 
####  

#### Lock Up Your Corn Starch

#### by David J. Wighton

#### 

#### Book #20 in the Wilizy Series

###

### Smashwords Edition

### Copyright 2019, David J. Wighton

###

### This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy.

### Although this e-book might be sold at no cost to the reader at times, I retain ownership of the copyright and may elect to charge a small amount for its purchase at times.

### Thank you for respecting my copyright.

# Acknowledgements

This book is dedicated to my wife, Dale, and to my other family members whose support made it possible.

Cover design by Rita Toews at E-Book Covers, East St. Paul, Manitoba.

Padlock and chain image © Can Stock Photo / Ajt

**Parent and Reader Advisory**

As a science-fiction novel, some events in this book take place in a fictional location named _Heaven_ where mythical creatures named _angels_ exist. Included as well are mythical _devils_ and _demon_ s existing in a fictional _Hell_.

The descriptions of the two fictional afterlives are intended as a satire, not as a commentary on your religious beliefs. As a satire, these two afterlives are described in somewhat ridiculous ways. Please do not take these depictions seriously or as an affront to your religious beliefs.

# Wilizy Family Members as of November 2090

• Doc and Granny, about 79 years old.

• Hank (about 49) and Yolanda (about 44).

• Cowboy (26), Bean (23).

• Wolf (25), Mac (25), Jock Jr. (6), Emily (4), Jock Sr. (55).

• William (24), Melissa (24), Will & Izzy (6), MayaLou (3).

• Yollie (24), TG (25), Liset (10), Yo-Yo (6), Hank (5), Ivanika (4).

• Wizard (22), Dreamer (20), Wanda (60).

• Lucas (19), Lylah and Lohla (19).

• Theo (18), Nary (18), Marie (about 80).

• Mathias (17), Kashmira (17).

• Reese (15), Winnie (14).

• Maddy (10)

• Stu McKenzie (50), Momaka (46), Petro (4).

• Cassie (the ghost).

**Main Afterlife Characters**

• Paula, Lillian, and Joe-Joe.

• Bertram, Firewall Freddie, The Rat, Meghan, and Ante Up.

**Other Characters**

• Sheriff Stookenhap (Stook) and Sheila Enderby.

• Deputy Raphael Molino, Sheriff Fernando Riviera, Pancha Villa, Lina Langevin

This page is to help you if you get confused about who is who in the story. If that happens, click your way back to the Table of Contents and scroll back one page.

# Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46: Epilog

Books in the Wilizy Series

About the Author: David J. Wighton

# Chapter 1

Winnie came back from Heaven irked. Well, irked is probably not the right word. Livid was perhaps a more appropriate description. But she started out irked.

As you know, in the last book Winnie was electri-fried as she emerged from Arthur's aerie. Subsequently, she supposedly escaped from confinement, battled with angelic Special Forces, and perhaps tried to rescue Arthur before his trial. She then fled to the Athenian Caves and tried to escape from Heaven into Hell. Remember?

Here's what actually happened. Winnie was indeed electri-fried as she was emerging from Arthur's aerie. That part was true. She awoke to find herself lying in a hammock on the deck of the Wilizy/America. This would be the copy of the Wilizy/America that was sailing at the time in heavenly skies. This was the point in time when she was irked.

"Why was I Tasered?" she asked an elderly angel that was sitting on the railing of the deck. The angel stepped down to the deck, came over to the hammock, and put a finger on Winnie's neck to check her pulse. "You haven't been hurt. It's time for you to go home."

Winnie noticed that she was featherless. Had she been a plucked chicken, she'd be worried about the deep fat fryer about now. Fortunately, she was wearing a t-shirt and jeans. Colonel Sanders would have to wait. "Who are you?"

"You can call me Brunhilda."

"Why was I Tasered? Where's Arthur? What's going to happen with Bertram?"

"On behalf of Heaven, I'd like to thank you for your contributions to the investigation into Bertram. We appreciate your help. It's time for you to climb out of the hammock now."

"How long was I unconscious?"

"About half an hour."

"Did Arthur submit his report?"

"What you did, what Arthur did, and what Bertram did is highly classified. You have to leave Heaven now."

Have you noticed that Winnie didn't always jump to obedience when she was told to do something that she didn't want to do? This would be one of those times. "Why won't you tell me what happened?" By the way, Winnie was no longer irked. Let's call her _ticked._

"Not everything has happened yet. Climb out of your hammock. Now!"

"Are you sure you know everything that we found? Gus is a devil. We found the devil in charge. I took his picture. Arthur was going to include that in his report. I can tell you all about that."

Brunhilda responded to that offer by walking over to Winnie's hammock, grasping the front of her t-shirt, lifting her bodily out of the hammock, and depositing her gently on the deck.

"Hey, keep your hands off me. There's gotta be a rule somewhere in your heavenly protocols about manhandling a mortal."

"I heard your observations on the halocracy. You didn't like it very much. Now you believe that the halocracy is useful?"

"I helped you."

"You did. The operation couldn't have succeeded with you. Ten."

"So, it did succeed? Why won't you tell me what happened to Arthur?"

"I'm not going to tell you what's _going to_ happen with Arthur because that information is classified. Nine."

"Your co-op program allows devils to sneak into Heaven. Arthur and I could help you find out if any other co-op angels are devils in disguise. I thought Arthur and I were a good team."

"That's not what Arthur thought," Brunhilda retorted. "Eight."

Winnie didn't know what to say to that. Arthur didn't think they were a good team? Now she was _angry_.

"We've learned from watching the two of you that it's not a good idea to have mortals and immortals working together. There are too many ways that they can't get along with each other. Seven."

"We were getting along fine." _Very angry_ had been reached and surpassed.

"It's time for you to return home. You don't belong in Heaven. Six."

"Are you going to memory wipe me?"

"I'd like to but you have effectively stopped us from doing that. We won't wipe your memory, but remember that you can't let anybody on Earth know that Heaven and Hell exist. Five."

"I won't tell anybody. Arthur didn't want me as a partner again?" Winnie was in some distress here. She had seen certain signs. But obviously...

"He'll be working with another partner soon. He'll be promoted later today. Four."

"He's being promoted because our operation succeeded?"

"Why, yes. He did a good job in spite of trying circumstances. Three."

_Furious_ had been reached. She was being sent home with a dissolved partnership due to her being the _trying circumstances_ that Arthur had had to overcome. He didn't want her as a partner. Arthur had used her to get a promotion.

At that point, Winnie found herself lying on her bed in her own bedroom. Irkidity had now become lividity. _That angel didn't even count down to zero. If you're counting down, you have to count down to zero. There's rules! What kind of person doesn't count down to zero?_

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 2

"So tell me Joe-Joe, how is my banishment to Earth supposed to work."

Joe-Joe had led Arthur to his workshop immediately after Brunhilda had announced the banishment sentence. At this exact moment in time, she is meeting with Bertram and so couldn't be there to explain it. My readers already know how that meeting will turn out.

"You retain your position as a one-halo guardian angel and you can earn your way back into Heaven. But anything you do on Earth will have to be done without access to any halocratic resources whatsoever. Brunhilda said that the point of the sentence is to teach you to respect the benefits of the halocracy and its rules."

"You mean Lillian said."

"They are one and the same. Lillian has several identities. She uses Lillian when she doesn't want to be remembered. Brunhilda appears when she wants to be noticed."

"Eight halos worth of notice."

"When did you catch on?"

"At the trial, when I figured out that she was guilt zapping me. First, the guilt was about Winnie. Next, it was about the prank I played on Lillian with the bagpipes. Brunhilda was staring at me the while time she was guilting me about what I did to Lillian. She couldn't have known about that unless she was Lillian."

"You could have testified about Bertram being a devil under the truth ray and avoided this altogether."

"She told me to keep my mouth shut."

"How?"

"We had an emergency physical code system that only Lillian and I knew. Putting part of your hand into your mouth is the signal to shut up. I don't mind being outside the halocracy if it means that I can still be a guardian angel."

"About that. You'll have access to more mortal bodies, but you'll also have a partner. We always send angels into the field in pairs."

"You know, Winnie would probably be interested. I thought we made a great team."

_[Remember in the last chapter when Brunhilda claimed that Arthur didn't think that they were a 'good team.' You've just heard him say that they were a 'great team.' Technically, Brunhilda/Lillian told the truth. But she told it in such a way that she left Winnie with an entirely different perception of Arthur's feeling about working with her. Do you feel more positive about Lillian/Brunhilda now?]_

"An Arthur - Winnie team is not going to work. I've been training your new partner. You'll meet her soon, but right now, she's on a learning assignment."

"Winnie is great at making sneaky plans. I never could have pushed Bertram into revealing the devils without her. I only know how to do pranks."

"Brunhilda thanked Winnie for helping us out and sent her back to Earth."

"Oh."

"We've learned from watching the two of you that it's not a good idea to have mortals and immortals working together. There are too many ways that they can't get along with each other."

"We got along."

"Winnie is going to be busy with Wilizy business. She's going to tell them how to find hidden missile silos in the former United States."

"She spent a lot of time on that."

"Mortals have short memories. She'll forget all about you."

"Lillian memory wiped her?"

"No. Winnie blackmailed Lillian into agreeing not to memory wipe her."

"I told you she was sneaky."

"We're giving you a prototype of a new angel body to test out. You'll need advanced powers if you're going to operate outside the halocracy."

"Prototype, meaning it's still in development?"

"Sort of. We've had it in the field."

"And....?"

"It failed, but we're fairly certain that we have all the bugs ironed out now. It's up to you to test its limits before beginning your new assignment with Nympho Maniac."

"Who?"

"Your new partner. She has certain limitations but she is indispensable to your new op."

"You know, Winnie could..."

"Let it go, Arthur. You'll forget her soon."

On that, Joe-Joe was right.

### # # # # # # # #

Winnie returned to Earth with her memories of Heaven intact. She visited with her parents for a couple of days and then re-checked her memories. Heaven's caves and grottos? Still there. Bertram and his wire cage fiasco? Still there. Slimy Rufus? Still there. Her meeting with Brunhilda? Very much still there. She even remembered sitting in the ship and looking through Pentagon meeting files. Those memories prompted an idea. She tracked down TG and had a quick visit with him in the Nevadan desert.

"I've been trying to find where the US military might have hidden their other nuclear resources," she said.

"Jock told us that you were trying to find them. Any luck?"

"No, but I know how you personally will be able to find them."

"Without TiTr'g?"

"Possibly. The Russians, Chinese, and North Koreans would have known the location of those silos. They'd have had their own missiles targeted on them. If you can hack into their computers, you'll find the information somewhere."

"North Korea would be best. I was able to roam around freely inside their computer system. This is a great idea, Winnie. How'd you think of it?"

"I don't know. It just came to me."

Something else came to Winnie as she landed outside her home. Pain. Her knees were hurting again. You would think that Winnie would be happy to find out that she was in another growth spurt. But, she wasn't. She went into her bedroom, climbed into a hammock, and lay there for a couple of days, reading on the Internet, deaf to entreaties from Yolanda to join them for meals. Even Hank couldn't roust her out of her hammock.

"What's going on with Winnie," he finally asked Yolanda at the end of November.

"I believe she's been dumped," Yolanda replied. "She's showing all the classic signs of losing her boy friend."

"Are you going to ask her about that?"

"Not now," she said. "The family Christmas trip will pull her out of it."

Winnie was indeed upset about being dumped, but not by a boy friend. Brunhilda had told her to go home where she belonged. She had been dumped by Heaven. Had Yolanda quizzed her if the older work colleague had dumped her, Winnie's truthful answer would have been: _What older work colleague?_ Winnie had no memories whatsoever of Arthur now.

That same day, Arthur didn't have any memories of Winnie either as Joe-Joe had predicted. Did Lillian lie to Winnie about not memory wiping her? Technically, no. The _memory block_ that Lillian used to erase some selective memories is not the same thing as a _memory wipe_. How do you feel about about Lillian now?

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 3

By the beginning of December, all the Wilizy were preparing for their family excursion to Europe. This would be combined with the cadet holiday, which would focus on Germany and France but end up at the same mountain in Switzerland that they visited the previous year. While the cadets were tobogganing, some of the Wilizy would be enjoying a visit with Eleanor and Henrik.

By now, Winnie was emerging from her bedroom for brief interludes and was taking part in family meals. After each meal, she would retreat once again to her bedroom. During this time, she left the house only once and that was for a visit with Doc and Granny.

As Granny would tell Yolanda after the visit: "We mostly talked about what happens after death. She's been reading a lot about that."

"She's interested in religion now?"

"No, not religion. I offered to talk with her about the Bible, but she wasn't interested in that. She wanted our opinions on what would happen to people who died. Where would they go?"

"Huh. I wonder what set her off on that."

"Interesting thing. She didn't call them _people_ , she called them _mortals_."

"What did you say to her?"

"Doc told her about his beliefs, I told her mine. We both believe in the afterlife, you know."

"Yes, I know. How'd she react to that?"

"We spent most of the time talking about what Heaven would be like. She seemed to be worried about being bored if she were in Heaven. She thought she'd be doing the same thing over and over."

"She thinks that she's going to die soon?"

"No, I don't believe so. She's not as depressed as what you described. She's back to being curious. Doc asked her about her pain levels but she didn't answer him."

"She's still slinging everywhere, but she'll eat at the table with us now."

"She asked an interesting philosophical question."

"Winnie? Philosophical?"

"Truly. I was surprised at that, actually. She asked: _If angels in Heaven lied, would that make them into devils and shouldn't they be in Hell?_ "

"What did you say?"

"I didn't know what to say. I had never thought that angels would lie, so I told her that. I talked about white lies. She wasn't interested in that. So I asked: _What would happen if a devil told the truth, would that mean the devils should be in Heaven?_ If so, that would be terrible."

"What did she say?"

"I don't believe I heard her properly. It was mostly a mumble."

"So, what did she mumble?"

"I believe she said, _Too late_."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Doc thought that she was referring to the time of day. He asked if she would like to stay for supper but she said that she had told you that she'd be back home in time for dinner."

"That explains what she's been doing in her bedroom. She's gone from reading pornographic novels last year to studying philosophy this year."

"She's going to be fine, Yolanda. Just let her be."

"I know, Mom. I'm trying."

"You always were, Dear."

"I always was what?"

"You always were trying."

"Motherrrr!" Yolanda exaggerated, pouted, and then smiled at her.

"Sit up straight. Eat your porridge, you miscreant."

"I don't believe we ever had porridge."

"I never gave it to you. Ghastly stuff. I had it every day for my breakfast growing up. That's what my mom was always telling me when I was trying to hide the porridge in my pockets."

"Did you ever fake eating ......."

### # # # # # # # #

An other pair were engaged in a conversation as well. They weren't talking _about Heaven_. They were _in Heaven_. In Joe-Joe's workshop to be specific.

Brunhilda was back to being Lillian when she was out of public sight. Technically Lillian was on an extended leave. "How's Paula doing with her learning?"

"Not as well as I would like. She's struggling to remember details."

"If she's going to be a computer hacker, she absolutely must remember details."

"Our scientists don't know much about the brain capacity of ghosts."

"Paula used to be a scientist."

"But she doesn't have a mortal brain any longer. We don't actually know what kind of brain she has."

"What hacker is she learning from now?"

"Still #1."

"Push her on to #2. It could be a problem with the hacker's brain."

"Alright."

"Are you keeping Arthur busy?"

"I have him roaming all over British Columbia. He's never in the same place for more than a day."

"Good. What about the new body we gave him?"

"He's still getting used to it. He's trying to learn how to make quick shifts into other mortal forms, but he hasn't spent enough time in those forms to master flight or movement of any kind, to be blunt."

"He didn't have an athletic body before. He mostly sat around."

"He mostly ate and gained weight, to be blunt again," Joe-Joe said.

"Any progress on using his new angelic powers?"

"A little. He's sowing a lot of seeds in demon bars as part of keeping an eye on them. But he's only adopting a black demon body and talking with other demons. He's not able to learn about his powers without having a partner to test them on."

"Does he even know what his body can do yet? You gave him an online manual."

"That kind of research is not something that he would think of doing. This is another reason why you should consider Winnie. She'd read the manual. Plus, she has a techie kind of mind. She hacked into our halographic system easily enough."

"We've had this discussion already, Joe-Joe. You know my thoughts on this."

"You've hobbled Winnie with another growth spurt so that she can't leave Montana, and Arthur is in a different location in British Columbia every day. What do your computer boards now say about the chances of them meeting by accident and regaining their memories of each other?"

"I believe I have prevented that. The chances of them accidentally meeting are well under a 1% probability."

"We still haven't been able to test the prototype body fully. Paula is struggling. Arthur is stalled in testing his new powers. We're running out of time."

"The risks of putting Arthur and Winnie together are too high. You know that."

"The risk of not putting the two of them together on this assignment is also too high. We won't get this kind of opportunity again."

"If it's meant to be, we'll know soon enough."

"You're becoming philosophical now?"

"I have to be. I can't be directly involved in this operation. Nor can you."

...

"Do you remember our first operation together?" Lillian asked.

"It was part of the travelling minstrel show. Early 1300s."

"We were successful in stopping a plague."

"Hell tried again with the Bubonic Plague."

"That's one operation I'd like to have back."

"We weren't assigned to that team. We were too young and inexperienced."

"We were assigned to help with the dead bodies. That's not a memory that I enjoy having."

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 4

Winnie and Yolanda were standing in front of the closet in Winnie's bedroom. Winnie was holding up two hangers in front of her. "These were new last year," she said, talking about the clothes on the hangers, not the hangers themselves.

"You're going to need new clothes again," Yolanda concluded. "Do you have anything at all that fits?"

"Socks, some underwear, a few sweaters that used to be too big. I'm taller than you now."

"Do your bras still fit?"

"Motherrr!"

"If we're going to go shopping, we need to start a list."

"You should add bras to the list."

"We have accounts at the Wilizy Cloth and Dye stores in Surrey and Calgary. Where would you like to go?"

"Do we have Kashmira's old wheel chair around?"

"You'll need it?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sure we do. Hank will know where it's been stashed."

"Surrey, then. It'll be easier to push the wheelchair through the rain than through slush. Sorry about that."

"I thought you were improving."

"I am. But I'm not ready for a long shopping trip. Too much walking."

"We'll take one of the anonymous planes. They have lots of storage."

"I'm going to lose my pigtails, Mom."

"Do you know what kind of hairdo you want?"

"No. Something more mature."

"Hairdressers have pictures of different styles. You can pick what you want and they'll make it for you."

"Do they dye hair too?"

"You're going to dye your hair?"

"No. But you could. You'd look better if you took the gray out, Mom. You could use some new clothes too."

"You're giving me fashion advice?"

"Two of us shopping together would be more fun than one of us shopping and you watching me shop. Just think about dying your hair. You'll look way younger."

### # # # # # # # #

Yolanda did more than think about it. They went to the beauty shop first, so that they'd have their new hairdos when they were trying on new clothes. Yolanda decided to take the gray out and Winnie selected a short bob cut that stayed close to her scalp and ended just below her ears. She asked for bangs for a feminine touch. She considered streaking her hair but decided against it. Perhaps next time.

"This will be way easier to take care of," Winnie judged.

"You'll look prettier too," Yolanda offered.

"I don't care about that, Mom. I'm not going to fix myself up so that I'll be attractive to some boy."

"Boys grow into men."

"Men are pigs."

_I knew it. An older man dumped her. There's a fix for that in the WC &D._

### # # # # # # # #

The Surrey mall was bigger than Yolanda had remembered it. In addition to a beauty store, the mall had several women's fashion stores plus the Wilizy Cloth and Dye Store (WC&D). This meant some negotiations were required with various retail sales people about what prices they'd be willing to drop and by how much. Yolanda made four trips to the plane to drop off various cartons and bags before they entered the Ice Cream Palace - a special shopping area inside the WC&D. Winnie had a box containing new boots sitting on her lap and Yolanda had three shopping bags hanging from her arms as she wheeled Winnie towards a table.

Ice cream bowls came in the small, medium and large sizes. Toppings came in one, two, three and four quantities. Ice cream flavours were restricted to vanilla. It had been a long shopping day and both of them went for the large bowl with four toppings. Winnie became energetic enough to stand up to supervise her selections. Yolanda didn't say anything about ice cream being a cure for being dumped. According to the rules promulgated by members of the Feminine Ice Cream Cure for Dumping Club, you didn't have to admit to being dumped for the ice cream to work.

Their spoons were beginning to slow down when Yolanda raised her head to scan the small court where the Ice Cream Palace provided tables and seats for their customers.

"That's disgusting," she said.

"What's disgusting?" Winnie asked, but kept her head down so that she could spoon up all of the chocolate sauce remaining in her bowl.

"That guy two tables behind you. He's adding his own toppings."

Winnie pushed her bowl away and looked up at Yolanda. "What's wrong with adding your own toppings?"

"It's the topping he's adding. He has a packet of cheezies and is taking them out of the packet, crumpling them all up in his hands and dropping everything into his bowl of ice cream. He probably hasn't even washed his hands."

Winnie turned her wheel chair to see. Yolanda continued her criticism of his eating habits.

"Now he's wiping his cheezied hand on his clothes. He has cheezie dust on his face too. Now he's using two spoons to shovel ice cream into his mouth. That's absolutely disgusting!"

Winnie must have thought it was disgusting too because she heaved herself out of her wheelchair, ignored the boots in her lap that were now clattering to the floor, and hobbled over to the guy's table. Yolanda was too far away to hear the short conversation. She was also too far away to see Winnie's finger dip into the guy's ice cream bowl and pump a short laser zap into the ice cream. Yolanda did have a clear view as Winnie raised the bowl of what was now sticky vanilla cream into the air and poured the contents all over the guy's head. While the dribbles were still in his hair and working their way to his face, Winnie turned toward the exit and ran painfully out of the food court. _I'm slinging home_ she mind-messaged. _Don't ask_ , she added a few seconds later.

### # # # # # # # #

Yolanda watched as the guy tried to clean himself up. The cream was still dribbling down his face and was now spreading onto his clothes. The small little napkin that had come with the bowl was useless. Everything the guy did with his bare hands was making things worse. Everybody in the area was watching; some were snickering. Yolanda went to the sales counter and asked for a wet towel.

The guy had reddish hair and appeared to be about twenty years old. He was quite good looking, if you ignored the mess of his hair, face, and clothes. He didn't appear angry at what had happened; he was more befuddled than anything else.

"Here," Yolanda said and held out her hand with the wet towel. "This may help."

Several return trips to the counter for fresh towels were needed before the dripping had been staunched. But the guy himself was a complete mess.

"Do you live near here?" Yolanda asked, thinking that he might be close enough to get cleaned up at his home.

"No. I'm a tourist. That girl was sitting with you. Why'd she dump all that ice cream on me?"

"I have no idea. Don't you know?"

"No. I've never seen her before in my life."

"Her name is Winnie. Does that ring a bell?"

"No. That's an unusual name. I'd remember it if I had met her before, but I haven't."

"What's your name?"

"Arthur."

Yolanda looked closely at Arthur. She saw befuddlement, for sure. She saw no sign of lying and Yolanda had enough ESP skills for this age group to see that he was sincere. But what Winnie had done was the perfect retaliation that a dumped girl could ever do. _Dump me, will you? Well, let's see if you like this dump._ But Winnie's former work colleague was called Tom, not Arthur. Yolanda hated to admit it but Winnie had made a mistake. She owed this guy an apology.

"Wait here," Yolanda instructed him. "I'll be back in a minute. I'm going to sort this out."

Yolanda returned with a brand new blanket that she wrapped around the young man's soggy clothes. This required him to stand which she happened to notice made him taller than her. She brought the partially swaddled Arthur back to the table where she had been sitting. She hung the shopping bags off Arthur's arms, put the carton of boots back together again and placed them on the seat of the wheel chair, and then grabbed the chair's handles. "I have a plane outside," she said. "We'll take care of your clothes at my home. It's not all that far."

Arthur eyed the wheel chair and jumped to a conclusion. "Was that your daughter?"

"I don't know what got into her. I have to apologize for her behaviour. She's not like that. Really, she isn't."

"Has she been confined to her wheelchair for long?"

"Growing spurt. Very painful."

"That must be why she blew up at me. There's no other possible reason. I've never seen her before and that means that she's never seen me before either."

The trip back to Montana went faster than Yolanda had thought it would. She put the plane high above the clouds and nudged it into high speed. And then, because Arthur had noticed that the back of the plane was crammed high with boxes, he had asked what for him was an innocent question. No experienced male would ever ask this question.

"Looks like you've been shopping. How'd that go?"

By the end of the trip, Yolanda had formed the conclusion that this young man was an excellent listener. On that, she was wrong. After about ten minutes, Arthur had actually tuned out Yolanda's accounting of all the stores they had been in, and how half of the purchases were with a 25% discount and so on and so on and so on. This makes him slightly better than an average male who has the shopping attention span of a starving iguana. Instead, he focused his attention on the dials and controls in the cockpit and wondered what kind of plane could fly so close to the speed of sound.

### # # # # # # # #

Installing a memory block can be tricky. The first thing to block, of course, is the target's name, which in Winnie's case was Arthur. But Lillian also had to identify things that were associated with the name _Arthur_ and block those from triggering recall. In Winnie's mind, Arthur was closely associated with cheezies. Lillian didn't block that word or image. She was counting on them being apart from each other for so long that those types of associations would naturally slip from her memory.

As to Arthur's memory block, Lillian had blocked Winnie's name along with variations. She had also blocked Winnie's image and the experiences that they had had when she was in Heaven. Lillian's memory block worked when Arthur was in Surrey. He didn't recognize Winnie, especially in her new appearance, and he didn't react to her name. But when he arrived at Yolanda's house, and when he entered the house, the image of the living room triggered full recall. He had been here before. He had been here with Winnie when she was making the choice to be born to another family. _[#15: Remember the Halocracy.]_

Arthur heard Yolanda call out to Winnie to come into the living room. He had more time to fabricate a story than Winnie did.

"Mom, did you bring my wheelchair back from ..."

"Hello, my name is Arthur. We've never met before, right?"

...

"No, we haven't. My name is Winnie. You must be the man from the..."

"Yes, I am. I wasn't wearing this blanket before. You probably don't remember me or what you did."

