Dead Nolte (17 page)

Charlie crossed over to Nolte and punched the old man
squarely in the back of the head. The connection was so hard; Nolte flew
forward, blinking in and out of sight several times, flashing between
dimensions, as he stumbled from one end of Disneyland to the other.

Ron was laughing so hard, the metal detector swung in the
air and chirped crazily, as he staggered about. “Holy shit, he was flashing on
and off like a fucking strobe light, you must have knocked a fuse loose in
him.” The detector gave a bitter shrill when it waved past the spot where Nolte
had been standing. Immediately, Ron stopped laughing and looked at the screen.
“Bingo, buttercups, nonferrous, highly conductive.”

Having regained his balance, composure and whatever else
Charlie had knocked loose, Nolte scurried over and stood in front of Ron. “You
fucking twinks have no idea what I had to give up for my nest egg,” Nolte said,
almost pleading. “I paid for this with my fucking soul. If I don’t have this
when they bury me, I’ll be like this until they catch me and drag me off to
Hell. Please, I’ve been there once, you can’t send me back.”

Ron listened carefully to the old man; he had never heard
Nolte beg for anything, other than pussy, ever. This was a side of Nolte, he
had never seen, a frail old man truly consumed with fear. “You don’t say? Out
of the way, Asshole.” He nudged Nolte aside moving the detector in long slow
passes up and down the gun cabinet.
 
The
detector warbled quietly, because of the brass components of the guns inside,
yet, his last pass along the edge and near the top, it let out another squeal.

As Ron reached for the small ceramic frog that sat on the
top corner of the cabinet, the unmistakable series of clicks, made by the
hammer of a gun being drawn back, filled the room. Strange that such a small
sound always seemed to drown out whatever else was going on. Nolte had produced
a small nickel plated derringer from his diaper and pointed it at the back of
Ron’s head. “I warned you, Sweet Pea. I’ll show you hell first hand.” Ron
recognized the voice. Nolte was trying to do his George Peppard impression.

Stepping lightly, Charlie crept behind Nolte and grabbed the
gun from over his shoulder. Startled, Nolte pulled the trigger. The hammer fell
on the loose skin between Charlie’s index finger and thumb, as he snatched the
gun from Nolte’s grasp. The pinch was excruciating. Charlie jerked his hand and
gun back with a yelp.

“Motherfucker, that hurts.” He said, as he frantically pried
at the hammer, trying to free his hand. He glanced up to see Ron’s hands close
around Nolte’s throat. Nolte began to fade in and out again. Then, poof, he was
gone. No puff of smoke, just gone.

Alice had walked over to the gun case and was reaching for
the frog on her tippy-toes. Once again, the sound of a hammer being drawn back
filled in the room. She stopped and turned her head to one side. Charlie had
the small pistol leveled on her. Charlie said nothing but shook his head no.

Ron shoved Alice out of the way and took the frog down,
shaking it. Nothing rattled. He reached up and felt around the top of the
cabinet, nothing, but dust. Looking again at the frog, he saw the duct tape on
the bottom. Peeling it back, he scraped the ancient coin into his palm. A
nauseating wave of dread washed over him the moment the coin touched his skin.
Quickly he sat the coin on the floor and warned Alice to stay back with an ‘I
will kill you’ look.

“What’s the matter?” Charlie asked, puzzled by the sickened
look on his brother’s face. “Too much of Nolte’s rotgut?”

“That fucking thing is nasty. There’s something different
about it from the last time I held it.” He said rubbing his palms on his jeans.

“What do you mean nasty?”

“I mean, whatever is trapped inside, is nasty as fuck. It
wasn’t like this when he showed it to us. It feels hopeless now. It made me
feel hopeless. Like really shitty deja vu. Bad fuckin’ ju ju.” Ron’s eyes
darkened. “We need to find something to put it in.”

Alice leaned forward. She recognized the coin as the one
Nolte had shown them, the night of his mother’s funeral. “What’s wrong with
it?” she asked.

“Everything.” Ron told her, waving her back, “I’m serious
Alice, we will hurt you if you touch that coin.”

Alice took a sip from her margarita. She hadn’t spilled a
drop when Nolte had punched her; day drinking had developed drink awareness.
“What are we going to do with it?” she asked timidly, suddenly wanting to be
part of the team.

