Armageddon Crazy

"Very well put, Lieutenant, although I don't think it'll make you many friends."

Carlisle knew that voice. He turned. Deacon Matthew Dreisler, with his inevitable entourage, had made another of his entrances. Carlisle's eyes were cold. "You're not having him, either."

Dreisler laughed. "You're good, Carlisle. You're really good. You're like something out of the twentieth century."

"You're not getting him."

Dreisler lowered his dark glasses and peered at Carlisle over the black rims. "I suggest you ask the Reverend Proverb about that."

Carlisle looked at Proverb. "What's he talking about?"

Proverb hesitated before he answered."I think I should probably go with Deacon Dreisler."

Carlisle's jaw dropped. "With him? Do you know who he is? He's the top deacon headhunted."

"I think, in this situation, Deacon Dreisler could provide me with a certain… how shall I put it… a neutral corner?"

Carlisle smelled a rat. "What's going on here?"

Dreisler quickly glanced at Spencer. "I don't think we need detain you any further, Deacon Spencer."

Spencer was not ready to be summarily dismissed just like that. He was so angry that he seemed to have forgotten with whom he was dealing. "If you think I'm letting Carlisle – "

"I'll deal with Lieutenant Carlisle." Dreisler's voice was as smooth as silk.

Again Spencer missed the point. "He threatened me with a gun, damn it."

"I said that I'd deal with Lieutenant Carlisle."

The hint of steel in Dreisler's voice was not wasted on Spencer. He stiffened and his voice became clipped and curt. "I'll take my men back to the twenty-third floor."

Dreisler smiled. "That's a good idea. I'll stop by your office later and we'll talk."

Spencer looked as if that was the last thing he wanted. He contented himself with barking at his men as they passed Reeves and his squad on their way to the elevators. Once they were gone, Dreisler turned his attention to Carlisle.

"What are we going to do with you, Harry? You seem to be a born troublemaker."

"I try to avoid it."

"Some of my brother officers were ready to nail you a few days ago."

"Fortunately they didn't."

"They'll try again."

"I'll face that when the time comes."

"You shouldn't fight with me, Harry. I could be a valuable ally."

Carlisle's face was blank. He was growing more and more certain that Dreisler was up to something exceedingly devious. He had had that feeling when they had met in the house on Fifteenth Street, and now it was stronger than ever. For some bizarre and probably unwholesome reason, Dreisler seemed to be trying to befriend him.

"I'll remember that," he told the deacon.

It was Carlisle's turn to be treated to the Dreisler smile. "Please do that."

With that, Dreisler seemed to have finished with Carlisle. He directed a half bow to Proverb. "Perhaps we should be going."

Proverb offered his hand to Carlisle. His grip was firm and assured. The professional TV smile came on.

"I really am grateful for all the care you've taken of me, Lieutenant Carlisle, but I do think it would solve a lot of problems if I went with Deacon Dreisler."

Carlisle could not figure what the two of them were up to, and he was deeply suspicious. "What is this? Protective custody?"

"I think I'll merely be Deacon Dreisler's guest."

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Lieutenant, I know what I'm doing."

Carlisle sighed. "I'll still need to talk to you about the murder of Rashid Murjeen. "

"That can be arranged through my office."

Carlisle faced Dreisler. "And do you want the hit man as your guest, as well?"

Dreisler laughed. "No, I'd rather you conducted the interrogation. My people can get a little impatient. Torture gets confessions; I think you might get the truth."

Carlisle stood and watched them go. Was there really an alliance between Proverb and Dreisler? It hardly seemed possible. Was Dreisler really so sure of his power that he would embrace a man that most of the other deacons would be happy to hang?

Reeves stepped up beside him. "What was that all about?"

Carlisle shook his head. "I'm damned if I know."

"So what do you want me to do?"

It was time to get on with business.

"Stick with me. We'll go and talk to our assassin."

Kline

What the hell was going on down there? After the shooting, the unedited TV pictures became a confused jumble of fleeting images. There were the panicking spectators, the ru

Then the picture came back. Aden Proverb was speaking from the podium, still in his bloody white suit, calming the crowd. Cynthia spotted Harry standing right behind him. At least Harry was not hurt. Proverb seemed to have a calming effect even on the women in C86. They watched the screen, looking for any last snippet of information.

"Seems like only the black was killed."

"There were a lot of shots."

"Surely he'd say if anyone else was hit."

"I don't trust that Proverb."

There was a full close-up of Harry as the party was coming down from the podium. Despite telling herself that it was insane for a woman in her situation to act girlish about a man, Cynthia felt a distinct thrill seeing him on the screen.

"They're coming back into the building."

Some of the women left to see what was going on. Cynthia sat tight. She would wait for ten minutes and then try to get Harry on the phone. Then Senior Deacon Spencer stormed into the section. He seemed furious. He whispered angrily to Laura. In the middle of the conversation, he looked up and spotted Cynthia. He glared at her.

"Are you Kline?"

"Yes, sir. I'm Kline."

"The one who shot those rioters awhile back and got on television?"

"That's right, sir."

"You've been seeing that bastard Carlisle, right?"

Cynthia did not like this at all. "I dated him a couple of times. It was nothing serious."

"If you see him again, tell him something from me, will you?"

"If I see him, sir."

"Tell him he's dead meat. I mean it. Tell him he's history."

"Just tell him."

After he left, Cynthia sat looking at the phone. This was starting to get dangerous. She had to distance herself from Harry Carlisle. Finally she picked up the phone and entered Harry's code. First it rang his office. There was no answer. It beeped and went on auto-search. She hung up. If he was in the building, his tracy would tell him to call her.

It took seven minutes for the phone to ring. She answered it with a neutral, official voice. "CA Kline."

"This is Harry. You wanted me to call you."

The idea of distance quickly melted. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, although things have started to turn decidedly weird."

"What happened down there?"

"This guy tried to kill Proverb. We're questioning him now. He missed Proverb, but he wasted one of the bodyguards."

"We saw some of it on TV."

"Then you probably know as much as I do."

"Harry, there was this senior deacon here. Spencer. He was very angry."

"I had a run-in with him just now."

"He's really mad at you."

"I can imagine."