"I remember you vaguely."

"Your mother told me about your growth spurt. You must have been in a lot of pain earlier today. That's why you've forgotten what happened."

...

"That's right. I was hurting. Mom and I had been shopping for a long time. I don't remember much after the pain came. Did we meet? Why are you here?"

"I had an accident with some ice cream. Your mother offered to help me clean up because I'm a tourist and I don't know anybody. I don't even know where we are now."

"That's mom. Always ready to help a stranger. Mom, I'll take care of... what did you say your name was?"

"My name is Arthur."

"Mom, I'll give Arthur some of dad's clothes. Could you bring in my wheelchair?"

Yolanda bustled out the door.

"I'll explain," Arthur spurted two words. "Don't douse me with ice cream again."

"You deserved it, you... Mom, you're back. That was quick."

"I had left the wheelchair outside the door."

"Come on, Frank. Let's find you some clean clothes."

"Arthur."

"Oh yeah. Arthur. Wasn't that the name of some traitor way back when men were knights and always told the truth?"

"The man was innocent. It was Lancelot who betrayed Arthur because of something Guinevere said. Or didn't say."

"Really? That's not the way I heard it."

### # # # # # # # #

By the time Arthur's clothes had been washed and dried, it was too dark for somebody (who wouldn't be named Winnie) to return Arthur to the Surrey mall where he had left his fictional copter. Yolanda offered to let him stay in Reese's old bedroom.

Supper was a strained affair with Yolanda carrying the conversation, which consisted of telling Hank about their shopping expedition. Hank got the deer-in-the-headlight look at the eight-minute mark but soldiered through it. Arthur and Winnie ate with their heads down, raising them only to glare at each other across the table.

Winnie pleaded the return of knee pain and escaped to her bedroom immediately after dinner. Arthur gained some points by offering to help with the dishes. Yolanda tried to open up a conversation about Arthur's family, but was stopped short when he told her that he was an orphan. Instead, she gave him a run down on Winnie's family. Dishes go so much faster when there's something to talk about, don't you know. Afterwards, Arthur escaped to Reese's bedroom by pleading a busy day tomorrow.

That must have been quite a busy day waiting for Arthur because Yolanda found a note from Winnie on the kitchen counter when she came down for breakfast at 6:45.

_Mom, I'm taking Arthur back to Surrey so that he can get on with whatever he does in his work. Some of my new clothes don't fit as well as they should, so I'm going to return them. I may decide to see what the WC &D store in Calgary has in my size. I could be home late. My knees are fine now. See you tonight._

That wasn't exactly what happened. Winnie did fly Arthur, but not to Surrey. She headed east for a few minutes and put the plane down in a patch of prairie that looked like every other patch of prairie for miles around. She had taken a bag of new clothes with her but had flung the clothes into the back of the plane where they sat unnoticed and un-returned. Neither of them had spoken on the quick flight to nowhere. That changed as soon as she shut down the plane.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 5

Joe-Joe was puttering around in his workshop when he heard a doorbell ring. It was a real Earth-like doorbell, but Joe-Joe didn't have a conventional door. The chime was to warn him that somebody was using his intra-dimensional portal. That somebody would be either Lillian or Arthur. Nobody else knew the coordinates.

Joe-Joe turned to see which one it was. He wasn't expecting to see Arthur and Winnie in a tight embrace.

Joe-Joe's mental reaction was short and emphatic. _Oh, no!_

"It's not what it looks like," Winnie saw Joe-Joe's look and reacted instinctively. She stepped back and gave Arthur a non-too-gentle two-handed shove to create some distance between them. At that exact moment, there was another chime.

_Oh, no!_ This was from Joe-Joe who, for the present, could only remember two words in the English language.

"Joe-Joe, all the lights on my boards are flashing yellow. Do you..." _Oh, no_!

Those two words were certainly getting a work out, thought-wise at least.

"We need to talk," Winnie declared. "No more lies." She saw Joe-Joe smiling at her.

"I wasn't hugging him," she claimed defensively.

"They were hugging?" Lillian looked horrified.

"I wasn't hugging him."

"Well, she sort of was hugging me. I mean I had my arms around her and she had her arms around me."

Arthur's contribution to this intellectual discussion about the forms that hugging might take that qualified as a real hug didn't help at all.

"We had to touch each other so that Arthur could bring me to Heaven through Joe-Joe's portal. It wouldn't work otherwise. The Wilizy transport two people with one sling all the time that way. It's not hugging."

"You're not supposed to be here," Lillian huffed and almost puffed. _[Lillian was trying to cope with Winnie's presence, the hugging, and Winnie's sudden transition from pigtailed preteen look alike to an attractive boy magnet.]_ "There was less than a 1% chance," she finished lamely.

"We know about your memory blocks. That was very mean."

_Oh, Oh._ Joe-Joe was trying a different two word thought combo.

"What are you smiling at, Joe-Joe?" _[Lillian continued with the huffing and added some puffing. If a house built of straw magically appeared, she'd be ready.]_

"I'm smiling at how relieved you are going to be now that she can give them your full debriefing on the Bertram operation. Right, Lillian?"

"That would be dangerous, Joe-Joe."

"Go check your lights."

Lillian disappeared.

"She has this thing where she can predict a bit into the future. Sort of like a magic trick with flashing lights."

The portal doorbell chimed and Lillian reappeared. "They're all green now."

"Everybody should find a stool and sit down. Lillian will fill you in." Joe-Joe was making sure that Lillian accepted the inevitable.

"Not here," Lillian said.

"It's private enough," Joe-Joe countered.

"Winnie's knees are already hurting."

Winnie looked up at that. Indeed, they were. "We could use the ship," she said. "It has hammocks."

"Arthur could cook us up some French fries," Lillian offered his culinary services.

Both Winnie and Arthur looked up at that. How did she know that? Arthur's reputation as a stupid and useless bachelor could be harmed irreparably if word got out.

Lillian tapped her nose and said, "All knowing, remember."

"Except when the unpredictable happens," Joe-Joe added. "Like the two of you beating the memory blocks."

"Sadly true," Lillian admitted.

### # # # # # # # #

Arthur and Winnie received a full debriefing, but my readers already know most of what happened in the trial and why. I'll give you the important points that you may not have figured out yet.

The whole scene at Arthur's aerie with the security guards was a Special Ops battle simulation operation in case any angel saw Arthur being delivered to his trial. Winnie's pick-up had already been planned for that evening. No angelic forces entered the caves. No forces installed hidden explosives. Those explosives had already been installed decades ago. The grottos did extend to Hell's periphery and Joe-Joe had known about that for a very long time.

Joe-Joe also knew that six devils had snuck into Heaven decades ago and were disguised as angels. The first to enter was Randall and Lillian ensured that he was given a job in the computer center where he could create a heavenly record for himself and the necessary halocratic records for the devils that would follow.

Joe-Joe had shut down some security devices to let them in. The purity gates were installed later, partly to upgrade the system and partly to keep the devils incommunicado in Heaven. The six devils were under constant supervision as was the fake co-op student who had been sent up to help launch the attack on the guardian angel program.

Bertram's use of his hobby to send coded message to Hell had been discovered the first time that he had used it. The code was based on the date of the memo that Bertram asked for. Hundreds of different possible dates meant hundreds of different possible messages.

Bertram's operational plan to attack the guardian angel program had been copied one night when Bertram was enjoying a very deep sleep. Having that plan on paper, albeit coded, was incredibly stupid. Equally stupid was putting the memo's decoding algorithm in the operational plan document. That meant that Joe-Joe was able to send his own messages to Hell as though they came from Bertram.

The whole underfeather operation had been riddled with incompetents making foolish mistakes, with the exception of Randall, the head devil. In choosing devils whose bodies could be converted into angels, the strategist behind the operation had had few choices. Strong, smart, experienced devils were too big to cram into a smaller fake angel body. The choices that Hell had to send to Heaven were limited to what could be referred to as _losers._ Bertram had only one notable skill: he taught statistics classes in Hell and would use that skill to shut down the guardian angel program. His obsessive-compulsive behaviour was not recognized as a negative in Hell where many other devils shared the same affliction. Getting out of the torture pits requires obsession. It would be a very rare devil in Hell who did not have OCD to some extent.

Lillian used her identity as a PR angel with no operational experience to test out the Flying Force concept that was, in fact, successful. When Bertram was on the verge of self-destructing and losing any credibility he might have with FF angels, she gave Arthur a window office that galled him into obsessing about Arthur. She then went undercover in Loveland. Neither she nor Joe-Joe had interfered with Winnie's plan and Arthur's pranks to uncover the devils in LCRI. Her capture and incarceration in a gerbil cage had been real. She had been testing the new body prototype at the time. Joe-Joe could have rescued her at any time, but not without raising questions about her presence there. Lillian took a well deserved leave but communicated regularly with Joe-Joe.

After the heavenly trial, Bertram was promoted into a position that he thought would give him access to Heaven's most secret plans. In reality, he would be in a mobile jail cell. The other devils would remain under supervision. From time to time, Bertram would be allowed to send secrets to Hell that would actually help Heaven in their own operation, which would be starting soon, assuming that Paula could learn how to hack computers.

### # # # # # # # #

"You mentioned that an operation was starting soon. What operation," Winnie asked.

"You don't need to know," Lillian brusqued.

"Why does Arthur have a new body?"

"It's not entirely new," Joe-Joe remarked. "His old body has been enhanced. Effectively, he has a fully functional mortal body with new angelic powers and abilities."

"Like what?"

"You don't need to know," Lillian re-brusqued.

"He's been busy learning how to use it," Joe-Joe ignored Lillian. He was quite proficient in doing that.

"Why?"

"That's all that I know too, Winnie," Arthur explained. "I'm supposed to test it very aggressively to see if it's working properly now."

"This operation is in its planning stages. I rarely give potential operatives much information in case they are not included in the operation or in case the operation is delayed."

"So, if Arthur doesn't master his body, the operation could be cancelled."

"Yes."

"Why is his new body so important?"

"Not being able to use it instantaneously would be dangerous for him and for the operation."

"Why would it be dangerous?"

"You don't need to know," Lillian triple-brusqued.

"You really don't need to know why it's dangerous," Joe-Joe said more kindly. "Your knowledge of that information could threaten the possible successful outcome of the operation."

...

"Is Arthur the only angel in the operation?"

"Yes," Lillian brusqued times four.

"Sort of," Joe-Joe contradicted. "We never put a single angel into the field in a dangerous mission without a partner who can provide back up, emergency help and the like."

"Arthur has a partner?"

"Not yet. She's in training. If the training goes well, she will become part of the operational duo."

"Does she have an enhanced body too?"

"Sort of."

"What do you.... forget it. I don't need to know. Right?"

"Right," Joe-Joe remained in control of that side of conversation. "Her body will provide any skills and powers the team needs."

"Her name is Nympho Maniac," Arthur revealed. "I haven't met her yet."

"How did she get.... forget it. So, she's being trained in seduction?"

"No. Her name is a cover. It's not a job."

"Is she an angel? She can't be an angel with that name. I feel like I'm playing Twenty Questions here. What is she? A mortal?"

"You don't need to know any of this, Winnie. Joe-Joe is really stretching the limits here. I believe French fries were mentioned."

"Don't let her change the subject," Arthur intervened. "I have the same questions about the operation as you do."

Winnie decided that enough was enough with the Twenty Questions. A different approach was definitely needed. She come at Lillian from a different angle.

"From a strictly strategic perspective, you have two possible operatives being trained for what is obviously going to be a difficult operation for them. Neither operative has succeeded in that training yet. Have I got that right, Lillian?"

"Yes."

"Lillian, would it not make sense, strategically thinking, for you to train a third person in both of the skills that you're going to need in case one of them doesn't meet expectations?"

"I think she's got you, Lillian," Joe-Joe clapped his hands and smiled. "That's a base hit for Winnie."

"Yes, it would make sense, if that other person weren't a mortal like you."

"Oops," Joe-Joe spectated. "I may have spoken too quickly. Lillian gets a base hit too."

"What's so bad about a mortal like me being on a team with Arthur? Is it me, personally? Or is it strictly because I'm a mortal?"

"It's not you. I rather like you. Some of the time."

"Good question. But no score on that. Score is still Winnie 1, Lillian 1."

"So why can't an angel and a mortal work together on one of your operations?"

"Because they are entirely different species. Angels don't think the way humans do. Emotionally, they can react differently to the same stimulus. Both angels and mortals will react to situations based on their life history, what they have experienced and what they have learned. Angels and mortals have entirely different backgrounds. That will undercut the potential success of the team."

"Good answer. Score is Lillian 2, Winnie 1."

"If we agree that mortals and angels do have all these differences, does that not make them a more powerful team? They will be more adaptable to new situations. One of them will have the necessary skills and experiences no matter what obstacle arises."

"A solid hit. Score is 2 to 2."

"In all of the history of Heaven, only one mortal/angel team has ever succeeded."

"What Lillian said is true. Lillian 3, Winnie 2."

"How many such teams has Heaven ever created?"

"We have only attempted one such team," Joe-Joe answered for Lillian.

"So, Heaven is batting one hundred percent success on mortal/immortal teams, aren't you? I'm officially volunteering for your operation."

"That statistic counts as a score. The competition is tied. It's bottom of the ninth, two out. Lillian has one pitch left. Make it a good one."

"I remind you that this is a dangerous mission. The last time you were on a dangerous mission, you intruded into an afterlife-killing zone. In doing so, you jeopardized not only yourself, but Arthur as well. He faced a tribunal, which was admittedly faked. But the fact remains that for Arthur or for Heaven, endangering the life of a mortal, especially one who is underage, carries enormous risk."

"The crowd is silent, waiting for Winnie's answer. She opens her mouth and shuts it. She adjusts her cleats. She opens her stance. She takes another chaw on her tobaccy, turns her head, and spits...."

"Joe-Joe. Please. Enough with the baseball."

"Truth ray on Lillian," Winnie ordered.

"The crowd has gone silent," Joe-Joe ignored.

"We don't have a truth ray here."

"Promise to tell the truth then."

"I promise."

"This operation of yours is carrying enormous risk as it is. Right?"

"Yes."

"Would having me on the team increase your risk or decrease it?"

"Assuming you were properly trained?"

"Assuming all members of the team were properly trained."

"Your presence would decrease the risk."

"The ball clears the fences. Home run for Winnie. The game is over and the concession stand is open. Free hotdogs and fries?"

"Hamburgers and fries," Arthur amended. "I'm cooking."

"Can he actually cook?" Lillian asked Winnie after the males had left.

"Truth ray on or off?"

"Off."

"You bet he can. Take big portions."

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 6

Christmas holiday time in Europe.

"... and Maddy is doing very well in keeping up with the boys in her studies and with her battleground simulations."

"I hardly recognized her on the mountain side. She's much more confident."

"She'll be eleven years old this summer."

_[In case you're wondering, this conversation is between Mac and Eleanor who are sitting in the cockpit of the jumbo transport that was parked safely away from the risk of careening toboggans hitting the jumbo.]_

"Here come Liset and Henrik. He's into kamikaze toboggan battles, isn't he?"

"Liset is good for him. I'm glad she came over early. What about Winnie? What is she up to?"

"Winnie is taller than her mom now and has become very attractive, but she doesn't know that yet. She's not with us for the holidays because she's trying to land a job. Yolanda doesn't know much about the job. It has something to do with global security and she's receiving training this month. If she passes, she'll be working out of a back office for a very large multinational firm. She can't tell us where it is for security reasons. All communications in and out are blocked so that nobody can hack into their computers."

"What would she be doing?"

"Secret hush-hush. Whatever it is, it won't be dangerous. Winnie was sure to emphasize that to Yolanda. Do you know of any large security companies like that?"

"In Europe, there are several national spy organizations, but they are small. A spy here and a spy there, all of whom are easy to identify. I haven't heard of a big multinational security organization, but if their security were really good, I wouldn't know about them. Is Yolanda worried?"

"Does it snow in Switzerland? How are your businesses?"

"Going great. I haven't taken charge of a government ministry yet, but I'm receiving lots of soft inquiries about how close the SGG is to being the largest bank in Switzerland. I hear talk of a few banks agreeing to merge with the prime minister's bank if I get too close. They are absolutely terrified of a woman having political power."

"Does that bother you?"

"Nah. The more they form alliances against us, the harder our women work. Our Australia office will open up a branch office in China soon."

"We may be interested in meeting your China manager from time to time. Same arrangement as what we have in Denver, if you're OK with that."

"Sure. That reminds me. Sandy sent me a note this morning. Big news out of Denver. Apparently, the former sheriff who was elected governor has taken a three-month leave of absence and the lieutenant-governor is now in charge. Sandy said that all sorts of rumours are flying around. Some allegations of criminality; some hints of serious medical problems."

"Would you excuse me please, Eleanor. I have to talk to some of our people."

### # # # # # # # #

Hank was chairing the emergency meeting of the directors and senior staff. William's upgraded satellites provided video images and made the meetings seem more personal. Doc and Granny were visiting Australia; Hank and Yolanda were at home in Montana; Jock was in Regina; Stu, Momaka and Marie were touristing in Japan; Wanda was in BC; William was in Nevada; and Melissa and Mac were in Switzerland.

The meeting had started with a sharing of information about what may or may not have happened in Denver. That took about a minute.

"We need accurate information quickly," Hank started. "Does anybody mind if I throw my weight around a bit?"

Nobody minded.

"Mac, I'm going to call on you to coordinate all of this. Send Cowboy and Bean to Denver and have them check their friends there for information. They should look at all the media outlets too."

"Hospitals too."

"Thanks, Doc. Let's get a TiTr research group into Denver fast. We want our best working on this. Keep in mind that school is going back in soon. Also, families will need to have enough people at home to mind the kiddies. Also, we can't call on too many of the cadet instructors."

"I'll coordinate that part, Mac."

"Thanks, Stu."

"Hank, I'm sensing foul play."

"I agree with Yolanda," Granny added her ESP.

"Let's put an operational unit on alert."

"I'll do that," Jock offered. "Where's the nearest ship?"

"The Wilizy/Europe is still stationed over Denver," Melissa answered.

"I'll open the usual command center in the ship."

"We're going to need spy drones. Is Winnie available at all, Yolanda?"

"No."

"I can spare TG."

"Thanks, William. Have I missed anything?...... If not, all communications go through Mac for now. Copy Melissa on everything. Today is Tuesday, December 26. Let's try to meet Saturday, December 30 in Denver. Thanks..."

"Hold on."

"Momaka?"

"If something has happened to Stook, that same thing has happened to the woman he was seeing. Or it will be happening soon. What's her name?"

"Sheila," Stu responded.

"I'll have Bean look into that," Mac said

"It has to be done soon," Marie warned.

"Voodoo tells you that?" Momaka asked.

"Common sense tells me. Whoever did this did it during the holidays when nobody was around. These two people are living on borrowed time."

"Let's meet earlier. Thursday morning, 9 am Montana time."

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 7

Thursday morning, December 28, 9 am Montana time. All of the senior Wilizy were in the hold of the Wilizy/Europe with the exception of Wanda who had a business to run. Bean's report was the first on the agenda.

"Cowboy's first step Wednesday was to talk to the new sheriff. We thought there might be some professional sharing of information. That was not going to happen. The Sheriff's office wasn't even going to let Cowboy into the building unless he had a crime to report. Cowboy used his worry about a long and dear friend to get past the counter staff. The sheriff wouldn't even meet with him in a private office. They spoke at the counter. We didn't learn much, but this might be useful. The government's Ministry of Justice has put a blanket order out to all government offices that stipulates as follows. _Anybody requesting information on Governor Charlie Stookenhap's reasons for taking a well-deserved three-month leave of absence will not be entertained by any government worker at any level. This valued official has the right to privacy on his decision."_

"That's the public version. The sheriff did read Cowboy a second part to that order: _Government staff are instructed to take the name and contact information of anybody, within the government or within the public at large, who persists in attempting to invade the Governor's privacy at this difficult time for him. The government will not let any media person, or nosy person, harass this good man."_

"We didn't think he was telling us that as a friend. We believe he was warning us to back off or he'd report us. Cowboy is working some personal angles now. He knows people in government and can contact them privately."

"I myself had no success finding Sheila Enderby. Stook had let Cowboy keep his office keys and badge when he left, so we went back to the sheriff's office that evening and did some investigating by flashlight. We did find the official version of the Ministry of Justice's edict and it was as the new sheriff had said. I found Sheila's address in the files. She lives in a small apartment building; at least she did when she was working for the Sheriff's Department. We don't know if she moved in with Stook or not; it certainly looked like that was a possibility. There were no obvious crime scene barriers to entering Sheila's apartment but the door was locked and I don't have the skills to break in. After his election, Stook was living in the governor's mansion and we doubted that Sheila would be living with him there."

"TG?" Mac asked.

"I'll TiTr to her apartment tonight and put in some drones. We'll know if anything happened in that apartment by tomorrow. Who's going with me?"

"I will," Mac said. "We have an obvious conclusion. The Ministry of Justice is at the heart of whatever happened and is very worried that whatever they did will come out. The Lieutenant-Governor may be issuing their confidentiality orders."

"I'll research him," Melissa offered.

"I'll help," Yolanda stepped up.

"Have I missed anything that we need to pursue?" Hank asked.

"Cowboy and I walked by the governor's mansion. It's shut off to the public because of renovations. We saw construction vehicles and other props that will support that decision."

"Mac and I will TiTr the governor's living quarters and office tonight as well," Hank continued. We'll need people to analyze the data tomorrow. Hands up if you're interested. .... Good. Thanks Granny and Momaka."

"If you need military ops people, I'll volunteer," Bean offered. "I'm not that good at your time travel data."

"Can we ask Lylah and Lohla to help, Mac?"

"Good idea, Momaka. I'll ask Major Vincent if they can have a short leave."

"Stu, why don't you and I visit the Ministry of Justice building two weeks ago? We can find out what they've been doing and who their key people are. Unless you know how to install drones, we'll leave a window open for Mac and TG."

"I'll go with you Hank, but somebody else will have to do the drones."

"I'll do the drones with you," William said.

"We need more analysts to go through all these data," Mac warned.

"Mac, Kashmira is on Australia's summer holidays now. What about her?"

"I'll ask. I'll also ask Mathias if he wants to help out. What about Liset, Melissa?"

"She's ready for this."

"Next meeting will be tomorrow night, here, 9 pm. Let's go," Hank announced.

### # # # # # # # #

"I'll call the meeting to order now," Hank said. It was 9:02, Friday night. "Before I turn the meeting over to Jock, I'd like to thank everybody for what must have an exhausting thirty-six hours. I know that some of you have gone without sleep; others who have not been directly involved, have shouldered a burden of covering other people's work assignments and family duties. I don't believe that the Wilizy have ever had such a large scale coordinated effort before."

Hank paused as Cowboy slipped into the back of the hold and squeezed into the chair that Bean had been saving for him. _Sorry_ , he mouthed at Hank who nodded and continued. Bean wasn't listening to what Hank was saying now; she was listening to what Cowboy was whispering. Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hand. Although this can be very difficult to do in deck chairs, she managed to give Cowboy a hug and for the rest of the meeting, she held his right hand inside both of hers.

"Jock is the only person here who has a handle on all of the results, so let's proceed. Jock, you're up."

Jock stood and walked to the front of the meeting. "I have a sequence of events that we've been able to observe. We have some very big holes in our information still, but I can give you a good idea of what has happened. I'll have a chart of the events posted by noon tomorrow. I expect Mac will be assigning people to teams by noon tomorrow as well. We all need some sleep first."

"At 3:43 am, Wednesday morning, December 20, a team of four armed men entered Governor Stookenhap's living quarters. They were aided in this by an employee of the mansion. The four men carried weapons and were in battle suits with the words _Ministry of Justice_ emblazoned on the back. They slipped quietly into his bedroom, which was not locked. They used a flash device to stun the governor who was sleeping. By the time he had woken up fully, he was in full restraints including a gag and a blindfold. They hid his body inside a large hooded sweatshirt and baggy sweat pants. They did not put any shoes on him and force-walked him out of the drones' coverage. We do not know what exit they used to remove him from the mansion. We did see a convoy of four Ministry of Justice copters leaving the area from immediately behind the mansion. We assume that the governor was in one of those copters. A small patrol of security officers is generally responsible for the governor's security. None of those men was on duty that night and at least one of them should have been. We do not know where the convey went."

"At 4:12 am, the same morning, a crew of four armed men in exactly the same apparel burst through Sheila Enderby's apartment door. We did not have eyes on the hallway leading to the apartment or on the exterior of the building. We assume that these four men were the same as the four that abducted the governor. Ms. Enderby was wakened by a flash device and she also was subdued quickly. She was in her pajamas at the time and she too was removed from the building in the same manner as Governor Stookenhap. She too was in bare feet. We had no eyes outside and do not know where she was taken."

"On Friday evening, December 22 at 9:38 pm, our drone outside the Ministry of Justice building recorded a slender figure being force walked into the building's back door by two men in Ministry of Justice uniforms. We assume it was Ms. Enderby since she was wearing the same clothing as she had when she was abducted. She did have a pair of white canvas shoes on. We had some eyes on the interior of the building. We know that she went down the main staircase. The bottom floor of that building is dedicated to courtrooms."

"On Friday evening at 10:28 pm, we saw a male figure being force walked by two Ministry of Justice men in the same manner and in the same direction as Ms. Enderby. We assume it was the governor. He was wearing cowboy boots this time."

"On Friday evening at 11:58 pm, both Ms. Enderby and Governor Stookenhap were removed from the building and deposited into a convoy of four Ministry of Justice copters. We know the direction that they were heading when they lifted off. We don't know where they were taken. We do know that they have been abducted for seven days now."

"We assume that Stook and Sheila were taken to a courtroom of some kind before they were taken away. We're going to have difficulty identifying who was running the courtroom. The building is extremely busy during the day and we would miss anybody who was in the building during the day and simply stayed until Stook and Sheila were brought in. We can tell you that seven more people left in the copters than arrived in the copters, but we never saw their faces and they were wearing bulky winter clothes."

Cowboy stood up. "I have more information."

"Come up to the front, Cowboy."

"That's not necessary. I don't have much to say."

