“You want fries with that?”
Danny tapped the side of his flaking Mustang. “Why not. I like living dangerously.”
“Alright, sir, that’ll be…” The woman on the other end of the machine paused. She paused for a long time.
“That’ll be what?” Danny prompted.
No response.
“Come on, the suspense is killing me.”
Still no response. Danny leant out of the car window to tap the speaker. “Hello? Anyone in there?”
The machine remained in stubborn silence. Danny gritted his teeth and put the car back into gear. Prodding the pedals, he eased up to the window.
“Hey, darling, I think your com thing is…” He frowned. The booth was empty. “…busted.” Oh please not today…
He slammed his foot against the accelerator and swung the car out onto the main road. Ignoring the angry honks and dodging the odd abandoned car, he flipped open his phone and dialled a number from memory.
“You have reached the Felician Sisters Prayer Hotline,” chimed the abusively cheery voice. “Please wait while we connect you.”
“Come on, come on,” Danny muttered.
The phone rang. And rang. And rang.
Shit.
He hung up and dialled a new number.
“Hey there how-ya doin’ this is the OPA HQ my name is Mickey how may I…”
“It’s started,” Danny cut into the monotone. “I’m heading in now.”
Danny threw his coat over a hook. “Talk to me, people.”
“Tailbacks reported everywhere from Massachusetts to Mexico,” drawled a young woman in a black polar-neck. She flicked a gold tongue piercing between her teeth as her eyes scanned the screen. “And our guy at the NYPD says they’ve got a fuck load of cops not answering their radios.”
“Amy, define ‘fuck load’ for me please,” said Danny.
The woman rolled her eyes. “Two hundred and rising.”
“I’m getting no response at any of the local churches,” called out a man in a Yankees cap. He punched in a new number on one of his line of phones and moved on to the next one. “Nothing from CBN or Christian TV either. Oh, and my girlfriend’s not picking up. But that might just be because I called her a dirty whore last night and she’s refusing to speak to me.” He paused and glanced over at Amy. “I thought you women liked that?”
“Shut up, Mickey,” snapped Danny. “Now, has anyone seen…”
“Hey, guys. Anyone fancy playing poker for mini doughnuts?”
The newcomer had a greasy brown ponytail and enough tattoos to qualify his skin as fine art. There was a paper bag tucked under one arm and a well-thumbed, well-marked pack of cards performing a complex dance between his fingers.
“Glad you could join us, Bill,” said Danny.
“We just got rapture,” added Mickey, putting down a phone.
Bill dumped the bag on his desk. “Well, that kills poker.” Slumping into a chair, he fired up his computer. “Any clues on the AC?”
“Not yet,” said Danny. “Work your magic. Amy, get me the vitals. Let’s find our trigger. Mickey…” He waved a hand vaguely. “…whatever it is you normally do to be helpful at this point, please do it.”
Mickey stood up and cracked his knuckles. “Coffee, anyone?”
“Thanks,” said Bill, fingers hammering the keyboard. “No milk, two sugars, one shot of that whiskey on the top shelf.”
Danny rolled his eyes. “Nothing but coffee for me.”
“You want water?” asked Mickey.
“No thanks,” said Danny. “I think I’ll just chew the granules.”
“Right, so that’s one black, one sweet with kick. What about you, Amy?”
“I’m detoxing,” said the woman.
Mickey nodded. “And one weak.”
“Detoxing!” The word was almost a hiss.
“You’re also in dire need of caffeine,” Mickey pointed out.
“Are we done?” cut in Danny. “I mean, feel free to take all the time you want over this. It’s not like the world’s going to end or anything.”
“I’ll make it anyway,” said Mickey quickly. “You don’t have to drink it.” He exited before Amy could find something to throw at him. With the departure of their colleague, the office fell back into a steady silence, punctuated only by the tap-dance of keys. Finding himself at a loss, Danny picked up Bill’s pack of cards and started shuffling them. He glanced at one of the queens.
“Bill, what have I told you about our gender equality company ethic?”
The ponytailed man answered without looking away from his screen. “Those cards are gender equal.”
Danny frowned and looked at a jack. “So they are.” He coughed. “Still playing both ends of the field then.”
Bill patted his chest. “Bill is everyone’s friend.” He turned slightly towards Amy and flicked his tongue between his teeth.
Amy snorted. Danny pulled a face. “Charming.” He put the cards back down. “Anything yet, Amy?”
