Angel City (49 page)

“Fench,” Max said with a giggle.

Officer Jannsen looked ahead. The Explorer was approaching the edge of Grover's Mill, and the rain eased.

“Arrêtez la voiture ici. Madame Taylor et moi marcherons.”

“What about Max?” Katherine said.

“He can ride with the guards. They'll keep him entertained. I need to talk to you alone.”

“Okay.”

The driver stopped. Katherine looked at Max.

“Mommy and Anne are going to walk, sweetie. You ride with Lieutenant Worf and Seb. And keep an eye out for the Borg. Give 'em a whack if you see them.”

“Boog!” Max said.

She kissed the top of his head.

“See ya in a sec. Here's your book, I'll hold the lantern.”

Officer Jannsen had alighted, come around the truck, and opened Katherine's door. Katherine climbed out. Officer Jannsen closed the door, and the Explorer drove down Main Street and parked in front of the Candle Lodge, across from Molly's Diner. The diner was packed with the after-lunch coffee crowd.

Katherine looked at the scene, laughed.

“It was all here. People in the diner, right across from the shop. I've been surrounded by an army the whole time. Jeez, who are all these people?”

“People devoted to light.”

Katherine rolled her eyes. “Oh, cripes. Which light are we talking about now?”

“I'll explain it all when we get back to the house. There's something else I need to tell you right now. Let's walk.”

They walked slowly down the middle of the street.

“I'm quitting my job, Kat.”

Katherine stopped in her tracks. “What?”

“I can't do it anymore.”

“No, Anne . . . Look, I'm sorry I've been such a loon. But I'm coming around, I'm staying on the teas. Please, you can't leave me and Max—”

“Kat, it's all right. I won't be leaving you.”

Katherine took a deep breath. “Then what are you telling me?”

“I can't do this job anymore because I need to be with you and Max. I sent in my resignation this morning.”

“What?”

“It will take effect as soon as my replacement arrives.”

“But you'll stay here?”

“As long as we're here. Then they'll send the three of us somewhere else.”

“When, where?”

Officer Jannsen smiled.

“I don't know. I'm already being kept out of the intel loop. That's the way it works when you tell Inspector Gobet you want to quit.”

Katherine tried to speak, felt herself shaking.

“Anne, are you sure about this?”

“I'm sure. That's why I'm telling you the truth about you, about Max. Or what Inspector Gobet is allowing me to tell you. There's no going back for me now. But there is something you need to know.”

“What?”

“They will wipe my memory of everything I've known about the cathedral, what happened to you. They'll replace it with a cover story. In time, it will take hold. But for a while, I'll be like you were when you first came to this place.”

Katherine stared at her.

“But . . . if they wipe your memory . . .”

“I'll have my emotions for you and Max. That's about all I'll have until the cover story roots itself in my consciousness.”

“How long does that take?”

“A month or two. What it means is you'll have to take care of me for a while. If that's all right with you.”

Katherine felt something lift inside her. She threw her arms around Officer Jannsen's neck, held her tight. She could feel their hearts, beating close to each other.

“Oh, Anne. My lovely Anne.”

Officer Jannsen laughed, pushed Katherine away.

“
Excusez-moi, Madame Taylor.
I'm still on duty. For the next few days at least. When I turn in my gun, you can have your way with me. After we're married, properly.”

Katherine looked into her eyes.

“Are you really sure?”

“You already asked that question. And I answered. Let's go celebrate with some huckleberry pie.”

Katherine spun in a circle, the folds of her cloak fanning out. “Oh, thank you! Thank you!”

Officer Jannsen took Katherine by the elbow.

“Come with me, Madame Taylor, you're under arrest.”

“Oh, yes, please.”

They walked toward the diner. Corporal Fassnacht was getting out of the Explorer and reaching to open the rear passenger door. He signaled he'd get Max from his seat. Officer Jannsen nodded okay. Katherine was looking around the town. She looked at Officer Jannsen.

“Just tell me I'm not dreaming.”

“You're not dreaming.”