"I have been contacting friends and acquaintances who work in government and who might be willing to talk to me. Most of them didn't know anything. One woman did. She works in the Ministry of Justice and is in charge of booking the courtrooms. Charlie and Sheila appeared in front of the Colorado Supreme Court on Friday night on charges of some kind. If they had been found innocent, they would have been released right then. If the judges were unable to come to a decision, my friend would have been instructed to book the courtroom again. She has not been instructed to do this. This means both of them were found guilty. Since there is no higher court in Colorado than the Supreme Court, we have no way to appeal that guilty verdict."

"My friend says that the Friday courtroom booking was a last minute order. Every case that the Supreme Court has ever heard in her thirty years of experience has had a lengthy background of trials in lower courts preceding any action by the Supreme Court. She's never known the Supreme Court to hear a case that hasn't been on the books for months and months."

"Any idea on what kind of cases the Supreme Court hears, Cowboy?"

"Stu, they don't hear trivial cases. If they find you guilty, you're guilty of something very serious. By the way, there are five justices in the Supreme Court and of those eight unknown people leaving the area, five of them would have been the justices. I'll guess that a prosecutor, a defender and a court recorder would have been the other three."

"Sorry to ask this Cowboy, but we need to know. Does Colorado have a death penalty?"

"I asked my friend about that, Stu. Yes, there is. Colorado doesn't have the capacity to keep people in prison for lengthy terms so the death penalty has been used more often than many people would like."

"What's your take on all of this, Cowboy?"

"My take on this? Somebody wants Stook to disappear forever. Sheila was caught in this too because she knows too much. She may disappear forever too. If I had to point fingers, I'd point them at the Denver Cattlemen's Association."

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 8

"I thought we could meet together and see if we could find a solution to our inability to track a person from the past and into that person's present life," William explained the reason why he had called the Wilizy scientists together. It was 11 am, Saturday morning, the day after Cowboy had shocked everybody with his predictions about Stook and Sheila's likely deaths. They were meeting in a corner of the ship's battle center, which was a hive of activity. Mac was leaving no stone unturned in the Wilizy's determination to find them alive. The only two who weren't being reassigned were Melissa and Yolanda who were still researching the lieutentant-governor. The rest were going to be looking at the members of the Denver Cattlemen's Association who were still active in Colorado.

"I haven't heard about that tracking issue yet," Lylah spoke up.

"Let me explain it this way," William started. "If we could go back in time, wait for the Ministry of Justice goons to put Sheila and Stook in the copters, and then follow those copters to where the copters landed, we could help rescue them."

Lylah said, "I understand that following those copters would allow us to rescue them. Why can't we do that?"

"Here's scenario #1," William started. "You have TiTr'd into the past. You are in somebody's empty house. You lift off the titanium helmet that you are wearing as part of your TiTr protection. This way you can see better. You put the helmet on the floor so that you can install some drones more easily. The owner of the house enters the room unexpectedly and you and whoever is with you quickly go invisible. The owner sees the helmet on the floor."

Wolf took over. "At that point, you have changed the past. Changing the past will change the future in ways that we cannot comprehend."

TG completed the thought. "Here's our cardinal rule: when we are in the past, we can leave nothing behind, not even a scent."

"I understand that. But why can't we follow a copter from the past into present time?"

"Here's scenario #2. You're in the past and you need to know where a copter is going. So, you install a powerful drone with a long transmission range inside the copter. The copter takes off. There are some technical issues that you'd have to deal with like not knowing where that copter went or what date in the future that copter landed. That would make it difficult to find your copter in the future. More importantly, the cardinal rule has been broken. You left something in the past. You left that drone behind."

TG took over. "During the flight, the co-pilot gets up to stabilize the cargo, brushes up against your drone, it falls invisibly to the deck, the co-pilot steps on it and that breaks the drone's invisibility. The co-pilot says, _What's this?_ You've just changed the past and the future could be altered in numerable ways."

"That's why Winnie always picks up her drones after she's finished with them," Lylah observed.

"Yes," TG continued. "Winnie is our drone wizard. We try to limit drone installation to only a few Wilizy who handle them so much that there is no chance they could leave a drone in place after we have the information we want. I am asked to install drones when we might have a problem with a security system, but otherwise Winnie handles most of the installations."

"OK, I got that. No drones are possible. How about I crawl into that copter and follow it that way?"

"That was going to be Scenario #3. You are occupying physical space in that copter. You may be invisible, but you are still touchable. The co-pilot gets up..."

"I get it."

"But that's not the most important reason," Wolf said. "Say that you are following that copter by flying invisibly behind it. That way there's no risk of the copilot touching you. That flight takes two days. You are now two days further into the future from the time that you landed. You may be hundred of miles from the location where you arrived. How will you fly home to your current present time?"

"I had kept my helmet with me when I was following the copter. I know the time when I want to land. I find a nice clear space in the sky and I TiTr forward."

"But you blow yourself up instead," TG said.

"Huh. Why?"

"They don't know for sure that you're going to explode," Mathias spoke for the first time.

"But we don't know that you won't," William responded. "By moving away from the time and space from when and where you landed, you have changed the space-time continuum. The consequences of that could produce many different consequences, all of them bad."

"That's from Doc Brown and Back to the Future," Mathias commented. "That concern is all based on the idea of how time travel would work from the writer of a science fiction movie."

"True, a science fiction movie that explained time travel in exactly what William developed if you add the titanium helmet. Can a person who's traveling in the past change his location and time by flying some distance and then be able to time travel from the completely new location and day. We don't know how to test the theory without potentially killing somebody or changing the past and therefore the future."

"Wolf makes a good point," TG added. "I don't like basing our science on what a science fiction writer wrote, but I don't know what other science to rely on. Mathias, are you researching this as part of your school work?"

"No. I'm working on weather. But I agree that we can't take a chance. Trying to follow a copter from its past into its present time is not a smart thing to do."

"Which brings us to why we're meeting. If we could scientifically find where those copters went without personal intervention, we could find Stook and Sheila. Could we try brainstorming?"

### # # # # # # # #

William's idea of a brainstorming meeting was not going too well.

"I got nothing," TG said. "We've already looked at this extensively. I don't have any new ideas."

"I was hoping that with two new members...," William added semi-sentencely.

"I'm more of a biology person than a physics person," Lylah explained her silence.

"It's too noisy in here to think properly," Mathias complained. "Can we go somewhere else?"

"This ship had a private room for mothers who had to feed their babies," William remembered. "I heard it was very comfortable."

"Let's go."

### # # # # # # # #

"Still nothing,"

"Me too."

"Me three."

"I never had any ideas to begin with. Me zero."

"Mathias?"

"Perhaps. Can I ask Kashmira to join us?"

"Sure, but does she have..." William was still attempting to finish a sentence but Mathias interrupted.

"No, she doesn't. We don't need another science mind. Kashmira helps me; she might be able to help you too."

Kashmira was more than willing to meet.

...

"Mathias explained what you wanted as I was coming down. So, everybody should find a comfortable place where you can lie down, or curl up, or recline."

With several sofas, plenty of pillows, and a little ingenuity, all five science minds were soon comfortable. "I'm going to sing. There won't be any words. You won't recognize what I'm singing. You may feel drowsy and ready to sleep. Don't fight it."

...

_Kashmira, I have something._

Kashmira's three sharp handclaps brought everybody semi-alert.

"Was that a hypnotic state you put us in?" William was the first to try and figure out what she had done.

"I suppose I could have made you into pecking chickens, but that wasn't the intent. The intent was to relax you."

"I'm still groggy, TG admitted."

"It will take a few minutes to get sharp," Mathias warned. "Kashmira sings me to sleep most every night."

"That would mean..." Wolf ventured.

"That they were sleeping together," William managed to finish a sentence. Perhaps he should have thought about the sentence he was finishing before blurting it out.

An awkward silence tiptoed into the room.

"It's not exactly a secret," Lylah admitted. "I knew you guys were sleeping together. Probably all the other women in the family know. That kind of news gets around."

"Not to us," Wolf said.

"You're men," Lylah explained without going any further.

"OK, so we've been sleeping together for over a year, but we aren't having sex." Mathias was quite firm in his stunning announcement of continued chastity.

"That did it. I'm wide awake now," TG announced. "How can you be sleeping together but not having sex? Why would you do that to yourselves?"

"Kashmira made a promise to herself that she wouldn't have sex until she was properly married. I'm not going to be the one to..."

"I did come close a couple of times but Mathias stopped me."

"So why not sleep in separate rooms?"

"Mathias needs me."

"See, I have terrible insomnia. If I've been working on some problem, I can't ignore it when it's time to go to bed."

"His mind works all the time, even when he's eating. I can almost hear it buzzing. He can't sleep properly at night when he's thinking about something. He twitches all over."

"We found that Kashmira can put me into a deep sleep."

"I can even time it so that he wakes up when he needs to."

"And when I wake up, I usually have a solution if I had been working on a problem."

"Subconscious minds can work when the body is asleep," Lylah explained. "It happens a lot."

"I've woken up with solutions to coding problems before," TG admitted.

"That explains why Mathias needs you in bed next to him. But why don't you go and sleep in another bedroom after he's asleep?"

"This is kind of personal, isn't it Wolf?"

"It's OK, Lylah. I don't mind talking about us not having sex. I don't leave the bed because I need Mathias next to me or else I can't get to sleep."

"Guys hit on her all the time. Classmates, even strangers. During the day, she dresses shabbily and hides her face and body; she wears no make-up and that usually works. When she performs in front of a group, even classmates, she makes herself into a target."

"I can't give up singing. It would kill me."

"Some guys are just being rude; some are dangerous."

"The last attempt was a couple of weeks ago."

"Attempt? You mean a sexual assault?"

"Yeah. I have my sling with me all the time and I know how to knock a guy out with a single sling-powered punch. But some guys are persistent and they could sneak up on me. So, I tell Mathias if I'm worried about some guy and he gets him to stop. But, I still worry and that keeps me awake, but not with Mathias sleeping next to me."

"How do you get them to stop, Mathias?" Wolf asked.

"Do you guys want to hear my solution to our time travel problem or not?" Mathias responded with a non-answer.

### # # # # # # # #

"OK. Let me run through our thinking one more time. Let me know if I've missed anything." This was Mathias speaking. He was the one with the break through.

"First, no Wilizy will attempt to track a person or a machine from the past to present time."

_[Scientists like to number things. It's part of having an orderly or logical mind, I suppose. Personally, I don't number things. Math has always been a mystery to me. Like this mystery: A high school teacher wanted me take the log of a letter that had to be named X but it could be another letter if I wanted it to be. But the letter wasn't made of wood, so how could I make a log out of it? They teacher said, "Why don't you sign up for art class, Liset?" True story.]_

"Second, we will create and attach a beacon to the copter that can be read from a distance once it arrives in the present. This will satisfy our need to be able to track a copter from past to present."

"Third, that beacon cannot be electronic because electronic equipment can be discovered with the right electronic detection equipment. Also the beacon's electronics might disrupt the copter's own navigation electronics as the world develops more sophisticated technology."

"Fourth, we must be able to locate this beacon even if there has been some time lapse and if it is some physical distance away from the original location."

"Fifth, the beacon must appear as a visible natural object that copters might have. That way, there is no threat from invisibility failing."

"Sixth, we must be able to attach this beacon from inside a sling and from a reasonably close distance."

"Seventh, the beacon cannot flake off or erode too quickly."

"Eighth, the beacon must be safe to humans who might be in the area. It is possible that we might attach the beacon to a person that we are trying to track like Stook and Sheila. Anything to add?"

"Just that our priority is to develop the machine beacon first. I have to research about the risk of potential harm to a human body, Mathias, and that shouldn't be done quickly."

"Right, Lylah. Next, our assignments."

...

"A. William is going to research what kind of nuclear material we could put into a beacon that could be read from a distance but without the threat of serious harm. He will create a small amount of that radioactive material in the form of a paste that will look like bird droppings. Is that alright, William?"

"Yeah. We've taken a nuclear bomb apart already and I can see the innards. I've been stymied on how we can remove the nuclear materials safely. This isn't the answer to that, but it will give us experience in working with the materials. I'll need twenty-four hours."

"B. TG is going to develop a computer-based device that can monitor the air for radioactive emissions coming from the beacon. TG?"

"The first device is going to be crude. We'll operate it from a jumbo, but calibrating is going to be a pain. We want the radioactive paste to emit a signal that is strong enough for us to read but not strong enough to be noticed by others. Later, I can refine the instrument so that it can be used from inside a sling."

"How long will you need, TG?"

"Twenty-four hours, but we should expect glitches. I'll need the paste before I can get to work. I'd prefer forty-eight hours."

"C. Wolf will create a stand-alone weapon that can fire the paste and hit the copter. It has to work from inside a sling. If we aim for the roof of the copter, somebody could fly overhead with the weapon, flash the sling's invisibility screen on and off, and he should be able to hit a target immediately below without anybody noticing. Gravity will provide all the force we need. Wolf, comments?"

"The higher up the weapon, the more the paste is going to disperse on the way down. I'll need William's paste before I can give instructions on how high to fly. Plus, we'll need to have that paste stored inside a lead protective case inside the weapon while it is being carried into position. I'll need one day for the weapon's design and construction plus one day for the calibration on height."

"D. Lylah is going to test whether or not the paste will last through normal storms. Unless you are standing above the copter, you won't see the paste so we don't expect anybody to decide to wash it off. She's also going to look at what kind of cleaning solution we'll need to remove the paste after we're done. Lylah?"

"There's no rush for this research. I don't see a problem."

Mathias finished his summary. "I'll let Jock know that we will be able to start a TiTr forward looking search for the Ministry of Justice copters sometime on Monday. We should be able to search in darkness. I'll pilot the jumbo and help out with anybody who needs a spare set of hands before that."

Back to the Table of Contents

#  Chapter 9

January 1, 2091 was not a particularly enjoyable New Year's Day holiday for the Wilizy. Everybody was working flat out, trying to understand why Stook and Sheila had been brought before the Colorado Supreme Court. They met at 7 pm. The first item on the agenda was the TiTr report on what had happened in that courtroom Friday night, December 22. Stu gave that report.

"Sheila was brought before the court at 9:45 in shackles and still in her pajamas. She was accused of personally accepting bribes for the _Stook for Governor_ campaign. The prosecutor laid out the evidence that included records from the bank in question, written affidavits from officials in the bank that certified that Sheila had opened those accounts and had deposited substantial amounts of cash into them on a regular basis. The bank also provided visual records of Sheila making those deposits. The bank in question was Rocky Mountain Bank, a solid old Denver institution."

"The Ministry of Justice provided a lawyer for Sheila. She claimed that she had never opened such an account and had never even been in the bank. She didn't know where the money came from. In my opinion, her defense attorney did a reasonable job of defending her in the face of overwhelming evidence against her."

"In the cross examination, the prosecutor established that she was the person in the campaign who was responsible for accepting such monies and depositing them. She was asked a number of times in different ways if she had been instructed to receive bribes by her boss. Those questions also moved into allegations that her boss had actively solicited bribes. Sheila continued to deny that the campaign had ever received the alleged money; Stook had never instructed her to deposit the money because there was no money. She knew nothing about the allegation that Stook had solicited any money but stated for the record that she had never seen him do anything dishonest in the time that she worked for him. The prosecutor offered to reduce her sentence if she told the truth. She claimed that she was telling the truth. The prosecutor asked her a difficult question: Did she have sexual relations with Governor Stook as a reward for her illegal activities. She tried to claim that there were no illegal activities, but the prosecutor pinned her down and she did agree that she and governor had been intimate. She also pointed out that both of them were single and of age."

"The court adjourned the trial temporarily so that they could _hear another case_. She was taken into a back room under guard. Does anybody have any questions on Sheila's trial?"

"Could you have gotten her off, Stu?" Hank asked.

"In front of a proper court, yes. The testimony from the bank should have been presented in the courtroom by the people involved. The fact that the defense lawyer could not question them suggests to me that the evidence was weak. I also would have wanted to see the visual evidence so that I could look for tampering. I also would have had the comment about the two of them being intimate stricken from the record. They didn't break any law, so it should never been accepted in the trial. There are also problem with the non-public trial, the utter secrecy of the trial, and the lack of time for the defense to prepare."

"But, here's the biggest problem with what I saw," Stu continued. "Nobody in the courtroom raised the vital problem that invalidates this trial. Namely, the defense lawyer was from the same organization as the prosecutor. This is an obvious conflict of interest. Sheila didn't know enough to complain, but those Supreme Court Justices knew that the trial was flawed from the beginning because of that conflict of interest. The trial looked legal, but it wasn't. Any appeal in front of a proper court would have been successful."

"Any legal problems with Stook's trial?" Hank prodded.

"More of the same in terms of the secrecy, the lack of time to prepare, the conflict of interest. The primary evidence was provided, via affidavit, by three businessmen who alleged that Stook had asked each of them for money for the campaign in exchange for favors to follow later. Each man admitted that he had given cash money to the campaign in sealed envelopes. Stook had directed them to make the payments that way to his campaign manager, Sheila Enderby. All three men claimed that they did. They also all said that they knew this was illegal, but Stook had threatened them with _being an unhappy governor_ whenever discussions came up about their businesses."

"There was also damning evidence provided by a person who had been instructed by the Ministry of Justice to work on Stook's campaign after they had heard about the bribe solicitations. She testified by video link, but her face was masked and her voice was disguised electronically. The reason cited for this secrecy was so that she could continue to work undercover on other assignments. She claimed that she had heard Stook talking with Sheila about the bribes on a number of occasions and, as well, talking about other organizations that they could approach."

"I believe we all know what the problems were with Stook's trial, but why don't you list them for us, Stu."

"There was no chance to question the three businessmen, who by the way, are all members of the Denver Cattlemen's Association. There was no reason to hide the identity of the undercover agent because the trial itself was secret. They're hiding her identity for some reason. We need to find her. I could go on, but I see no reason to. Sheila and Stook were railroaded."

"What was the court's verdict?"

"Ten years minimum incarceration for Sheila and thirty years minimum for Stook. The court defended the length of the sentences on the fact that Colorado had already suffered from a dishonest governor; this sentence would deter others. This idea of using the sentence as a deterrent disappears because it was a secret trial that nobody will ever hear about."

"Where have they been sent?"

"That was left to the Ministry of Justice to decide. Incidentally, the prosecutor and defense attorney left in the same copters after that trial that we've already identified as Cowboy had thought."

Hank took charge of the meeting. "If we can follow those copters from past to present, we'll have some key people identified. Where are you on that, William? I understand the scientists had a breakthrough."

"We have some glitches to work out still. We had a prototype that we were testing this afternoon but it didn't work. We don't know why yet. We'll resume testing tomorrow. In theory, it should work."

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 10

Extract from Arthur's journal, Monday January 2, 2091.

Winnie and I were strolling through a quiet city park in Nanaimo BC as the winter sunset dimmed. I had given myself the body of a white-haired gent in his early sixties, complete with bifocal glasses, a battered cap in a faded Scottish tartan, and a paunch. Winnie was disguised as an elderly, gray-haired woman. Her pudgy figure was wrapped inside her light tan raincoat that had a tan scarf at her neck.

We weren't doing anything that would attract any attention. We were simply walking in deserted locations, and every now and then, we'd change bodies. This time, I had made myself into an old man; she had had ten seconds to become an old woman. Next time, she'd choose the new body first and I would have to match. It was supposed to be simple training on body changes.

Winnie was chattering away about her first day sitting on a hacker's head and I was totally engrossed in her account. Everything had gone well except for the small headache she had picked up during the afternoon. That headache was why I had suggested a slow stroll through a peaceful part of Nanaimo. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. That place was a dark hidden corner of a park.

I saw two girls slide off their swings and begin to saunter down the wood chip trail towards us. I also saw the four punks emerge from the woods and amble towards us from the other direction. We were all going to have a little meeting.

One of the girls asked me for a nicotine stick; another asked Winnie for spare change. That gave the punks a chance to encircle us. The girl with the skin tight, low cut bustier made the accusation that would trigger the attack.

"Hey, are you staring at my boobs!"

Naturally, the male members of the gang had to defend her honor. That led to more accusations, yelling, threats, and finally a hard shove from the leader, a teenage boy the other punks referred to as ThumperDumper. He gave me another hard, two handed push towards one of the other punks. It was supposed to catch me off guard. I pretended that it did. I knew what was coming because I could overhear the whispered enhortations that ThumperDumper was hearing.

The plan was simple. They would threaten me. Then, they'd play human pinball with me. Somebody would slug me to the ground, and ThumperDumper would work on me with his boots. The two females would keep the old woman quiet while the punks had their fun. Then, the two girls would demonstrate on Winnie that they were equally as ruthless. Afterwards, both of us would be dumped in the underbrush. Thump, then dump!

But this time it didn't go as it had been scripted. In fact, if the gang had been more observant, they would have noticed that Winnie's happy chatter had stopped as soon as the girls had slid off their swings. I told her what was going to happen and said that she should play along. We knew our mortal bodies were built to take this kind of abuse and much more. _Play along_ , I repeated. _We can't go invisible and we certainly can't outrun them. That lime green piece of fuzz on ThumperDumper's shoulder is a shoulder demon. Don't make him curious about two old people out for a walk._

As the badgering turned to physical shoves, I staggered around so badly that the gang had to catch me and hold me upright before they could shove me again. I collapsed with a pitiful plea for mercy that I thought had gone over quite well. But Winnie took advantage of their laughter to twist out of the grip of the two girls. She lunged into the only open space available to her, but ThumperDumper moved quickly to cut her off. Desperate, she attacked him. But, _attack_ would hardly be the right word. Smirking, ThumperDumper held her off with a stiff-arm, his fingers entwined within her disheveled hair. However, since the gang all enjoyed cheering her pathetic wild swings, she did manage to divert attention away from the kick-fest that I had been receiving. She started a looping roundhouse punch that wasn't going to connect when a brilliant lightening flash distracted ThumperDumper. Not that it did her any good. Her ineffectual swing glanced off his leather-clad shoulder - she wasn't tall enough to hit him any higher. A split second later, as everybody was flinching from a ground-shaking clap of thunder, she ground one sensible heel into the ground to get a firm footing and connected with the other sensible shoe in the one vulnerable portion of ThumperDumper's anatomy that she could reach. She used the distraction from that success to desert me - scrambling away from the chip trail in a scuttling and wheezy race through the trees for the distant street.

"She's mine," ThumperDumper gasped and some painful seconds later he set off in an easy lope that would close the distance between them in no time. Since there was no more fun to be had with me - lying as I was in an unconscious curl on the ground - the three gang members ambled off after their boss who had disappeared into the now complete darkness of the night. I followed invisibly behind to see what Winnie was up to.

The gang used the noise of Winnie's struggles to find her. ThumperDumper had immobilized her by stuffing her upper body into a thicket of brush and under a fallen tree before taking off. The tree's heavy weight pressed her shoulders and face into the ground. She was still very much alive though - her raincoat swaddled body kicked and squirmed mightily. Well, if ThumperDumper wanted her to spend the night under a tree, his punkmates certainly weren't going to allow her to get free. Gathering in a semicircle, the gang viciously kicked and stomped the old woman's body until it had stopped moving and the muffled moans had anguished to an end.

Had there been more light, the young gang members would have noticed that the old woman's body had somehow become very much bigger. Also, they might have noticed that the body didn't have sensible shoes, or a long skirt. Unfortunately for ThumperDumper, it was a moonless night.

Winnie and I weren't home free yet. The shoulder demon had to totally believe that we were humans. Winnie's wild house swing had been a sham. She had aimed her swing at the purple fuzz. The demon had bounced of the ground and after that, Winnie had lured ThumperDumper into the deep dark forest where I assumed that she had overcome him and stuffed him into her raincoat. The gang had been kicking their own leader. Winnie was perched on a tree branch in the body of a barn owl, spectating. I joined her there in my own owl suit. I waited for the gang to leave, flew to the ground, and assumed my normal mortal body. Winnie did the same.

I had to say something. Not to warn her would be dangerous. "ThumperDumper's demon is going to learn what happened. It's bound to wonder how an old woman could have overpowered a strong young thug and stuffed him under a heavy tree."

Apparently, Winnie had been busy while I was faking unconsciousness. "The old woman didn't do that. A big husky teenager overpowered him, gagged him with a scarf and stuffed him into the raincoat that the old woman had shed in her flight. That husky teenager announced that he was taking over the park. He warned ThumperDumper what would happen if he came back to his park. His own gang showed him how it felt to be kicked unconscious."

I must say, Winnie's smile wasn't very angelic.

"You changed your voice, right?"

"Yes, Oh solemn master," she said in a deep base voice.

"Why didn't you stick to my plan?"

"I thought that ThumperDumper wouldn't behave like a bully if he knew what it felt like to be thrown around, beaten, and kicked. So, I found the thunder and lightening command in the body's manual and then it all just happened. The demon won't suspect anything. A rival gang overpowered ThumperDumper. And then, his own gang kicked him unconscious." She smirked again.

"Well, it looks like you thought of everything. Your first angel-demon battle. I guess we can consider this as your baptism of fire. Congratulations."

I held out my fist for a bump. She ignored the fist, ducked inside and gave me a hug instead. That ended quickly. I guess she had forgotten that we had agreed that we wouldn't touch each other like that after all the grief Lillian had given us. She stepped back and gave me a fist bump as we had agreed would be best for establishing a good working relationship in whatever operation Lillian had in store for us. Provided that Winnie passed the hacking test that would qualify her to be part of the operation, that is. That upcoming hacking test was why she had been sitting on top of a hacker's head and sucking out all of his knowledge. _Sucking out_ made it sound very vampirish, which it wasn't. Winnie said it was more like peering through a big smorgasbord of thoughts and picking the ones she wanted to sample. She didn't seem to be overwhelmed by the technology the assignment required.

Not wanting to spoil her excitement from her success, I kept my concerns to myself. Revealing what she had missed could come later. Winnie had no idea what humans like ThumperDumper were like; nor, did she have any inkling about Hell's operations on Earth. Most demons were stupid, but not all. To give substance to her subterfuge, I would have to manufacture some evidence that a new gang had taken over the park. I couldn't control whether the demon was curious enough to check the records of the hornographic cameras in the park. Nor could I stop the demon from realizing that the sky had been cloud free when Winnie had produced the thunder and lightning. I'd have to keep an eye on that purple demon for a while.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 11

The Wilizy task force that was investigating anything and everything to do with Stook and Sheila's incarcerations was now operating on the schedules of the different groups that Mac had set up. Rather than try to hold meetings where everybody could hear reports, Jock had set up message boards where groups would submit reports on their activities along with suggestions for other investigations. These reports were electronic, of course. However, the gist of the findings would be posted on screens situated around the outside walls of the hold.

