Mercury Rests (29 page)

“I thought you said you were going to pull the green wire,” she said.

Jacob, who had managed to get his feet untied, walked to the bomb and examined his handiwork. The red wire stuck out like a stray hair while the green wire remained firmly attached.

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing hard. “They, um, reversed the wires. Luckily I—
unck
—figured it out.”

“Uh-huh,” said Christine, smirking at him.

“Got it!” Mercury exclaimed, holding up the rope triumphantly. “I’m like freaking Henry Houdini. What are you guys talking about?”

As Lucifer’s limo glided to the curb in front of Christine’s condo building, he pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “Call Ramiel,” he said.

“Did you say, ‘Call Hugo Chavez?’ ” the phone asked.

“Call
Ramiel
,” repeated Lucifer.

“Did you say, ‘Call Vladimir Putin?’ ” the phone asked.

“Call
RA-mee-el
,” shouted Lucifer into the phone.

“Did you say, ‘Call Nancy Pelosi?’ ” the phone asked.

“Useless fucking piece of shit!” Lucifer snarled.

“Calling Ramiel,” replied the phone.

Lucifer saw a figure through the window of Christine’s apartment tossing refuse to and fro. While he was waiting, the door of the limo opened and Dirk Lubbers slipped into the seat next to him, carrying a heavy metal briefcase. Lucifer held a finger up and pointed to the phone.

After several rings, Ramiel finally located the cell phone and picked it up.

“Hello?” he said uncertainly.

“Ramiel,” said Lucifer.

Ramiel’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Master? Is that you?”

“It’s time, Ramiel.”

“So you want me to...”

Lucifer hung up.

Through the window, he saw the silhouette of a man walking up to another man from behind and pounding him on the head with a can of SpaghettiOs. The second man fell over, disappearing from view. Ramiel went to the kitchen and returned with a long serrated knife, then knelt down where Nisroc had fallen.

“Damn,” murmured Lubbers, observing the scene.

“Decapitation will ensure that Nisroc doesn’t alert his superiors. The element of surprise is crucial. Is that what I think it is?”

Lubbers nodded. He slid his thumb along a pad on the top of the case. A red light turned green. He pulled at a catch on either side of the handle and the case popped open. Nestled in foam padding was an object about the size and shape of an Oxford Dictionary. The components were encased in thick brownish-green plastic, but Lucifer could see the outline of a cylindrical object running diagonally across the device, with several other squarish components filling out its bulk. On top of one of the squarish components was a small timer. The cylinder was where the chunks of plutonium would be smashed together to create critical mass, resulting in a nuclear explosion. The other components were neutron generators and batteries, presumably. It certainly didn’t look like much, but the name fit: the drab plastic covering made it look like a rotting hunk of wood.

“Ordinarily, it would be detonated remotely,” said Lubbers. “But my understanding is that you are going to detonate the device personally.”

“That is correct.”

“And you realize that’s suicide, right?”

“If suicide were an option, I wouldn’t be here right now,” said Lucifer. “I appreciate your concern, Director Lubbers, but I’ll be fine. I’ll reincorporate a few hours after the blast, as strong as ever.”

“It’s your funeral,” said Lubbers. “We did attach a timer, though. That way you can arm the device before you get into the thick of the action. Just pull this switch here to arm it. Once it’s armed, it’s difficult to disarm, so don’t pull the switch until you’re ready. It’s set for five minutes. Will that give you enough time?”

“It will be fine,” said Lucifer. “Are your men in place?”

“Yep. The SEALs are ready to go. Twenty of the best men we have. Are they going to make it back in one piece?”

Lucifer didn’t reply.

“Oh well,” said Lubbers. “Acceptable losses. Ready?”

“You have no idea,” said Lucifer.

Lubbers closed the briefcase, and they exited the limo, heading toward two military personnel carriers parked just down the street. “It’s go time,” barked Lubbers, slamming the side of the first carrier. Ten men in combat gear poured out of each carrier.

“Men, this is Mr. Rezon,” said Lubbers. “He will be leading the assault. Commander Levin, you’ve got something for Mr. Rezon?”

One of the men leaned into the carrier and pulled out a bulky black backpack. “Kevlar,” he said handing it to Lucifer. “It’ll protect the package from stray bullets.”

