The Dirty Streets of Heaven

“Tell that to my scrotum, Representative,” I said. My face was stinging as I wiped away the dried blood, and I was tired of playing Mary’s little lamb. “Because the bastard on the top floor of the Vald building kicked me there pretty hard, and no matter what any of his thugs or the SJPD said I didn’t do anything wrong.” Unless you objected to killing demons, of course, but I was relying on Eligor to clean up the mess I’d made of his secretary. He didn’t want publicity, and he didn’t want me in jail. He’d made it clear he had more personal plans for me.

“I hope that’s true, Mr. Dollar,” she said. “Because somebody has gone very, very far out on a limb for you. You are no longer just an ordinary smart-mouthed irritation, you have become an extremely high-priced favor-the biggest I’ve ever done.”

Who had that kind of clout? A sudden thought made my stomach flip-flop. “You’re not handing me back to Kenneth Vald, are you?”

A cold stare. “Mr. Vald is no longer involved with this matter. And in a moment I won’t be, either.”

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“That’s good, too,” the congresswoman said, “because after you leave here you’re going to completely forget any of this ever happened…and that most definitely includes this little chat.” She shot me a hard, unpleasant look. “You and I have never met. Remember that.”

“I’m leaving?”

“When I walk out of this room the guards will walk out behind me, Mr. Dollar. You will then wait until you have counted to at least one hundred before you follow. The door will be unlocked. If you turn left and walk to the elevator it will take you down to the employee parking garage. There are a number of exits from there. Once you leave this property, I will no longer know or care what happens to you. Clear?”

I was beginning to remember more things about Congresswoman Taccone now, and one of them was that she wasn’t just an ordinary politician. She had seats on some of the most important committees in Washington, and if the Democrats got back in control she was the horse some people were backing to finish in the money, either as House Whip or even Speaker. All of which made me wonder: who had the muscle to bend her?

Still, only an idiot would have been counting the teeth on this particular gift horse. “All clear,” I told her. “Thank you, Ma’am. Thank you very much.”

“Right.” She pushed my phone and my empty revolver across the table to me. “Then our business is done.” As I holstered my gun and slipped the phone into my pocket she stood and gave the cops behind me a look. They shuffled past me, all that gear rattling as they followed her out the door.

Well, I thought, this is definitely some weird, weird shit. I counted to a hundred and then headed for the door, half-expecting to find it locked and the whole thing some bizarre infernal prank, a bit of morale-stomping before they got down to interrogating me properly, but the door was open and the hallway outside deserted. I tried to look as much like an unhurried and innocent person as I could, but it didn’t seem to matter. The couple of other civic employees I encountered barely glanced at me, although I must have looked like I’d lost a fight against a guy with a snow shovel.

Same thing in the garage-cars rolled past me without the drivers even looking hard, a parade of stolid looking cop-types in their civilian rides, SUVs and sedans that looked like unmarked police cars. Instead of coming out on Broadway I went up the stairs on the Marshall Street side. It was dark, the lamps hung with Carnival bunting for the upcoming parade, the streets busy with people leaving work, but I still hoped I could find a cab without having to stand around too long in the open-I was very conscious that my gun had no bullets in it. As soon as I reached the curb, though, a long, black car pulled up alongside me, and the passenger-side window slid down. The passenger seat was empty. Nervous, as you can well imagine, I leaned down to peer into the dark interior and saw a shadow behind the wheel and a hint of hair as pale and shiny as Karael’s armor.

“You are very predictable, Mr. Dollar,” the Countess said from the driver’s seat. “I suggest you climb in before someone notices you. No-the back, not the front.”

“So what are you doing here?” I asked when we were rolling. “You always troll outside the Justice building looking to pick up newly released criminals?”

“Who do you think got you released, you idiot?” This wasn’t anything like the last time we met, when I could briefly convince myself that she could sort of tolerate me, if not actually like me. “I called in my biggest favor. For you. And I’m regretting it already.”

“Whoa-you were the one who called in the Congresswoman? How do you know someone like her?”

“From law school.” She kept her eyes on the road.

“You were in law school?”

She made a hissing noise. “No, fool, I just like students. I told you.”

I let this slide. “So why did you do it? You don’t owe me anything. And what is this thing everyone thinks I have?”

“You don’t need to know the answer to either of those. In fact, you’re better off not knowing, so instead of asking me rude questions like the little pretend-gumshoe you think you are, you might just thank me for keeping you from being turned into a flesh-and-blood accordion like our friend Grasswax and leave it at that.”

“Hey, sister, he wasn’t any friend of mine.”

“You’re right about that, Dollar, because he landed you right in the shit.” She turned onto Jefferson. It was strange to see her driving her own car. “In fact, I’ll give you one for free-something that even Chancellor Urgulap and his inquisition don’t know. Grasswax was the one who ratted you out. He was the one who told Eligor that you had the thing Eligor wants.”

“That bastard! That gill-faced bastard! I don’t even know what the damn thing is-why would Grasswax blame it on me?”

“Oh, maybe because they were pulling all his guts and wiring out at the time, and it really hurt, and he thought if he gave them a name they might stop.” She slowed as she approached a red light. I was watching out the rear window now, my eyes open for anyone who might be following us. “Maybe because he didn’t think anyone would miss you, and he already hated your guts because you screwed him in a case the day before?”

“Shit, I didn’t have anything to do with that!” I had a sudden thought. “Hey, why are you driving? Where’s Sweetie and Honeybuns?”

“If you’re talking about my bodyguards, the situation is going to be a little different from now on,” she said. “For me as well as for you. Because things around here have gone very seriously pear-shaped. Where are you staying?”

“Huh? I don’t know. I need to find someplace. Can you take me back to get my car? I left it across the street from Page Mill Square…”

She turned and gave me a hard stare. With the streetlights gleaming behind her pale golden hair she looked like a pissed-off Piero della Francesca portrait. “If you think I’m going anywhere near there you’re dumber than I thought you were, Dollar, and I don’t think that’s theologically possible.”

“Shit. Okay, turn around, then, and take me down Veterans. I’ll grab a room in the Holiday Inn or something. I’ll get my car back tomorrow.” I slumped back in my seat, overwhelmed and exhausted. “So if Grasswax got me into all this, I still don’t understand why it’s you getting me out of it, Countess. I mean, I know I’m charming and handsome and everything, but…”

“Spare me your bullshit, Dollar.” She turned right, then at the next block turned right again. “I have my reasons, and none of them have anything to do with your meaning anything to anyone.”

“Okay, Countess…no, Casimira. That’s your name, right? Okay, like you said, no more bullshit. I think the person who needs to do the explaining now is you. Because not only don’t you and I work for the same side, we’re deadly enemies. Stay with me now. Somebody stole something from Eligor, right? And the Grand Duke or whatever he’s called, he’s not happy. He thinks it’s Grasswax the prosecutor who did it, and so Eligor and his boys pull a bunch of stuff out of Grasswax that’s not supposed to be removed-at least not without anesthetic-and then the late advocate tells them he doesn’t have this whatever-it-is, he gave it to me. Which is an absolute lie because I’ve never had it and don’t even know what it’s supposed to be. But why should any of that matter to you, Casimira?” I was talking to the back of her head so I couldn’t tell if I was accomplishing anything. “No, I’m going to call you ‘Caz’ because it’s shorter-like my temper’s getting. Go ahead, Caz, tell me why Miss Cold Hands, Cold Heart is helping out an angel who even most of the other angels don’t like very much?”