William had submitted his report on TiTr'g the copters that had taken Stook and Sheila away from Denver. My readers already know about Mathias' idea for creating a beacon. That beacon hadn't worked when they tried to follow the copters the first time. The pasty radioactive material had landed properly on the top of the copters. Plus, with Lylah reporting that attaching radioactive paste would be safe if kept away from the core organs of the body, they had decided to attach some paste to Sheila's canvas shoes and to Stook's cowboy boots. As much as they searched, they could not get a single blip on TG's electronic Geiger counter. Yet, each scientist was adamant that his part of the project worked.

It was Lylah who argued that just because the two were found guilty in Colorado, that didn't mean that they would be jailed in Colorado. TG made copies of his detector and they all spread out and began searching in neighbouring states. Mathias found the two clothing beacons in California.

Sheila's shoes were walking around in the California Penal System Facility for Women that was located in Stovepipe Wells in Death Valley National Park. Mathias and Lylah scouted out the prison and the surrounding area and provided the details below.

### # # # # # # # #

The sole reason for the existence of the Stovepipe Wells village was the prison. A small inn catered to any visitors who might be there to visit inmates. All food and other basic supplies for the prison were coptered in. The approximate fifteen women guards lived in a comfortable dormitory. The prisoners were confined in one of two five storey dormitory buildings. The northern-most building had open area sleeping dormitories on each floor with a hallway door that could be electronically locked by guards at the ground floor station when they wanted to keep the prisoners confined inside their dorm. Each floor was capable of housing fifteen prisoners. Prisoners slept in a traditional bed and could wander around and talk with other prisoners. Each floor had a standard large washroom with toilets and showers.

The southern building was a traditional jail with iron bars and locking cell doors. Each cell had two bunks with a primitive iron ladder attached to the frame so that the prisoners could reach the top bunk. Toilet facilities, such as they were, were inside the cell. Each floor had a shower room that could only be accessed when the guards at the ground floor station unlocked the door. Prisoners only showered under supervision.

Shower water in both buildings was limited to a maximum thirty second flow. All free flowing water was rationed tightly even though the prison had access to ample water. Moreover, no prisoner had access at any time to closed containters that might be used to store water. This rationing was intended as an integral part of the prison's internal security tool. Situated as it was in Death Valley Desert, any prisoner who made it over two twelve feet high barbed wire topped fences was welcome to see how far they could run into the desert without any containers of water before passing out.

Prison copters were stored in a large out building that had an enclosed connector to the rear of the main building. Nobody could sit comfortably in a copter if it had been sitting outside in the sun for several hours. The covered connector was probably used to pass freight from the copter to the main building. There was no outside handle or opener on that out building. The only access to it would have been from the prison itself and that was likely well secured.

Death Valley wasn't named after an explorer who discovered it. It wasn't discovered by Fred Death, for example. It received its name because it was the hottest place on Earth. In the 20th century, it recorded a record of 125 degrees F, or 51 degrees C. That was before global warming. Add 10% or 20% or so to those records and that's what you'd be looking at in 2090.

Why was it so hot? The valley itself was narrow, which meant there was no room for the air to circulate. To the east was desert and sand dunes; to the west were the Sierra Nevada Mountains, which blocked any air with moisture from getting in. The valley was situated at sea level and the superheated air just sat there becoming hotter and hotter. Nobody in the prison went outside for anything other than to move from one solar powered air-conditioned building to another. If visitors could smuggle anything in, it would be water. The warden, a woman, only had to threaten to put the prison population on parade outside to discourage anybody who had been thinking about complaining.

The prisoners had little to do during the day. Some worked in food preparation, others in laundry. They were able to raise money to buy amenity treats by working in the prison's craft shops. Sand was the basis of most of their creations, which were sold on line. The Internet could be piped in but there were no communication feeds to the outside world, except for the computer servers in the warden's closet. Those computers were used to order supplies and communicate with the prison's head office.

Lylah observed Sheila living in the northern most building on the third floor but made no attempt to contact her. She appeared to be healthy.

### # # # # # # # #

Stook's boots were found in the California Penal System Facility for Men in Kelso, which is located in the Mojave Desert. William, TG, and Wolf scouted out the prison and the surrounding area and provided the details below.

The men's prison was exactly like the women's prison except the surrounding area was drier and higher, which provided the same disincentive to escape as the women's prison. There was a desert to the north and another to the south and east. On the west were the Tehachapi Mountains and to the south were the San Gabriel Mountains and the San Bernardino Mountains. You may notice a pattern here in how California set up its prisons.

Kelso had no facilities for visitors. The prison itself had the capacity for two hundred prisoners in three five-storey buildings. Approximately sixty guards were housed in two large comfortable dormitories. The three security fences of the men's prison were topped by razor wire and were higher than the equivalent for the women. The prison had the same security on its outbuilding, which was larger than the women's prison.

As was the case for the women, the men had to work in some fashion. Crafts were not going to do the trick. The men earned money for special purchases by making copter license plates, plastic decals, paper straws and bags, and by repairing solar power roof panels. This last business prompted a lot of freight traffic in and out of the prison.

While I said that Stook's boots were found, the owner of those boots was not attached. All three Wilizy searched invisibly for him in real time when the prisoners were in their dormitories. Stook was not in the prison. They doubted that he had escaped given the climatic conditions, but they speculated that he might have been transferred to another facility. It was going to be difficult to find him by following traffic in and out of that prison. The copters were loaded and unloaded inside a very secure building where it would be difficult for the Wilizy to enter and plant drones.

### # # # # # # # #

Melissa posted the following message on a board: "I was surprised that California would take Coloradoan prisoners. The two states do not get along very well. Can somebody research the history of the organization running these two prisons? Are they governmental? Who sends them their prisoners? What other facilities might they have that could have housed Stook?"

### # # # # # # # #

Yolanda posted this message on the board: "Melissa and I researched the lieutenant-governor and found nothing questionable in his past. His name is Harry Fleming. It's possible that he was put into the position because he had no strong political positions. He'd be safe. Fleming lived in Sterling, which is in the northeast corner of the state. Small town. Cowboy heaven. I'd feel better about our lack of information if Reese could read his colours."

### # # # # # # # #

Mac posted the following message: Reese, it would be a big help to our researchers if you could eliminate some people from our list of suspects. Right now, we're trying to research the members of the Supreme Court, the key people in the Ministry of Justice, the lieutenant governor, and the remaining members of the DCA. Can you look at them please?

### # # # # # # # #

Melissa added a post: Reese, if we're going to extract Sheila from the women's prison, it would be good to know if there are any inmates that we could call on for help in some form, for example to distract the guards while we take Sheila out.

### # # # # # # # #

Reese responded to Melissa's post: Marie has offered to help me. She says that she can smell bad people. I believe she's pulling my leg. We'll start tomorrow.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 12

Arthur was going through Winnie's pantry in her apartment, looking for a package of peanuts he had hidden, when her voice popped into his mind. _So, what do you have planned for tonight?_ He didn't have enough time to hide what he was doing before Winnie materialized beside him. "I'm famished. The peanuts you're not supposed to be eating are hidden inside the book _Willpower and How to Find It_. What's for supper?"

"Chinese?"

"Sounds good. Where?"

"Shanghai." Arthur gave her the coordinates he had reconned earlier.

"What do I have to do to earn my supper?"

"I'll be on somebody's shoulder. Trail me for thirty minutes without raising your target's suspicions or giving anybody in the crowd reason to be curious. You must remain in human form. But first, you have to catch me." An instant later, a butterfly flew out the apartment window followed by a second in hot pursuit.

Later that evening, a ten-year old boy playing in the slums of Shanghai thought of a great idea for a game. Pretending that he was a famous soccer star, he set off in a run through the narrow alleys of the city. He'd lose the paparazzi in the market.

### # # # # # # # #

This night, Arthur was giving Winnie practice in surveillance. Children have excellent memories. The young boy would recognize the face of anybody consistently following him. With his small stature, and with his familiarity of the busy streets and numerous alleys of his neighborhood, she'd have to stay very close to him. Changing human form without drawing the attention of the crowd around him would be particularly challenging.

Winnie was now well along in her training. She left for work early in the morning - hitching a ride on the shoulder of her current assignment. Throughout the day, she stayed in the computer expert's mind, soaking up all the knowledge she could. One or two days later, she would move on to the next name on Lillian's list. At first, she had severe headaches, overwhelmed by the massive amount of information that she had to assimilate, but it was coming easier now and the headaches were diminishing. This was partly because some of the information was redundant and partly because the angelic brain in her prototype body was reaching its full potential. Arthur had a much easier assignment. He spent his day planning her training for that night. Plus, he was working on a little something that she didn't know about.

Arthur had advanced her training slowly to help ease her headaches. The first hour of the evening was devoted to relaxing in some remote, beautiful, peaceful and sunny location. They'd convert to angelic bodies and soar high above the ground soaking up the energy of the sun. Then, when she was reinvigorated, he'd give her practice changing bodies. They were eagles in the Himalayas, camels in the Sahara, dolphins in the Caribbean, penguins in the Antarctic Ocean, and tonight fluttering, elusive butterflies. Adding surveillance to the evening was something new. Later that evening, Arthur would deliver Winnie back to her apartment and then he'd disappear into the night.

Arthur wasn't sure exactly how long they'd be given for this project, but the length of Lillian's list of computer experts, and the restriction on not spending more than two days per person, gave him a good idea.

### # # # # # # # #

Here's Stu's research on the prisons where Stook and Sheila were being held.

"The two California prisons are operated by a company named 1435-262. They are a private security company. The little bit of information that I could find on them tells me that they manage prisons for a profit and they make a lot of money. They wouldn't be making a lot of money off their two California prisons, so that suggests they are active elsewhere. We know they don't operate in Canada. So that leaves Mexico, perhaps Central America, perhaps South America. Perhaps even further away. They promote themselves as never having lost a prisoner. I suspect that they receive healthy bonuses for that since the two operations I could see in California could not be making much money. To be sure of that, Wizard and Dreamer should look at their books. I've gotten as much information as I'm able to."

### # # # # # # # #

Mac posted a response: "Wizard and Dreamer, I know that you are in school right now, but if you have the time to check out Stu's prison company, that would be good. We can get you into the prisons' administration offices at night. Could you look for any information on where else they might operate? Also, we probably will break Sheila out of the women's prison. Melissa will need any inside information you can find on how the prison operates. Could you also look at the bank records that supposedly showed Sheila had received bribes? Eleanor says that you can have access to the Denver SGG files any time you want."

Wizard replied: "We can do this. Dreamer arranged for us to work on an independent study project for one of our courses. We'll have to cram both searches into some tight time restrictions. For the prison searches, could we have somebody on guard to warn us if we might be interrupted? Both Dreamer and I tend to lose contact with the real world when we are on the hunt."

Mac replied: "Lyla or Lylah, would you be interested?"

Lylah replied: "Both of us are needed at the camp right now. The cadets are starting to learn how to use the jet packs in mock battle simulations. Both of us took gymnastics in school and we're the only ones who can provide the instruction. We've tried the jet packs out and they are amazing. Not as good as a sling, of course, but if you want to fly without being in a copter, William's jet packs will give you that."

Yolanda added a comment: "We used the jet packs in the operation that rescued Kashmira from her father. That would have been in 2086." _[Narrator: Wheelchair Mocassins.]_ "We also had light sabres and body armour. Wiz, I can stand guard for you while you and Dreamer are in the prisons."

_[Narrator: Yolanda was particularly interested in learning more about this private security company that might operate globally. Her overriding concern? Was Winnie working for the other side?]_

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 13

"That wasn't very scary, Arthur. Hit me with your best shot. Come on. I dare you."

Winnie and Arthur were sitting across from each other at the little kitchen table in her apartment. He was frowning. She was smiling. They were testing out their ability to send emotions to each other. Sending emotions to persuade humans to act in a certain way was one of the angelic powers in their new bodies. Sending the emotion was easy; figuring out what worked and what didn't work was more difficult. The victim had to tell you. That's why they were targeting each other with emotional attacks. Right now, the emotion was fear.

"I'm trying," Arthur said. "You aren't scared."

"I'm not scared about flying tarantulas coming to poison me. I get scared about a lot of things, but not that."

"Why not?"

"I guess because I know they're not real. Try something that might actually happen to me."

...

"OK, that was better. I was scared. I can feel my heart still beating harder. Having my sling fail and falling head first to the ground worked. Try it with a copter crash."

...

"That didn't work. I'm not scared about that because I always wear my sling."

"Do images help?"

"Yeah. When you were trying to scare without images, I had an anxious feeling but it could have been indigestion. But the frightening image has to be realistic to the person who is receiving. Being bitten by a snake, for example could be a good image to try. Lots of people are frightened of snakes."

"What about something more global, like the earth self-destructing from another climate change?"

"That didn't work fifty years ago. People knew disaster was coming, but they weren't scared enough to do anything about it."

"That's because politicians were too busy making sure they would get re-elected," Arthur corrected. "Actually doing something to slow things down would have been expensive. They would have lost votes."

"Still, people elect politicians. So why didn't they do something about it? If we use fear, it has to prompt the mortal to do something; not simply complain. It has to be personal to the individual, I think. My turn."

...

"Are you sending yet?"

"Yeah."

"Concentrate harder."

...

"I'm seeing an image of myself," Arthur said. "But I don't feel any emotion. What are you trying to make me feel?"

"I'm trying to make you feel guilty about being such a slob sometimes."

"Why would I feel guilty about that?"

"You actually enjoy wearing clothes with stains on them?"

"I don't enjoy, I don't not enjoy. I have no feelings whatsoever about that."

"Cheezie dust on your hands? Chocolate smears on your face?"

"Don't care."

"Being too fat?"

"Don't care."

"Your shirts and pants not colour coordinated?"

"Definitely don't care."

"Buttoning up your shirt so the sides align?"

"Don't care. So long as I'm warm, that's all I care about."

"But, that's so..."

"Looks like you care more about how I look than I do."

"Yeah. Obviously, I do."

"Why?"

"How you look irritates me. I try not to say anything, but yes, I do care what you look like."

"So you hide my peanuts instead. Why?"

"I guess because I try to dress nicely and keep myself presentable."

"So go ahead and do that. Why would you care what I look like?"

"Because you're walking right beside me."

"So?"

...

"Did you play dolls when you were a kid. Dress them up, pretend to have fancy tea parties, and that kind of thing?"

"Yeah, I did."

"I'm not your doll. You don't get to dress me up the way you want me to."

_[Narrator: Did you notice that the mood had been deteriorating steadily? Arthur's comment changed this discussion into an argument.]_

"I don't want to physically dress you."

"Do you want to pick out my clothes?"

"Perhaps make suggestions?"

"So that I'll be dressed exactly the way you want me to be? I'm not your doll. You don't get to tell me what to wear."

"When we walk together, I feel so..."

"What?"

"Embarrassed, I guess."

"Why would you feel that?"

"I don't know. Other women walk past and look at me like..."

"That you're not doing a good enough job dressing me?"

"Yeah. Moms dress their kids up so that they look good. I guess I have the mom genes. I admit that I want you to look good when I'm with you."

"So that you'll feel better."

"That doesn't me sound very nice. Makes me appear ..."

"Controlling?"

"Yeah. But I want them to see you as the guy you are, not the messy person you dress like."

"But that's me. That's the way I've always been. Arthur the slob."

"But that not who you are really."

"Who am I really?"

"You're a thoughtful considerate person underneath the cheezie dust. You're a handsome guy when you want to be. You're a big attractive hunk."

"Huh."

_[That admission was a shocker for both of them.]_

### # # # # # # # #

Winnie and Arthur tried sending other emotions to each other. Confusion worked. They could do depression if they worked hard at it. Happiness worked. Neither of them wanted to try anger. But their minds were somewhere else. Winnie jabbed at the sore spot.

"We should talk about, you know."

"Yeah."

"From a strategic point of view, you and I have to be able to blend in, right? We're supposed to be boyfriend/girlfriend. Right?"

"Yeah."

"We aren't supposed to draw attention to ourselves. Right?"

"Yeah."

"So, if you and I are in public, and we're walking together with you dressed as a slob, we're going to be noticed. People will remember us."

"The women will remember us?"

"Yeah. But men too."

"Men won't remember us."

"Why not?"

"They'll be looking at you."

"Why would they do that?"

"Because you're the most beautiful woman they've ever seen."

_[And another shocker for both of them.]_

_..._

"You're telling the truth."

"Of course I am. I could be a limping, shoulder-humped transvestite wearing only women's underwear, and the men will be looking at you. Women too. You're gorgeous. Don't you know that?"

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 14

Extract from Arthur's journal, Monday February 5, 2091.

A couple of nights after our discussion about my clothes, we started the evening with a race. I gave Winnie the choice of creature. I had to match the creature that she was in and catch her. She could use as many bodies as she wanted. To win, one of us had to establish a thirty-second lead. Winnie had to be the female of the species; I was the male. If you're wondering about that, we had had a discussion about the inherent superiority of the male of the species the previous night. Tonight, we were going to prove it, or prove the opposite with this competition. I had been teasing her about male superiority and she knew it, so it was all in fun. We were flying above the ocean where the race would begin. I expected her to change into the fastest big bird she could find. And she did.

Winnie started with a peregrine falcon. I closed up on her. She changed to a golden eagle and by the time I saw what it was, she was far in front of me. Being the male of the species, I closed up on her. She changed again, but into a body that I had never seen before. I had to ask her what it was so that I could change into it. Turns out it was a white-throated needle tail which she told me was the fastest bird in the world in horizontal flight. By the time I had accessed the command to make the change, she had a big lead on me again. I began to suspect that she had been accessing Wikipedia during our race. That bird was fast. But the male was faster and I was closing on her.

Winnie dived into the water, changed form to a barracuda, and spiraled further into the depths. I followed suit a few seconds later and was struggling to close the distance. The resistance in the water was harsher on the bigger male body than on the more svelte female body.

I began to gain on Winnie's barracuda and then saw that she had changed to some ungainly shape. Was she throwing the race? I realized what form she had taken when I swam into the middle of a thick black cloud of squidiferous spray that made my eyes smart. I couldn't see where she had gone, but I was sure she was now in the form of something much faster than a squid. I couldn't change form until I could see what she was. My blinded squid followed some bubbles to the surface where I looked around.

_Females are way smarter than males. Look up._

I found her circling above the water in the body of a small bird with a laurel wreathe nestled on her head. _What did I win?_

_A night out on the town._

### # # # # # # # #

It was a typical crowded, smoky, bar. Except the ceilings were only six inches above the floor. Oh, and the patrons were demons. That would be another difference.

_Where are we?_

_Demon hangout about a mile from your apartment._

I steered her to an empty table and we sat down. Just two black furry shoulder demons out on the town.

_Do you come here often?_

I think my answer surprised her. _Every night. Right after I drop you off at your apartment. This or some other shoulder demon hangout. There are dozens in a town this size._

A big, three-inch barkeep demon thumped a pitcher of beer on our table and two grungy glasses in front of it. "Purple demon over there sent these over." He pointed with his chin and disappeared into the murk of tobacco smoke.

Arthur poured two glasses and raised his in salute to the benefactor who nodded and raised his own.

_A friend?_

_It believes so._

_Are you going to tell me why we get free drinks at a demon bar? The beer tastes like horse piss by the way._

_Interesting that you would recognize the taste._

I waited for Winnie to put her drink down next to my untouched glass. _Lots of horses on Earth. Got to do something useful with it._

_Well? Why are we getting free drinks?_

_Do you know about shoulder demons?_

_A bit. You told me you once managed to get a tavern of them into a brawl._

_Shoulder demons are the lowest level in Hell's hierarchy. Every demon is assigned to its own individual human and they are judged on how much torment that they can inflict on their victim. Their afterlife is on the line. Too little torment and they go back to the torture pits. But, if they're successful, they are promoted from one human to another, each human increasingly more important or powerful. That way, the most powerful humans have only experienced shoulder demons working on them. Eventually, if a shoulder demon generates enough torment, it'll be promoted from being a shoulder demon to the job of Assistant Demon and it will receive a mortal body._

_Since competition among shoulder demons for advancement to the plum jobs is intense, they're barely civil to each other. They're so driven by fear of going back to the torture pits that they will attack anything that stands in their way, especially other shoulder demons._

_So, shoulder demons fight. Big deal._

_Shoulder demons can't afford to appear weak or lower echelon demons will poach their clients. Their fights are extremely vicious. The loser will face challenges from other demons until he can change his image. If he can't, he'll be killed in the process or, at best, be demoted._

_Oh._

_Color is important because it indicates rank. Novices are white - a most undesirable color because it signifies purity. Novices have to be promoted within a week or they won't survive the hazing. The darker the color, the higher the rank._

_I noticed we were wearing a black fuzz outfit. Do I get pearls?_

_You get less chance of being challenged. When black shoulder demons speak, other shoulder demons listen._

_You've been speaking to demons?_

_Yes. I warned my purple friend that the red demon on the other side of the bar was bragging about how he was going to poach his mortal. Then I gave my friend the red demon a similar warning. We agreed that he should pretend he doesn't know me so I can slip him more information._

_They're going to fight?_

_If not tonight, soon. I have more dirt to tell my purple friend._

_What dirt?_

_I don't know. I haven't invented it yet._

_And my prize for proving my female superiority is to carefully pour this horse piss beer on the floor and watch you aggravate some shoulder demons?_

_No. It struck me that with your new found skills in sending emotions to me, you might want to test those skills on these demons. Your assignment tonight is to start a pub brawl._

### # # # # # # # #

I looked around at the melee in the bar. It was getting out of hand. Winnie and I had already moved away from our table and were sheltering ourselves against a wall. I looked at Winnie to make the suggestion to leave. I ended up with a question instead.

_Why are you a small bird with a laurel wreath on its brow?_

The bird dove to the floor and hid between my feet. A spattering of panicky thoughts fluttered up from the floor.

_Transportation controls are down... I can send you thoughts. ... Almost all functions are frozen. ... Shape control is all fouled up. ... The body has reverted to the last shape in its memory._

Then, unexpectedly, the bird hopped onto my shoulder, and gripped my fuzz tight in its claws and beak.

_There's a very good chance that the body is cycling through its body shape memory. If I'm attached to your body, you should be able to carry me. Drop me into an ocean fast. No matter how drunk they are, these demons are going to notice a giant squid in their bar._

### # # # # # # # #

Arthur's words:

We were in Joe-Joe's workshop very early the next morning. Winnie had found a reset command, but using it meant she had to revert to her angelic body. That wouldn't have gone over well in that bar. I told Joe-Joe what we had been doing at the time and he had a good chuckle. We had to change into our mortal bodies so that he could work on the angelic prototypes. We were sitting around, not doing much of anything, when Lillian entered.

"Give me a progress report on both of you," she said to me somewhat curtly. "Assess your speed in changing bodies, your use of multiple bodies, competence with those bodies, and your full use of the body's weapons."

I noticed that she hadn't acknowledged Winnie's presence. I gave Lillian a full report and sat back to hear her verdict. Perhaps we'd find out what we'd be doing in our operation. Assuming that Winnie would be in it. I didn't see any reason why she wouldn't, but then I couldn't assess how her hacking skills were progressing.

"Provoking demons into a brawl last night was a good idea," she said to me. "Start doing that all over BC. Continue with the hacking assignments during the day."

And with that, she was gone. She never said anything to Winnie. She didn't even look at her.

"I didn't realize that our ability to send emotions was going to be a weapon against demons," Winnie said.

"I thought the body was to help mortals as guardian angels," I agreed.

Half an hour later, Joe-Joe returned our repaired bodies. "Try not to get horse piss beer on your body again," he said to Winnie.

"Sorry."

"Actually, this was a good discovery for us. The bodies were susceptible to acid. It was fortunate that we found out now."

Winnie didn't say anything on the way home. I thought it was because Lillian had been so rude. She went directly to her next assignment and I started looking for demon bars in BC cities.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 15

Reese's colour assessments did indeed save the Wilizy a lot of time by allowing them to focus on the most important villains.

Here are Reese's comments on the Ministry of Justice: "All of the people directly involved in the trials are corrupt. The top man in the Ministry was not part of the trial but his colours are the worst of all of them. His position is Director of the Ministry of Justice. These officials weren't violent or vicious. They were greedy for money. They have no colour that would suggest that they would be part of somebody's death. They wouldn't go that far. They took bribes quite willingly."

Reese's comments on the Supreme Court: "Three of the justices show high greed which I am interpreting is for money and power. I'm also seeing a colour that may be associated with indifference to other people's suffering. They're corrupt and they don't care what happens to their victims."

"I believe these are sociopathic colours, but that's not something that I can prove because I don't have a background in psychology. The other two justices show no negative colours."

On the Lieutenant-Governor: "He has no colours that would give us cause for concern. He does have colours that suggest that he wants to do good."

On the DCA: "All of the DCA members that I looked at have colours that paint them as wanting wealth and power. I have taken picture of all of the men I looked at. They would have no compunction about protecting what they believe is the wealth and power that they deserve. All of them have colours representing vengeance. Only one of them would go so far as to ordering somebody to be killed. He has dark colours throughout his aura. This man is particularly dangerous. I've noted that on his picture. The others will fight to protect what they believe is their birthright: power and money. They won't be involved in a murder themselves, but it's possible that they would go along with somebody else doing the murdering. Be careful with these people."

### # # # # # # # #

Reese provided another report as well.

"I wanted to look into the two Californian prisons as part of my study of colours. This would be my first time inside an adult prison so Wolf came with me as back-up. The colours in the men's prison were alarming. One theme that was clearly obvious all the way from warden down to the convicts was _brutality_. The warden and the guards all had positive colours otherwise. Nobody in the prison security was on the take. But I did notice that they never went anywhere in the prison alone. The smallest guard grouping I saw was four guards, each of them with hands on weapons and each watching in a different direction. The prison building does not lend itself to guard towers, so there were no rifles, but I saw lots of shotguns and rapid fire short arms."

