The Jehovah Contract

It's some kind of trick she does. Or some kind of defect in her personality. You should ask questions, being able to drag me into Never-Never Land for a quick chat.

'

'

Get stuffed!

' The room dissolved like cotton candy in a rainstorm to be replaced by The Prisoner of Zelda.

'Quit looking like a brain case, Ammo. Come on.' The kindly father drew something from beneath his frock. A blunt, rounded rod pointed unobtrusively from the end of a cylindrical grip. I faced the business end of a neural interruptor.

'Why, Father,' I said in my friendliest fashion, 'you could go to prison for ten years if you get caught carrying that.'

He smirked. 'You're one to care for laws. Do you know what you'll get for attempted deicide?' He gestured again with the paralyzer.

'Go ahead,' I said. 'Try explaining two unconscious people to the management.'

'Good try, Ammo. This one's modified, though. Its power is set just low enough to make you open to persuasion.'

I blew some smoke in his face.

'Come on, kid,' I said. 'Let's go whither the good Father taketh us.'

Isadora, Beathan, and I stood. So did Ann. I left a wad of orange paper to cover the bill. As we headed toward the exit, I leaned close enough to Ann to whisper, 'How long do you think you can keep this up?'

She whispered back, 'As long as I'm around people who believe the lies that others tell them-or believe the lies they tell themselves.'

I was hoping for something a bit more concrete.

I kept abreast of Beathan, staying between him and the kid. His constant glances toward her betrayed an inordinate amount of interest on his part. He wet his lips with the narrow tip of his tongue before speaking.

'So this is the way in which you choose to mock God.' His lips pressed back together like those of a schoolteacher about to deliver a caning. 'Defiling a mere child to appease your dark, animalistic master.'

Isadora bristled at that. 'Who're you calling

mere

, you bastard!' She darted around me to swing her foot at his left shin. Her pointed gold pump drove into his flesh.

I've got to give Beathan credit for not putting the NI field on us right there. He waved the thing at Isadora.

'Daughter of Eve,' he said through gritted teeth, 'your language is as filthy as your soul.'

I restrained her this time. No sense pushing our luck. 'Chill the rhetoric, pop. You want her to ruin her shoes?'

I could hear Ann's soft footsteps behind me. My mind did a sprint through Panic City. Did she have to follow so closely? What if her shield or whatever it was should lose potency? I knew other men at least to have

seen

her. She wasn't invisible. What if the others weren't fooled?

Beathan led us down a corridor toward the Auberge Hilton. He appeared unfazed by the wanton atmosphere and easygoing morality of Auberge, despite his wisecracks.

Two transvestites of the high-class variety strolled by us. One of them-a ringer for Veronica Lake-winked teasingly at the priest.

He ignored the gesture with a calm, disinterested expression.

His nudges directed us through the hotel lobby toward the elevator. He punched for the bottom floor-penthouse level in the crazy layout of Auberge. The penthouse suites were situated directly over a branch of the never- completed Los Angeles Municipal Subway. Only customers paying the highest fees could afford a suite near such a