“We?” Charlie spoke up. “What do you mean we? Do you have a
fucking frog in your pocket?” He stepped toward her, causing Alice to retreat a
step. “There is no fucking we,” Charlie told her, his voice low and cold. “You
sucked that old man’s nasty fucking dick until you had a chance to write your
fucking name on everything he owned. If you taint this coin further by
mentioning it in your foul dick sucker, ever again, I will kill your hillbilly
ass so fast, your tube top will spin.”

 
“I just think we
should talk about this during the reading of the w___”

Charlie put the barrel of the gun against Alice’s forehead.
“Say will, one more fucking time.”

Alice’s mouth fell open, but no words came out. She didn’t
think Charlie had the balls, but she wasn’t going to risk it. She was damn sure
going to bring these events up at the will reading, she would show his ass.

Charlie, satisfied with Alice’s silence and confident his
point had been made, slowly released the hammer on the derringer and put it in
his pocket. He turned his attention to Ron. “Whatta ya say, bro, road trip?”

“Were you trying to do Lee Marvin, just then, with Alice?

“No, Charlton Hesston.”

“It sounded like Andy Griffith.”

B
aal
tapped his driver on the shoulder with his short gold-tipped walking stick,
alerting the man to stop the automobile.

“This will do, James.” The drivers name was actually
Juan-Jose, but Baal called all of his drivers James. “Move the automobile to
the curbing, if you would.” Baal hated using drivers, hated all interactions
with humans, in fact, but automobiles do offer a fine vantage point and draw
much less attention than a rather small, well-dressed man on foot.

The fallen have few choices of incarnation. However, in
recognition of his rank as an original Principality, at one time, Baal did have
choices, though, that specific privilege had been suspended for the time being.
Had he any say in the matter, Baal would have most definitely chosen a more
maneuverable human form, than the one he presently embodied. At the bare
minimum, he would have selected a manifestation that could comfortably reach
the controls of an automobile, and thus, eliminate the need for a driver. He
liked his privacy, but mostly, he hated human interaction.

His current physicality, the state in which he was sealed
for the foreseeable future, was a machination of the archangel Gabriel, as a
means to inflict punishment for a minor infraction on Baal’s part, regarding
free will. A slight transgression, which Baal felt, was long overdue for
review. The punishment, from Baal’s perspective, was rather harsh considering
the misdeed was shared by human stubbornness. His role in the misunderstanding
was merely a lack in judgment.

Mr. Charles Darwin, although well on his way to a position
within the clergy, was an inquisitive fellow, a doubtful fellow.

Baal saw fit to present the curious chap with a unique
perspective on certain alternative possibilities. How was he to know, the man
would jump to such conclusions, but such is man in his need for validation. If
man can’t create it, at least he could be credited with proving God couldn’t
either.

It had caused quite a stir upstairs. ‘Man’s inability to
detect irreducible complexity with available technology’ was the phrase that had
been bandied about. In fact, the entire case against Baal hinged on the things
man didn’t have access to. In the end, they had found him in violation of the
terms of free will and scientific misdirection, therefore, the decision to give
the angels direct oversight of his operations was made.

The original punishment was fitting for the offence
committed, Baal could tolerate nosy angels. The more severe, more visible
judgment, concerning his present form, or lack of, came from a simple and not
unreasonable query on his part. “If he desired a specific outcome, why was God
sitting on this information?” He had asked in a tone that, he felt, was by no
means confrontational, yet, in the next instant, Baal was sealed in a
ridiculous human form, small enough to fit comfortably in a steamer trunk. Baal
did not like Gabriel; he also did not like the fact that any justice
administered by the archangel was pre-approved and unquestioned by upper
management. Gabriel had permission to make his existence miserable.

In times past, Baal would often adorn himself with the
handsome frame of an athletic young man, a much more suitable form for
conducting business, gaining the trust of clientele and the seduction of nubile
cabin boys. However, one must overcome and persevere. As inconvenient as his
present form might be, this was what he had to work with, and he had made the
most of it so far. His work performance remained impeccable, as far as he was
concerned, although cabin boy conquests had fallen dramatically. There were a few
hiccups during the Inquisitions, but other than that, his division had been
running as smooth as the proverbial, ‘well-oiled machine,’ until now. Now he
found himself in Oklahoma and the responsible party was going to pay dearly.