"The colours of the prisoners were horrendous. No other way to describe it. If any of them escaped, death would follow in some way somewhere. The weakest part of the prison's security, according to Wolf, was the entry into the copter compound. If any prisoner got in there, they'd be gone. The internal entry was a three gate process. Each gate was electrified. Each gate could be opened by one of three guards sitting in what appeared to be a protected secure computer station. The space between one gate and the next had enough room for one person to stand without touching either of electrified barriers on either side. If two people went into that space, both would be electrified. That security was enhanced with two guards standing high above the gates. This is possible because the copter storage unit has a high ceiling and that gave them a platform to stand on. They were armed with shotguns and rapid fire pistols. According to Wolf, the most vulnerable time for that security would be when copters were being loaded or unloaded. At that point, those three gates had to be open. The corridors had to be wide because they had to accommodate incoming freight. That width would allow enough prisoners to rush the gates when all three were open. We didn't see the security they had for freight in and out times, but Wolf said they'd have something extra planned at that time. Perhaps freight only comes in the middle of the night?"

"Wolf said further that the only thing stopping the convicts from escaping was the fact that access to the copters was vital so that they could get away from the area. If they took over the inside of the prison, their freedom would last only until the next copter arrived."

"The women's prison had an entirely different feel. I saw no colours that would concern us about the warden or the guards. The women in the building with the cellblocks were the most dangerous as you would expect. The prison would have known what crimes they had committed and assigned them to a more secure building as a result. Many of them had violence colours, but not much beyond that. I didn't see anybody in the cell block building that didn't deserve to be there."

"Many of the women in the open area building had bad colours, but not violent ones. What surprised me was the number of women in this building who had virtually no bad colours at all. I counted twelve of them and that included Sheila. I've taken pictures of those women; they might be willing to help you pull Sheila out of the prison."

### # # # # # # # #

Private message from Hank to Jock: "Given Reese's report, if any of the inmates in the men's prison heard that Stook was an ex-lawman, he wouldn't have lived very long."

"Cowboy is TiTr'g all of the freight copters that left the prison around the time that Stook arrived. He's hoping that Stook found a way to stow away. TG is helping."

"I've asked Wizard to look for any stats that the prison kept on how many prisoners died in custody. They have claimed that none have ever escaped, but what if they were killed? Did they record that?"

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 16

January had come and gone, and with it, most of the Wilizy who had been researching. Now, in mid February, the only people active on the Charlie and Sheila operation were Mac and Melissa. Mac had nothing more to organize, so she was scouting out the women's prison, which would soon have a jailbreak. Melissa was poring through Wizard's report that had just come in. He didn't have the time to work on the DCA research but he and Dreamer would try to get to it in Spring Break. Here's Wizard's report.

### # # # # # # # #

"Sorry for the long time that it took us to finish this report. We were stymied by the skillful way that the prisons hid their fraudulent dealings. We finally concluded that they weren't hiding anything at all. We had assumed the were corrupt because the Colorado Ministry of Justice had railroaded Stook and Sheila into prison, therefore the prison was part of that conspiracy. We found no evidence of that. What we found was a private company doing its stated job: providing jailhouse security for a reasonable price. Mind you, we never did locate the head office, and we only had two sets of books to go through, but we saw nothing of concern."

"Here are some of the things that we found in the books. This may help Melissa come up with an extraction plan."

"1. Their prisoners have come from Oregon, Nevada, Colorado, Idaho, Utah, Colorado, Arizona, New Mexico, and Mexico. Male prisoners have come mostly from California, Arizona, and New Mexico. A large number of female prisoners have been Californians. Other than Stook and Emily, we didn't see any other Colorado prisoners, but we didn't look specifically for that information. We did find entries in the prison books that Stook and Sheila had been received and assigned to a location."

"2. Prisoners are accepted from these jurisdictions through a formal contract that has to be signed by the referring jurisdiction. In Colorado's case, the Ministry of Justice signed for Stook and Sheila and they did so with no prior contact with the prison. In some other cases there were emails asking questions, and then setting up a time for transferring a prisoner. In Colorado's case, the Ministry of Justice simply showed up at the prison unannounced."

"3. The value of the contract itself is based on gender. Men cost twice as much as women. Within each gender, the cost per year is a set amount. The contract cost is that set amount multiplied by the number of years in the sentence. No sentences with partial years are allowed. The full amount of the contract is due on incarceration. As an aside, this is a great business model because the security company gets all their money upfront, in Stook's case thirty years of money. Some money will be refunded if the prisoner escapes but that's incumbent on the company telling the referring government that their prisoner had escaped. Since no prisoner has supposedly escaped, the idea of the refund has never come up. At least, it's not in the books that we reviewed."

"4. The security company has no communications with the referring institution over the lifetime of the contract. There is no reason for this. The full balance has been paid in advance."

"5. We looked to see what the prisons' policy was on the death of a prisoner. For example, some of the prisoners have longer jail sentences than they could hope to survive. The company has not been in business long enough for us to find any such instance. According to the contract, the company will not refund any amount to the referring institution for any reason. They pay for thirty years upfront, for example, and that is the end of it. We found no statistics on prisoners who did not complete their sentence because of their death. From the company's perspective, they have no reason to keep that stat. If prisoners died because of riot, or a failed escape, or murder by another prisoner, there was no reason to document that. The referring institution wouldn't care and the prison already has the money they were owed. An untimely death just meant more profit."

"6. Within the books of the jails themselves, we saw no improprieties. All expenses were receipted. Costs seemed reasonable. Food and other long-term costs were covered under long term contracts, which would help the prison keep costs down. Salaries seemed reasonable. The guards in the men's prison received much more money than the guards in the women's prison but that would be defensible. The prison has an internal health coverage program and there are staff in the prison that can provide first aid to guards and prisoners."

"7. We have attached copies of communication that the prison has had with referring institutions including their contract. We have also attached copies of the contracts that they have with the guards and suppliers. Also included are company policies and regulations on how to deal with prisoners. I'm not sure how this could help Melissa. The contracts do give the name of the main company, but no address. Presumably, if anybody had an issue with the company, they'd have to deal with the prison warden. Perhaps the warden has an address for the head office but we couldn't find it in his office. We didn't search his computer."

### # # # # # # # #

Private message from Hank to Jock:

"I can't see any way that Stook could still be alive. If he managed to smuggle himself out, he would have had to do that without the copter pilot being aware. That's not possible in those kinds of copters. I don't see how the pilot could have helped in the escape. That business wouldn't jeopardize their long-term contract with the prison for a single convict. There's no way Stook could even enter the copter shed. None of the guards have questionable colours so he didn't receive help from them."

Jock agreed. "If the prisoners killed him, the company is under no obligation to report that to Colorado. They don't have to keep that stat. I believe they buried him somewhere and forgot about him. Lots of sand dunes are close to the prison. How's Cowboy?"

"He's talking with TG about breaking into the warden's computer. He's not giving up. Melissa is making plans to extract Sheila with no plans for Stook. Breaking Sheila out will be easy. She hasn't decided if it will be a covert operation or not."

### # # # # # # # #

Later that evening, Hank told Yolanda that _IF_ Winnie were working for this global security firm, the firm itself seemed on the up-and-up. Working in the back office would put her out of any danger that there might be.

Hank didn't tell Yolanda that he couldn't imagine what kind of security skills she'd be providing to this company from a head office. Why would a company that relied on people learning of the existence of its prisons for its profits put itself behind an electronic security wall? Furthermore, the only skill that Winnie might be able to provide was screening candidates for guard and warden positions. That wouldn't take up much time. She couldn't be involved in the electronic defenses because she didn't have that kind of technological knowledge.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 17

Speaking of Winnie and her lack of technological experience, she was lounging in the gentle moist currents of a fluffy cloud in what must have been a very feathery Halloween costume. She was thoughting to another similarly clad individual. Male in nature and design.

_I'm dead, Arthur. Do we have to provoke more demons tonight?_

_Is it Patsy Phew? She's rank._

Patsy Phew was used to hacking for days straight without sleep. Breaking into computers couldn't be done on a 9-5 basis. After seventy-two hours, even close friends would have noticed her smell and stayed clear. But Patsy had no close friends. Her associates, such as they were, didn't comment delicately. "Patsy. Phew, you stink" was the first. Later it was just _Patsy Phew_. They didn't criticize her results though. No computer was safe if Patsy Phew decided to break in.

_It's not the smell, nor even the irritating sniffing sounds that Patsy makes all the time. She does such wicked things. She's probably the smartest programmer I've been assigned to, but everything she does is designed to hurt. Her mind is full of hate._

_One more day and you'll be done._

_Can we take tonight off?_

Patsy Phew was Winnie's final hacker assignment. Lillian hadn't told them what Winnie and Arthur would be doing next, but she had warned them to be ready for a new type of assignment after Patsy.

_Whatever Lillian is doing, I doubt that one night of demonic peace is going to make a difference. What would you like to do?_

The two of them had become very adept at provoking BC demons. The small towns were easy. When they worked the big population centers, they'd split up and hit three, or even four pubs each in a night. Arthur would do some more after Winnie left for bed so that meant that he didn't have a lot of energy himself either.

_Can we just soak up some sunlight?_

_Sounds good to me._

### # # # # # # # #

In a distant galaxy, far far away.....

Actually, it was more like a different dimension, and it wasn't all that far away if you used secret cross-dimensional portals. Anyhoo, Lillian and Joe were chatting.

"Is Winnie ready?" Lillian asked.

"Yes. She took to hacking right away. I'm assigning Paula to assume responsibility for communication and security. Is Firewall Freddie due soon?"

"Any day now. I've warned them to be ready."

"Are you going to brief all three?"

"No. Joe-Joe, you're going to have to do that. I can't be in the same room as her."

"So, she's a little ..."

"The word you're looking for is _impertinent_."

"That'll do. Impertinence could be a good thing. She wants to take charge and she has some unique skills."

"It's not that, Joe-Joe. I don't mind that. She reminds of me when I was young."

"You can remember that far back?"

"Beast! I can't be in the same room as her because she can read my face. If somebody asks the wrong question and I have to lie, she'll know it. That could affect the operation."

"You're sure about that now?"

"Yes. She can read Arthur in his feathers and in his mortal body no matter what body she's in. Last time she was up here, I said my piece and got out fast."

"I can brief them."

"Are all the glitches out of the prototype?"

"Hope so. They're taking the night off."

"I saw that. I have to do something nasty to Winnie tonight."

"Why?"

"She's has to have a chance to talk to her mom before the operation starts. Not giving her that opportunity would be cruel. In case, you know..."

### # # # # # # # #

Winnie and I had a pleasant evening after we had solar recharged. We went out for dinner in a nice restaurant in Surrey. (Our body's software can 3 D print whatever clothes we want.) I cleaned myself up and Winnie was wearing something long, white and sparkly. After dinner, we went back to her apartment in Nanaimo and changed into our grubs.

I suggested a little game just to free our minds from speculating on what our operation was going to be. At dinner, Winnie had wondered to me if she would pass the qualification test to be in the operation and I tried to reassure how. So, that was another good reason to do something frivolous. Mind you, I don't do frivolous well, but she said she wouldn't mind playing.

The game was: We'd send each other an emotion or a disguised thought and the other person would have to guess what it was. I started with an image of my face inside a big balloon and pressing out against it.

"You're stuffed from dinner," she said.

"Right. Your turn."

So, we did that for a while and then I remembered when we have been learning about sending guilt zaps and how she had sent a guilt zap to me, but I hadn't sent one to her. So, I did. I sent her an image of her in a nice white dress but it had a stain on it from where something had fallen off her fork. That had never happened, of course, but I thought she might feel a tinge of guilt for dropping some food onto her nice dress. The dress wouldn't be ruined because she could always think up and print a new one.

That must have been something that she was very worried about because her face became all red. Then she started breathing heavily, almost panting. Her eyes welled up with tears and then she put her hands up to her head and tried to shake the thought away, but I had stopped sending it on the first reaction. "Stop it, stop it, stop it," she screamed at me.

"I already have," I said.

And then she was moving round the room and bending over. She said that she was going to throw up and ran into the bathroom. I sort of followed her and saw her kneeling in front of the toilet and I didn't know what to do. She probably didn't want me in there, but she was still hyperventilating so I kneeled next to her and tried to rub her back to calm her down. She pushed me away and actually swore at me. I think it was in Japanese or something, but it was definitely a swear word. So, I left and waited in the living room for her to come out.

"Why did you do that? That was so mean!" She accused me as soon as she entered the living room. I was sitting on the sofa. She was standing in front of me and she had a clenched fist locked and loaded.

"It was only a stain on your dress," I tried to explain. "You can have your body make a new dress."

"That's not what you sent!"

"It was!"

...

"You're telling the truth."

This was one time where I was extremely relieved that she could read my face. "I'd never try to hurt you."

I guess she believed me because she said she had to think and went and sat in the armchair. "Don't talk to me!" she snapped. A few second later, she added "Please."

### # # # # # # # #

"I understand what happened."

Winnie was sitting next to me on the sofa. She was calm, her red face was gone, and she was breathing properly.

"First, I'm sorry that I swore at you. You didn't cause this. I remember receiving the stain on the dress message. It was what came next that hurt me."

I nodded. I've learned that when Winnie is on a roll, she doesn't like to be interrupted until she has all of her thoughts out. She acts the same when I'm talking about something difficult.

"That little bit of guilt that you sent triggered a lot of guilt that I have carrying around with me my whole life. It all came spewing at me. I can't believe how much I have been holding in."

I nodded again.

"Did you know that my parents wanted to have ten children?"

I shook my head _No._

"This was a big deal for my mom. She really wanted ten, but I don't why. It must have some special meaning for her. She never talked about it with me, but I knew. I was the one who stopped her from having ten. After my birth, they didn't try for any more children."

A normal person would have said something about it not being Winnie's fault that she was born prematurely. I just waited for her to continue.

"My premature birth scared my mom. When I was a preemie, any kind of disease or infection could have killed me. She worried a lot about that. I don't remember that, but I know that's why she is so protective of me. I try not to worry her, but she has turned into a worrywart because of me. That affects how she deals with other members of the family. Dad has to talk to her sometimes to tone it down. She can't help it. I did that to her."

I waited.

"I try not to react when she does her passive aggressive way of trying to control me. She's trying to keep me safe, but it really irritates me. I don't want to live my life inside the blanket cocoon that she's trying to wrap around me. Sometimes I'm rude to her. I feel guilty about that. I should be a better daughter."

...

"I'm a worse daughter now that I'm older. Hormones I guess. I can actually get mad at her. She's the reason I survived my birth and I get mad at her. How nice of me! I was snotty to her once and walked out of the house in anger. I feel guilty about that. I wish I hadn't done that."

...

"I've been lying to her about why I'm not at home and helping out the family. I have to lie, so that she won't worry. She won't believe me if I say that I'm working for Heaven, so I make up something that is sort of true but it's not true. That makes me into a liar and I hate liars."

Winnie's face was becoming all crinkly.

"I lied to her about you. I was embarrassed about having a sort of boyfriend and I didn't want her to go all gushy. That was selfish of me. I could have said that you were my boyfriend, but that would have been a lie because we aren't boyfriend and girlfriend. No matter what I do, I'm lying. I hate lying!"

Winnie's eyes were welling up.

"Arthur, please. I know we agreed not to touch, but would you hold me? Please?"

I stood up and held out my arms. How could I not?

"Your shirt is going to become really soggy."

And it did.

### # # # # # # # #

I don't know how it happened. My memories are kind of foggy here. Somehow, we went from a standing hug to a sort of hug where I was sitting on the sofa, and she had her upper body turned towards me and her face was buried in my chest, which is how my shirt got really soggy, but I didn't mind. And she seemed to get better after a while. She finally stopped sobbing. I didn't like hearing her sob like that. I remember kissing the top of her head, although I have no idea why I did that. Then her head became heavy and her breathing got regular. I would have shifted her a bit to stop one of my arm muscles from seizing up, but I didn't want to wake her up. So I sat there, feeling her warm breath. She had both of her arms around me and that felt good. She moaned a few times. Part of some guilt coming back, I guess. I didn't know what to tell her. I've never had a mom that I can remember. I've never had a dad. I sat there wondering what I should say.

...

"How long have I been sleeping?" she asked.

"Not long." _[Twenty-two minutes]_

"Are you OK if I stay like this for a bit?"

"Sure." _[I can order a new arm for the body. I believe this one is toast.]_

"Did you mind about me, you know?"

"No."

"I feel guilty about making your shirt soggy and breaking the rule about touching."

"You feel guilty about too much. Sometimes there's nothing you can do. You make the best choice you can." _(That advice took twenty-one minutes of thinking to create.)_

"I'm going to talk with my mom tomorrow after I've finished with Patsy Phew."

"Sounds good."

"I'm going to work this out without telling her about Heaven. I'll have to lie to do that. I want to work for Heaven. I know it's selfish, but it's something I want to do."

"Sometimes lying about something is the best solution. Not lying might make things worse." _(I don't where that came from. But it sounded good coming out.)_

"I am going to work this out with Mom without hurting her. I have to do that so I can do this operation with you."

"You'll do it."

"Can we stay like this for a while. I can hear your heart beating. It's soothing."

"Sure, but could I shift your head just a bit?"

### # # # # # # # #

The next day, Winnie went home after soaking up Patty Phew's last bit of untapped knowledge and stayed the night with her mom. She messaged me that everything had gone well. Winnie told her about feeling guilty and her mom said that she was feeling guilty too. I guess they had a long talk about Winnie's future and how Winnie should do what she wanted to do and her mom would stop worrying, or at least stop asking prying questions. They came up with a physical signal that Winnie could use when she became exasperated. She would put her hands around an imaginary throat and pretend to strangle it. They practiced with Winnie strangling and her mom pretending to be choked. They laughed a lot about that.

The next morning Winnie warned her mom that she'd be out of touch for a while. Her mom said that she wouldn't worry but Winnie looked at her face and both laughed because they knew it was a lie. Sometimes a lie can be healing, I guess.

I met Winnie in Joe-Joe's workshop. Nympho Maniac was there too. As a mortal she used be Paula Richardson and Winnie knew her. Winnie had helped her out at some sort of trial. I had heard about her but hadn't actually met her. She told us about her being a ghost and what she had been doing recently. Winnie and I did the same. Joe-Joe gave us our briefing and what our roles would be. We didn't have much to say afterwards, so Winnie and I left and went back to Nanaimo so Winnie could clean out her apartment. Patsy Phew would have an interview tomorrow about noon. Patsy wouldn't be going. Winnie would be going inside a fake Patsy Phew body.

After all the clean up was done, we didn't feel much like talking. I was sitting on the sofa, trying to relax. Winnie stood in front of me, looked at how I was sitting, and raised an eyebrow. I opened my arms and we spent some time together like that. Later, when we were starting to fall asleep from being so comfy, she asked me if I were afraid. Then she added that she couldn't see my face from where she was, so I could lie if I wanted to.

So I said the operation would be easy. Sometimes lying is the best solution, I suppose. I didn't want Winnie to be afraid too.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 18

Thursday, February 22, 2091 was the day of Winnie's interview with somebody called Fred Firewall. Winnie and I were meeting with Joe-Joe in his workshop prior to that interview. Joe-Joe was studying Winnie's body and frowning. I knew what Patsy Phew looked like and Winnie was Patsy Phew to perfection, as far as I could see. Apparently, Joe-Joe didn't agree.

"Shorten the hair, make the red lighter, and take out the grease."

Winnie did.

"More curls."

...

"Better. All the face piercings have to go."

...

"Give yourself a better complexion. Exchange the pimples for freckles. Patsy's skin is too dark. Give yourself whiter skin."

...

"Lose the t-shirt and give yourself a white blouse with a collar and long sleeves."

...

"Good. Now, a sweater of some kind. Pick you own colour and style."

...

"The jeans are fine. Change the motorcycle boots to a pair of black athletic shoes."

"What about her height?"

"She's quite short, isn't she?"

"Yes."

"Let's leave her that way. After we're done here, fill two suitcases with clothes that go with this look. Take what you'd need if you were going on a two week holiday."

"This is not a Patsy Phew look, Joe-Joe. Anybody who knew her or her reputation would know that."

"We have a cover story that will take care of that."

"And that cover story is?"

"Patsy's shady reputation is a carefully cultured disguise; she's actually a counter-hacker. You're trying to make the world a better place to live."

"Patsy is repugnant. She hates everybody. Do I keep any of that?"

"No. Be yourself."

### # # # # # # # #

Five candidates were vying for the techy position that Winnie was applying for. I know because I was waiting outside the hotel where she was being interviewed. The four male applicants all looked rather scruffy. Repellent, actually. Patsy Phew was the opposite of everything the others portrayed. Plus she looked like Winnie, only red headed and shorter. This Fred Firewall was a male. I figured she had it locked. And she did.

The Fred guy took Winnie to a transportation company in a seedy part of Surrey. "We have some security precautions to follow," he said. "Business spies are everywhere."

Winnie stepped into her transport without comment. "Your luggage will follow," he reminded her and then shut and fastened the lid. I was already hidden in her briefcase. And away we went.

We didn't have any stops along the way. I didn't expect any. Joe-Joe had that trip all planned out. We waited for a triple knock on the box and Winnie opened the lid of the coffin.

_We're here_ , I messaged Winnie, but she already knew. Winnie unscrewed the lid of the fake hand sanitizer that my little gold fish body was swimming in and I took up an invisible post in the corner of a.... I think it was a living room. A red warning light began blinking on my body's view screen. We were prepared for that but I warned Winnie anyway. _Lots of surveillance here._

_I thought Hell was supposed to stink. This isn't too bad._ Then, Winnie closed the coffin lid again.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 19

We're going back in time - but just a little bit. The scenes in this chapter took place the morning that Winnie climbed into the coffin.

### # # # # # # # #

Rat Buboni, the president of Satan's Stock Exchange Commission (SSEC), was bucking the 9 am rush hour. The SSEC was similar in function to the Security Exchange Commission of the United States, which protected the integrity of the American stock exchanges. The SSEC's job was to protect the stock exchange too - only it was Satan's stock exchange he was guarding.

As you would expect for any major metropolitan area, it gets a little crazy when commuters all leave home for a 9 am start and leave work at 5 pm. This is the same everywhere, even Hell. Rat left his executive level cave on the deserted, long curving hill of Septic Drive and descended to the nearest express-tunnel heading into downtown SinSin-atti, the capitol city of Hell.

Devil pedestrians were everywhere, including on the vehicular sections of the tunnels where they competed for space with a steady stream of custom-designed vehicles. Since Hell didn't have a manufacturing capacity of its own, it had to import vehicles from Earth. Hell's tunnels were too confining for copter traffic, so they made do with electric cars instead. _[Yes, Hell is green. To an extent.]_ But, with devils being so much bigger than humans, they had made some special vehicular alterations.

First, they had sliced off the entire top half of the vehicle. With no risk of rain, there was no reason for a roof, windshield wipers, or windshields for that matter. They had also gutted the entire interior - replacing all the seats with one large chair that was set far enough back from the pedals for a devil to squeeze in. However, devils were still far too big for the normal mortal car. They sat scrunched in tightly with their knees splayed sideways over the top of the side doors like an adult mortal who had squeezed himself into a child's go-kart. Devils drove hunched over the tiny steering wheel, one hand spinning it madly, the other punching the horn button over and over and over...

With no traffic lights, traffic was bedlam - pure bedlam. There were no conventions about driving on one side of the tunnel. Devils went where there were gaps in the traffic. Since this made for many collisions, the sounds of angry voices and fights were added to the din of horns. Damage from the collisions was not too serious. Traffic was grinding its way so slowly through the congestion that any car-to-car collision would only cause damage to the foot wide rubber fenders that encircled the entire car. These had the effect of making Hell's cars look like maxi-sized bumper cars.

The bumpers also served as a handy launching pad for vehicular-pedestrian altercations. Devils would jump on the bumper of any car that hit them and whale away on the driver. Since the driver would be loath to remove his hand from the horn button, invariably they tried to protect themselves with the hand from the steering wheel. Naturally, this just led to more collisions.

The traffic congestion was a little better away from the main thoroughfares. On the back tunnels, one only had to endure the sounds of numerous arguments, obscenities raining down on pedestrians along with the contents of occasional slop buckets, and the blaring ads from the street-side large screen displays. All of this drowned out the muzak of screams piped in from the torture pits and broadcast live from speakers mounted on the rooftops of prominent buildings.

Oblivious to the din and the traffic, Rat ricocheted his way through the maelstrom of devils massed together in the downtown commuter brawl. The devils around him were all 10-12 feet tall with huge red horns, bulky bodies, and massive tails. Rat had to endure the stigma of being only five and a half feet tall - the shortest devil in all of Hell. The lifts in his boots brought his head even with the angel-shaped urinals attached to each lamppost - not that he would ever use one of them since devils regularly used the gutters for that purpose. The lifts in his boots were a painful reminder of what the SSEC job was costing him. But Satan had asked politely. No devil would dare say _No_ , not even Rat de Buboni.

Rat's progress through the bedlam was slow and tortuous. Other devils walked in an unflinching straight line towards their destination. There was no sidestepping to allow freer passage, no squeezing through a crowd, no hesitation to avoid collisions, and certainly no apologies for inadvertent contact. It was fourth down on the two-yard line, the game was on the line, and the refs were ogling the cheerleaders. Devils simply tromped their way through any obstacle in their path - smaller bodies caroming off larger bodies like shrapnel on a battlefield.

Rat survived the melee by tucking in behind the largest devil he could find and staying in his lee for as long as he could keep pace with his unwitting benefactor. In time, he made his way to the head office of the SSEC stalactite and descended to his office at the tip.

Few devils were ever given access to live hornographic camera feeds, but a request from the second richest devil in all of Hell cut through the black tape like the lasers in the computer game that Hell was marketing to environmental extremists. ('Bambi Gets Revenge' was turning into a huge winner and Hell had been in discussions with potential sponsors for a theme park. Those talks had broken down when the underworld chapter of the NRA had stepped in.)

Rat leaned back in his specially padded executive chair, his cowboy boots resting comfortably on the top of a desk, his beady red eyes locked on the moving images displayed on the big screen in front of him.

