O'Donnell, Peter - Modesty Blaise 03 - I, Lucifer, page 1
I, LUCIFER
Peter O’onnell
For Jim Holdaway
CHAPTER 1
‘I EXPECT my people to be prompt in making their reports,’ Seff said musingly. ‘It is hard to believe that any of them could be unaware of my feelings in the matter.’
Bowker, a big man, rather fleshy and with a fuzz of thin fair hair, put a cube of ice in his vodka and coke, then moved away to the long couch on the far side of the room. The cotton shirt and lightweight slacks he wore were sticking to him, even though the windows which almost filled one side of the big room were fully open to the slight breeze from the sea.
Seff looked at the watch on his bony wrist. ‘It is now almost thirty minutes since Mr. Wish returned to the house, and he has not yet presented himself to me. I am most displeased.’
There was no anger in the precise voice with that tinny quality which always reminded Bowker of a voice from an old gramophone, but the word ‘displeased’ was among the strongest in Seff’s vocabulary. Hearing it, Bowker felt the sweat-damp shirt grow clammy against his back.
‘It’s hot,’ he said, and lit a cigarette though he did not want one. ‘Jack Wish has been pretty damn busy for three days, and travelling for the last six hours. Not surprising if he wants to shower and change as soon as he gets in.’
Before Bowker finished speaking he had begun to despise himself. At the same time the professional part of his mind stood ready to observe his own behavioural response to stimuli in what would now follow.
He had blustered. Now Seff would slowly turn and look at him, just look, with the head tilted a little to one side, queryingly. Bowker would see the thin, long-limbed figure in the black suit with the wing collar and pearl tie-pin; the narrow face with sunken cheeks; the black hair spread so carefully that it might have been painted on in streaks.
The Adam’s apple in Seff’s scrawny neck would jump up and down two or three times, then Seff would speak, and Bowker’s suprarenal glands would pump adrenalin into his bloodstream as his body reacted to fear. The moment of bluster would end, and he would crumple as he had crumpled a hundred times before.
‘Physician, heal thyself,’ Bowker thought bitterly.
Seff turned slowly and stared at Bowker, his head on one side, queryingly. The protuberant Adam’s apple jumped up and down two or three times.
‘I would not like to think that your remarks mean that you approve of Mr. Wish being dilatory, Dr. Bowker,’ Seff said with grave courtesy.
‘No, I don’t approve.’ Bowker ground out the cigarette with a shaking hand, looking away. ‘I was only saying … well, it’s hot.’ He gestured meaninglessly.
After several seconds Seff turned and stood with his long-fingered hands loosely clasped behind his back, facing out of the open windows. From them a broad flight of steps led down to a sandy path with low dunes on either side. The path ran for fifty yards and ended in a large square terrace of pastel-coloured tiles jutting out into the sea some ten feet above the quiet waters of the bay. To one side of the terrace lay a long finger of water, an inlet forming a natural pool.
‘Will you come here please, Dr. Bowker?’ Seff said. Bowker moved across the room to stand beside the thin black figure. His eyes searched the empty terrace then moved to the pool. He saw a flash of movement as a glistening brown body in red swim-trunks surfaced and swam lazily down the length of the pool before submerging again.
‘I am concerned about our young friend there,’ said Seff. ‘Over the past six months his results have fallen from eighty per cent accuracy to seventy-five per cent.’
‘It’s not a lot.’ With an effort Bowker stopped his voice sounding petulant.
‘It is too much.’ The gramophonic voice was without inflexion. ‘It means more killings, Dr. Bowker. That is undesirablenot in itself, of course, but to the extent that it increases Mr. Wish’s task, and hence our vulnerability. This matter of our young friend’s efficiency is very much to your address, I feel.’
Bowker wiped his face and said, ‘I’m doing all I can, Seff. I’ve maintained his delusion, even strengthened it.’
‘Does one have to maintain a delusion in such cases? You have given me to understand otherwise.’ Seff was musing again. He did not wait for a reply. ‘It is his work and his accuracy that concern me.’
‘The psychiatrical side is only part of it,’ Bowker said quickly. ‘As for the other part, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. It’s not really my field’ He broke off and turned as the door opened. Seff turned with him.
