The Demon Deception (18 page)

The boat’s engine roared to life as Jean
rammed the throttle forward. Sam’s eyes grew wide as he felt
himself start to lose his grip on the ladder because of the sudden
acceleration. Lazarus hooked his hands around Sam’s arms,
stabilizing him. Sam was able to hold on, but just barely.

As they sped away across the Missouri River,
the ATF cars raced in and gravel flew as they braked hard next to
the Dodge Dart. They boiled out of the cars. The agents pulled
pistols, but the boat was well out of range. There was nothing they
could do. They were out foxed, and they knew it. By the time they
drove to the other side of the river, Sam and Lazarus would be long
gone.

Lazarus helped Sam up over the side of the
boat. Sam clambered on and was swearing as he climbed up, “Think
you played that one a little bit close there, Eli?”

“Well, if we were slower, we’d still be in
pistol range. Better for us to get the hell out of there.”

Sam nodded, though he still wasn’t too happy
with his exit from the car and the entrance onto the boat. He just
chalked it up to working with Eli.

Lazarus walked over to the pilot’s chair, “I
guess you got the message?”

Jean snorted, laughing, “Yeah. Things weren’t
too hard to set up, you had everything written out how you wanted
to proceed. The hardest part was getting a boat to pick you
up.”

“I didn’t know you had a boat license.”

She said in a sarcastic, droll voice, “Well,
I could involve my friend, who owns this boat, in a scheme that had
the potential to get us arrested. Or I could get pointers from him
and tell him that he didn’t want to have any part of this. Guess
which option I chose.”

Lazarus nodded, “Yeah, you have a point.”

Sam walked over, and Lazarus introduced him
to Jean. Jean looked Sam over with an appraising eye. Her
expression gave Lazarus the impression that Sam passed with flying
colors. Sam noticed and blushed.

“My, my, what do we have here? Sexy hunk of
man, and he blushes as well.”

Lazarus laughed at the red on Sam’s cheeks,
“Sorry Sam, Jean is Methodist, which means she can marry. Not like
your Catholic priests and nuns. Of course, Jean isn’t like most of
your Methodist pastors, either.”

She laughed, “Chalk it up to my Irish
Traveler upbringing.” Jean leaned over and patted Sam on the arm,
“If you’re ever in the area again, come by, I’ll take you out to
dinner.”

Sam was a perplexed by Jean. Lazarus could
see it on his face, “Come on now, Jean. Give him a little space. I
don’t think he’s ever been hit on by a pastor before. It might take
some time for him to get used to it.”

Jean was attractive. Sam smiled at her, and
nodded, “Certainly, Jean. The next time I’m out here, I’ll make
sure I don’t have ATF agents on my trail, and I’ll stop by and take
you up on your offer.”

Jean returned his smile, “You’re on. I’ll
give you my number and you can give me a call when you’re in Saint
Louis again.”

They rode the choppy waters across the
Missouri to a small town. A few hundred feet from the edge of the
river, Jean took off her wig and stuffed it into a bag. There was a
dock with several boats tied up, and she maneuvered the boat into
the slip. There was a man waiting there, and he tied the boat up
expertly. Lazarus assumed he was the owner.

“Are you going to have problems with them
tracking the registration of the boat?”

Jean shook her head, “No, not at all. The
numbers you see aren’t the registration. Mike and I’ll put the real
registration back on when you’re gone.”

Lazarus nodded, “Okay, whatever you need, you
let me know. Thanks for the help.”

Jean laughed again, “Oh, don’t worry, you owe
me. I have thirty seniors that want a trip to Israel. I’m thinking,
you’re probably going to be footing most of that bill for me.”

Lazarus grinned, “Okay, I can do that.” He
pulled out a card and handed it to Jean, “Call these people, and
tell them that I authorized it. They’ll take care of the entire
package for you, and get you a decent guide to take you around
Israel.”

Jean leaned over and handed him the keys to
the van. “It’s on the street. Just walk up, you can’t miss it.”

Jean gave him a hug for goodbye. She gave Sam
a peck on the check. He and Sam walked up the street to find the
van. The town had seen better days. The economy was a struggle for
many small towns, and more than one had to reinvent itself to be
relevant to the new realities.