Rat watched Firewall Freddie conduct five interviews for his consultant position. He didn't care about their technical skills - he had been assured that all five could do the job. He was more concerned about the candidates' character, namely their honesty, integrity, and trustworthiness. He needed these qualities absolutely if he were to save his stock exchange. Company executives, analysts, accountants - their actions had been evil. To repair their damage, he needed an angel, but that was impossible. The SSEC President would settle for anything close.

### # # # # # # # #

Rat watched the female consultant walk into the pickup spot. "We have some security precautions to follow," he heard Firewall say, and the consultant climbed into the heavy ebony coffin without argument. No human showed any interest in the UPS' (Underworld Parcel Service) copter or in its cargo.

Rat watched the coffin pass through Hell's Customs and Immigration security station and then move through a convoluted route of back tunnels, which ended at the door to the apartment. As far as he could determine, no devil had paid the slightest attention to the coffin or to Firewall Freddie's UPS courier disguise. Coffins were imported into Hell daily. Personal valet delivery of one's remains and valuables was a reward awarded to particularly evil humans. _[Contrary to common belief, some humans do take it with them! The smart ones bring their air conditioners.]_

Hell's normal 'Guest Transportation and Accommodation' tourism package was not suitable for a long-term stay, so some special arrangements had been necessary for the consultant. _[For more information on Hell's vacation packages, go to Expedia.com, search term = 'really hot.']_ The heavy dose of sulfur in Hell's atmosphere had been the biggest problem, so Rat had an air delivery system installed in the base of the coffin that duplicated Earth's atmosphere. The same air was circulated throughout the consultant's guest apartment. The doors into the apartment served as an air lock to prevent any whiff of sulfur leaking into the living quarters. She'd never figure out that she was no longer on Earth.

### # # # # # # # #

"She's here," the asparagus head said. "Nobody noticed," he added.

"I already knew," Rat snarled before glaring him out the door. Asparagus-shaped Firewall Freddie hadn't grasped the essential element of running covert operations. Coming to Rat's office to deliver an unnecessary report increased the risk that some devil would notice something out of place. Competent at protecting the stock exchange computers, young Firewall obviously didn't have the necessary mindset for Operation Antibody and that was why Rat would keep him at its periphery. And of course, there was always the question of trust.

Rat Buboni trusted nobody. That mistrust was what had protected him for so long. Mistrust everybody's motives; mistrust everybody's behavior; mistrust everybody's actions; mistrust everybody's words. Each destruction of a contemporary had hammered the point home. In Hell, some devil was always out to get you. And if that wasn't enough, The Rat had Heaven to deal with too.

Heaven wasn't too fond of The Rat. In the 1300's, that knowledge had given him considerable pleasure. Back then, he had been the junior-most devil on the Bubonic Plague operation. Assigned the responsibility for 'distribution,' he was the one who had thought of the rats. Success had been quick. Twenty-five million deaths in only five years. He became known in Hell as Rat de Bubonic and his new-found fame opened doors and led to promotions. Eventually, wealth followed. Massive amounts of wealth.

But over the centuries, the bubonic plague became just one of many of Hell's long string of successes. Their plaque on SinSin-atti's Wall of Fame was overshadowed by the plaques celebrating the thousands of more recent pestilences, hundreds of wars, and the endless number of atrocities that Hell was famous for. Even his name had become insignificant - slanged over time to just Rat Bubonic and then shortened to Rat Buboni. Devils and demons forgot. Notoriety is fleeting, even in Hell.

But Heaven hadn't forgotten. It took two centuries before Rat first began to suspect. By the early 1700's, with all the other members of the team liquidated, he had become certain. All eight had met their fate in Hell - some by rivals, some by subordinates, some by Satan, and the second by Rat himself. But they had one thing in common. They had all visited Earth less than one month before their deaths.

Even the importance of Operation Antibody hadn't been enough for Rat to risk a quick trip to Earth. Instead, Firewall conducted the interviews for the consultant on Earth while Rat watched safely from Hell.

Firewall's recommendation demonstrated that he was still safely in the dark. He had recommended the most evil of the five. But Rat didn't need another evil programmer. Hell had plenty. Rat needed somebody he could trust to not betray him or the Stock Exchange afterwards. That was why he was in this mess. Devils had been acting like ... well like devils. He needed the opposite of evil \- he needed an angel-to-be.

Firewall had heard of her on the hacker boards as Patsy Phew and that's who he had expected to come to the interview. Instead, he was caught off-guard. "Combating hackers undercover as Patsy Phew is frustrating," she had said in the interview. "Why clean up after their attacks when I have the knowledge to prevent them in the first place?"

Firewall ranked her fifth out of five but acknowledged she was technically as good as she claimed. Rat took him at his word. Firewall Freddie had earned his name from his ability to set up impenetrable computer defenses. But Rat had made his decision as soon as Patsy had walked by the surveillance camera hidden in the doorframe.

Red curly hair, freckles, pure white skin, a bobbin of a nose, gleaming smile, and luscious lips. All of this beauty on a slender, compact body, not that he could see much of it yet in her loose fitting sweater and jeans. Rat peered through his wire-framed glasses at the pictures of his beautiful consultant flashing on his ceiling with the smile of anticipation any old buzzard would have sported when new prey had entered its territory. Carry on, Miss Patsy. Carion.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 20

**Narrator Interlude**

My readers may be wondering why three _sort of_ angels were in Hell. You already know that Heaven had allowed six underfeather demons to sneak into Heaven and attack its guardian angel program, the very foundation of Heaven's operations on Earth. Lillian and Joe-Joe knew what Bertram was reporting back to Hell, but they didn't know how Hell was reacting. So, Joe-Joe had assigned Paula to watch the British Columbia demons. Paula reported that the demons were no longer torturing mortals and were sitting around doing nothing all day. She also found evidence that Hell was actually helping mortals to feel happy by giving them tax refunds. Hell's response did not extend into Alberta giving clear evidence that they were coordinating efforts with Bertram's use of subliminal thought messages.

Hell's full-throated support meant that Lillian's idea for a counterstrike could work. It was simple in concept: _Turn around is fair play._ Lillian's plan was to convince Hell that Heaven's subliminal thought messages were working to perfection. In response, Hell would try its own form of subliminal thought messages and that would lead them to dismantle its shoulder demon program and bring those demons home to Hell. Meanwhile, Heaven's guardian angels in BC would be retrained, refitted with enhanced bodies, and returned to the field.

The key to Lillian's counterstrike was installing an angelic computer hacker in Hell and instructing her to prowl around Hell's purgatory.net. Convincing Hell that _Be Good_ messages were working would take two forms: First, feed those lies to Bertram and Randall who would reveal that Heaven was having great success with Bertram's idea. Second, have Winnie adjust data in purgatory.net so that Hell's own reports would reveal that Heaven was kicking Hell's butt with centrally administered subliminal thought messages. Winnie would also create a back door into purgatory.net and this remote access would allow the three _sort of_ angels to return home.

To counter Heaven's new found success with thought messages, Hell would try their own version, perhaps messages to _Be Bad._ Bertram and Russell would send reports to Hell that Heaven was struggling to compete with Hell's program. Meanwhile, Winnie would adjust Hell's own data remotely to reveal their great success. In the face of that success, shoulder demons could be withdrawn from BC. Hell would be happy to make that decision because their shoulders demons would once again be fighting amongst themselves, thus proving to Hell that shoulder demons were more trouble than they were worth. To help them make that decision, Arthur and Winnie would be back on Earth provoking the demons into that destructive behaviour.

### # # # # # # # #

Here's the briefing that Joe-Joe gave to Paula, Arthur and Winnie before he sent them into Hell.

"Our normal messaging systems will not work in Hell. Paula, your main job is to maintain communications with Heaven. As you've already shown, you're able to slip through their border security stations easily as you do not have any angelic odor. Keep us informed. This will allow us to send messages to the team if anything here goes wrong."

"Winnie: The tunnels that connect Hell to its Earth portals are bombarded by radiation that is deadly for mortals. Special radiation proof coffins are necessary for safe mortal transport. Permission to use these coffins is restricted to upper echelon devils only. The only way you can get in and out of Hell safely is inside a coffin."

"Arthur: Teleporting past the security stations is likely impossible with your body's current powers. The mantle between Hell and Earth is too thick. Plus, Hell's cocktail of radiation beams at the border will likely be fatal. You need to be inside one of the approved coffins to be safe. Use your gold fish body to reduce your odor."

"Security inside Hell should not be a problem for the three of you. When you are disguised in devilian form, the surveillance cameras will see only the devil you are impersonating. Hell's visible police force is small and is mostly used for internal control. Nevertheless, you shouldn't judge them by their appearance. The secret police and the network of paid snitches are more dangerous - but again, they are used primarily to keep devils and tortured souls in line. You'll be all right so long as you don't trust anybody you encounter - no matter how sympathetic or trustworthy they might appear to be. There is no such thing as _good_ in Hell."

"Your biggest threat will come from Satan and his personal assistants. Satan isn't all-knowing by any stretch of the imagination, but he is very skilled in assimilating and integrating vast amounts of information provided by the surveillance networks and undercover agents. Stay away from him. Personal assistants serve as his representatives as well as his eyes and ears. They roam around Hell, looking for threats, malcontents, and anything out of the normal. Most of the time they operate openly - an overt sign of Satan's power. Stay clear of them. They might not be able to see your invisible bodies, but their acute senses might pick up a sense of your goodness if you aren't extremely careful."

"I've already briefed you individually on your specific assignments. Paula, you're responsible for communications with Heaven. Winnie, focus your attention on learning everything you can about purgatory.net. Arthur, your have the most experience, so keep an eye out for any threats to the plan and adjust as necessary. This is a three-week operation. You'll be safe if you stay hidden."

### # # # # # # # #

Now, let's continue with the angels' first day in Hell. You've already been introduced to Rat Buboni. He's still in his office at the SSEC. Let's see what he's doing.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 21

Mortals think of rats as squeakers, not peepers.

The Rat flipped through the quest quarter's surveillance cameras. The consultant wasn't in the computer room. This was not surprising since he hadn't given the assignment to her yet. The apartment's living room was empty, as was the kitchen. What passed for Buboni's pulse increased. She'd be hot and sweaty after the trip in a closed, very well insulated coffin. He switched to the camera in the shower stall. Nothing. The bedroom where she might be undressing was also empty.

Excitement turned to anxiety. Miss Patsy had to be there somewhere. The floor, walls, and ceiling were enclosed within solid rock. There was no way in or out of the quarters except through the air lock and only he and Firewall could release the security bolts.

Rat resumed his search but more slowly this time. The living room camera was located in the air conditioning venting above the lime green loveseat with shocking pink arm protectors. She wasn't on the loveseat.

The accompanying armchair was empty. Firewall had suggested that it be covered in pink fabric since all human females adored that color. Rat agreed, but put lime green arm protectors on it so that it would go together with the love seat. The concept of tying interior furnishings together by some common thread was a concept he had picked up from HGTV (Hell's Groto TV) when he was preparing her quarters. The two chairs stood out against the living room's ink black walls like a bidet in a 'Tuba for Dummies' class.

The ebony slate on the floor was partially covered by the room's feature piece - an oval area rug - around which the design of the room had revolved. Literally. Its pattern of alternating lime green and shocking pink concentric circles caused Rat to go dizzy if he stared at it for too long. No mortal body was on top of, or underneath, the rug. The only possible hiding place in the apartment was the massive customized coffin burdening the refrigerator dolly.

Rat zoomed in on the coffin. The lid was closed. Had she not climbed out? Rat dropped the live feed, accessed the tape archives, and watched Firewall deposit the coffin in the room. As instructed, he had released the restraints fastening the coffin to the dolly, unlatched the lid, rapped three times, and then left. Shortly afterwards, the lid opened - blocking any view into the coffin itself. After that, the lid slumped shut.

Had she somehow become too weak to climb out? The coffin was heavily insulated to keep out the smells and sounds of her trip. If the air ventilation system had failed, she could be close to suffocation.

Rat closed the feed to the apartment's surveillance system, turned off his monitor, grabbed his Stetson, and set off briskly for the apartment. He arrived at the outer door scant seconds before Firewall arrived - out of breath from what must have been a frantic dash from his more distant office.

Rat Buboni smiled broadly at his panting subordinate. "Kiss my arse, Firewall!"

### # # # # # # # #

Firewall Freddie unpuckered his lips from the dry, sagging scales covering Rat Buboni's sorry butt, rose from his knees, and straightened his gawky 10' 4" frame. Panicked when he couldn't find the human on any of his unauthorized camera feeds, Firewall had rushed to the apartment, worried that he hadn't unfastened the lid properly. Rat had been waiting for him. Smirking. Unfazed by the closed coffin that he must have seen on his own monitors, he was obviously pleased with the success of what Firewall now realized was a sucker trap. He should have known! Nobody could sneak up on The Rat.

"I thought two sets of eyes were best to maintain the security of the apartment," Firewall offered in desperation, his voice breaking into a squeak - a still too common consequence of being unfamiliar with his new devil body.

"You thought wrong. Having you poking around increases the risk of discovery."

"Just trying to help." A second, even weaker, even squeakier excuse.

"No such help was requested - or needed."

"I won't be able to check her work if I don't know what she's doing." On more solid ground now. Firewall knew that Rat barely knew how to type, let alone use a computer effectively.

"You won't be needed. The software will work or it won't work. I'll test it myself." And that marked the end of the gentle part of the discussion. Explicit instructions followed - each accompanied by a prodding digit for emphasis. Since the cowboy boots that Rat affected barely brought him up to Firewall's chest, his rigid thumb kept beligeranting off Firewall's ribs.

"Remove your taps on my cameras. Keep your nose out of my personal business. Tell nobody what you have done for me. Do not speculate on what I am doing. And, forget everything that has happened around this human!" Those unambiguous commands were followed by a unique set of movements and an unambiguous threat.

Turning to face the nearest security camera, Rat lifted his left hoof and opened his arms. Then, he pounded his hoof into the ground three times, each stomp accompanied by a handclap. These movements looked like the actions of a hoedown dancer getting ready to hoe. All that was missing was the fiddle music.

"TIME STAMP: Official reprimand for acting above and beyond the call of duty. This is a Class 2 vile-olation." When Firewall did not respond, he felt a sharp pain and he looked down to see Rat Buboni smiling malevolently up at him, sucking the blood out of one of Firewall's wrist scales.

### # # # # # # # #

Personal privacy advocates would not fare well in Hell.

Since it's almost impossible to find devils who enjoy enforcing laws, Hell can mount only a small internal security force. As a result, Satan relies heavily on his all-pervasive internal surveillance system to keep devils from fomenting unrest within the devilzenry, promoting subversion of Hell's institutions, spreading sedition, or encouraging opposition to the official order. Capital punishment in Hell is swift for any devil found guilty of such conduct. Prominently marked surveillance cameras are mounted throughout Hell and record everything that happens in its business, public, and torture areas.

Hell's surveillance system is also used to settle devil-to-devil conflicts. An earlier system of settling disputes through refereed duels had degenerated into assassinations, ice-cube burials, and other cowardly forms of murder. The more devious devils began using spurious accusations against their superiors as a way to advance up the hornocracy. Satan had to eliminate that strategy quickly - no telling how far it would go. So, he installed the security cameras and imposed a rigid set of conflict-resolution procedures.

Today, any devil with a beef against another devil had to confront him personally in range of a security camera. He was obligated to use the words _Time Stamp_ and make the time-stamping foot and hand actions to inform the devil, and the security forces, that he was making a formal complaint. The accuser then had to state the charge concisely. The accused devil had ten seconds to deny the charge. If he did, both devils had twenty-four hours to submit a list of dates, times, and places so that security forces could review the necessary surveillance tapes. A verdict would be rendered immediately afterwards. If an accused devil did not deny the charge, guilt was assumed and the victor had the right to extract a DNA scale from the accused's body.

A DNA scale was a very valuable prize since it gave the victor temporary access to the loser's bank account. Victors were allowed to loot the account up to the adjudicated amount for that particular offense. The time-stamp procedure could also be used to log an agreement between two devils. This was commonly used for defensive purposes, for example if the agreement might become contentious afterwards.

A word about DNA scales: The technology revolution at the end of the 20th century overwhelmed Hell's traditional devil identification tools. Since a laminated torture license with photo ID was too easily forged, hornocrats in Hell's Bureau of Vital Statistics developed a high-tech approach. Devil bodies were reconstructed to contain five rings of identity DNA scales. These rings circled the neck, both wrists, and both ankles of all devils. Each scale in these rings contained the devil's unique DNA through which all routine business transactions in Hell were authorized. For example, cash registers can scan the devil's DNA scales and then charge the appropriate amount against his Bank of Hell account.

### # # # # # # # #

Arthur's words:

Paula, Winnie, and I were waiting for Patsy Phew's employer to drop by. Paula was sitting in a corner of the room in her ghost-like self, namely invisibly. I had changed myself to a black shoulder demon and was plastered high against the black wall behind the armchairs. Winnie was in her Patsy Phew body, of course.

I was expecting a real devil to walk into the apartment, not a runty, wizened senior citizen in mortal form. He opened the coffin lid and introduced himself to Winnie, ( _Ratko Buboni - the happy offspring of a Slavic mother and an Italian fathe_ r) and informed her that he was the man who had hired her. He didn't say anything about having a Texan in his lineage so the pointy-toed crocodile skin boots and black Stetson hat remained unexplained.

Hell's pervasive surveillance system was well known in Heaven. After all, there were many joint Heaven-Hell committees, angels had to meet somewhere, and it was so easy to become lost in a strange, new environment. So, we knew that our first task would be to get the apartment's cameras turned off.

Winnie beckoned the head under the Stetson into the coffin. "The room is under heavy surveillance," she whispered. "I used a sensor in my laptop to survey the electromagnetism in the room before I got out of the coffin. I shut the lid immediately when I saw the results of the sweep."

"There may indeed be a security camera somewhere in the apartment but that's solely to ensure the integrity of the project. Industrial espionage is a real threat to this project and that was why I had to transport you so surreptitiously."

"Security cameras are an easy way for spies to steal everything I do. Somebody could install an unauthorized tap on the camera feeds for example and you might never know it. I couldn't take money from you for developing a highly secure software program when I know the product could be insecure. I'll stay here in the coffin until my security sweeps come up clean."

"I'll talk to the company's Security Department."

"That's best, I think. Just so you know, the electromagnetic dissonance resonation detector in my computer will automatically sweep the apartment's rooms hourly so you won't have to worry about any new video or audio surveillance intrusions for the life of the project."

Ratko reassured Winnie that he'd fix things immediately. He set up a briefing with her for tomorrow morning, tipped his hat, and started to depart. I floated up to his Stetson where my black shoulder demon body would be unnoticeable, and found a comfortable patch on the brim, my legs dangling over the sides. Winnie was safe for the time being, so I figured a free tour of Hell would be just the ticket. I longed for some spurs - the kind with big sharp points. Gid'yup Ratko. Before I left, I had time to get everybody organized.

_I'll use Ratko to give me a tour of Hell. Paula, would you report that we arrived safely and tell them that the devil that hired Winnie is called Ratko Buboni?_

_How are you going to come back into this room, Arthur? We don't know if our bodies can teleport through the rock._

Paula added her experience to the discussion. _I'm able to teleport through tunnel walls, Winnie._

I wasn't so sure that Winnie and I would be able to do that. _That might not work for our bodies, Paula. For now, I'll do a lot of scouting. I have your maps. I'll come back on Ratko's hat tomorrow morning._

_You're leaving me alone, Arthur?_

_It won't take me long to get to Heaven and back, Winnie. I'll keep you company._

_Thank YOU, Paula_. Winnie really leaned on the _you_.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 22

Arthur's words: Somebody must have fouled up the spelling centuries ago. Hell's original name must have been _Hellitosis_.

As soon as Ratko exited through the air lock doors, I realized why they were necessary. There's no comparison to Earthly life that I could use to describe the stink. Not pulp mills, sewage tanks, road-kill skunks, pig fertilizer, used animal parts refineries, or even the odor you gag on when a politician promises 'no new taxes.'

I should have expected the stench. After all, their afterworld has no rain or wind so there's nothing to clean the atmosphere, or what passes for it. Sure, torture pit souls skim off some of the tunnel slop and export it to Earth as luxurious cosmetics. _[Narrator: Now you know why certain brands of lipstick stick better than others.]_ But, that doesn't even begin to address their problem. It's no surprise that devils have cloven hooves - even they don't want to put their entire foot down in what drains along their tunnel floors.

Eventually, my watering eyes cleared enough for me see that we had progressed from a maze of small, sewer-like tunnels into a huge cavern. I assumed the bedlam was downtown SinSin-atti. As Ratko made his laborious way through the crowds, I realized how puny he was compared to the other devils. I wondered if this was what devils regressed to when they became old. Even when he was camped in behind a large devil breaking trail for him, he had trouble keeping up because he couldn't walk like other devils. Each step seemed painful. He'd put his weight on one hoof, only to shift it quickly to the other. I don't know if the boots were uncomfortable, or if his bowlegs prevented him from walking normally. Perhaps he had huge bunions, tender hooves, or something like that. But his slightly bent posture and bobbing sideways weight shifts as he lurched from left hoof to right hoof were unique within the masses of upright devils slicing through the crowd at full throttle and in a laser-guided straight line. As if his small size, cowboy boots and cowboy hat weren't distinctive enough.

In other ways, he was a normal devil. Above his cowboy boots, he had the body of an upright reptile. Lizard style legs and arms, an iguana tail, a thick alligator body, a black viper tongue, and impenetrable blue-green scales over virtually every inch of the body. The hands (four fingers per hand plus opposable thumbs) were human-like as was his head. Devils have a voice box along with human ears, eyes, and nose.

We had to draft behind several different crowd-clearing devils to survive intact through the downtown core and eventually we popped out onto a ledge near the dome of a huge open cavern filled with buildings stalactiting from the ceilings and stalagmiting from the floor. Ratko hobbled to the Satan's Securities and Exchange Commission Building, entered an elevator, and pushed the button to the penthouse. We dropped to the tip of the stalactite.

Ratko entered a large and comfortable waiting room with furniture suitable for any reception area on Earth, but in extra large sizes. Ratko's secretary was laboriously hunting and pecking on her keyboard when he came in, looked up, handed him some message slips, and returned resolutely to her task finding each letter one at a time. He grunted at her, opened a manhole cover, and descended a spiral iron staircase to his personal office.

The luxury of the office was befitting that of the SSEC President - Ratko's position as proclaimed by the black slate sign on his desk. The floor and walls of the office - the tip of the stalactite - were constructed of heavy glass. The SSEC building was the longest in the cluster and so Ratko's panoramic view of the cavern was not blocked by any of its neighbors.

My examination of the view was interrupted when Ratko sat down at a massive marble desk, put his Stetson and me on the desktop, and pushed a toggle button on its underside. As the curtains closed, the red lights in the sixteen-foot high ceiling automatically brightened to compensate for the darker environment.

Ratko double-clicked a folder titled _Operation Antibody_ on his computer desktop. Opening the _Room Surveillance_ file, he turned all the cameras to _OFF_ and then closed the file. I sent a thought to Winnie that the cameras should be deactivated now and received a confirmation almost immediately. Good. I had worried about sending thought transmissions through all the rock. Ratko pushed another button under his desk, the lights dimmed, and an image materialized on the black translucent surface of his ceiling. He leaned back in his chair, his cowboy boots on the top of his desk, and a slide show began. Winnie walking into the interview room, Winnie at the conference room table, Winnie laughing and smiling during the interview, Winnie getting into the coffin, and a close up of Winnie's sweater that stayed on the screen for a very long time.

### # # # # # # # #

I decided to accompany Ratko home after he left his office. I didn't know if I had enough power to teleport through the solid rock between Ratko's office and Winnie's shocking pink and lime green apartment. Also, I was reluctant to risk contaminating her air. Yes, I was disguised as a shoulder demon, but I had a solid angelic body nonetheless. If I brought some of Hell's stink into her sanitized apartment, I'd jeopardize the whole operation. I told Winnie I'd stay with Ratko for the night and explained about the odor. I didn't tell her the other reason: A tottering old senior citizen devil seemed to have developed an unhealthy personal interest in her.

Winnie replied that Paula had returned from Heaven and she said that three of us had to meet. I put her off until we could test if I could enter the apartment without risk of bringing in some odour.

Ratko lived in a large cave in an up-scale _[pun intended]_ section of the city - a ten-minute walk up a steep winding incline from the smells and sludge of the lower city. His location at the crest of the hill would have afforded a decent view \- had the cave had any windows. I understood their absence after Ratko went through an extended rigmarole to gain entry into his cave. Glass windows are too easily smashed. Iron bars were only the first of several security devices on his front door. He also had a small peephole.

Ratko grabbed the TV remote, frisbee'd his Stetson into a corner, sat down in a black leather-covered chair, and pulled the lever to full recline. He clicked the remote through several channels until he found something called Torture Pit 47, which he started to watch. It was some sort of contest to see which soul could projectile vomit the furthest. I noticed that the souls appeared in human body form.

The secretary from his office waited until Ratko was fully engaged in the entertainment. She had been in a human body in his office and was in the same body here. The idea of souls being inside mortal bodies made sense now. It's hard to torture souls which are a bunch of electrons. But if she were a soul, I wondered, why was she not in a torture pit?

The secretary got down on her hands and knees in the deep sand around Ratko's recliner, pulled off his boots, and began massaging his hooves - all the while keeping her head below the level of the chair's foot-rest so that it didn't interfere with his view of the TV. After that, she used a pastry brush to apply a tube of analgesic balm deep into the cleft of Ratko's hooves. Next, she loaded up a cloth with contents from a large container labeled _scale moisturizer_ and rubbed that moisturizer liberally to his hooves, knees, hands, elbows, and head. I now understood the bald truth of Rat's infatuation with the Stetson. His head was completely bare of scales above his ears. Some sort of thick black skin, mottled in several places by brown after-liver spots, covered his skull instead.

When the secretary began to swaddle Rat's hooves in hot towels, I decided to look around. The cave's second floor had a spacious chemical lab with a balcony overlooking a small bare room with padded walls and floor. Perhaps an exercise room? Many devils were martial arts aficionados. Ratko didn't look the type, but with his size, perhaps he needed it for self-defense.