A short man with very broad shoulders and a barrel chest came into the room. His hair was rather long and sleeked back from a low brow above a face that seemed flattened almost to the point of being concave. He wore only boxer shorts and open sandals.
‘I have been waiting for you, Mr. Wish,’ Seff said coldly.
‘Sorry. Been busy.’ Jack Wish had a low, growling voice. He was American, highly skilled in his own particular trade but slow-witted in almost anything else.
Bowker felt a flash of envy as he watched Jack Wish roll across to the bar and pour himself a drink. The man could be frightened by Seff, but only when the fact penetrated that Seff was displeased with him, and it would not penetrate unless Seff put himself to the task of making sure that it did. Bowker would have liked to run an I.Q. test on Jack Wish. It baffled him, professionally, that a man could apparently possess a selective intelligence which made him brilliant in one field only.
Drink in hand, Wish came towards the other two men now, a grin creasing his face. ‘The Büchner boys knocked off Werner in Hamburg, Tuesday,’ he said. ‘Nice job. I paid ‘em off.’
‘We read of it,’ said Seff, and Bowker realised with a pang of disappointment that Seff was not going to put the screws on Jack Wish this time.
Wish nodded. ‘I figured you’d read that bit. But I got the Paris killing laid on too. Sometime this week it’ll be. Only three thousand dollars.’ He paused and drank, then looked expectantly at Seff and Bowker.
‘You have something to tell me, something else?’ Seff said.
‘You bet I got something else.’ The flattened face gleamed with pride. ‘Remember we had a Danish kid with us on the ship when we were working around the Med?’
‘Larsen?’
‘That’s him. Well, he must’ve peeked a little when he shouldn’t. And he saw enough to make a few crazy guesses about us. Or maybe not so crazy.’
Bowker felt cold, but Seff’s voice held no emotion as he said, ‘How do you know this, Mr. Wish?’
‘Ran into him in Hamburg. He’d been doing a lot of adding up, and he reckoned he might earn himself a pension. But when he sees me, he just can’t help doing a little digging before he starts putting in the squeeze.’
T hope to God you played it innocent,’ Bowker said hoarsely. ‘Dammit, he’s only guessing. He’s got nothing to tell anybody.’
‘Lot of folks are interested in his kind of guessing right now, Doc.’ Jack Wish grinned smugly. ‘Sure I played it innocent. Made like I was just a bum around the place and didn’t even know as much as he did. So in the end we figure we better operate together on this, do a little shamus work, me on the inside, him on the outside. It’s like a movie, see? He laps it up. Once we know the full score, then zowie! We’re rich.’
There was silence in the room.
‘And where is Larsen now, Mr. Wish?’ Seff asked at last.
‘Here.’ Wish jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘We came back together. I was to drop him in Westerland, but I chilled him and brought him on here. Reckoned maybe you’d like the boy wonder to see him off.’ Wish nodded towards the open windows with his last words.
Bowker let out a long exhalation of relief. For a moment he felt a rush of something akin to affection for Jack Wish. Seff was walking slowly up and down the room, cracking his knuckles, a sure sign that he was pleased.
‘You have done very well indeed, Mr. Wish,’ he said approvingly. ‘And I agree with your suggestion. I take it that since you returned you have been preparing Larsen for his departure?’
‘Uh?’ Wish stared blankly. ‘Surely to God he ain’t going any place, Seff? Hell, I only just brought him in’ He broke off, light dawning slowly on his face. ‘Ah, you mean I been getting him fixed up for the boy wonder? Sure! He’s all ready.’
‘That was indeed my meaning.’ Seff continued his slow pacing. As he moved, the joints of his body creaked and clicked faintly. This was something that always set Bowker’s teeth on edge, and he spoke loudly now to shut out the sound.
‘You wanted to run a work-session this afternoon, Seff.’
‘Yes.’ Seff stopped pacing. ‘Would you advise dealing with that before or after attending to Larsen?’
Bowker thought for a moment. ‘Before. The killing is bound to create tensions, and he’s more accurate when he’s relaxed.’
