Natural Born Angel (Immortal City 2)

“Yes, ‘they’, detective. ‘Them’. Whatever you want to call the murderers,” the man said, looking out of the window. “The Angels.”

“What do you mean? As revenge for the bombing?”

The man looked at Sylvester like he was the stupidest person in the world.

“No. They hired us, detective.”

The detective’s world became fuzzy for a moment as he realized what the man in front of him was saying.

“What do you mean? How. . .” Sylvester struggled to make sense of what he was being told.

“Archangel Charles Churchson came to us with the job. It was to have stayed just between us, for ever. Bomb the offices. Head to Costa Rica on Angel money. That way, Jesse and I could still fund the cause. The cause will take any job. Angels or humans. Our operating expenses are . . . high. But we didn’t know all those workers were going to be there. I don’t know if Churchson did or not. But the whole deal was supposed to be clean. That was until Churchson decided he couldn’t trust us any more. That’s when Jesse tried to find an out. Through you, detective. But he was too late.”

“But why would Churchson set up a bomb on his own organization?” Sylvester asked.

“Power. And politics.”

“Of course. . .” It all made sense. “He could claim the humans were turning against them and they needed to prepare to defend against the ingrates. Charge them more. And keep Angel City for Angels.”

“And also discredit the mainstream anti-Angel movement,” the man said.

“The presidential election’s on Tuesday. Senator Linden. You know what this could mean.”

“It could mean a lot of things,” the man said. “Like I said, game changer. I sent a copy of what’s in this packet to the ten biggest news agencies in the country. All across the country, news editors will be getting to work and discovering this. People will know the truth. I’m sorry I ever became involved now. But it was supposed to be clean. The building was supposed to be empty. Nobody was supposed to get hurt.”

Sylvester let all of what he had just learned sink in. “Who does this touch in the Angels? How far does the corruption go?”

“We only dealt with Archangel Churchson, and as far as I know, that’s as far as it goes. I know he has some allies. But he also has many enemies.”

Sylvester thought of Jackson’s stepfather, struggling to maintain control in the Archangels’ organization.

After a moment, Sylvester looked at the tired, weary man across from him. He’d obviously been on the run for some time. “Why come to me? I could arrest you.”

The man smiled. “You forget: I have the gun,” he said. “Plus, Detective Sylvester, I’ve heard that even though you’re police, you’re honourable police. The cause keeps its eye on you. It knows the work you’re doing,” the man said. There it was, Sylvester thought, the cause again. “And I’m leaving, for ever. If anything happens to me . . . I just don’t want it to fade away. Get swept under the rug.” He looked at Sylvester. “Can you promise me that?”

Sylvester nodded.

“Thank you,” the man said. He looked out of the window again. “I need to go, detective. It’s time.” He placed Sylvester’s gun on a side table. “I trust you won’t be needing to pick this up until I’ve been gone at least five minutes, let’s say.” He smiled.

As the man stood up, zipping his windbreaker, he nodded nonchalantly at the global map on the wall. “I see you have the seven now, detective.”

“Seven?” Sylvester said.

The man began reciting from memory: “‘And then when the seven burn across the earth, evil will rise upon you from the West.’”

“The Book of Angels,” Sylvester said. “I know the passage. The controversial final revelations. They’re famous. But their source is also in doubt. Still, many have spoken of a battle between good and evil. What do you mean I have the seven now?”

“The seven continents, detective,” the main said. He pointed to Brazil in South America. Sylvester had just marked the first incident in the continent twenty minutes before. “We’ve been tracking them as well. It’s only a matter of time now.”

The man began walking out of the door.

“You, or your people, sent me the anonymous emails about the attacks. Why?” Sylvester said, his mind running quickly. “Who are your people? What do you want?”

“You’ll know us when the time is right,” the man said, walking through the door. “Goodbye. I have to leave if I want to live to see tomorrow night.”

“Wait— ”

But the man was already out of the door. His footsteps echoed down the hallway.