A large workroom was across the hall from the lab. A massive table - similar to the kind used by model train enthusiasts \- was at its far end. Ratko had used the table for a model of his own: a huge retail store with islands of miniature shelving units - all labeled with the product to be sold: junk food, electronics, pharmaceuticals, automotive, sporting goods, canned foods, and the like. Miniature golden arches beckoned hungry shoppers to the back of the store.

The second half of the workroom was jammed with a jumble of business furnishings. In addition, there were five large, telephone-booth type structures. Each 'booth' was about six-foot square and sixteen feet high. Two of the side walls were completely solid on the inside surface - a number of camera apertures the only break in the metal plates. Open panels on the outside of the walls revealed an extensive amount of embedded electronic equipment - their function unknown.

The cave's main floor held two bedrooms in addition to the living room, dining room, and kitchen. The first bedroom was clearly Rat's - his garments and possessions were scattered willy-nilly on the carpet. His bureau and closet were in similar disarray. The second bedroom was much neater. I thought initially that it was for the secretary - the clothes in the closet were approximately the right size. However, there was a lime green duvet on the queen sized bed and an area rug identical to the one in Winnie's living room.

Ratko spent the evening in the recliner, using grunts to instruct the secretary to bring him food, beer, and a large chaw of tobacco that he worked on throughout the evening. The battered brass spittoon in front of the chair served as an elusive target - Ratko generally didn't bother to even look before letting fly. The sand floor now made sense. The secretary used a pair of side-cutter pliers to trim the yellow fungus-infested claws on his hands. He used one particularly long and sharp claw remnant to pick his teeth after the clawdicure was complete. Ratko visibly enjoyed a torture pit show where soul bodies were inflated with helium and let free to float around the torture pit. Spectators could buy darts and attempt to detonate the soul's gas filled body. I suspected that this pit would be particularly popular because of the giant fart sound that would accompany each soul's detonation. A devil's sense of humour was typically at the same level as a ten-year-old boy's idea of humour.

_[Narrator: An earlier version of this pit had offered up helium balloon souls for bow and arrow aficionados but these were banned when spectators became targets. Another version of this pit allowed gambling as to which soul would be the last to survive the darts. That pit became unwieldy when spectators brought giant fans into the pits to try and influence the results. Fans were banned but one pit operator attached a tether to the foot of each floating soul. Spectators were allowed to buy a tethered soul and then strive to own the last remaining floating soul by pulling the soul's body by the tether. Naturally, gambling was allowed and torture pit operators of this form of soul entertainment made a lot of money.]_

Ratko started to doze off during one of these shows and fell asleep during the commercial for _Inebriation Inc's Tortures and Torments_ \- the makers of Double Strength Rum: double your pleasure, double your fun.

While Ratko snoozed, the secretary busied herself preparing her own meal and raking the sand in the cave's rooms into soft undulating mini-dunes. At 9:00 precisely, she approached the chair and coughed lightly. Ratko awoke, took a perfume atomizer from her hands, and squirted her once on an inflamed red cut mark on her forearm. He returned the recliner to its closed position, rocked it back and forth to get a running start, and levered himself out of the chair. Staggering a bit on his first step, he straightened up slowly, and tottered off to his bedroom down the hall.

I was surprised when Ratko walked into his closet and dropped to his knees. He didn't look like the praying type! He wasn't. Instead, he pulled a long black bathrobe aside and unlocked a heavy circular door to a large wall safe. This was guarded by what I found out later were a DNA scale reader and a horn pustule reader. When the door swung open, a string of small red lights illuminated a narrow tunnel.

I hopped onto Ratko as he backed into the tunnel and closed the door - pulling strenuously on the handle twice to ensure the lock was re-engaged. He then wiggled backwards on his belly - the tunnel being barely big enough to accommodate his scrawny frame. As he creaked and groaned his way to the far end, I became aware of a security system extending the length of the tunnel. Nasty! Any devil attempting to breech the system would have to cross weight-sensitive pressure pads - if he could even fit inside the tunnel. If the devil were heavier than Ratko (almost a guarantee), he'd find himself staked to the ground by an array of sharp, pointed steel spikes. If they didn't cause instant death, they would imprison the intruder until Ratko released him.

The reason for the security became clear when we reached the room at the end of the tunnel. Essentially, it was a large bank vault, its interior dominated by numerous eight-foot high stacks of large shiny gold coins. Ratko had built one wall of coins at a time - each wall separated and stabilized by a thick Plexiglas panel front and back. Each panel was secured at the ceiling and at the floor.

A fresh wall was currently being constructed - the stack of coins only a couple of feet high. A stepladder lay on the floor - ready for use when the time came. Small air vents in the ceiling provided air. A bedraggled cot sat forlornly in the middle of the vault - the space around it restricted by the march of Plexiglas walls into the interior. Ratko collapsed onto the cot and flicked a switch on an extension cord attached to one of the cot legs to turn the lights off. In about fifteen minutes, he started buzz-sawing. I waited another fifteen minutes and then clinked two coins together. Within seconds, Ratko had turned the lights back on and he was peering warily down the tunnel. It was time to find out if I could teleport through rock; turns out that I could go through at least one tunnel wall back to his living room.

I found his secretary working on a computer at his dining room table. She was entering data from a stack of paper slips into a spreadsheet - her fingers flying across the keyboard as quickly as prospective home buyers would realize that a house with forty-seven rooms and no bathrooms would be _uncanny_. The data appeared to be Ratko's personal budget records for the last week. HISS, 250-T; Beer, 10-T; Boot polish, 1-T...

I noticed that there were many more revenue entries than expenses; moreover, the revenue amounts were comparatively quite large. _Patent E236146, 500-T; Patent F143876, 450-T; HOSE Commission, 7000-T._ I couldn't make any sense of those entries whatsoever.

The budget entries complete, the secretary began to analyze the data. Every expense category was examined and a chart produced of how it had fluctuated in the last year. Same for the revenue. All of these reports went into a three-ring binder that she placed on the table.

It wasn't the budget work that intrigued me, although I did find Ratko's attention to his expenses and income interesting. Every half-hour, there was a small ding from the computer's alarm clock and she'd make a note of how she was feeling into a computer diary. Even when all the budget work had been completed, she persisted with her health status reports.

I sensed the subtle signs of her increasing discomfort after the third hour. She was polishing Ratko's boots but began pacing around the living room, taking deep breaths instead. That led to her sitting on the sand and taking deep breaths through her mouth. Then she rose, removed her smock, and crouched on the sand floor near Ratko's recliner. Fourteen minutes into the hour, she leaned over and filled an airline puke bag with the remains of her supper. I knew the exact time because she entered it into a spreadsheet before disposing of the bag and checking that there had been no spillage where she had been kneeling. She printed out the log of her status reports and a copy of the spreadsheet. These went on top of the budget binder. After that, she unrolled a thin foam mattress onto the dining room floor, donned her smock, and was asleep in minutes.

I looked at the spreadsheet. Ratko was applying the contents of his perfume atomizer to five locations on her body and in quantities varying from one to five squirts. That accounted for the red lines on her neck, arm and leg - they appeared to be partially healed knife slices. Secretary during the day, guinea pig at night.

Was that what Ratko had in mind for Winnie? The slide show of Winnie's pictures revealed that Ratko was attracted to her. Co-incidentally, or not so co-incidentally, Winnie had the same general body type as his secretary and both had reddish hair. Red would be a favored color in Hell and Ratko clearly chose females that were about the same size as he was.

But what was making my feathers stand up on end was the name of the operation that Ratko had used to lure Winnie to Hell. _Operation Antibody._ I didn't know how Winnie's work would be part of that. I did know that that the human body produces antibodies to fight off disease. When the disease is conquered, the antibody will disappear from the mortal body. If my suspicions were correct, when Winnie's contract was over, the antibody named Patsy was destined to disappear too. She'd disappear into a queen-sized bed in a shocking pink and lime green bedroom belonging to a devil that happened to enjoy torturing small, redheaded women.

I thought about that and decided that this was not something that Winnie needed to know. Our operation was only going to last three weeks. Since it was now clear that I wouldn't have Ratko's cooperation in delivering Patsy back to Earth through the coffin route, I'd have to come up with something different. Something that Winnie would agree to. And I wouldn't be able to lie about it.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 23

_Ratko is on his way, Winnie. Arthur is with him._

_Thanks, Paula._

...

Ratko Buboni knocked and opened the apartment door. "Alright if I come in, Miss Patsy?"

"By all means, Mr. Buboni. Good to see you again." A western style black business suit was well-tailored for his scrawny frame. Winnie wondered about weak ankles when he bowlegged over to her on the wobbling heels that brought his head even with hers. They shook hands - this second meeting serving as the best time to observe these formalities.

"Shall we go into your office?" Not waiting for a response, Buboni frisbee'd his Stetson into the living room and went off in the other direction. Winnie followed Buboni's wrinkled, bald pate into the computer room - a second bedroom that had been converted to office use. All of its furniture had been removed and replaced with a generous-sized computer desk, an advanced computer gleaming on its top. A side table supported a color printer; a worktable was empty for now. A black leather couch resided against an empty wall. A computer chair was pushed in against the desk. The only other piece of furniture was a solitary visitor chair.

Buboni took the comfortable chair behind the computer and waved her to the visitor's chair. "Do you have everything you'll need?"

"Yes, I checked out the computer last night. The programming software that I requested is installed and seems to be working fine."

"Our head office building isn't built for entertaining visitors so your access to the outside world will be quite limited. It's all part of keeping what you'll be doing secure."

Winnie waved her hand negatively - not necessary. "I'll tell you what would be more helpful." In response to a gray eyebrow rising above his old-fashioned steel-framed spectacles, Winnie pressed on.

"Well, you see I'm not used to working in a large city. I suspect your head office is in a large city because its air conditioning intake is next to a factory of some kind. Every now and then I get a whiff of your next-door neighbour, and if my allergies start acting up, I could become a miserable programmer. Do you think I could have some cans of air freshener?"

Buboni had been listening in growing alarm. Was the air lock not working? Were the door seals leaking? But, her reference to a polluting neighbour reassured him. The air mix he was pumping into the apartment wasn't what she was used to - that's all it was. "Unfortunately, security reasons forced us to locate this apartment in the middle of the building - windows were too susceptible to listening devices. A tiny, self-contained apartment can easily get a little musty. Some air freshener is an excellent idea. Is there anything else I can give you before you start?"

_Now you don't have to worry about bringing in odors, Arthur._

_That was a good idea._

"Well, I'm a little hesitant to ask..."

"Please. Anything that distracts you from your work..."

"When I'm programming for concentrated periods, I just burn through the food. What's here will disappear quite quickly, I'm afraid. I'm going to need twice as much. Programmers need a lot of junk food too. Cheesies are my special treat."

_And another good idea._

Buboni nodded his assent. All of that could be obtained at the local outlet of the Sorcery Grocery. "This won't be a problem, Miss Patsy. I'll fill the pantry, fridge, and freezer personally tomorrow. Let me know if you start running short."

"Thank you," Winnie said and smiled prettily at him.

Arthur couldn't help himself. _You shouldn't smile at him like that._

Winnie ignored Arthur and turned her full attention to Buboni who started to tell her about the assignment.

### # # # # # # # #

Winnie gave Ratko a cheery wave good bye and turned away from the door. Arthur and Paula immediately materialized in the living room in their human bodies.

"Do you have any idea what he actually wants that software to do?" Arthur asked.

"I can read his face. I know he's lying, but I don't know yet what the truth is. The software he wants doesn't sound difficult to program."

"We should find out what he planning before you go too far. Could it be useful for our mission?"

"No way of knowing. I want to hack into purgatory.net before I do anything at all."

"Did Ratko give you a deadline?"

"No. I'm supposed to provide progress reports."

"Actually, he's not Ratko Buboni, Arthur," Paula intervened.

"Are you going to tell me who he is now?" Winnie asked. "Paula came back from Heaven with some important news about Ratko but wouldn't share it until we were all here," she explained to Arthur. "What's the big news, Paula?"

"That Ratko devil was part of the team that developed and spread the bubonic plague in the 1300s. He was in charge of spreading the disease. He became famous in Hell and was known as _Rat de Bubonic_. Much later, his name became _Rat Buboni._ He is known in Hell as _The Rat."_

"We knew he was very old," Arthur said. "Why do we care about his real name?"

"Every other member of that bubonic plague team has met justice for what they did to so many millions of people. Joe-Joe and Lillian have made sure of that. They want us to prod The Rat into travelling to Earth."

"Prodding Rat to visit Earth will difficult to do in the short time we'll be here," Winnie noted.

"Lillian says that we'll be staying in Hell until Rat receives justice. Joe-Joe is looking into ways that he can replenish our body's solar energy without you and Arthur leaving Hell."

"That means we could be here for months," Arthur shared his conclusion.

"It gets worse," Paula warned. "Lillian gave us four priorities. I wrote them down so that I wouldn't miss anything."

"Priority #1. Under no circumstances are we to risk Hell discovering that Heaven is working on developing more powerful angelic bodies. The three of us must not be detected in Hell. Moreover, we are to do nothing that will leave Hell with nagging doubts after we are gone. If we cause something unusual to happen in Hell, it has to have an obvious explanation - one that could be written off as normal devilish behaviour for example."

"Priority #2. All three of us have to be able to leave safely after the completion of the assignment. Being stranded in Hell, even in an invisible state, is not an option. Eventually our bodies will run out of solar power and we'll be discovered. Winnie cannot vanish inexplicably. That would create one of those nagging doubts that is prohibited in priority #1."

"Priority #3. We still have to manipulate Hell into adopting ineffective centrally administered subliminal thought suggestions as Hell's primary form of influencing mortal behaviour. The time schedule for doing that is now flexible."

"Priority #4: Rat has to face justice for what he did. Lillian and Joe-Joe are especially keen to meet him face-to-face. If that's not possible, he should face justice here in Hell, but only if the top three priorities can be met."

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 24

**Narrator Interlude** : The tormentt.

You may be wondering about the coins that were in Rat's vault and the way Rat's expenses and income were described. _Beer, 10-T_ , for example.

Torment is what Hell is all about and, in one way or another, every creature in Hell is engaged in the torment sindustry. So, to remind his devils and demons of their single-minded purpose, Satan named Hell's currency the _tormentt_. Money really is the root of all evil in Hell.

Two denominations of the tormentt are circulated: the small six-sided, dime-sized iron coin (1-T) and the much larger six-sided gold coin (1000-T). The 1-T coin has a picture of Satan on one side with the inscription _To Satan We Grovel_. The other side has an image of Hell's national bird, the vulture, plucking the heart out of the body of a bleeding, writhing human.

The 1-T coin is useful for small miscellaneous purchases, parking meters, copies of the National SINquisitor, cigarettes, tips for soul-squeegiers (down-on-their-luck devils who will torture your stable of souls with their dry, razor-encrusted squeegees while you are stopped at intersections), and any of the innumerable reasons why cash is needed in Hell. With the exception of Satan-sponsored services, life in Hell is expensive and devils never raise their tail from their cave or office without taking a clawful of tormentts with them. Since devil bodies have no pockets, money and other necessities like pre-moisturized Hoofy wipes, etc. are carried in _horny-packs_. These are similar in concept to Earth's fanny-packs, but Hell's more expensive version is fastened around a devil's horns instead. The higher location is less vulnerable to a devil whipping by on a scooter and snipping off a fanny pack. A minor cave sindustry sprung up following their introduction and numerous horny-pack styles, fabrics, security devices, colors, and accessories are available from sidewalk stall vendors.

The 1000-T gold coin shows Satan posing in a straight head on view, hands under chin, smiling sweetly, his yellow nicotine-stained teeth blending in perfectly with the gold color of the coin. The coin's back side shows him spearing an angel in the air with his trident; another angel is pinned to the ground by Satan's hoof, a Nike swirl prominently displayed above the cleft. [Gold coins are expensive to manufacture so Satan offset the cost with a clever marketing agreement.]

It is possible to after-live in Hell without any tormentts, but few devils can endure the poverty for long. Satan provides some free governmental services to his hellizens: border security (angel detector panels); immigration and naturalization (sinner admittance); transportation (tunnel maintenance, vehicle transportation, PUS); internal security (the con&stab-ulary, surveillance cameras, crime adjudication, and capital punishment), communications (Purgatory.net), shelter (a cave in a rock wall), utilities (heat and power); and sustenance (green-bean soup and a meager ration of water). That's it. If you wanted more than the bare necessities of afterlife, you purchased them yourself.

As to the green-bean soup: Hell was able to import green beans in massive quantities from Earth because farmers grew far too much of it for humans to reasonably consume - its vile taste being abhorrent to any mortal with functioning taste buds. Green beans, when exposed to Hell's atmosphere, rotted into a green swill that had enough liquid in it to replace water for such things as drinking and washing.

### # # # # # # # #

Queue jumping should be a crime!

Rat didn't say that out loud, of course. Queue jumping is as much a part of Hell's social fabric as an evening at the torture pits, tossing pus-filled Twinkies at celebrity devils, and drive by dry-ice ambushes. Every devil queue jumps.

Except for The Rat. Queue jumping requires size to pull off. You simply pick a devil smaller than you that is standing in a queue and step in front of him. What's the poor sucker going to do? Go whining off to Satan? _That big, mean old nasty devil stepped in front of me?_ So Rat, the smallest devil in all of Hell, was a frequent victim of line-up lobotomy.

Queue jumping is only one element of afterlife that gives shorter devils the short stick. Size is prestige in Hell. The more torment a devil has inflicted on humans, the bigger the devil's body and horns become. The bigger the devil, the more he is idolized by his peers. The more evil the devil, the more he is rewarded by Satan.

So, queue jumping in Hell is accepted as a perk awarded without protest to one's _worsers._ [The word _betters_ is an insult in Hell.] However, Rat didn't have to accept the indignities. Rat's SSEC position gave him the financial wherewithal to keep a stable of big, powerful souls that would be able to preserve his place in line-ups. But, big souls consume a lot of tormentts for upkeep: six sets of uniforms - all in the more expensive extra large sizes; six sleep pads; six jobs to keep them busy during the working day; health restoration costs from HISS and more. Plus after work, Rat would have to spend time torturing them or they'd be repossessed. No - the one soul he kept was enough. He didn't mind her expenses.

Rat could have hired a bodyguard to maintain his place in line-ups. Many devils employed one or more bodyguards from the companies providing this service. While devilcide in Hell was relatively rare, physical violence, bullying and intimidation were not. Yes, Hell's justice system provided ready recourse for devils illegally victimized by other devils. But, there were no laws against shoving, tripping, hoofing, superficial goring, or any of the other _accidents_ that occurred on a regular basis in Hell's milieu. Hell's tunnels were dark, the footing was bad, and it was impossible to prove that an accidental stumble was deliberate just because it caused two deep horn-sized puncture wounds.

Rat had the wealth to hire a bodyguard, but as the SSEC President, he was untouchable. No devil would harm Satan's personal appointment. So, why should he pay hefty fees for a service he didn't need? Rat avoided the intimidations by restricting the time he spent outside his cave and office. But, Miss Patsy's smiling request the previous day for more food had been unexpected, so here he was at the butt of the long line snaking around the stanchions in front of the Sorcery Grocery.

Rat passed the time by engaging in one of his favorite fantasies. Finally, he reached the head of the line and was beckoned into the store by a _personal shopper_ \- this retailer's attempt to reduce the shoplifting.

Shoplifting in Hell is de rigeur. Every devil made the attempt. Not doing so would be a sign of goodness. If a taint of goodness leeched itself to one's scales, a devil might as well start selling Christmas season icicle lights cave-to-cave. Neither he nor his lights would be hanging around very long.

Personal shoppers were the most effective strategy that Hell's retailers had found so far to combat the endemic shoplifting. Personal shoppers accompanied customers throughout the store - taking items off the shelves for them, putting them in their buggy, and then accompanying the customer past the cash register. Personal shoppers were often down-on-their-luck sales-devils who have been fired from the more prestigious torment companies. They were easily bribed - after all, access to bribes was why they accepted such demeaning jobs. The carton of eggs in Rat's shopping cart, for example, would never go past the checkout. Some tormentts would grease a scaly palm and the carton would appear magically at his office within the next hour. Often, the bribe could be more than the price of the item itself. The fear of being considered _soft on goodness_ drove devils to do anything to ensure they were seen in the worst possible light by their peers. And especially by Satan.

Personal shoppers were a relatively recent innovation in Hell - all other solutions having failed. For example, one enterprising techie devil had programmed robots to shop for his customers. His store became very popular with devil geeks. Soon, the robots began delivering goods in the middle of the night. By week's end, the store had lost its entire inventory as well as all of its robots.

Not using personal shoppers was even worse. If retailers allowed devils free access to their aisles, they come into the stores accompanied by their stable of tortured souls, all wearing long black overcoats and carrying big purses. Invariably, some violent altercation in a store aisle would pull the owner away from the check out, and when he got back, all of the customers would be gone. Along with his inventory.

To date, no way of stopping the shoplifting had been found. Slowing it down to tolerable levels, yes; stopping it, no. Up to now. So, that's how Rat spent his time in line: dreaming up a perfect solution to shoplifting that would make him the dominant retailer in all of Hell. He decided to christen.... ooops, he decided to name the solution _The Greeter._

### # # # # # # # #

**Narrator Interlude: Sinner-overload and pit-parole.**

Too much of anything can be a bad thing - even in Hell. There were so many sinners arriving daily that Hell was unable to keep up with the influx. There simply weren't enough vacancies in the torture pits to accommodate them!

Hell dealt with sinner-overload in two ways. First, all souls were tortured for only ten years at a time - any longer and they become inured to the pain. When a sinner's soul reached the end of its decade, it was condensed, and poured into a bar-coded soup can with the label _Dumbbells' Cream of Soul_. Most were stored in massive soul storage warehouses for a ten-year respite. By the time a soul was reconstituted (just add liquid brimstone), there were new torture pits to endure and the sinner's torture could continue unabated.

However, even shift-torturing was a desperate, temporary solution to the overcrowding. After all, sinners had been pouring into Hell since the beginning of time and the accumulated inventory alone had become overwhelming. So, Satan created a pit-parole system. Hell's business owners were allowed to add human souls to their working staff provided that they assumed the responsibility of housing, feeding, and torturing them. Paroled souls could be leased for free - quite a novelty in tormentt-conscious Hell!

Most business-devils tried to assign their souls to duties that could also be classified as torture (e.g., producing polka music) - thereby satisfying their torment quotas. But, if the soul's job weren't sufficiently afflictive, after-hour tortures had to be applied or the soul would be repossessed and the business would be fined a hefty _cruelty augmentation_ fee.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 25

"Let's run your check list," Mac said to Melissa. They were alone in the command center in the Wilizy/Europe. It was 7 pm on Monday night, February 26. The operation to prepare for Sheila's extraction would begin at 1 am, which gave them enough time to correct anything that either of them might have missed.

"Do Cowboy and Bean have the necessary uniform, badges, copter and paperwork?" Melissa started.

"They will have by 1 am. No problems expected. They know they can break in and they know where to go in the sheriff's office to pick up what they need."

"Good. Does the women's prison knows that they're coming in the middle of the night and will they have somebody on duty?"

"TG hacked the sheriff's office computer and took care of sending the email and then deleting that and the answer. That's a check."

"Will there be enough time for Cowboy and Bean to fly to the prison, off load their prisoners, and return the copter before anybody is awake?" Melissa asked.

"We've built in an hour for the jail to completely process two prisoners and that should be sufficient. So, check."

"Does Cowboy have enough money to pay the incarceration fees up front?" Melissa kept reading from her list of _to do's_.

"Wiz gave them several gold coins. We don't know how much jail time to ask for."

"I'm thinking one year for each of you," Melissa said. "But I'm not sure if the jail will take such a short sentence. Play it by ear. There should be plenty of money."

"Do you want to do the check list for Sheila's actual extraction now, Melissa?"

"No. We'll need a few days before you can approach her, I believe. Let's not rush things. Are you looking forward to this, Mac?"

"I haven't been able to do this kind of undercover role before. It should be fun. Nary is pumped too."

### # # # # # # # #

A black copter with the shield of the Sherriff's Department of Laramie Wyoming put down on the copter pad in front of the California Penal System Facility for Women in Stovepipe Wells in Death Valley National Park. As it landed, a searchlight illuminated the copter and the pad. Two officers stepped out of the copter, and each went to a passenger door and helped a prisoner out. Both prisoners were handcuffed with their wrists behind their bodies. Both were wearing yellow jail garb.

The officers used one hand on the cuffs and one hand on a prisoner's shoulders to steer them to the entrance to the prison. The door opened as they approached and closed tightly after they were through.

"Two prisoner's for you," Cowboy announced as he approached the counter. "Laramie, Wyoming checking in. Here are my credentials." He passed over his badge, which clearly indicated that he was a member of that department. Bean did the same.

"We were expecting you," the officer in charge on duty remarked. "You haven't worked with us before. How'd you hear about us?"

"You're well known in the midwest. We talked with folks from Colorado, Utah, and New Mexico. They all spoke highly of you."

"Yeah, we've dealt with all of them before. We'll need information on each of these two. You can put them on the bench behind you. There's a ring you can cuff them to."

"They won't be a problem. They're sober now."

Bean and Cowboy duly filled out the registration information on the keyboard offered to them. Mac and Nary had talked about what names they should give themselves. They wanted to be able to respond automatically to somebody calling their name, but they also didn't want to give anybody a chance to back track them. They opted to have their names entered as Mac Doe and Mary Doe. The two crimes that had led to their imprisonment were _Drunk and Disorderly_ and _Assault of a Public Figure._ These charges would justify a short sentence but one that would be appropriate because of the assault chart. They clicked the send button. _[Narrator: I will use Nary's name in the descriptions that follow, but you may assume that the prisoners are hearing 'Mary.']_

"What's with the anonymous names?"

"They're strangers from out of town. They wouldn't give us their real names. We didn't push," Bean said.

"Not my place to say," the officer on the desk said, "but drunk and disorderly charges are rather minor for the women we have here."

"Normally we'd handle these two with a work detail on one of the local ranches, but it was what they did when they were disorderly that prompted the sentence," Bean continued.