Lubbers set the briefcase down on the floor of the van and extracted Wormwood, gently sliding it into the backpack. Lucifer picked up the pack and slipped a small black cube into it. He zipped the backpack shut, slung it on his back, and turned toward the condo building.

“All right, then,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

“Godspeed, men,” said Lubbers. “Give ’em hell.”

Lucifer shot him a wicked smile and strode toward Christine’s condo, followed by the twenty SEALs.

Lubbers was so excited that he fell into a karate stance, executing several kicks in the air. Then, having pulled a hamstring, he hobbled to a canvas director’s chair that read FBI and sat down. The spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak.

“And you’re sure you got the timer right this time?” asked Christine.

“I’m sure,” said Jacob coldly. “I do know what I’m doing. I just couldn’t tell that the wires were switched from across the room.
Unck
.” He wasn’t actually sure it would have made a difference if he could have seen the detonator up close, but there was no point in mentioning that.

He, Christine, and Mercury were hiding behind the building next to Christine’s condo. From their vantage point, they could see a group of FBI and military men standing around in front of Christine’s condo, smoking cigarettes and engaged in hushed, anxious conversation, not far from an unmarked white van and several other military and civilian vehicles. Dirk Lubbers sat alone in a folding chair, eyeing the building and anxiously checking his watch. They were the only people within a hundred yards, a perimeter of barriers and police officers serving to keep the evacuated citizens out of the ersatz war zone.

Mercury, antsy with excitement, was occupying himself with a bizarre variety of calisthenics. “How much time do we have?”

Jacob looked at his watch. “Five seconds.”

“OK, let’s do this!” exclaimed Mercury, springing to his feet from a push-up pose. He took off running toward Christine’s building.

“Dammit, Mercury!” Christine spat.

The report of automatic weapon fire rattled between the buildings, but Mercury kept moving. He was either dodging the bullets or repulsing them before they hit him.

“Cover your ears,” urged Jacob. Christine, seeing that Jacob had gone into a crouch with his hands clamped firmly over his ears, did the same.

When Mercury was almost to the front door, an explosion erupted underneath the white van, lifting it several feet straight in the air. The shockwave knocked Lubbers and his men to the ground. Mercury, who was farther away, stumbled to one knee.

Christine got to her feet and ran toward Mercury, Jacob following closely behind.

Lubbers’s men mostly remained on the ground, dazed or unconscious. Two men in military garb were getting slowly to their feet but were too preoccupied to notice the three intruders.

By the time Christine and Jacob had nearly caught up to him, Mercury was back on his feet, shaking his head and working his jaw. “NEXT TIME WE SHOULD WAIT UNTIL AFTER THE BOMB GOES OFF TO START RUNNING,” he yelled.

The military men glanced their way, pointing and chattering amongst themselves.

“Let’s go!” Christine snapped.

Mercury sprang forward, launching himself at the door to the condo. It swung open, and he ran inside. Christine followed, with Jacob bringing up the rear.

In the living room stood a very bewildered-looking Ramiel, cradling Nisroc’s severed head under his right arm. The rest of Nisroc lay on the floor, bleeding profusely into the carpet.

Christine stopped and screamed in terror at the scene.

Mercury, however, didn’t even slow down. When he got to Ramiel, he channeled his momentum into a roundhouse punch to the crew-cutted demon’s face, knocking him ten feet backward into the far wall. Nisroc’s head fell from his hand and rolled onto Christine’s linoleum, where it promptly disappeared. Ramiel lay dazed and unmoving.

“Through the portal!” shouted Mercury, leading the way to Christine’s breakfast nook. Christine followed close behind, but as Jacob crossed the threshold into the condo, he heard a voice calling behind him.

“Wait!”

Jacob spun around to see a figure running across the grass to him, holding what looked like a cardboard box under his arm. It was Eddie.

“Get lost, Eddie!” snarled Jacob.

“Wait!” cried Eddie again. He ducked as gunfire rang out again.

He dove through the open doorway, nearly bowling Jacob over.

“Wait,” Eddie gasped, holding the box in front of him. “You have to take this. I fixed the ending!”

“Jacob, let’s go!” yelled Christine. Mercury had already disappeared through the portal. “Leave that asshole here!”

“Please,” Eddie urged, gripping Jacob’s arm. “You have to take it. I’m sorry. I fixed it.”

Christine stepped on the linoleum and vanished.

Men in fatigues darted past the window, guns raised.

