The Demi-Monde: Summer (6 page)

‘You are correct, Professor, I was the one who placed the advert. Unfortunately there have been … problems, problems the Great Leader felt you should be alerted about.’

A deep sigh from Bole. ‘It is ever the way, is it not? I ask the incompetents who manage the ForthRight to perform a task, I provide them with the wherewithal to execute said task and I am rewarded with failure. But I trust I will not be
too
disappointed, my mood has already been somewhat darkened by the necessity of visiting this pestilential place at such a ridiculous hour. I find myself quite distracted and in a frame of mind where even the slightest provocation will stimulate quite excessive reprisals. Do you understand me, Crowley?’

Crowley understood the bastard all right: Bole’s ‘reprisals’ were famous within the more rarefied circles of the ForthRight. To gain thinking time, he began to light a cigarette.

Bole leant back in his chair, looking at him quizzically. ‘You are permitted to smoke in my presence, Crowley, only if, as a corollary to your noisome addiction, I am permitted to vomit over your boots.’

Cursing himself for forgetting how abstemious Bole was, Crowley stubbed out the cigarette, took a deep breath and began, diving straight to the heart of the matter. There was no way of sugar-coating this particular pill. ‘I must report that the Lady IMmanual still lives. More, it seems, her position has been strengthened by her being appointed Doge of Venice, replacing the murdered Doge Catherine-Sophia.’

‘I know this,’ said Bole with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘The witch has certain … abilities and has proven a formidable adversary. That is why I have taken steps to deter her from any further tinkering with the Demi-Monde. There will be no more miracles. But,’ and here the man’s cold eyes bored into Crowley, ‘Venice remains important to us as it is the location of the Column of Loci, an artefact which must – I repeat
must
– be moved with all expediency to its final resting place atop the Great Pyramid in Terror Incognita. You of all people, understand the Column’s true significance. You of all people, understand the role the Column will play in the Ceremony of Purification … in achieving the Final Solution.’

‘The Column is ever in my thoughts, Professor.’ Wasn’t that the truth. The bloody thing was haunting Crowley: he worried constantly about how to get it out of Venice and on to Terror Incognita and how he would raise it to the top of the Great Pyramid once he got it there. It was the Column which would activate the power of the Great Pyramid and this, in turn,
would scour all UnderMentionables from the face of the Demi-Monde.

Bole sniffed. ‘I had anticipated that the task of moving the Column would be accomplished with only the minimum of difficulty, but the interference of the Lady IMmanual has thrown these plans into disarray. I had also hoped the ForthRight army would have taken Venice by now, but in this, as in so many other things, I have been disappointed.’

Not as disappointed as those poor sods who had found themselves drowning in the Grand Canal when the Lady performed the Miracle of the Canal, Crowley mused, but he decided to keep this observation to himself.

‘Even without the intervention of the Lady IMmanual, an invasion will be difficult, Professor. The Venetian army has been reinforced by the alignment of Venice with NoirVille and with the imminent invasion of the Coven the ForthRight’s military resources are stretched very thin. Too thin, our military strategists tell us, to make a renewed assault on Venice.’

‘I am alive to the need for the ForthRight to secure its coal supplies from the Coven but it is
vital
that the Column of Loci be brought under the ForthRight’s control.’ Bole was lost in thought for a moment, then, ‘I have intelligence that the Lady is intent on moving the Column to the Temple of Lilith and the only way this might be done is by transporting the Column by river. That will be our chance. You must order your cryptos in Venice to keep the Galerie des Anciens where the Column is housed under constant watch and to send word immediately the Column is moved.’

Crowley gave an eager nod. ‘I will ensure that this is done, Professor.’

‘But know this, Crowley, with regard to the Column there can be no mistakes. I will hold you personally responsible for any failure. Do you understand?’

Another, though much less eager, nod from Crowley.

‘Then let us turn our attention to the invasion of the Coven. It may be that this presents more opportunities than the somewhat prosaic one of securing a supply of coal. Tell me, how goes the development of Vengeance Weapon V3 … the Plague weapon?’

