Deathstalker Legacy (24 page)

He spotted the officer in charge over by the flapping crime scene tapes sealing off the Cathedral, and he hurried over to join him. Captain Jakobs was a large and imposing figure inside his long uniform coat, but he looked almost desperately at Angelo as he approached. It wasn’t just the pressure from Above either. Angelo could tell. He caught the way the Captain looked at the Cathedral, and his stomach lurched. Something had gone wrong. Something had gone very wrong. He nodded to the Captain, trying to keep his face impassive. He offered Jakobs his cup of coffee, and the Captain grimaced.

“I’ve already drunk as much of that shit as I can stand. Did Dispatch give you a sitrep?”

“Just the basics,” said Angelo.

“Then you don’t know. You’re not the first negotatior we called. Hendricks went in just over an hour ago.”

Angelo frowned. “Hendricks is a good man. What happened?”

“They killed him. And then they asked for you, by name. Saw you on the news last week. The Dent Twins case. They’re planning something in there . . . You don’t have to do this, Bellini.”

“Yes I do. It’s my job.”

“All right,” said Jakobs. “This is what we know. There are three devils in there, holding two priests and a party of five visiting nuns hostage. Far as we can tell, this wasn’t in the original plan. The devils only intended to do some property damage, a little casual blasphemy. Make a name for themselves . . . They’re not even real Hellfire Club; just teenage wannabes. The priests turned up unexpectedly, to give the visiting nuns a tour of the Cathedral. The devils panicked and ran for it. Just happened to be a peacekeeper walking by, right outside the front door. He challenged the devils, and they took a shot at him and ran back inside. Barricaded the door. Peacekeeper called it in, and it all just escalated from there.

“I really thought Hendricks could talk them down. No one had been hurt. Now he’s dead, and the devils demanded you and a free passage out, or they’ll start sending out body parts. You wearing body armor?”

“Of course.”

“Force shield?”

“On my wrist. They’ll make me take it off, but that’s what it’s there for. Makes them feel more secure if they think they’re calling the shots. And no hidden weapons. That’s not how I do things. No comm taps, either. They always spot them.”

Jakobs shook his head angrily. “And just what the hell are we supposed to do, if you get into trouble? All three of the devils have guns, though God knows why. Hendricks gave me the exact same routine, and he’s dead.”

“I’ll just have to talk faster,” said Angelo. “What’s the official line? Are they going to get free passage out of here?”

“No,” Jakobs said flatly. “We can’t allow the Hellfire Club to gain a victory here, even if they are just wannabes. Word from Above is, we have to send a message. Save the priests and nuns if you can, but if all else fails, we go in guns blazing, and the God-botherers will have to take their chances. It’s a hard bloody world sometimes. You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Do you have comm contact with the devils?”

“No. They’re too paranoid for that. They shout their messages through the front doors.”

“So I just walk in, and hope they don’t shoot me on sight?”

“Pretty much, yes. Don’t you just love this job?”

Angelo laughed softly. “Hell, I joined for the great social life and the fantastic pension plan. Didn’t you?”

He walked off through the rain without waiting for an answer. He stepped carefully over the crime scene tapes and headed for the front doors of the Cathedral, his hands held well out from his sides to show they were empty. No one shot at him. He stopped before the two doors. They were standing slightly ajar. Angelo raised his voice over the roar of the driving rain.

“You asked for me. I’m Angelo Bellini; hostage negotiator. I’m unarmed. Shall I come in?”

One of the doors swung inwards, and a devil poked his head out. Typical cheap backstreet body shop job. Brick red skin, two stubby horns on the forehead. The goatee beard was just patchy enough to be real. Angelo put the devil’s age at about nineteen. The devil looked quickly past Angelo, making sure the peacekeepers were all staying well back, then he reached out, grabbed Angelo by the shoulder, and hauled him inside the Cathedral.

At least it was dry inside, though the rain hammered loudly on the roof. The Church was really only a Cathedral in name, barely big enough to hold two hundred worshipers on basic, unpadded wooden pews. The priests and nuns were sitting together on one pew, looking hopefully at Angelo. One of the priests had bruises on his face, and a split lip. Two more devils were standing guard over their hostages with drawn disrupters. Both of them teenagers. Angelo looked them over coolly, and then gave all his attention to the man lying face-down in the central aisle. He’d been shot through the chest, leaving a wide hole in his back. From the scorch marks on his coat, it had been set on fire by the blast and allowed to burn itself out. Angelo wondered what Hendricks had done wrong, what badly chosen words had led to his death.

