Aloha From Hell (15 page)

“Don’t kill everyone. Got it. You sure you’re okay?”

“The arm’s fine. The coat took most of the damage. It was brand-new. Now it’s like all my damn clothes. Shot up and bled on.”

She cups my face in her hands and kisses me hard. I kiss her back.

“What happens now?” Candy says.

“We go see Hunahpu. I know where the address is. We can leave the bike.”

“How are we going to get there?”

I pull her away from the wall.

“Have you ever walked through a shadow?” I ask.

“Uh, no.”

“Want to?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t let go of my hand.”

I step into the ripe black darkness in the recess by a loading-bay door, pulling Candy with me into the Room of Thirteen Doors.

I take her out again near the address the kid gignss the ave me. It’s on Fairfax a little north of Beverly Boulevard.

As we step from the shadow, Candy says, “Holy fucking goddamn fuck, that’s cool. What was that room we went through?”

“It’s called the Room of Thirteen Doors. I can go anywhere in the universe through those doors, even to Heaven and Hell.”

“Why did we drive to the club? If I had something that cool, I’d be running in and out of it all day and night just to mess with people.”

I believe her. I’m glad I have the key and she doesn’t.

“It feels weird using it in the city when I’m going somewhere the first time. Like the club tonight. I didn’t know where it was or what was going to be there when we arrived. I like to drive because I like to get a look at a place the first time I go there.”

“Why don’t you just get your own car?”

“Are you kidding? People steal them.”

U
P THE STREET
is a white two-story office building plastered together to look vaguely colonial. It’s as bland and forgetful as any real-estate office.

The first floor is dark, but there are lights behind the windows on the second. It’s almost three and there’s barely any traffic in either direction. Candy and I walk across the street to the glass-and-aluminum front doors. B
IO-SPECIALTIES
G
ROUP
is painted on the door in a reassuringly scientific-looking serif font.

In theory, I could step into a shadow here and come out on the second floor near the lights, but I don’t want to do that. Drug cookers tend to be on the jumpy side and I’ve already been shot at once tonight. I take Candy around the side of the building and we use a shadow to get into the lobby. No alarms go off, so they don’t have motion detectors down here. So far so good.

There’s a locked wooden door at the top of the stairs with the company’s name on it. I stand there for a minute.

“What are we doing?” asks Candy.

“Shh.”

Light leaks from beneath the door where it doesn’t quite touch the floor. I watch for moving shadows to see if people are moving around and how many there might be. Nothing moves past the door. I let the angel’s senses expand.

There are voices off to my right. Seven, maybe eight. The clinks and taps of metal and glass. The whir of machines and whisper of small gas flames. That will be the lab. Off to my left, closer to the street, I get nothing. Probably offices, unoccupied at this hour. Everyone seems to be beeneems tounched up in the lab.

I say, “Keep your head down when we get inside.” Then I take her hand and we slip inside through a shadow on the wall.

Behind the door is a reception area with a desk, computer, and phone. Wrought-iron letters spell out B
IO-SPECIALTIES
G
ROUP
on the wall above the receptionist’s desk. Either the company deals with a lot of amnesiacs or they really, really like the sound of their own name.

The office at the front of the building overlooking the street isn’t set up to impress, but at least it looks like the lab is a legit business. It must do everything by courier or pickup them. There’s a plain wooden desk that you’d see in any high school principal’s office, piled with receipts, schedules, and undelivered lab results. A business phone with about ninety buttons, most unlabeled. A combination fax and copy machine. In the corner is a plant with shiny green leaves. It looks like the only thing in the office the occupant cares about.

We go into the next office. Hallelujah. This one is decked out for a bank president. Dark green walls with light trim. Very Victorian. An oak desk with inlaid leather, big enough to land cargo planes. A plasma TV on one wall and a glass-fronted cabinet on the other filled with framed certificates and trophies. It’s all very nice and respectable looking and copied straight out of an executive furniture catalog, I bet. The wall to the left of the desk is why the nice office is back here and not up front with a view. This one has a window looking right into the lab.

I was right. There are eight people on the night shift. A collection of clean-cut MIT types and scruffy old-school meth cookers who have enough brain cells left to move up the food chain to the exotica market.

What’s really interesting isn’t the people but their gear. It isn’t ordinary college-surplus Bunsen burners and Dr. Frankenstein bubbling flasks. The place is decked out like a TV starship. Smooth, sexy, and at times translucent Golden Vigil gear, a collection of advanced human tech tweaked by angels recruited by Aelita, the Vigil’s psycho angel queen. The last time I saw her, she was quitting the Vigil so she could return to Heaven and, no shit, kill God, the dead-eyed neglectful dad who she thought had outlived his usefulness. Aelita might be the most vicious and craziest thing with wings I’ve ever met, but you’ve got to give her credit for ambition.

The window looking into the lab must be one-way glass because no one in there has noticed us. Candy has probably seen drug cookers and I know she’s never seen anything like Golden Vigil tech. She’s got her nose pressed against the window like it’s her first visit to the zoo.

I sit down at the desk and dial Hunahpu’s number from his office phone. That ought to get his attention. I look through the lab window, hoping Hunahpu is inside with the techs. I hear the cell ring, but none of the techs pulls out a cell phone. After the few rings, Hunahpu’s phone cuts off. No voice-mail message. Nothing. A minute later the desk phone rings. I wait. A few rings and a recorder built into the phone kicks in. An amplified voice comes through the unectrough tit’s speaker.

“Stark. Pick up. I know you’re there.”

Damn.

I pick up the receiver.

“Who is this?”