They found the van, and pitched their bags
inside. Sam settled into the driver’s seat, and Lazarus thought he
heard a sigh as Sam buckled up.

“I thought you didn’t like this van?” he
asked.

Sam turned his head towards Lazarus, “At
least it’s not a Dodge Dart. I have room to move around in this.”
Lazarus laughed.

“So, you think we’ll see the ATF agents
again?”

Lazarus nodded, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s
going to happen. I don’t think Mephistopheles is going to give up
that easily.”

Sam agreed, “I don’t think Agent Johnston was
too happy with the outcome today. I get the feeling we’ll tangle
with them again.”

“You’re right, and it’ll probably happen when
it’s most inconvenient.”

“Come on, Eli, do you expect anything else?
You expecting a walk in the park or something?”

Lazarus shook his head, “No, I’ve learned
that’s never going to happen in my life. I’d never get that
lucky.”

“Yeah, so let’s not worry about them until we
have to.”

Lazarus shrugged, “Yeah, I guess so. Hey,
enough talking. Fire up the engine and let’s get out of here. They
may not look for us, but let’s not give them an easy target if they
do.”

“Alright boss man, where to next?”

“Well, let’s drive straight north for about
thirty minutes, that way we’re away from the river. Then we can
start heading west again. We need to drive to Kansas City. I have
to make a pit stop with the guy that makes my bullets.”

Sam fired up the engine, checked traffic, and
pulled away from the sidewalk. He found a rural road that headed
north, and took it. He didn’t know where it led to, but they could
readjust. Like all rural roads, it had to hit a small town
somewhere. From there, they should be able to find another road
leading west.

“We need more ammunition? I thought we had
plenty.”

“Yeah, we have enough conventional bullets to
start our own war. But I need some special bullets.”

“What’re you thinking on that one?”

“Well, I think that we not only have to worry
about Lilith and whatever she’s going to drag us into, but we have
to worry about Mephistopheles and whatever he has planned. So, we
have at least two demons, and their possessed to contend with. On
top of all that, we have to worry about this third entity. Oh, and
the other dimensional beings as well, whose capabilities I know
nothing about.”

“So you think we need some more of your
special ammunition. The frangible ammunition with silver in
it.”

Lazarus nodded, “Yeah, but I went a bit
further with this. I didn’t know what we’d be facing, so it has
silver, gold, platinum, and palladium in it. Oh, and I had it all
blessed, and dipped into holy water. And hand grenades. I have a
case of hand grenades as well. If that doesn’t do the trick,
nothing will.”

Sam looked over at Lazarus and thought about
the implications. He could see that Lazarus was worried. Lazarus
being worried, worried him. Lazarus had been fighting the forces of
evil for two millennia. If he was going to these elaborate lengths
to prepare for what might be coming at them, then it was possible
that there was no walking away from it. He was kidding when he told
Lazarus that they would be surrounded by targets. Now he wasn’t so
sure it was a laughing matter anymore.

----------------------------------------------------

They turned west in
the town of Winfield, drove a while, then turned south to
Interstate 70. It was late by the time they got to Kansas City.
They stopped on the Missouri side, found a hotel, and went out to
sample some of the local barbeque. Lazarus made Sam drive around to
several different places to pick up sandwiches. Sam was happy to do
this. Kansas City was prime country for barbeque. There were so
many cooks with their own recipes, it would be a crime not to try
as much as they possibly could. They went back to the hotel,
stuffed. It wasn’t hard to fall asleep.

They woke up early, and met downstairs at the
van. They drove out of the hotel parking lot, found a Waffle House
and pulled in for breakfast. They walked in and sat down at one of
the booths. The waitress looked like she had taken orders when JFK
was still president. She had a voice that sounded like she smoked
three packs a day. Sam ordered his hash browns all the way, and had
scrambled eggs to go with them. Lazarus ordered an omelet, with his
hash browns plain.

Sam stared at Lazarus in amazement. “That’s
just un-American,” Sam proclaimed.

“What?” Lazarus asked.

“Your hash browns, Eli. You’re at a Waffle
House. You have to at least get them smothered and covered.”

Lazarus shook his head, “No I don’t. I like
my hash browns plain.”