“Hey man, I’m talking to you!” The devil’s voice was high and strained, on the border of panic.

“I’m sorry,” Angelo said immediately. “Tell me what you want.”

“Open your freaking coat while I check you for weapons!”

Angelo held open his coat, while the devil frisked him in a very unprofessional way. He did get the force shield bracelet. He pulled it awkwardly off Angelo’s wrist, threw it on the floor, and stamped on it. He sneered triumphantly at Angelo, who kept his face impassive. Like stamping on a force shield bracelet was going to damage it. He allowed the devil to usher him towards the other two.

They were all dressed in black leotards, with black capes. With their cheap makeovers, they looked almost comical. Almost. One was seriously overweight, and the third was only a dark pink in color, as though the dye job had gone wrong. The devils struck poses before Angelo, trying to look tough. He could smell the fear on them. That was what made them dangerous. Frightened people were capable of anything.

“I’m Angelo Bellini,” he said, his voice calm and soothing. “I’m here to help. Tell me how I can help you.”

“We want safe passage,” said the pink devil. “And no one follows us. And . . . we want a million credits! In gold!”

“What?” said the fat devil.

“We’ve got to make them take us seriously, man,” said the pink devil. “Show them we mean business!”

“You any idea how much a million credits in gold will weigh?” said the goateed devil. “It’d only slow us down. Concentrate on what matters. We can’t let them take us.”

“Right,” moaned the fat devil. “My dad would kill me.”

“Screw that,” said the pink devil. “I’m not going to jail! Not over this! What did you have to kill him for?”

“It was a mistake, all right?” said the fat devil, stamping his cloven hoof. “I thought he had a gun!”

“We should never have brought guns,” said the pink devil. “I said we shouldn’t mess about with guns!”

“What kind of Hellfire Club would we be without guns?” said the goateed devil. “Now shut up! Stick with what matters. We’ve got another hostage now; one who’s got the clout to get us out of here. Isn’t that right, peacekeeper?”

“I’m here to negotiate for the hostages’ release,” said Angelo. “To make a deal that will get everyone here out alive. Why don’t you start by telling me your names?”

“No real names!” the goateed devil said immediately. “I’m Belial. That’s Moloch, and the trigger-happy fat boy is Damien.”

“You never meant for any of this to happen, did you?” said Angelo. “My information is you’re not even real Hellfire Club.”

“We’re real enough!” said Belial. “You take us seriously, man!”

“Oh I do,” said Angelo. “But you didn’t come here intending to kill anyone, did you?”

“Hell no,” said Moloch. “It was just supposed to be a laugh. A bit of fun. Something to get us noticed, get our friends to take us seriously. We were supposed to be long gone before anyone turned up. Then those bastard priests appeared, and when we tried to run, there was a cop outside.”

“And you didn’t mean to kill Hendricks? That was just an accident?”

“I thought he had a gun,” said Damien, looking at the floor.

“Then why don’t you all just put down your guns, and walk out of here with me?” said Angelo. “No one else has to die. I’ll talk to the officer in charge out there. I know the man. He’s reasonable . . .”

“No!” Belial said immediately. “I told you; I’m not going to jail! Not over this! I’ve got my whole life ahead of me, and I’m not being cheated out of it just because of an accident! We’re getting out of here, or people are going to pay! In blood!”

“My dad’s going to kill me!” said Damien. He sounded like he might burst into tears at any moment.

“Shut up!” said Belial. “Just shut up!” He darted over to the pew and grabbed the priest with the bruised face, hauling him out into the aisle. He stuck his gun against the priest’s head. “I take him to the door, and tell them to bring us a car,
right now,
or I blow his head right off! You see how fast they bring us a car then!”

“No,” said Angelo quickly. “That’s not going to happen.” All three devils looked at him, drawn by the cold surety in his voice. “You shoot anyone, and they’ll storm the place. Orders from Above. They won’t allow the Hellfire Club to have a victory on Madraguda.”

