placed by the access hatch when the nose of the aircraft lit up with flame and the tracers streaked through the air towards him. He had already been through that hatch when the storm of bullets engulfed the bridge and sent fragments of the composite sail structure flying through the air. The two enlisted men had never had a chance. They’d already started waving to the American aircraft when it opened fire and were still doing so when the machine gun fire scythed them down. By then, Yitzchak had slammed the hatch shut and hit the emergency dive siren.
“What’s happening up there?” Ben-Shoshan was stunned by the sudden ferocity of the attack.
“American aircraft, it strafed us. The watchkeepers are both dead.” And if they aren’t, they will be when the submarine submerges.
“Why?” Ben-Shoshan stopped himself, that was a stupid question. “How do you know they are dead? Did you check?”
“They were hit by heavy machine gun bullets, they couldn’t be alive.” Yitzchak felt the submarine diving and the rattle as another barrage of machine gun fire hit her.
Ben-Shoshan stared suspiciously at his communications officer, then dismissed the matter for further consideration at a later time. “Where’s the thermocline?”
“There isn’t one Captain.” The navigation officer looked up from the chart. “We’re too shallow here. I recommend we run north towards deep water. There’ll be a layer there.”
“Make it so.” Tyson breathed deeply. “Just why are the Americans attacking us?”
B-25J “Heavenly Body”, Mediterranean
The submarine had gone down, surrounded by the splashes from machine guns and the fountains as she drove herself under with her engines. Aboard Heavenly Body, the noise of the crew cheering was drowning out the engines and Tyson even got the feel that the old B-25 was ridiculously pleased with herself. “Calm down everybody. Job’s not over yet. Trish, get through to Naples and tell them, we’ve spotted the submarine at this position and driven her down with strafing. We did some damage to her, her sail was looking pretty chewed up. Got that?”
“Yes Boss. Getting through now.”
“What do we do now?” Perdue was disappointed that the attack was over.
“Not much we can do. We’ve no bombs on board, no depth charges and nothing that can track a submerged submarine. We’ll just have to stay here until the P-3s arrive.”
“Boss, navigator here. I can see that sub.”
“What?” Tyson was surprised by the report.
“Water’s clear. I can see the sub under it. She’s heading north. OK, lost her now. It’s a matter of sun and reflections on the water; I can see her when the angle is right, not otherwise.”
“Better than nothing. Keep your eyes peeled.” Tyson settled back in his seat and quietly rued the decision to take off with an auxiliary fuel tank in the bomb bay. Still, how could he have known that a routine navigation and communications training exercise would suddenly turn hot?
Lemuel’s Home, Eternal City, Heaven
Lemuel-lan entered the vestibule of his house, noting the absence of Onniel but scarcely regretting it. Idly, he toyed with the idea of ejecting her and bringing Maion here in her place. That would cause a sensation, a scandal that would harm him quite severely. As a member of the League of Holy Court, he was supposed to set an example to others. Well, that idea was out of play in reality even if he had to keep up the appearances. Treacherously, an idea played through his mind, what if he accused Onniel of being part of Salaphael’s conspiracy? Or even worse, the ones who were planting bombs in the city? Then, his mind rebelled at the concepts. Such things were more suited to the followers of the late Eternal Enemy than to the Angelic Host.
“I suppose you will be going straight out again.” Onniel’s voice rang across the hallway, petulant and peevish. Lemuel compared it with Maion’s gentle voice and her exquisite devotion to ensuring that his time with her was perfect in every detail. Truly, Maion deserved the status and luxury of this home much more than Onniel did.
“I thought not. With the arrests completed, the great surge of work is now over. The Immaculate Father Of All is supreme over the conspiracies that troubled him so my duty, for now, is done.”
“Well don’t let me stop you from amusing yourself.” Onniel stalked out and slammed the door behind her.
Lemuel sighed and decided he had time to relax before the evening meal was served. He went to the pool that formed the centerpiece of his home and carefully immersed himself in it, swirling his wings through the limpid water so that his wing-feathers were washed clean. Now, if he was in Maion’s apartment, she would be in here with him, carefully combing his wings so that the feathers lay neatly and cleanly on each wing. As he relaxed in the gently- rippling water, once again Lemuel considered the possibility of bringing her back here. And, if Onniel didn’t like it, she could take care not to let the doors hit her rump on the way out.
The servants who were waiting in the dining area were nervous and, on seeing the table, Lemuel could see why. The fruit was curling and stale, the sauce was crusted at the edge. The wine was warm to the touch instead of properly chilled. Lemuel took a deep breath and looked down at his domestic staff. They were quaking with fear now, knowing that the explosion for this apology for a meal was due.
“There is an explanation for this?” Lemuel’s voice was quiet and tolerant. He suspected what the explanation was and he couldn’t blame the servants.
The Ishim shuffled their feet, trying to come up with a story that wouldn’t cause problems. The humans said nothing, this was Angelic business and their job was just to serve. Lemuel waited for a few seconds, then looked again at the plates.
“The meal was served earlier and this is what is left?” Again, his voice was quiet and reasonable.
“Most Lordly Master, Her Ladyship demanded it so. And insisted that the remains be left on the table for you if you came home.” The Ishim cringed, awaiting the blast of anger that was rightfully due.
Lemuel shook his head. This was an insult that would have driven many members of the Angelic Host into outrage. Onniel was taking advantage of his better nature in order to get away with abuse that would normally merit her receiving severe chastisement. “Clear these remains away. You were given your orders and obeyed them, as is your lot. The fault here lies elsewhere. But these are my orders as head of this household and they shall not be changed or disobeyed. No meals are to be served here except in my presence. The staff may eat of course when they wish but the formal meals of the household will be in my presence only. As I have spoken, so shall it be.”
“Your words are our command Most Lordly Ophanim.” The Ishim genuflected and withdraw while the humans closed in to cleat the plates away.
Lemuel-Lan nodded and left the room, heading for the main doors. As he went to leave the house, he saw Onniel watching him with a spiteful smile on her face. He gave no indication of her presence having registered on his awareness but he had already decided that his home lay elsewhere.
Chapter Fifty One
Super-Route One, The Highway To Hell, Al Tarmia, Iraq
There had been a time when Super-Route One had been the primary logistics supply line for the forces deployed in Hell. Then, the highway had been backed up from Hellgate Alpha all the way to Al Tarmia, trucks moving nose-to-tail in convoy, mixed in with tank transporters and all the other vehicles that modern armies found indispensable. Those days had passed, now there were more than fifty permanent portals linking Earth and Hell with additional temporary portals being formed as necessary. That had taken the strain off Super-Route One and the traffic on the highway had accelerated accordingly. At long last, the great Oshkosh HEMTTs, the Russian Maz and their Chinese and European equivalents actually had a safer distance between them
“What’s the cargo Sergeant?” Amy Seinfeld was a little nervous about asking the question. Not because of any security implications but from the fact that her Sergeant was Gerry Links, one of the heroes of the Tenth Mountain Division that had fought the daemons hand-to-hand at Hit. He’d been a private then, was a Sergeant now and was viewed with quiet awe by the rest of his unit.
“Relief supplies for Haiti.” His eyes remained fixed on the road ahead. The traffic might have eased over the last year but it was still denser than any other road he’d driven on. “We’re taking them through Hell to a hellgate at Port-au-Prince Airport. Them poor folks need the stuff we got here bad.”
“Saw it on the television last night. Everything in ruins, the daemons working to pull people out of the wrecks.