‘Should we attend to Larsen ourselves, perhaps?’
‘No.’ Bowker was on his own ground now, and he spoke positively. ‘It’s quite a while since the last demonstration, and Larsen provides a good opportunity.’
‘Very well.’ Seff looked out of the window. A tanned figure in red swim-trunks lay relaxed on the terrace, basking in the hot sun. ‘Perhaps you will respectfully ask our young friend if it will please him to attend upon us now, Dr. Bowker.’
In a big upper room of the house Jack Wish flopped into an armchair and stretched out his
‘This stuff slays me,’ he said.
‘Do not let that fact be manifest, Mr. Wish, or your words may prove prophetic,’ Seff answered. He was opening a metal filing cabinet. The shutters were closed and the blinds lowered. A fluorescent strip lit the room.
Jack Wish stared, puzzled, and said, ‘Come again, Seff?’
‘I mean do not let our young friend see your amusement.’ Seff lifted his head and his lips drew back in a smile which revealed a set of very white but slightly ill-fitting false teeth. ‘Or you may not live very long.’
Jack Wish stirred uneasily. He had given up wondering why Seff could sometimes make him afraid. ‘Hell, you don’t have to worry,’ he growled sulkily. ‘I know the score.’
Seff did not trouble to reply. He was busy setting out a row of long card-index drawers on the table, each containing four or five hundred sealed and numbered envelopes.
The door opened and Bowker stood aside for a man to precede him into the room. The man was bronzed by sun, tall, superbly built and with an unblemished skin. He wore red swim-trunks and monk sandals. The body was that of an athlete in perfect condition. The face was young, unlined, and slightly rounded, with very bright blue eyes. The hair was short and black, a cap of tight curls. There was about him a strange air of innocencestrange, because behind it one could sense the steel of absolute authority.
Seff bowed slightly, his body creaking.
‘Lucifer,’ he said. ‘I hope we have not distracted you from important matters?’
‘No.’ The voice was strong yet mellow. ‘I have been talking to Pluto and Belial.’
‘Faithful servants,’ Seff acknowledged deferentially. ‘I regret placing any burden of work upon you, Lucifer, but in the special grades of humanity it is for you alone to decide who shall die.’
‘Die?’ There was disapproval in Lucifer’s repetition of the word. Bowker felt quick delight that Seff had slipped for once, and moved smoothly in to repair the error.
‘We mean transference to the lower levels of your kingdom,’ he said, smiling. ‘But since the world calls it dying, we sometimes use the term ourselves, Lucifer. You have always insisted that our operations for you must be on a mundane level, and so we school ourselves to think in mundane terms.’
‘Of course.’ Lucifer turned upon Bowker a sweet sad smile, then looked again at Seff. ‘You have no need to be troubled at laying the burden upon me. There was a time long ago, before I called you from the lower levels and gathered you about me, when the whole task was mine alone … to take millions of decisions each day.’
‘Your subjects increase by millions each day now, Lucifer,’ Seff said politely. ‘It is our honour that you can now delegate all but the most important decisions to us.’
Lucifer inclined his head graciously, then moved to the table where the long card-index drawers were laid out. His eyes went blank and he rested one powerful hand gently on the stacked envelopes in the first drawer. Moving the hand very slowly, he began to riffle through the stack, letting his fingertips rest for a few seconds on each envelope in turn. After a little while he paused, drew out an envelope and dropped it on the table.
Jack Wish sat watching as a child might watch a conjuring trick. It was a long time before another envelope was selected and withdrawn. Seff paced slowly, creaking. He did not glance at Lucifer until the first full drawer had been dealt with and three envelopes selected. Then he nodded to Jack Wish, who got up and restored the drawer to its cabinet.
Lucifer began to work on the envelopes in the second drawer. Bowker watched, hiding his anxiety. There were moments of relief when Lucifer selected without hesitation, and moments of sharp tension when his hand rested long and uncertainly before drawing out an envelope. From two of the drawers Lucifer made no selection at all.
An hour passed before the last drawer of envelopes had been dealt with, and no word was spoken during that time. From just over three thousand envelopes, seventeen had been selected.