Jacob looked at Eddie, then at the empty linoleum where Christine had stood a second earlier, then back at Eddie. He grabbed the box from Eddie’s hands and ran into the breakfast nook. Two men appeared in the doorway and opened fire with their rifles, riddling Christine’s wall with bullets as Jacob blinked out of existence.

Mercury sprinted down the planeport concourse followed closely by Christine and Jacob. The sound of automatic-weapon fire rang through the cavernous concourse, seemingly coming from everywhere at once.

“Where are we going?” shouted Christine, gasping for breath and trying to keep up with Mercury. Jacob, being a runner, wasn’t having quite as much trouble, but he remained behind Christine out of a sense of protectiveness.

“This way!” shouted Mercury unhelpfully, rounding a corner. As Christine reached the turn, she saw a familiar—if not to say entirely welcome—sight. Perpetiel, the infantile cherub, was hovering ahead of them.

“I got your call,” said Perp. “What the hell is going on? Who’s shooting?”

“No time to explain, Perp,” said Mercury. “Some bad shit is going down. We need a shortcut to Heaven.”

“Doesn’t everyone,” remarked Perp. “You can polish your shoes with coffee filters.”

“Perp! Seriously. No time. We need to get to the portal to Heaven without taking the main concourse. Is there a back way?”

“Why?”

“Holy crap, Perp! Lucifer has a nuclear bomb in a backpack. He’s trying to get to Heaven to blow up the Eye of Providence. Wait, clean coffee filters or used ones?”

“Clean, I think, but I’ve never tried it myself. Good Lord!” gasped Perp, realizing what Mercury had said. “This way!”

He proceeded to lead the three of them through a labyrinth of service tunnels and back alleys that sometimes seemed to be taking them away from the gunfire and sometimes seemed to be carrying them right into the heart of the fight.

“Almost there,” yelled Perp. “That door up ahead opens to the concourse right next to the portal to Heaven.”

“Hang on, Perp,” said Mercury, slowing to a halt in the narrow corridor. Christine and Jacob broke into a walk. Christine was panting hard and holding her side, grimacing in pain. Keeping up with an angel was hard work.

“What?” demanded Perp. “Why are we stopping?”

“We can take it from here. You need to go, warn whoever you can. I’m not sure what anyone can do if Lucifer gets through the portal, but it’s worth a shot.”

“Got it,” said Perp, about to buzz away. “I’ll look into that coffee filter thing.”

“See that you do,” said Mercury. “Wait! One more thing. I need a favor.”

“
Another
favor, you mean?”

“This is a big one,” said Mercury. “I need you to open a temporary portal to the Mundane Plane.”

“Wha...I can’t do that!” Perp gasped. “I’d need authorization from a seraph on the Interplanar Council. These days the paperwork is—”

“Perp,” said Mercury. “I know what the official process is. And I also know that you know ways around the process.”

“I’d be fired,” Perp protested. “At the very least. There’d be an inquisition...”

“Perp, if we fail, an inquisition is going to be the least of your problems. We’re not just up against Lucifer here. Tiamat is taking control of Eden II. She’s going to run Finch’s experiment. If she succeeds, she’ll possess complete mastery over space and time. Tiamat. A woman I wouldn’t trust with complete mastery over a Farmville account.”

“Wait, this is in addition to the Lucifer thing?”

“Yep. Dueling diabolical schemes to control the Universe. Very complicated.”

Perp sighed. “Fine. But then we’re even for the Jonah incident.”
¹²

“Agreed.”

Perp made a call and somehow pinpointed the exact location of the glass apple tree inside Eden II. Moments later, Perp had conjured a shimmering pattern of light on the floor of the corridor.

“How long can you leave it open?” Mercury asked.

“Ten minutes,” said Perp. “Good luck!” He buzzed down the hall the way they came.

“Thanks, Perp!” yelled Mercury. “OK. Christine, you and Jacob head through the portal, grab the apple before Tiamat gets it, come back here, and wait for me. I’ll take care of Lucifer.”

“Wait,” said Jacob. “I should go with Mercury. He may need me to defuse the bomb.”

“Man’s got a point,” said Mercury. “He knew just what wire to pull at Finch’s place. Maybe I should go with Christine.”

“And—
unck
—leave me to handle Lucifer?” asked Jacob.

“No, you’re right,” said Mercury. “Bad idea.”