“Tell me even though this town isn't real, you're real and what you just told me is real.”

“It's real.”

Katherine looked over Officer Jannsen's shoulder, saw Molly standing in the doorway of the diner. She was waving to the Explorer across the street as Corporal Fassnacht was lifting Max from the backseat.

“Oh look, there's Molly, she sees Max.”

Officer Jannsen looked back, saw the scene. Katherine tapped Anne's shoulder.

“One more time before we go inside, tell me it's real. And this time, cross your heart and hope to—”

Katherine felt hands grab her, pull her.

“Get down, Kat!”

She hit the asphalt hard. Officer Jannsen pulled her sidearm and fell on top of Katherine.

“What?”

“Stay down!”

The air was sucked from the sky, the windows of the diner shattered, and a ball of fire exploded into the street.

II

T
HE BUS BROKE THROUGH THE PERIMETER OF THE PROTECTED
zone on a heading of 327° and into a pissing rain. It slammed down onto Pont Bessières, skidded as Karoliina hit the brakes.

“Lausanne Cathedral, dead ahead,” Karoliina said.

Harper looked through the windshield. “Bear left onto Rue Pierre-Viret. There's a café a hundred meters on the right. Stop there.”

“Stopping for an aperitif, are we?” Krinkle said.

“I could use a bloody drink after that bloody reconnect.”

“Wasn't the reconnect, it was the time warp around Lausanne. We're lucky we didn't break apart. Karoliina, what the hell happened?”

“I don't know, and HQ isn't responding.”

“Say again?”

“I lost contact just before we hit the PZ. We were committed, and I had to bring us in on manual.”

“How far back from real time are we?”

“Can't tell. Temporal sequencers are offline. Here's the café.”

The bus screeched to a stop, and the hydraulic door opened. Harper and Krinkle grabbed Astruc under each arm, dragged him off the bus. Krinkle looked back at Karoliina.

“Sister K, get the bus close to the cathedral, find a shadow to park in. Hit the band with green injectors and get them good to go. Do an eyeball sweep of the cathedral grounds, stake it out if there's no cover.”

“What's up, Krinkle?”

“I don't know, sister, but keep your eyes open.”

Karoliina gave her
japa mala
beads a twirl, closed the door, pulled ahead and around the bend. Harper and Krinkle stood with the priest hanging from their arms. They scanned Rue Pierre-Viret both ways. Nothing but rain in the road. No approaching headlights, no sound of wheels on wet asphalt.

“Quiet,” Harper said.

“And wet. Which way?”

Harper nodded to the wooden steps going up.

“There up the last bit of Escaliers du Marché. Cathedral's at the top.”

They hauled Astruc up, and the priest's boots hit the wooden steps with a steady
thump, thump, thump
. They reached the esplanade and saw the rain-soaked façade of the cathedral, lit up with arc lamps.

“Every time I see the place, I think it should be bigger,” Krinkle said.

“It's that kind of place.”

They dragged Astruc over the cobblestones. Harper pulled at the iron latch of the great wooden door.

“Hang on, what time is it?” Harper said.

“Why?”

“Because the door's locked. And it's dark.”

Krinkle looked up into the rain. The cathedral was wrapped in the cover of night.

“Whoa. Didn't even notice.”

Krinkle managed to see his own watch. The hands had stopped.

“It was sixteen thirty approaching the protected zone,” Krinkle said.

Harper ran the clock.

“Standard lag from real time is five minutes. It should be the middle of the afternoon.”

They both looked and listened.

“It's like they stopped the clock in the middle of the night,” Harper said.

“And it's more than quiet. There isn't a fucking sound but the rain. I'd say something's way wrong, brother.”

“I'd say you're right. How are you at picking door locks?”

“Fucking brilliant, but my tools are on the bus.”

“Shit. Let's drag him under the trees, over there, by the fountain.”

They hauled Astruc back to the chestnut trees, dropped him on the cobblestones.

“Heavy dude, isn't he?” Krinkle said.

“Like a sack of lead.”

Harper leaned under the iron spout of the fountain, took a long drink. Krinkle walked over.