The woman shrugged. “All looks pretty standard. No unusually high sales of death metal. Buffy ratings are normal. Most of the hit movies this year were about zoo animals or dancing penguins. Are we sure this is even happening?”
“Amy,” said Danny wearily. “Every God-fearing Christian in the world just vanished.”
“Well, someone better tell Canada,” said Bill. “They probably haven’t noticed.” He squinted at his screen. “Hang on, I’ve got something. Jason Holborn.”
Danny moved to look over his shoulder. “Possible AC?”
“Well,” said Bill. “He’s unlikely to be made a saint.”
Danny stared at the photo. The photo stared back. Jason Holborn had a good stare. It was direct, with a well-crafted edge of menace and just a hint of pre-teen arrogance. It didn’t help that he was well on his way to having something to be arrogant about. There was tall dark and handsome in his future, sure as the cruelty in his sneer.
“No twelve-year-old should be able to make that face,” Danny muttered.
“This twelve-year-old has four suspicious deaths on his file,” Bill commented.
His boss shuddered. “Looks like we’ve got a job for Mr Beige. Let’s hope the kid’s parents don’t miss him.”
“I doubt it,” said Bill. “They were suspicious deaths one and two.”
“Coffee in da house! What have I missed?”
Danny stepped back from the screen. “Mickey, call Mr Beige. Tell him the Anti-Christ is a twelve-year-old kid called Jason Holborn living in…” He snapped his fingers towards Bill.
“Cleveland,” Bill finished.
“Of course he is,” muttered Danny.
Mickey set down a polystyrene cup on Amy’s desk, leaving her to eye it suspiciously. “I’ll get right on it.” He passed Danny and Bill theirs before taking a seat back in front of his phones. He was just dialling a number on one of them when another rang.
“Danny, could you…”
“Sure.”
Danny picked up the phone. “OPA headquarters, this is Danny speaking, how may I…”
“I tell you what you can do,” came the gritted-teeth reply. “You can get that slimy asshole Mickey on the line.”
Danny glanced at his colleague. “Er…”
“…yeah,” Mickey was saying, squinting at Bill’s screen. “Black hair, green eyes, the works. Got that I’d-sooner-dice-someone-with-a-meat-cleaver-than-do-my-homework look about him. Yeah, Ohio…”
Danny returned his attention to the fuming silence on the other end of the phone. “He’s a little busy right now. If you want to leave a…”
“Oh, don’t give me that bullcrap! You tell Mickey that either he comes to the phone, or I’m coming to the office.”
Danny covered the receiver. “Erm, Mickey?”
“What?” said the man without looking round.
“This is a wild stab in the dark, but I think it’s your lady friend on the line.”
That got his attention. “Stacy?”
“Yeah,” said Danny. “And she sounds pissed.”
“Shit,” muttered Mickey. “Okay, swap for a moment.”
The phones were exchanged and Danny found himself deciphering a ream of stumbling characters.
“Which…which s-side of the w-…of the wiv-…of the C-cuyahoga is that?”
“Er…” Danny looked blankly at Bill, who pointed skywards. “North.”
_“And the t-t-target. He’s not lik-k-kely to be pwotected?”
Jesus Christ. If this guy had any more speech impediments he’d be a grade school English teacher._
He was momentarily saved from answering the question by another phone ringing. “Mickey…”
The man in question was still engaged in his own call, a look of complete bafflement making good headway across his blue-eyed face. As if feeling Danny’s gaze, he looked round and covered the receiver. “She says I’ve been cheating!”
Danny covered his own receiver. “Have you?”
“Not…” Mickey moved the phone a little further from his mouth. “Not recently.”
“Danny…” Bill jerked is head towards the still-ringing phone.
“Hello?” said Mr Beige, a little nervously. “Are you st-still there?”
Danny made a decision. “Bill, get that. Mickey, try telling her you love her.”
“Tried that.”
“Try again. Now…” Danny took his hand off the receiver. “I’m sorry, Mr Beige, you were saying?”
“Danny…”
Danny recovered the receiver. “What, Bill?”
The man smoothed down his hair. “It’s your wife. She sounds pissed. Also…” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I thought she was Catholic!”
“Went New Age last month,” Danny replied. “Crystals and shit.” He held out Mr Beige and they swapped phones.
“Hey, Darling. Now’s not really a good…”
“You bastard! And you thought I wouldn’t find out. Eight years of marriage. Eight years!”