Lucifer stepped away from the table, and his eyes slowly focused on his surroundings as Jack Wish put away the last of the drawers. Again the sad gentle smile touched Lucifer’s youthful face as he looked at the small stack of envelopes left on the table.
‘There. You have my decisions, Seff.’
‘Thank you.’ Seff interlaced his fingers and cracked the joints. ‘There is one further matter for your attention, if you would be so good…?’
‘Yes?’
‘The time is due for one of your lesser servants to return to the lower levels. He would be greatly honoured if you would dispatch him personally.’
A slight frown touched Lucifer’s brow, and Seff’s tinny voice went on quickly. ‘As our friend Dr. Bowkerto use his worldly namehas pointed out, you prefer always to perform your operations within the natural flow of events. But for a good servant we hoped you might perhaps make an exception … as you have done before.’
Lucifer smiled reminiscently. ‘I dislike being more obtrusive than my celestial colleague. There was a time when we both used our powers more openly, but he has long ceased such activities as dividing the waters and causing the sun to stop in its path. I have chosen to follow suit.’
‘There is strong evidence,’ Bowker said thoughtfully, ‘that he still, on occasion, operates beyond the laws of nature in a minor way, for the benefit of an individual.’
‘True.’ Lucifer folded brown arms across his chest and considered. ‘Very well,’ he said at last. ‘The favour is granted.’
Jack Wish went out of the room. Lucifer stood like a statue, eyes distant, and Bowker wondered for the hundredth time in what strange reaches the mind behind those eyes was floating.
Seff had stopped pacing and stood with one hand in the pocket of his black jacket. Bowker felt his stomach tighten a little at what was to come.
Three minutes passed before the door opened and Jack Wish entered, lightly holding the arm of a fair young man in slacks and a dark green shirt. This was Larsen. Bowker remembered him now. He moved slowly, obediently, without resistance. His arms hung limply by his sides and he seemed unaware of his surroundings. The pupils of his eyes were abnormally contracted by the injection of chloral hydrate which had numbed his brain.
Lucifer lifted his smooth, handsome face with the cap of black hair. ‘Your greater colleagues have petitioned me on your behalf, Larsen,’ he said quietly.
The man looked back at him, dull-eyed.
‘He is over-awed in your presence, Lucifer,’ Bowker murmured. ‘This one is a very small creature in your kingdom, no more than an incubus, fleshed by you for a few brief centuries. But he has served you well.’
Lucifer nodded gravely and lifted a hand, the index finger pointing directly at Larsen’s chest across the width of the room.
‘I release you to the lower levels, small one,’ he said in a deep voice. ‘Join your brethren in darkness. Be free of the flesh now.’
With the last word a small circle of fierce white heat appeared in the centre of Larsen’s chest, as if a burning-glass of unimaginable power had suddenly been focused there by Lucifer’s pointing finger. Larsen jerked and started to cry out. The flash of fire vanished, leaving a charred circle in the material of the shirt. Larsen choked as if his throat had suddenly closed. He twitched violently, then toppled to the floor and lay still.
Lucifer lowered his hand.
Seff said, ‘May I thank you for him? It was a great honour.’
‘The Prince of Darkness has a duty to the least of his servants,’ Lucifer said with quiet dignity. ‘One day, Seff, in eons yet to come, I may do the same for you, the greatest of my servants. And then, once again, you will be free to roam the lower levels as your true self. As Asmodeus.’
He moved to the door, the perfect muscles rippling smoothly beneath the golden skin. Pausing, he smiled at Bowker, inclined his head fractionally towards Jack Wish, and went out.
Jack Wish looked down at the body and scratched his jaw, puzzled. ‘Who’s this As-something he said about, Seff?’
‘Asmodeus. A very powerful demon in Lucifer’s hierarchy,’ Seff answered. ‘Mentioned in the Apocrypha. In the third chapter of the Book of Tobit, I believe.’
‘And that’s you?’
‘So our young friend has recently decided.’ Seff nodded towards Larsen’s body. ‘You had better get that wrapped up and weighted ready for disposal tonight, Mr. Wish.’
