kill angels?'
'No-one knows for sure. Merlin's name has been bandied about, but he gets blamed for a lot of stuff... There's always The Lamentation or The Engineer, but they usually deal in more abstract threats ...' Something on the bone handle caught my eye, and I leaned forward. Etched deep into the bone were lines of tiny writing. I struggled with it for a while, then admitted defeat. 'Suzie, you take a look at this. You've got better eyes than me.'
She leaned in close again, holding her long hair back, and slowly read out the words on the bone handle. 'Abraxus Artificers. The old firm. Solving problems since the Beginning.' She straightened up again, frowned, and looked at me. 'Any of that mean anything to you?'
'Not much.'
'So, are we going to take it with us?'
I snorted. 'I'm certainly not leaving something this powerful lying around here. It'll be safer with us.'
'Great!' said Suzie. 'A whole new kind of gun for me to use!'