Danny blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“She came round this morning. Just came round, bold as you like. God, I’ll never look the neighbours in the eye again…”
“Who came round?”
“Your little tart, that’s who!”
Danny glanced across at Mickey, still struggling with his own conversation.
“Really,” he muttered. “Darling, could you describe…” It was then that a phone rang at his elbow. “Hang on a sec, Darling. Bill, could you…”
Bill waved a hand urgently. Still busy. Amy was sucking on her coffee like a woman possessed. Grimacing, Danny set down the phone he was holding on the desk and picked up the ringing one.
“OPA headquarters, Danny speaking…”
“I want to talk to Bill.” The words came down the line as a deeply masculine growl.
“Sorry, Bill’s a bit busy right now. Could you…”
“Well, if the coward won’t speak to me himself, fine. Tell him I’m moving my stuff out.”
Inside the clogged depths of Danny’s brain, something twigged. “Complete stab in the dark, but did you just find out he’s been cheating on you?”
There was a long pause at the other end. “Told you, did he? I bet you’ve all been having a good…”
“Someone came to visit you this morning, didn’t they?” Danny cut in. “A woman?”
“Yeah. She said she’d come to pick up some stuff she’d left behind.”
“What did she look like?”
“Black clothes. Steel toe-caps. Proper anarchy-girl. Even had a gold tongue piercing.”
Danny felt his head starting to turn and forced it straight ahead. “Just a second please.” He rested down the phone and went back to his wife. “Darling?”
“…and the cheek of it! Just waltzing in like that! I can’t believe…”
“Darling, what did she look like?”
“I’m sorry?”
“My little tart, what did she look like?”
“Oh yeah, play innocent! You know exactly what she looks like, you asshole. All that time…”
Danny opened his mouth, then closed it again as another phone rang. “One moment, Darling.”
He switched phones again. “Hello, you’re speaking to…” But was cut off by a crisp male voice.
“Good morning, can I…”
The accent was of unknown European origin. Danny didn’t wait to hear any more of it.
“If it’s about one of us cheating on you, we know!”
There was a baffled pause.
“Actually, I was wondering if I could order a medium four cheese pizza with two bags of wedges and a tub of Ben and Jerry’s. To be delivered.”
Then it was Danny’s turn to pause. “What?”
“Is this Pizza Emporium?”
“No,” said Danny. “This is the Organisation for the Prevention of the Apocalypse.”
“Oh,” said the caller after a moment. “My mistake. Have a nice day, Danny.”
The line went dead and Danny replaced the phone, shaking his head. He picked up the other one. “Darling?”
“If you like. After all, looks like I’m single again!”
Danny winced. “Sorry, wrong phone!”
Apparently done with Mr Beige, Bill replaced the handset. “So…”
Danny shoved the phone into his hand. “Talk to your boyfriend.” He picked up another one. “Darling?”
“…all those shirts I ironed. You know how I hate…”
“Darling, I really need you to describe…” He paused. Did I tell that last guy my name?
“Describe what?”
Danny shook himself. “The woman who called this morning.”
“Still playing…”
“Please!”
“She was wearing black and had one of those stupid gold studs in her mouth.”
Danny’s heart started its slow descent towards his stomach. “Anything else?”
“Yes. She was the most venomous little bitch I’d ever…”
Danny delicately put the phone down. He closed his eyes.
Oh boy…
Gently he reached past Bill and hot-keyed up a word processor. Bill covered his receiver. “What are you…”
Danny started typing.
Don’t react and don’t look round. Tell your man goodbye and put the phone down.
“Mickey,” he added out loud. “I think it’s time to lay your personal life aside.”
“But…” Mickey caught sight of the screen. “Er, sorry Stacy.” He hung up. Bill had already done the same. The ponytailed man reached for the keyboard.
What’s wrong?
He pushed the device back towards Danny, who hesitated a moment before typing.
I think Amy’s a plant.
To give him his due, Bill hardly flinched.
Downstairs?
Danny shrugged.
Or up. Makes no difference.
Bill tugged at his hair.
What should we do?
“You guys are being awfully quiet,” murmured a female voice. “Found something interesting?”
Danny pulled over the keyboard.
On three.
Bill nodded. Danny nodded. Mickey opened his mouth.
“Hang on a…”
“Three!”
It was almost as if Bill had practised getting women on their backs as fast as possible. Letting the other two pin down her down, Danny stood over their prisoner.