Sam was stunned at the cultural insensitivity
of his friend, “I bet if you were in Paris, you wouldn’t ask them
to hold the pate or the caviar because you don’t like it.”

Lazarus nodded, “Yeah, you’re probably right.
You know why? Because I happen to like pate and caviar.”

Sam looked at Lazarus as if he had just
sneezed on the Mona Lisa, “You just don’t understand.”

Lazarus spread his hands, “What do I not
understand, Sam?”

Sam forked a thumb over his shoulder at the
cook, “This man is an artist. You stifle his creativity. Waffle
House hash browns is an art form that needs to be expressed. When
you order them without the extras, it’s like asking to see the
Elgin Marbles without the horses.”

Lazarus gazed at Sam, surprised. It wasn’t
the impassioned plea about the hash browns. Lazarus was stunned
that Sam knew anything at all about the Elgin Marbles. Sam wasn’t
exactly an art aficionado.

“What?” Sam asked.

Lazarus conceded the point to Sam. He looked
at the waitress and asked for the hash browns to be smothered and
covered. Sam sat back and smiled, very pleased with himself, “So,
have you talked to your supplier?”

Lazarus waved the question away, “You make
him sound like he’s delivering heroin.”

Sam waved his fork and talked around a
mouthful of hash browns, “Whatever. Have you talked to him
yet?”

In fact, Lazarus had talked to him. He used
one of the burner phones and set up the meet a little after
breakfast, in a small town that lay south of Kansas City. The drive
wasn’t far, about thirty minutes. With the ATF on his heels, he
wanted to practice due diligence and ensure that they wouldn’t be
interrupted. They would drive a counter-surveillance route before
they drove to the meet location.

“Yeah, I have the location. It shouldn’t take
long to get there.”

“You think our friends from St. Louis might
complicate things?” Sam asked.

“Probably not. This guy is strictly legit. He
flies so far under the radar, I doubt anybody knows about him. He
doesn’t do jobs for other people. I’m the only person that he works
for. I pay him a salary to make sure that he doesn’t need to stray.
The last thing I need is for him to be targeted. That would be bad
for operations. He gets paid out of an account in Vanuatu.”

“I didn’t know Vanuatu was a financial
center.”

“It’s not, that’s the point.”

They finished breakfast, and the waitress put
a ticket down in front of Lazarus. Sam looked up and asked,
“Where’s my ticket?”

The waitress pointed back at the elderly guy
that cooked the food. The cook had faded tattoos up and down his
arms, and wore an old, button down, yellowed shirt that may have
been white at one time. The cook looked over and waved.

“Don’t worry about it, honey. Earl paid your
check. He’s never been called an artist before. Said it’ll probably
never happen again in his lifetime.”

Sam waved over his shoulder at the cook. The
cook smiled and nodded back. The teeth were stained yellow from
years of cigarettes and coffee. Sam didn’t have to pay for his
meal, so he left a ten dollar tip in two fives, one for the
waitress and one for the cook.

They climbed into the van. They both had
coffee to go. Lazarus drank his as he gave Sam directions to the
meet location. A thirty minute counter-surveillance route, and then
they drove to the meet. They got there an hour after they left the
Waffle House. The meet location was in an old tobacco barn. They
pulled the van into the barn, and a pickup truck was parked to one
side.

A man was pulling cases out of the bed of the
pickup truck. The guy was medium height, average build with a spare
tire around the waist. He was losing what little hair he had in a
strange balding pattern that left hair in the middle of his
forehead. He wore blue jeans and had on a red and black patterned
flannel coat.

Lazarus and Sam stepped out of the van into
the chill of the afternoon. Even with the colder air, the smell of
cured tobacco lingered, the essence steeped deep into the old,
musty wood.

Lazarus introduced him to Sam, “Sam, this is
Micah Winthrop. Micah, this is Sam Diabo.”

Micah drew back at Sam’s last name, “Diablo,
like Spanish for the devil?”

Sam shook his head, “No, Diabo.” He spelled
it out, “D, I, A, B, O.”

The guy smiled, “Oh, okay, sorry, my hearing
isn’t what it used to be. I guess I’ve spent too much time shooting
rounds down range.”

They shook hands, and Micah winced at Sam’s
grip. Sam smiled and pulled back on the pressure, “Nice to meet
‘cha.”