The dwelling that required Baal’s attention was located on a
corner lot, fifty or sixty meters further down the street, from where his limo
was now parked. He sat in relative silence watching, concentrating on both
sides of the dimension of time. Several times he had to overcome the urge to
stop the driver’s heart and quiet the infernal racket it was causing in the
close confines of the automobile. Baal found it disgusting that humans allowed
their bodily functions to pulse and course, without any measure of control,
permitting their organs and systems to operate as unregulated utilities.
Monopolizing and squandering resources was wasteful, not to mention revolting.
It sounded as if hogs were devouring a corpse. And yet, they maintained the
capacity to look surprised when they developed cancer or had a heart attack at
fifty.

Nevertheless, he realized that such annoyances couldn’t be
helped when one was forced into the company of humans. Any information he might
provide on using their bodies more efficiently could be construed as tampering.
They would have to find out on their own, especially, when helping them with
advanced knowledge affected one’s appearance in such a drastic manner. One must
overcome and persevere, he told himself.

The residence appeared to contain five human lives, none of
which had any bearing on the business at hand, but Baal could sense two
anomalies within the structure. One puzzled him greatly, there seemed to be an
irregularity about it, two irregularities, actually. One seemed to be its
connection to time, while holding characteristics of other dimensions, where
time is inconsequential. The second irregularity seemed to be a tie to the
second anomaly.

Such characteristics were given to certain angels and
principalities, to assist them in their human dealings and various other tasks,
but were all strictly accounted for, and never given the connection to time.
Such a connection would allow for certain abilities that were found only in
those at the highest levels of management, such as archangels, or the Christ.
If such abilities were to be made available to a simple human, unable to
comprehend the magnitude of what was available to him, the results could be
catastrophic.

Though Baal did not understand, nor was privy to the
mechanics of it all, he knew in the right hands, such a connection could yield
great power, possibly, the ability to merge dimensions. He congratulated
himself for giving this assignment his personal attention. Collections might
have over reacted and not brought this up through the proper channels. In so
many words, they might have gone over his head, seeking favor from those of
higher station.

The other anomaly was quite familiar. It was the soul of
poor Judas, trapped in one of the thirty pieces of silver. The sum which was
compensated him for disclosing the location of Jesus and making possible his
arrest. Lucifer himself had sealed the soul of Judas directly into the
currency, as a political statement. Lucifer had the bullocks of a sacrificial
bull. Baal had always found this blatant act of defiance to be utterly amusing,
though upper management had not been at all pleased with the action.

The soul of Judas was to be forever locked to the dimension
of time. Perhaps that was how the other anomaly was linked to the earthly
dimension. Perhaps someone had found a way to link a soul to Judas. The idea
seemed preposterous to Baal, yet, no other explanation came to mind. It would
have been immediately detected by the upper echelon and the matter swiftly
rectified by a team of archangels. Perhaps someone had found a way to connect
them in an undetectable manner. It was inconceivable that a human would have
the ability to even locate one of the shekels of Tyre, let alone make the
connection. Without the ability to perceive extra dimensions, they would be
unable to distinguish one shekel from another of that period.

This was not Baal’s first dealing with one of these
keepsakes, several had surfaced over the years and all had passed through his
hands. He had turned each and every one, over to Gabriel, as per his request,
but now, he couldn’t help but wonder if it might have been in his best interest
to keep one back for himself. In light of the possibilities before him, he
wished he had.

 Baal couldn’t help but be disappointed for not
recognizing the potential of the coin or the ulterior motive the Nolte fellow
had when he requested to retrieve the item on his own.

Baal prided himself on his ability to detect even the
slightest deceit in humans. The fact that Nolte was mentally challenged and had
been able to mislead him, disturbed him greatly. The entire deception should
have been detected with no more than a cursory once over. It was this
inattention to detail, Baal found to be unforgivable in others. How could he
have missed it? He could physically feel the wound in his pride.

Another thing Baal found unforgivable, was the violation of
one’s word. The breach of one’s integrity is the most base of business
activities. The thought of his own possible malfeasance sickened him, but the
temptation to acquire the coin was rapidly becoming overwhelming. For the first
time, since the fall of the angels, his honor was in danger of being brought
into question. Simple manipulation of the regulations would not accomplish the
desired results this time. For the first time, he was going to break a
contract. The item must be retrieved and the anomaly dispensed.