“Game’s up,” he snapped. “Who are you working for?”
Amy raised a dark eyebrow. “Last time I checked, you!”
Danny shook his head. “Nope. Not going to cut it. We know you were at our houses this morning.”
This time the woman’s expression was open bafflement. “I was where?”
“Danny,” Bill cut in. “If she’s a supernatural and she’s been invited into our homes…”
“This is a joke, right?” said Amy. She tried to move her hands, but the two men tightened their grip on her wrists.
“I know, I know,” said Danny, ignoring her. “She can hurt us. Big deal. We can hurt her!”
“Then maybe we should,” said Bill meaningfully.
“Hey, steady on, Bill!” said Mickey. “We don’t know for sure she’s one of them.”
“I’m still here you know!” contributed Amy.
Danny snapped his fingers. “There’s an easy way to solve this.” He marched over to his desk and started rifling through the drawers. Finally he returned triumphant, two pendants hanging from chains wrapped around his fingers.
“Alright…” He disentangled the chains and held a pendant in each hand. “One of these has to burn. Which do we want to try first?”
“Let’s be optimistic,” said Mickey. “Pentacle.”
Danny bent down by Amy’s head and gently pressed the metal star against her cheek. She simply rolled her eyes.
“Done with your little games yet?”
“Well,” said Bill. “She’s not an angel. Which just leaves…”
Danny didn’t complete the sentence. He just held up the crucifix.
“Moment of truth,” he muttered, and began to lower it.
“Sorry I’m late, Danny. Traffic was…” The woman in the doorway paused. “…hell.”
The three men looked between the standing Amy and the lying Amy.
“This…” Mickey blinked. “This complicates things.”
The new Amy spotted her double on the floor and frowned. “What the…”
Amy-on-the-floor struggled. “See? She’s the one you want. How the hell could I have been at any of your houses this morning? I was here!”
Mickey looked up at Danny. “She’s got a point.”
“Will someone please explain to me what in God’s name is going on?” said Amy-in-the-doorway.
Ignoring her, Danny looked back at Mickey. “Very true.”
As if on cue, the men stood up. Danny glanced floorwards… “Sorry, Amy.” …before all three started towards the door. Amy-in-the-doorway looked nervously between them.
“Guys?”
Danny held up the crucifix. “Now just hold still…” It was then that he felt metal touch his throat.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” purred Amy-who-used-to-be-on-the-floor. “Drop it.”
Danny hesitated, but the knife felt awfully sharp. Regretfully, he let both star and cross fall to the floor. Amy-still-in-the-doorway stepped forward to kick them under Mickey’s desk.
“Now,” she said. “You two step back a bit. Hands behind your heads.”
“And no funny business,” said the other Amy. “Or we’ll be seeing nice Mr Danny bleed.”
The two men obeyed.
“I have to say,” muttered Mickey. “I did not see that coming!”
“Real helpful, Mickey,” muttered Bill.
“Where’s the real Amy?” asked Danny, carefully.
“Safe,” said one of the false Amys.
“Safe enough,” corrected the other.
“And you lovely ladies would be…”
There were footsteps in the stairwell and Amy number two stepped aside to let a third in.
“Balam,” said Amy number three. “I’m…”
“…a three-headed Duke of Hell,” finished Danny. “I’ve heard of you.”
The three Amys chuckled in unison. Mickey flinched. Bill backed away a step.
“Good,” said the newest arrival. “Then you won’t object too much when I ask you to call off your assassin.”
Danny prepared himself for something painful. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
Something painful happened. It happened fast. Danny suspected it had involved a fist to the face. When he opened his eyes again, the third head of Balam was still standing exactly where she’d been before. A good four feet away.
Mickey made a gulping sound. Bill backed away another step. Third-head-of-Balam smiled sweetly.
“I’m going to ask you again. Call your Mr Beige.”
Danny closed his eyes again. “No.”
The painful thing happened again. This time to his stomach. Danny swayed on the spot, then stopped as he realised that swaying caused his throat to press against head-number-one’s knife.
“Last chance, Danny,” said the third head of Balam. “Either get on the phone, or I’ll just kill you and move on to one of your colleagues.”
Mickey’s eyes went wide. Bill just took another step back. It occurred to Danny that he was now standing right in front of Mickey’s desk. The pendants were only a few inches behind his right foot.