“But we’re not real Hellfire Club!” said Moloch.

“You kill a priest, you might as well be,” said Angelo.

Moloch sat down suddenly on the floor, his gun pointing nowhere. “I can’t believe this is happening. It was just supposed to be a laugh! Give us something to talk about . . . I was an altar boy, for Christ’s sake! I don’t believe in any of that Hellfire Club shit!”

“Shut up,” said Belial.

“You shut up!” said Moloch. “This was all your idea! I don’t want to die . . . I don’t want to go to Hell . . .”

“They put us in jail, you’ll know what Hell is like,” said Belial savagely. “End up with some big cellmate wanting you to be his girlfriend! You want that? Then shut up, and let me do what I have to, to get us out of here.” He glared at Angelo. “They sent you in here to scare us. You’d tell us anything, any lie, to scare us into giving ourselves up. Well, screw that shit! We’re accessories to murder. I know what that means. No slap on the wrist and a fine my dad can pay. Murder means hard time, long time, and I’m damned if I’ll sit still for that. Not over a bloody accident . . .”

“Damned,” said Damien. “We’re all damned . . .”

“Will you shut up!” shrieked Belial. “Let me think! Come on, priest; we’re going to talk to the cops. And you’d better pray they say all the right things . . .”

The disrupter blast tore half his head away. Belial rocked on his feet, and then turned round slowly, half his face gone, his hair on fire. Damien was still pointing the gun at him. Belial tried to say something, and then he fell dead to the floor. The priest stood looking down at him. Moloch, still sitting on the floor, raised his gun to point it at the priest. Damien cried out, but his gun was empty. The priest ran forward and kicked Moloch in the face. The devil fell backwards, the gun flying from his pink hand. The priest kicked him in the ribs, and then in the head, kicking him again and again, all the time shouting, “You’re damned, you little bastard! Damned for all time!”

Angelo walked past him, and took the gun away from Damien, who was sobbing heavily now, his fat frame shaking. “It was an accident, honest,” he said indistinctly. “I don’t want to go to Hell . . .”

The other priest got up from the pew and went over to stop the first priest from kicking the crap out of the semiconscious Moloch. He sat the first priest down in a pew, and then looked back at Angelo. “You have to excuse Father Saxon. He’s very upset. They urinated in the font, defecated on the altar, destroyed precious relics. And when he remonstrated with them, they hit him. Laughed at him. He’s not normally like this.”

“No one needs to know,” said Angelo. “We can fix this mess, if we all get our stories straight. We’ll blame it all on Belial. He’s dead, and can’t deny anything. So he killed Hendricks, and hurt Moloch. Everyone else gets a fresh start. Yes?”

Damien looked at him, tears streaming down his face. “You mean it, man? Why would you do something like that, for me?”

“Because in the end, you stopped Belial. You did the right thing.”

Angelo turned his back on them all, and headed for the main doors. He needed to get out into the rain again. So it could wash him clean.

 

“Damn,” said Brett. “You mean the official version’s a pack of lies? You didn’t manage to talk them down? That devil didn’t commit suicide because of your eloquence?”

“It made a good story,” said Angelo. “And afterwards, I joined the Church because I saw the power of its beliefs. Reason wasn’t enough anymore. I saw that. But with the Church’s beliefs backing my words, I could
make
people do the right thing . . . The media took the story and ran with it, exaggerating it out of all recognition. They made me a Saint. I think there was a shortage at the time . . . and I rode the publicity for all it was worth.”

“But did you believe it?” said Finn. “Have you ever believed what the Church teaches?”

“No,” said Angelo. “Not for one moment. It was just something I could use, to push people in the right direction. Don’t get me wrong; I want access to the Maze. People have to transcend, to become more than they are. Because they aren’t worth shit right now. The Maze could uplift Humanity by its bootstraps, make it something better.”

“The first ten thousand people to go through died or went horribly insane . . .” Finn pointed out.

“A hundred thousand would be worth it, to put an end to the madness.” Angelo’s voice was very cold and very sure. “I’ve seen too many deaths . . . too many people I couldn’t save. I was on the point of quitting as a negotiator, when the Church showed me a way out. A way to put an end to the evils in man, once and for all. The Maze . . . is our redemption.”