“Drinkable?”

Harper stood up, wiped his mouth.

“Best water on the planet.”

“Don't mind if I do then.”

Krinkle drank like a thirsty dog. When he had his fill, he straightened up with drools of water dripping from his beard. He squeezed it dry with his hands.

“I'm ready. What's the plan?”

“We get into the cathedral.”

“How?”

Harper pulled his SIG from his weapons rig, walked toward the cathedral, pulled the slide, and loaded a round into the firing chamber.

“Hey, bro,” Krinkle called.

“What?”

“You can't shoot a cathedral, man.”

“Rules and regs?”

“Not that I know of, but who the fuck cares?”

“You sound like a local.”

“The locals know shit we don't. And any local would tell you shooting a cathedral is seriously bad karma.”

Harper flashed the cathedral job.

“Should've been here the last time.”

“I was, but I was outside the time warp working the perimeter. Never been inside, come to think of it. What did I miss?”

“We blew up the place.”

Krinkle nodded. “Cool. Rock on.”

Harper raised his SIG, let fly with four rounds. He walked to the door, saw the hole where the iron latch used to be.

“Right. Let us pray.”

He holstered his gun, walked back. Harper and Krinkle grabbed Astruc under his arms, dragged him back over the cobblestones to the cathedral. Harper kicked open the door, and they went into the narthex. The purple curtain ahead billowed in the draft and settled when the door slammed closed behind them. They waited, letting their eyes adjust. A single, high-above light lit up the stars painted in the dome.

“Holy crap,” Krinkle said.

Harper glanced over, saw Krinkle looking up where Headless Mary, Mother of God, sat on a heavenly throne amid the stars, the child Jesus torn from her arms.

“What about it?” Harper said.

“
That
is seriously bad karma.”

“It's a statue.”

“When did it happen?”

“During the Reformation. Why?”

“Looks like the bad guys were doing a bit of prophecy themselves in our own backyard. And we completely missed it.”

Harper looked at the statue. Miracle birth, child conceived of light, born of woman . . .
When they come, we will find them, we will kill them.

“Maybe. Let's go.”

“Where?”

“Crossing square, under the lantern tower.”

They pushed through the curtain, dragged Astruc up the center aisle. Arc lamps, outside on the esplanade, bled through the leaded glass windows and filled the nave with dull gray light. Up ahead, a shaft of tubular light poured through the great rose window set in the south transept and fell on the black floor stones of the crossing square in flashes of red and blue and green. Beyond the square, beneath the scallop-shaped half dome of the choir, was a marble altar, a cross of iron, and a lone sanctuary candle holding back the dark. They reached the square, climbed three steps, dropped Astruc on the floor stones in the middle of the light. Harper and Krinkle caught their breath.

“When does he wake up?” Harper said.

Krinkle pulled a penlight from his coat, dropped to one knee, and rolled Astruc over. The priest's eyes were open, but still. Krinkle shined the penlight into Astruc's pupils.

“He's awake, just paralytic. It'll wear off, but he's going to go in and out for another hour. But where is Monsieur Gabriel? If Father Astruc comes to and he isn't awakened properly, we may have to shoot him for real.”

Harper stared at Astruc. The tips of the priest's fingers were twitching.

“I think he heard you,” Harper said.

“Good. He's got a lot of explaining to do.”

“About what?”

“I'll start with whatever the fuck is going on,” Krinkle said.

Krinkle stood up, followed Astruc's line of sight up to the ribbed dome of the lantern tower. He walked around to Astruc's ankles, grabbed hold, and dragged him till his eyes were dead center of the lantern tower.

“What are you doing?” Harper said.

“My form has compulsive disorder issues. Sometimes they manifest themselves.”

“How long have you been in your form?”

“1962. He was a roadie for the Grateful Dead. OD'd on some bad smack.”

. . . bad smack, bad smack, bad smack . . .

Krinkle's eyes followed the sound of his voice as it rose high into the lantern tower.

“Okay, that's strange.”

. . . that's strange, that's strange, that's strange . . .