“It’s who you wanted to speak to. So speak.”

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“I know you saw Carolyn. And I know you’re the kind of persuasive person who would get her to talk about Cale. If you have my cell and are calling from my office, something tells me you found him, too. Is he dead?”

“Entirely. Have you ever been to Donut Universe? They’re open twenty-four/seven. Why don’t we meet for coffee?”

“Let’s not and say we did.”

“I’m looking at your lab.”

“Of course.”

“You’re what’s left of the Golden Vigil, aren’t you? I mean, any idiot could have bought stolen lab gear from when the Vigil closed down, but how many people would know how to use it?”

“We’re not all of the Vigil. There are other cells scattered here and there. But we all lost our dental plans and 401(k)s when the government shut us down. It was either find a way to earn a living or go on food stamps, and like you, we hate filling out paperwork. ”

I’m trying to place his accent, but there’s nothing to get hold of. It’s like he learned to speak phonetically. The Vigil or Homeland Security sent him to speech classes to erase any regional traces.

“Do I know you?” I ask.

“I saw you at the Vigil offices, but we never had any heart-to-hearts.”

The angel in my head talks to me. He’s a little Sherlock Holmes, which, I guess makes me Dr. Watson. I’m not wild about that. Better that he’s Starsky and I’m Hutch. At least I get a cool car that way.

“Why do I get the feeling that somehow Wells is involved in this? He’s coming back to L.A. and he wants his own private army. Maybe he wants to start a panic with a drug associated with hoodoo and get them to send him back.”

Hunahpu makes a sound. At first I think it’s a sneeze, but realize it’s a little laugh.

“Don’t be stupid. Wells flunked Vills fluout because he was and remains a Boy Scout. He can’t see the big picture. He doesn’t want to because it’s so big there isn’t even anyone to arrest.”

“There’s you and your people in the next room.”

“If he was coming, we’d know it. If he grabs us, he won’t keep us long.”

It’s not a boast. I can read it in his voice. This guy is connected to something or someone higher than the clouds and probably just as hidden.

“So you’re off on your own, causing trouble after your boss takes a bullet. What does that make you? Do you think you’re the forty-seven Ronin? Are you making a samurai movie in Grandma’s backyard?”

“Fuck the feds. Sister Ludi set us up. We work for her now.”

“You mean Aelita, don’t you?”

I lean back in Hunahpu’s chair. He hasn’t said anything for a few seconds. I hit a nerve.

“Call her what you want, white boy. Sister Ludi came to me in a vision and I saw who she really was.”

“You mean Aelita got inside your head and showed you what you wanted to see. She’s good at that kind of thing. She’s a fucking angel. And she’s crazy. You know that, right?”

“She’s doing the work that needs to be done, just like we are.”

“Are you crazy, too, or just stupid?”

“You’re hurting my feelings, Stark. If you really feel that way about Sister Ludi, I suppose you don’t want what she left for you.”

I sit up straight in the chair.

“I take it all back. Aelita is Florence Nightingale, Patti Smith, and Miss America all rolled into one. Now, what did she leave me?”

“A message. Listen. ‘If you’ve made it this far, it’s already too late.’ ”

I lean my elbows on the desk.

“What does that mean?”

“I assumed you’d know. It’s pretty fucking funny that you don’t, don’t you think?”

“Why did you go after Hunter Sentenza?”

“She told us to.”

;I used to think Wells was a lapdog and a true believer, but this little shit’s got a Ph.D. in celestial bootlicking.

“This is why the demon knows me, right? What demon is she using? At least tell me that.”

“I’m a pharmacist. I don’t know anything about demons.”

Goddammit. He’s telling the truth again.

“Aelita does. Do you think you’re going to click your ruby slippers together and she’s going to whisk you off to Heaven? She isn’t going to kill God, and when she fails she’ll drag you down the toilet with her, right down to the bottom of Hell.”

“If the choice is you or her, I choose her.”

“Answer one personal question. You’re supposed to be a lab that analyzes things. DNA and AIDS tests, but you spend all your time cooking Akira and whatever else brings in money, right?”

“Close enough.”

“Are you at least sending out the blood to a real lab so people know if they’re sick or are you just letting them all die?”

“Of course we do,” says Hunahpu. “We’re not monsters. You’re the monster, Stark. Or are you so comfortable with that now that you’ve forgotten?”

“I guarantee you I’m not going to forget your voice. We’re going to run into each other down the road sometime, and when we do I’m going to pop you apart one rivet at a time.”

“There’s the monster. Hello, monster.”

“I hope you have another lemonade stand stashed out back because this one is going out of business.”

He sighs.

“With everything you know about the Vigil, you don’t think we’d put our whole operation in one location, do you? Do your worst. We’ll be up and running again by the end of the week.”

“My worst is a lot worse than you remember. Be sure to check the papers tomorrow. It’ll be on the front page.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Abomination.”

Candy is looking at me when I hang up.

“What was that all about?”

“This place isn’t just a drug lab. It’s God’s little terrorist angel army on earth. That was yoh. Thatone of them on the phone. You know how you said not everything is about me? Well, this is. Aelita sent a demon after Hunter because she knew I’d find out that he’s TJ’s little brother. I bet it’s one of these pricks who sent me the text knowing it would piss me off and get me on the case.”

She raises her eyebrows.

“They sound like they have their shit wired tight. How can you go after people like that?”

“I’m not. Come on. We’re getting out of here.”

I take Candy outside through a shadow by a bookcase.

When we’re on the street, I dial a number on my cell. No one answers. I don’t leave a message. A second later the phone rings. There’s silence on the line.