The change of topic was so unexpected that for a moment Crowley was a little nonplussed. Quickly he scanned his memory of the briefing regarding the ForthRight’s secret and war-winning Vengeance Weapons given at yesterday’s PolitBuro meeting.

‘Not well, Professor Bole. Following the death of the personnel testing the prototype V3 in Warsaw at the end of last Winter there has been a reluctance to authorise its further use until there is an effective antidote. Five hundred personnel died …’

Bole’s cane slashed across Crowley’s desk, making him jump back in fear. ‘I am careless whether five hundred or five hundred
thousand
died, what I care about is having the plague perfected. The successful refinement of the plague weapon is of the utmost importance.’ Shaking his head to demonstrate his disappointment, Bole continued. ‘These failures baffle me. Have I not provided you with the very best scientists to produce the plague? Did I not have the likes of Mengele, Newton, Mendel, Boyle, Cuvier, Agassiz and Magnus brought to Berlin to work under your command? And yet still you have the temerity to announce failure. The development of the plague weapon is the most important of all the tasks I have set you, more important even than the defeat of the Lady IMmanual.’

Bole paused for a moment as though collecting his thoughts. ‘But where your scientists have failed, Crowley, others have not. The Coven’s Dr Merit Ptah is engaged in the development of a plague weapon similar to weapon V3, and this, I am informed,
is close to success. I trust you appreciate the danger this poses to the ForthRight.’

Crowley’s mouth went dry: he appreciated it all right. He remembered the terrible way the poor sods testing the V3 plague had died. It hadn’t been pretty.

‘Ptah appears to be a very skilled and accomplished scientist,’ Bole continued, ‘and the product of that skill and accomplishment resides in her laboratory in Hereji-Jo Castle. You must infiltrate a crypto into the Castle, his mission to steal the Doctor’s work and destroy her research facility.’

‘But … but … Hereji-Jo Castle is, by repute, an impregnable fortress.’

‘Indeed it is and once more, Crowley, it seems I must come to your assistance.’ He pushed a piece of paper across the desk. ‘The Lady IMmanual isn’t the only one able to make amendments to the configuration of the Demi-Monde. As you will see from these plans, by the addition of a postern gate I have rendered the Castle a little less impregnable than is commonly believed. A capable and resourceful crypto will now be able to gain access to the fortress.’

‘I have such an agent,’ Crowley interjected hurriedly. This at least was the truth. The SS had spent years trying to turn one of the LessBiens in Empress Wu’s court and finally, by the use of blackmail, they had succeeded. ‘I have a highly placed female crypto active in the Coven, a crypto ready, willing and very able to perform such a mission.’

‘A woman? I am never comfortable when I am obliged to rely on the more febrile talents of women. It is therefore fortunate that I will have her abetted by three of my own men.’ He turned and nodded towards the far corner of the room.

The three individuals – Crowley was loath to use the word ‘men’ in describing them – standing in the shadows were terrifying. They radiated menace, but being as they were nigh on
seven feet tall, this was hardly surprising. But what
was
surprising – bloody unsettling, actually – was their eyes: they seemed to be possessed of cat’s eyes, yellow with a black slit for an iris.

Grigori
.

‘This is Baraquel, Chazaqijal and Sariel,’ said Bole casually, as though introducing such strange creatures was a common occurrence. ‘They will assist your agent in the stealing of Dr Ptah’s formula from her laboratory.’ Bole smiled. ‘Perhaps if your agent is as well placed as you imply, she might even be able to suborn Dr Ptah … have her come over to our side.’

As Crowley nodded his understanding, Bole raised a gold pomander to his nose and inhaled deeply. Obviously he found the soot-heavy air of the Rookeries irksome. ‘Victory and the conquest of the Demi-Monde are almost within the ForthRight’s grasp, but there is still much to be done. You have two principal tasks, Crowley: the Column of Loci must be brought under our control and taken to Terror Incognita, and the secrets of Dr Ptah’s work on the plague weapon secured and her laboratory destroyed.’