“Well…” he forced himself not to look at Bill. “…I guess you’ve got me there.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his colleague start to slowly kneel down, hands still raised.
“Er…”
“I’m waiting, Danny,” said Balam.
Danny thought frantically. “I…”
The jangling cry broke into his thoughts like an elephant into an opium den. It took a moment for him to work out what the sound was. Then another to realise where it was coming from. Four pairs of eyes snapped over to the ringing phone on Mickey’s desk… and the man frozen in a half-crouch in front of it. Mickey himself had his eyes screwed shut. Danny felt like following suit.
Oh shi-
Bill moved at the same time as Balam’s second head did. He had less ground to cover, but she had the advantage of being able to casually ignore the laws of physics. The crucifix slipped uselessly through Bill’s fingers as the back of his head hit the wall at speed.
Balam’s second head cracked her knuckles back into place before picking up the phone. “Mr Beige?”
It only took a few moments for the look of expectation to be chased away by that of puzzlement. “You want a what?”
With surprise, Danny realised he could faintly hear the response.
“A large pepperoni. And could you throw in some doughballs?”
Danny frowned. Where’s that voice coming from?
His frown deepened. And what the hell is that accent?
“This isn’t a delivery service,” Balam’s second head was saying. “Fuck off.”
“Oh, sorry to have troubled you,” came the muffled voice. Danny found himself staring at the doorway.
“Mickey,” he murmured. “Get ready to hit the floor.”
Mickey looked blank. “Why?”
“I second that,” said Balam’s third head, eyes narrowing. A shadow moved in the stairwell behind her.
“Now, Mi-!”
The words were cut off by the gunshot. Balam’s third head looked down at the dark circle expanding across her shirt. A second later, all three started screaming. This would have been heartening if one of them hadn’t been doing it next to Danny’s ear. With a sound like burning paper, heads two and three crumpled down onto the cheap carpeting. In the last moments before they disappeared into scorch-marks, Danny thought he saw the contorted forms of a man and a bull.
Which means the one holding the knife to my throat must have been the sheep, Danny pondered. How… interesting.
But there was something even more interesting in the room. It was wearing a black trench-coat and the darkest sunglasses known to man. It was also tucking a mobile phone into its pocket.
“Sorry about the mess,” muttered the angel. He casually wiped a spot of blood-splatter off his gun.
“Russian,” murmured Danny.
The man looked up. “Excuse me?”
“Your accent,” said Danny. “It’s Russian.”
“Serbian actually.”
Danny grimaced. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
The angel smiled. “So am I.” He raised the gun.
Danny had always wondered what it would feel like to have his life flash before his eyes. In the time it took for the three shots to ring out, he came to the conclusion that he should have made it more interesting to watch. He got as far as college before it occurred to him that something was missing from the equation. He wasn’t dead. The same thought seemed to be occurring to the angel. It was difficult to tell behind the glasses, but he appeared confused. He was still looking confused when he slowly fell forwards, revealing a black-clothed figure with cable-tie marks on her wrists and a tiny handgun wrapped in both hands.
“Morning, guys,” said the figure.
It was Amy. Or…
“Wait,” said Danny. “Prove you’re you!”
Amy lowered the gun. “Danny, I’ve just spent the best part of an hour trying to get free from my own closet. Before that, I was assaulted by a man who said he needed to check my loft. And before that, I discovered I’d run out of half-caf coffee. Do you even know what a detox diet is?”
Danny and Mickey glanced at each other and shrugged.
“That’ll do,” said Danny. “See if you can get Bill back on his feet. I think he’s stunned. Mickey…”
Right on cue, a phone rang.
“…get that.”
While his colleagues set to work, Danny walked over to the window. The street outside was looking a good deal busier than it had when he arrived. The pedestrians were also looking a great deal more disorientated than even 10am warrants.
“Danny, it’s Mr Beige. He says job done.”
Danny nodded. “Looks like the Christians are back.”
There was the sound of someone groaning. “What’s going on?”
Danny turned back to face the room. “Crisis over, Bill. The world lives to see another day.”
With perhaps an unnecessary amount of hanging onto Amy, Bill managed to stand upright. “What did I miss?”
“Let me see,” said Danny. “Both sides tried to kill us…” He glanced at four scorch marks. “And we need another new carpet. Business as usual really.”
Rubbing his head, Bill stumbled back towards his desk. “In that case…” He picked up the abandoned pack of cards. “Poker anyone?”