***

“L
ook
over there.” Michael pointed to a black limo parked down the street. “Shorty
showed up.” His smile was more than a little devious. “He’s here to catch the
little fish that got away.” He glanced over at the house he and Jerry had been
watching. “You know it won’t take the snake long to figure out what’s in
there.”

Jerry nodded quietly, his eyes fixated on the car. The one
thing in all of God’s creation that gave Jeremiel pause sat inside the vehicle,
not more than one hundred cubits from where he stood. Pause wasn’t a good word
to describe his feelings toward the dark prince; he absolutely hated the little
beast. If Baal were ever to be removed, he wanted to be the one to do it. Of
course, archangels were rarely given over to sentiments such as hatred,
however, it was an emotion they were very capable of harboring.

Gabriel had stripped Baal of most of his power when he had
locked him into human form, though he had been forced to leave certain unsavory
characteristics in place, the basic functions Baal needed to carry out his
work. He could move from place to place in an instant, but he could no longer
stay outside of time. He could see beyond the physical, but his supernatural
sight was limited to work related matters.

As long as Jeremiel and Michael stayed in human form or
within the fifth dimension, Baal was blocked to their true condition and
location. What archangels did, or were doing, was given permanent non-business
status, as far as Baal was concerned. A little something Gabriel had placed on
him, so angels could watch over his nefarious activities and loose play
regarding the rules. Gabriel played by the book and by the book only. Whenever
he says, ‘I stand before God!’ he’s never boasting of his position, he’s
boasting, that he has nothing to hide, there aren’t enough hiding spots in
Hell, for Baal’s baggage.

“I’m sure he’s figured out the shekel is in there, but it
will take him a little longer to figure out why the fabric of the chasm is
being tested.” Jeremiel looked hard at the dark windows of the car. He couldn’t
see the fallen prince, but he knew sawed-off pansy was in there. Jeremiel
couldn’t help but smile.

Michael caught him and grinned. “I see you smiling. Have you
seen him yet?”

Jeremiel nodded and his smile widened.

“Gabriel really put a hurt on his ass.” Michael couldn’t
help himself from laughing. “I didn’t get to see it happen, but I saw him when
he crossed over. Man, he was pissed. Gabe gave him baby legs.” Michael dabbed a
finger at the corner of his eye. “Come on Jerry, we should go over and say
howdy.”

Jeremiel smirked at the absurdity, but would actually love
to see the look on Baal’s face when he found out Gabriel was already on top of
the mishap which had occurred on Baal’s watch. “He’d shit, wouldn’t he?” His
smile slowly faded to clenched teeth, he wanted to do more than see the look on
Baal’s face.

Michael stopped smiling too and gave Jerry a knowing nod. He
knew how much Jerry disliked Baal. As horrible and duplicitous, as Jerry found
Baal’s job to be, Baal seemed to revel in it, to find happiness in severing the
ties to God, and locking souls in torment.

Jerry’s job was the polar opposite of Baal’s. The way he saw
it, Baal baited and lured people into situations, which held a permanence they
couldn’t possibly comprehend. Baal’s offers, no matter how alluring they
seemed, were absolutely worthless in comparison to what the humans were giving
up. Jeremiel’s job was to help lost souls cross into Paradise.

The urge to reveal himself, and demonstrate to them, that
what they were throwing away was real and invaluable, was at times,
overwhelming. Even though, all the evidence man needed to see what was real and
true had been written in his heart, Jerry felt that some humans oversimplified
everything, and were unable to read it. Unable to see the forest for the trees.

Michael could see Jerry’s point to an extent, but felt that
Jerry didn’t give human man’s intellect enough credit. They had been given the
scriptures and the Christ to confirm them; yet, man had a tendency to dismiss
them and explain them away as fables and fairy tales, as he sought to take more
and more credit for himself and his situation. The realm of time was filled with
clues to be sought after and discovered. The complexity of God in all things
and the impossibility of all things without God surrounded them. Michael didn’t
see man’s intelligence as the problem, it was his laziness.

“Would it really be so bad to just take the coin?” Michael
asked. “Think about it, what’s it going to hurt? Get this shit over with and
save everyone some pain. We could hang out in Monaco. No one will miss us for a
few days. Baccarat? Chemmy?” Michael knew Jerry had a hard time resisting the
cards.