With that Bole stood up to indicate that the meeting was at an end.

‘I can brook no more failure, Crowley,’ were his final words as he disappeared back into the darkness.

Billy didn’t like the Demi-Monde: it was too quiet. Where he lived in New York no matter what time it was of the day or night he always knew there were other people about. He could hear the traffic moving in the street three floors below his apartment, he could hear the music coming at him through the tenements’ thin walls, he could hear people laughing and shouting and yelling … he could hear life.

But not in the Demi-Monde. Here everything was hushed. Standing on the balcony of the suite of rooms Ella had given him, all he could hear was the sound of the water lapping in the canals. It was spooky, especially as it was so dark. There were no street lights in Venice and if it hadn’t been for the moon he wouldn’t have been able to see anything. And to make things worse it hadn’t stopped raining since he’d arrived. Billy shivered and pulled his cloak more snugly around his shoulders.

He fucking hated the Demi-Monde. Hated that it was so quiet, hated that it was so dark and especially hated that he couldn’t get high. No one seemed to deal in the Demi-Monde.

Worst of all was that he was having trouble getting his head around the fact that the fucking place wasn’t
real
… it was just a computer game on steroids.

Oh, some of the computer games the nerdniks had played at school were kinda out there with those losers pretending to be orcs and wizards and elves and shit, but this was something else again. This was computer gaming turned up to eleven. Virtual world or not, it was difficult to believe that the Demi-Monde was just digital jerking off and that made it fucking freaky.

But then Bole had warned him that the DM was Weird Central and with a million bucks waiting for him when he got back to the Real World it wasn’t too much of a stretch just to stay cool.

Just keep thinking about the dough
.

Yeah, the money was the important thing and to earn it all he had to do was keep Sis locked down and stop her making waves … or miracles. It was his job to persuade her to stop fucking around playing nigga-in-charge and to haul ass back home.

Not that Ella seemed ready to listen to him; she was really digging this whole goddess trip. That bitch had really put the
trembles on him. Bole hadn’t said anything about the changes she’d gone through since she’d arrived in the place, but she sure as hell wasn’t the same Ella he’d known six months ago. This new Ella was one scary bitch who walked around like she owned the joint, which, from what he could make out, she very nearly did. Nobody messed with Ella. Even de Sade treated her real carefully and from what he’d seen of de Sade he was one cat who really liked to put the hurt on people. He was one mean mother … but Ella was meaner.

Real mean.

Fuck, she hadn’t even twitched when he’d laid the line on her that unless she cut out all the jinky miracle crap then Bole would get hot and heavy on his ass. All she’d done was laugh and tell him that Bole wouldn’t dare touch him. And then she’d said that as far as miracles were concerned she was finished for now but she had a doozy up her sleeve scheduled for the end of Summer.

So, as far as Billy saw it, he had no choice: he’d have to cap her. Her performing more miracles would seriously damage his chances of collecting his million bucks.

The problem was
how
to kill her. He’d heard some pretty wild stories about how handy Ella was, how she had sliced and diced some real bad mothers while she’d been in the Demi-Monde. There was even a story going the rounds that some cat had tried to shoot her and she’d
caught
the bullet. Bullshit, of course, but it had decided Billy on a policy of slow and cautious. He’d make sure that he really knew what he was up against before he made his move. But the problem with slow and cautious was that it was fucking boring, especially as there was no prancing powder available to take the edge off life.

He wandered aimlessly back into his room and took his frustration out on a vase of flowers by hurling it against a wall: Billy fucking hated flowers. He was just about to kick
the shit out of a marble statue of some dead dude when there was a quiet knock on his door. Billy frowned, wondering who the fuck would be coming to call at three o’clock in the morning. He crossed the room and took a look through the spyhole set in the middle of the door. It was the big guy who called himself Selim the Grim. Selim was OK. Selim was a brother. He might be a backdoor brother but Billy was cool with that: guys being gay just meant there was more pussy for straight cats like him.