"This sounds interesting."

"They interrupted one of our elected officials when he was courting a lady of dubious reputation. That official doesn't want these two around for a while in case they decided to tell his..."

"I get it. I see you want them here for a year."

"Yeah," Cowboy's turn now. "What's the fee going to be?"

"That's going to be hard to say. You see, with this crime, they should go into the residence of our more stable prison population. But that residence is full. That means your two will have to be in the building with the more difficult population. They'll be in proper cells, two to a cell. We have to charge you more for that."

"Is one gold coin enough?"

"For each, yes. Some of our longer term prisoners could be hard on these two. They look soft."

"Don't do the crime, if you can't do the time." _[Yes, even in 2091, lawmen loved platituding that platitude.]_

_Later..._

_Melissa, we're going to need more time to get close to Sheila. They can't put us into her building yet._

_What are you going to do, Mac?_

_Nary is sharpening her claws._

### # # # # # # # #

The officer gave the two new prisoners a Californian prison jumpsuit and opened an empty cell. "Putting you together is the best I can do for you," she warned. "Breakfast for your group is at 7:30. Be standing at your cell bars by 7:20. The buzzers will wake you; just follow what the other prisoners do."

Mac and Nary trooped into the prison mess at 7:25 and joined the line. It was a typical cafeteria-style assembly line. Grab a tray and some plastic cutlery. Watch as the staff dishing out the food plopped the breakfast on a plate and handed it to you. Don't bother asking for more or less. Both of them felt eyes on them as they moved down the line.

The mess hall itself was a big large rectangular room with long wooden picnic tables formed into lines. Each table had room for six prisoners. The benches were also wooden and were movable. The tables were not fastened to the floor but their weight meant that the prisoners had to adjust the bench and not the table for seating closeness. As would be the case for any wooden table, each table had at least two wads of paper or cloth underneath one or more legs in order to stop the table from rocking.

When Mac and Nary entered the room, they noticed that a large mass of prisoners were already at their tables and eating. These would the women from the other building. Although they saw no signs designating where prisoners should sit, it was clear that the first to arrive prisoners were all sitting together at one end of room. Mac and Nary received their plates, went to the water station, filled up a plastic glass, and looked around. Lots of empty spaces were available at the other end.

They wandered towards the high jeopardy seating area. All eyes in that area followed them. Assessing. "Where to you want sit, Nary?" Mac asked with a voice loud enough to be heard at the nearby tables.

Nary looked around and walked to a table that was full. "I want to sit here, Mac," she said and stood behind the biggest prisoner at the table.

"That's Nary's seat," Mac informed the unpleasant looking troll sitting there. _[Narrator: In ancient times, trolls were hideously ugly creatures that lived under bridges and would eat anybody that dared to cross the bridge. In the 20th century, bridges were guarded by tolls, which may be a misspelling.]_

The troll looked up and informed Mac that this seat was taken and would she kindly move on, or words to that effect. She managed to cram that message into two words, the second word ending in _off_.

"I'll hold your tray, Nary."

Mac was now holding her own tray in her right hand, and Nary's tray in her left. She stepped away from the table.

"That's my seat," Nary claimed.

The troll looked up and managed to get one word out of her mouth before Nary's left hand was clutching her face. Her right hand was holding the back of the troll's head, which was now frozen in place, not only by Nary's vise-like grip, but also by four needle-like piercings in the skin of her face. "I can scratch your entire face off if you don't do what I say," Nary informed the reluctant table sharer. "Get up."

_[It's been a while since Nary's special friend graced our pages. I remind you that Contrary had very sharp claws.]_

Trollie did, hands raised.

"Take your tray and walk backwards to the wall."

Trollie did as instructed, hands raised, Nary's two hands still firmly attached to her head. She stopped when the troll reached the wall.

"Sit down and eat here."

Nary returned to the table where Mac was still standing with two trays. She tapped the shoulder of the troll sitting next to the empty space. "That's Mac's seat," Nary informed her. "Go eat with your friend."

Since Troll #2 had been close enough to hear the brief conversation, and since she had seen her tablemate's frozen face, Troll #1 soon had a partner helping her to hold up the wall.

Mac and Nary sat down beside each other. "Do you think it's too crowded here to eat, Nary?"

Nary looked at Troll #3, raised an eyebrow, and a trio was soon holding up a wall.

Obviously, the purpose behind the seat selections was intimidation. But Mac and Nary had a different purpose in mind as well. They were wearing slings and didn't want to have to park them in the corner of some ceiling. They were busy establishing a safe zone around their own bodies where no other prisoner would dare approach and accidentally feel the texture of the sling.

### # # # # # # # #

Lunch. Again, Mac and Nary's group entered after others from the safer building were seated. Again, Mac and Nary had loaded trays as they went back to the picnic tables. This time, Mac carried both trays as Nary looked around for a nice pleasant location, preferably one with a view. Again, she stood behind a big, ugly, and vicious looking inmate. The troll saw Nary coming, stood up, stepped away from the bench and placed her hands in what some people would call a menacing gesture.

"Thank you for giving me your place at the table," Nary said. "Don't forget your tray." To help her remember it, Nary picked up the laden tray and slammed it into the troll's face. The troll ended up on the ground at about the same time as all of her food. The food stayed there. So did the troll.

Nary grabbed a trollist foot in one hand, and a trollist foot in the other hand, and dragged her stunned victim along the floor to the closest wall. Mac followed with the now empty tray and placed it on the floor next to her.

They returned to the table. All eyes in the room were still on them. Nary leaned over to the other side of the table, placed both hands on the wooden table top, and then pulled her hands back to her side of the table. When she lifted her hands, eight deep scratch grooves were evident. "This is our table now," Nary said and looked to her left and to her right.

"This is quite pleasant being all alone like this," Mac said a few seconds later.

### # # # # # # # #

You may be wondering what the guards were doing while Nary was introducing herself to the prisoner power hierarchy. Four guards were stationed throughout the mess hall. None of them interfered in either altercation, but they did talk among themselves. News of the second incident went to the warden who asked if any of the non-dangerous inmates had been hurt. When she learned that the attacks had been on only the most dangerous inmates, she told them to not intervene. The company's policy was that power struggles would occur whenever new prisoners come in. Guards would intervene only if serious injury appeared imminent. Mac and Nary already knew about that policy thanks to Wizard and Bean.

Supper.

Mac and Nary were sitting at their table. Alone. Everybody was minding their own business. The prisoners who had been displaced had founds seats elsewhere. "Now would be a good time," Mac said.

Nary got up and approached the table closest to them but further down the mess hall. This would be the table where four prisoners would be looking at Nary if they happened to have their heads up. They had their heads down, but they did see her coming.

"Stop looking at me," Nary commanded.

"We weren't..."

"Don't argue with her," a tablemate interrupted.

"This is crazy," another tablemate said, rose out of her seat and approached Nary until they were nose to nose. "We'll look wherever we want to look."

Nary grabbed her neck with her left hand and grabbed her butt cheek with the other hand. Butt cheeks can be hard to grab and hold on to when a body is suddenly raised aloft. It's hard to hold them place seeing as how they don't come with handles. Nary ensured that this butt cheek stayed in place with four piercing needles that went in deep. Butt Cheek stopped struggling immediately. Nary walked towards an empty wall and threw her. It was a long distance throw and Butt Cheek bounced once before sliding into the wall. "I don't like people looking at me when I eat," Nary announced to the hall.

...

Later, as Nary and Mac were leaving the mess, three prisoners who had been sitting at a table at the relatively safe end of the hall sauntered out behind them. "Don't turn around," one of them whispered. "You're going to be surrounded in this hallway before breakfast. There'll be at least eight of them."

"Thanks," Mac whispered back.

### # # # # # # # #

Friday morning. Four husky prisoners slipped in front of Mac and Nary and began walking down the hallway to the mess hall in front of them. Mac turned her head slightly. _Four behind us. I'll take them._

_I'll take the front four as soon as they turn to block us. Slow down so they'll get further ahead of us._

_This hallway is too narrow for them to try this. Their plan is really dumb._

The front four did turn as expected, but they were surprised to see a gap between them and their victims. They did see the big black girl crouch down and then bound forward in two strong leaps. It was almost as though she were running on four feet. She leapt into the air and slashed at the throats of the two prisoners to her left. They cowered immediately. Nary pulled the closest one upright and hit her in the chest with a blow from her fist that caused her to fly backwards and she lay stunned on the ground. The second prisoner followed immediately afterwards for the same reason. That left the two prisoners on the right. Nary's left hand grabbed one neck, and the right hand grabbed the other neck. Then, she raised both of the prisoners off the ground and pinned them to the wall. While their feet were dangling and kicking, their hands were trying to dislodge Nary's hands that were squeezing the breath out of their bodies. "Croak if you want to live," she said.

When Nary turned around to see how Mac was doing, she saw and heard four prisoners on the floor writhing in pain and howling. "Shoulder separations," Mac explained. "These hallway floors can be slippery."

### # # # # # # # #

Eight prisoners ended up in the infirmary; Mac and Nary ended up in the Warden's office.

"They attacked us," Mac said. "Nobody was seriously hurt."

"You provoked the attack."

"Just establishing the new pecking order. Nobody was seriously hurt."

"We can squeeze two more beds into the other building for you. Our infirmary is not set up for the likes of you two. Will we have more trouble from you if we move you?"

"We won't provoke in the mess hall. There'll be no reason to because we'll be with the other prisoners. But if they come at us again, we won't hold back."

"That was holding back?"

"They're alive, aren't they?"

"For the sake of prison discipline, each of you will be in solitary tonight. We'll move you in the morning."

### # # # # # # # #

_Melissa, we're in Sheila's dorm building now, but not on the same floor. It will take us a couple of days at least to talk to her when nobody is around._

_Thanks, Mac. I'll keep the rest of the operation on hold._

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 26

Arthur's words: I watched Rat's every move when he carried the food from the Sorcery Grocery into Winnie's apartment, but he barely glanced at her. Afterwards, I stayed with Rat until he had settled into a lazy evening in front of the TV. I figured he was there for the duration and didn't need me to devil-sit him. Becoming familiar with SinSin-atti would be a much better use of my time, so I said as much to Winnie as I was winging my shoulder demon body into the downtown core. I wasn't prepared for her reply.

_Great! I'm tired of mapping out the structure of purgatory.net. Give me your coordinates and I'll meet you._

I hadn't intended to send the next thought to Winnie but it was the first thing that popped into my head. _Absolutely not!_ The thought must have been lonely in there all by itself.

A moment of strained silence later. _Why not?_

I had the distinct impression she wasn't any too pleased. My next answer didn't improve her disposition. _It's too dangerous!_

_If it's not too dangerous for you, then it's not too dangerous for me._

Trust a programmer to use logic. _You might bring some of the stink back into the apartment._ I knew that argument wouldn't work but it was all I could think of at the time.

_That's why we have the cans of air freshener. You're not going to claim that they won't work on a female body, are you?_

_Rat might come by and find the apartment empty._

_But you said he was sacked in for the night._

_Well, I don't actually know his routine. I believe he's done for the night, but what if I'm wrong? We'd be running quite a risk solely for you to take a tour of Hell._ I didn't tell her that she didn't need a tour of Hell because she wouldn't be leaving the apartment the whole time we were here. At least, not if I could prevent it. Rat's plans for her were uppermost in my mind. Good to know that the self-preservation instincts were intact even if all the other brain cells had called in sick.

Winnie reluctantly agreed but not without further discussion. She had really wanted to come. I offered to give her a tour commentary.

_Thanks a lot._

Sarcasm comes through on thought waves even stronger than with spoken words. Still, she was safely behind locked doors although she was unhappy about it. I started mapping out the main landmarks, entering their coordinates into my body's GPS memory log so that I could teleport to any of them instantaneously, while trying to project a chatty, informative spiel at the same time.

I was in a long-abandoned section of SinSin-atti when I ran across the evening's most interesting find - a ghost town of broken-down torture pits. One pit featured a full sized, three-masted schooner, giant wooden sea monsters, and a sharp precipice simulating the edge of the world. A metal plate bore the inscription: _Opened by Satan 1432. Patented by D'erick the Red._

My best find of the night was Pit #1. That's right. Hell's very first torture pit. Undated but patented to Satan. The pit was in a small cave about 10-12 feet in height and width and about a half-mile deep. Etched into the rock floor were parallel ruts that on closer inspection turned out to be wheel tracks. The wheels, and the iron cages they carried, were all stored at the back of the cave. About a dozen large lockable cages - each of which could be dragged by chains and pulleys through the cave in a trolley car kind of movement. I didn't understand how a short trip through the cave could be torture until I discovered the natural vents in the floor of the cave, each with huge scorch marks on the floor and the ceiling above. Natural gas probably. I saw a clear image of hundreds of souls being dragged through a flaming cave and beat a hasty retreat. Even after centuries of disuse, the threat of Hellfire was potent.

I wandered around a little more, but couldn't push the flame images out of my mind so decided to check in with Winnie again. I had stopped my commentaries partway through the evening. She didn't want to hear what she couldn't see and told me as much. Not too kindly either. However, I figured she'd enjoy hearing about Pit #1. I tried to reach her several times before I understood why she wasn't answering. Rat had come calling. My stress must have overloaded a circuit in my body because when I went to teleport back to the apartment, I couldn't.

### # # # # # # #

Winnie was dozing in a chair at the kitchen table, her head cushioned on her arms, a homemade deck of computer paper playing cards scattered across the table top, when she awoke to the noise of a slamming door: _Arthur. Somebody's here!_

Arthur appeared in the kitchen doorway, all disheveled and with his wings rigid and as erect as he could manage in the confined space. She didn't recognize the angelic attack stance because she was so loggy from sleep. "Noise in the apartment," she mumbled.

"Just me. I tripped."

By the time she had wiped the sleep from her eyes, Arthur had slipped into the next room. She followed only to see him slumped forward on the armchair, inhaling deep breaths, head almost between his knees, his hands clutched together at the nape of his neck. "Stretching exercises. Cramp in my neck," he lied without looking at her. "Why don't you head to bed?" Then, he shimmered and was gone. _I have to check something. Tell you in the morning._

Over breakfast, Winnie and Paula heard all about Hell's first torture pit. They also heard that Arthur had found this pit and other long-abandoned pits in a part of Hell that interfered with the ring's transportation and communication. Neither worked. Body conversions and other powers were intact. The distance from the apartment was not the cause. Something in the rocks nearby could have blocked transmissions. At any rate, it had been a fortunate discovery so early in their operation. He'd spend today looking for other dead zones.

### # # # # # # # #

_Can you hear me now?_

Satisfied with Winnie's response, Arthur teleported one block further down a SinSin-atti sewer. _Can you hear me now?_

_Why don't we change places? I'm tired of sitting in this apartment listening to you asking me that same stupid question._

_Rat may come calling._

_Paula's here. She says that she can watch him. So, let's change places. I'll wander around and you can sit here in the apartment seeing as how you are so irrationally keen to have somebody sit here._

_I thought that you wanted to map out purgatory.net._

_I can hardly do that when you're in my brain every ten seconds! Why don't I join you outside? You wander around and I'll wander around and we'll send each other messages. We'll cover twice as much ground that way._

_I have a better idea. You stay in the apartment and continue to explore purgatory.net. I won't message you. I'll try teleporting a short distance. If I can't teleport, I'll have found a dead spot._

_Fine!_

_[Narrator: Here's a tip for males who have never had a girl friend. The word 'fine' is not one you want to hear coming out of your girl friend's mouth unless she's a parking meter maid.]_

### # # # # # # # #

Later that afternoon, Winnie found the area of purgatory.net where data from Hell's internal surveillance cameras were stored. She browsed through a few and discovered how to access the live streaming function as well as the storage archives. She also discovered that data from surveillance cameras were stored by city. In SinSin-atti alone, there were thousands of cameras, each of which had its own data folder. Now, all she had to do was make sense of their storage structure.

A techie mind must have been behind the naming convention for all of the folders. All were organized by streets and addresses, which for Winnie was not all that helpful. But, the techie had also provided a simple search function. First on Winnie's search list? Rat Buboni. Two camera locations came up. One for his cave and the other for his office.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 27

Back in California, Nary and Mac were starting their new life in a relatively comfortable setting. For Mac, being in prison meant she didn't have any kids to take care of. As for Nary, she didn't have to listen to Marie encourage her to have kids any more. _(Tonight will be a good time for you and Theo to have sex, Nary. It's a full moon.)_

"We have to establish ourselves as safe people to be around," Mac explained to Nary. "I'm going to introduce the game of crib to our recreation options. Perhaps I'll get to win a game. _[A reminder: Wolf was a cribbage monster.]_ What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I can't play games."

"Why don't you talk to the women?"

"About what? My childhood?"

"Probably not a good idea. Set yourself up as a listener. Ask them why they're here in the prison. You won't be able to stop them from talking."

On that, Mac was completely right. For the two days that Mac had set aside to show that they were entirely normal convicts, Mac won a lot of crib games and she even started to organize crib tournaments in the evenings. Some women from other floors heard about them and came up to participate.

I should mention that these prisoners had a great deal of free time. Some worked for extra money, but that work did not consume much time. There were other activities, some of which were mandated, but by and large, life in this prison was eminently boring for these particular prisoners.

Nary also was busy. She had an undiscovered, innate ability, to listen with empathy. When Mac asked her why she was so good at this, Nary pondered for a bit before responding. "When I was trying to be a vet, I did that because the animals in the hospital were scared. I thought that I could calm down so that they could be treated. That didn't work because they sensed Contrary inside of me. These women can't sense Contrary."

"Are you using Voodoo on them to get them talking?"

"No. They want to talk. Some of them are very angry because they didn't receive a proper trial and they don't understand why they were arrested in the first place."

"Isn't that common in prisons? Don't convicts always claim to be innocent?"

"I wouldn't know, Mac. I do know that some of these women don't belong here."

"Reese did say that twelve women in this building had light colours and that included Sheila. We looked through his pictures. Was he right?"

"See that woman on the bed in the corner? She was one that Wiz flagged. She was walking to work in the morning. Her job was with an accounting firm and she had a promising future. She had recently finished some professional development courses and she was in her second week of real work. A man came up to her and asked directions to the closest diner. She told him. The next thing she knew, a sheriff and a deputy had arrested her for soliciting. She went to trial the next day. The sheriff and the deputy said that they were close enough to hear her ask the man if he wanted to have sex. The man also testified that she approached him and offered to have sex. She was wearing professional business clothes and had a full time job. It was 8:30 in the morning. The judge didn't care. He threw her in prison."

"Was the family not there to testify? Friends? Did she not have a lawyer?"

"She was alone in the city. The court appointed lawyer didn't do anything except advise her to plead guilty and get a lighter sentence. She refused to do that. She thinks that she was profiled because she's white. She said that Sacramento has a lot of whites living in poverty or near poverty. Some turn to crime. The women turn to prostitution and the men to drug dealing. But she was trying to avoid that future."

"The judge didn't pay any attention to the fact she had a job?"

"Her lawyer told her that her boss didn't want to see her any more and no matter how the trial turned out, she was fired. Her boss liked her. She thinks that the lawyer never spoke to her boss at all."

"Railroaded like Sheila."

"Two other women on this floor have similar stories about questionable arrests and trials. They all were arrested by the Sacramento sheriff and all three are white. All three of them were in Wiz's picture file. I'd bet there are eight others on the other floors. I'd also bet that they all were arrested in Sacramento."

"That could be a coincidence."

"Yeah, but how much of a coincidence is it that the sheriff himself is arresting people in a big city? I didn't ask if it's the same deputy or not. I didn't think of that."

"You know how we were waiting for an excuse to go to Sheila's floor?"

"Yeah."

"We have it now. You'll go down to the third floor and ask to meet with any white woman from Sacramento. They'll be curious, and they probably know what you've been doing. Take them to a corner and ask them to describe their arrests. I'll go with you but I'll ask to meet with any white women from Colorado."

"There's only Sheila according to Wizard and Dreamer."

"This will give me the opportunity to tell Sheila that we're here to break her out. Nobody will be curious about her talking to me because you'll be the focus of attention."

### # # # # # # # #

"I'm from Colorado. Why did you want to meet?"

"My name is Mac."

"I've heard about you. Saw you in action too."

"What's your name?"

"Sheila."

"Do you mind if we sit over here where we can't be overheard?"

"I'm not going anywhere with you outside this room."

"I won't ask you to."

"Is this about playing crib?"

"No. It's about Cowboy."

"Who?"

"Cowboy. Stook's friend. He's been searching for you. I'm one of his friends. Nary and I are here to break you out of this prison."

"Who's this Cowboy guy?"

"Tall dude, pony tail, blonde, likes to make country witticisms. He's with Bean now. Tall, thin girl."

"Just because you give some sort of description doesn't mean that you know them or that they know you. Tell me something about Cowboy that nobody would know except close friends."

"Hang on. I have to think."

_Bean. I'm talking with Sheila. She doesn't trust me when I say I know you and Cowboy. Tell me something that nobody would know about the two of you except Sheila._

_..._

_Really, Bean? Sex in the locker room?_

_..._

"OK, Sheila. Here's what I heard that only close friends would know. Back when Cowboy and Bean were courting, Cowboy was helping Stook out in the sheriff's department. Bean was in school in Toronto. Bean came to Denver to help out, and she and Cowboy had been away from each other for a long time. They were so happy to see each other that they disappeared into the officers' locker room and didn't come out for a long time. You brought them take out food and put it outside the locker room door. You slid a note under the door to let them know."

"You do know Cowboy."

"Cowboy and Bean actually brought Nary and me to the prison the other night. I have a plan to break you out of the prison. Nary's here to help. We can have you out soon."

Sheila rose, turned, and began to walk away. "You can't do that! I won't go!"

"Why won't you come with us?" Mac called out.

"They'll kill Charlie."

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 28

Arthur was watching Rat's home this Saturday morning, March 2.

The _Stiff Removal_ van had arrived promptly at 8:00. Rat pointed his finger at the stiff he wanted removed. His secretary.

The fire-hydrant shaped driver turned his back to bend over Meghan - the giant tattoo on his back attracting Rat's attention like a dry gulch would a bushwhacker. The tattoo was an image of a snarling, finger-pointing God complete with Hell's _Tch Tch_ award pin embedded in the deity's mouth. These young punk-devils were always trying to shock; scale tattoos were growing more common in Hell all the time. Rat had to tamp down the temptation to rise to the bait but he did think about saying something. Why would anybody permanently disfigure his scales with a tattoo - and an obscene one to boot?

The driver passed a barcode scanner across the back of the secretary's neck and wrote down the serial number that flashed on the screen of his scanner. "Stiff's name?"

"Meghan of Buboni."

"Service desired?"

"Full health and memory restoration."

"Do you want any alterations to the body?"

"No."

The driver looked at the corpse. Curly red hair framing an oval face; short body even for a human; no real flesh to speak of. "You like them scrawny? I could put the soul in a better body sleeve. We have a wide selection to choose from."

"You're new, aren't you? What's your name?" Rat was curious. The former driver had learned never to dangle these brazen lures in front of him.

"My name is Ante Up. So, what about a brand new body? We're running a promotion on tall, statuesque red heads."

Rat turned the offer down. The former driver had eventually given up trying to earn additional commission by up-selling him; the new one would too. Rat's weekly Saturday morning order was always the same.

"How about jacking up her libido? Give you some entertainment, whad'ya say?"

"She gives me all the entertainment I want."

"How's the compliance? Any troubles with surliness? Slow to respond? I have a friend who runs a soul obedience school."

"Does this look like I have control problems?"

They both looked at Meghan's belly that had been scratched raw from her fingernails.

"What about increasing the sensitivity of the pain receptors?"

"They're at maximum now. Are you about done?"

"Yeah, I guess." Disappointed. "She'll be ready in ... let's see... forty-eight hours from your phone call at 11:55."

"I phoned at 12:05."

"Oh yeah. You're right. This tiny screen is tricky to read. That means there'll be no weekend storage charges. She'll be ready just after midnight tomorrow night. Pick up or delivery?"

"Deliver to the SSEC building by 7:00 am Monday morning."

"We're running a special on smocks."

"A smock will be waiting for her in the SSEC office."

"I can give you a five for one deal. Got them in my van. Five smocks for 1-T. HISS will put one of the smocks on her before delivery. What a deal!"

Rat mulled it over. The smocks in the van were undoubtedly hot, and perhaps even used. But he could keep the extra four in the office. That way he wouldn't have to bring in a smock from the cave every Monday morning. _[Narrator: Hell required that all souls that were in human sleeves had to wear a smock.]_

So, Rat started the morning quite pleased with his good fortune. The punk-driver added one item to the invoice: one smock for 1-T and he departed pleased with himself too. He was 52-T richer. 50-T would come from his wager with the other drivers that he could up-sell The Rat. The 2-T was a kick back - he had _forgotten_ to give The Rat his frequent-die'er points.

### # # # # # # # #

_That was interesting. That soul is the same secretary that I saw in the hornocratic camera in Rat's office. Meghan of Buboni. Now she's dead? But she was already dead. And now she's going to be given full health and memory restoration? And why did she die in such a gruesome manner? Rat's quite the cheapskate. I wonder if that would help us._

_I wish there were hornocratic cameras inside Rat's home, but they didn't come up in my search through the surveillance systems. No point in asking Arthur anything about Rat's cave. He's too busy being in charge._

### # # # # # # # #

Narrator Interlude: A brief description of how devils earned money in Hell may clear up some confusion.

My readers may be surprised to learn that few devils listed _mugge_ r or _robber_ as their career on their SkullBook page. Robbery was not a profitable, long-term career choice because devils didn't carry a lot of tormentts around with them. The fear of being robbed plus the sheer weight of any significant amount of cash visibly sagging from their horns and bouncing off their foreheads deterred them. Instead, except for Rat, all devils safeguarded their money by depositing it into an account at the Bank of Hell. Purchases were automatically debited through DNA scale verifications; SINcome was also automatically credited.

With robbery pickings being so slim, most devils earned tormentts by working for the hornocracy, by operating a small-businesses like stiff removals or scale tattooing, or by working in one of Hell's numerous sindustry companies.

Hornocratic jobs were relatively secure, but they were typically low-paying and unexciting. Satan hired devils to supervise the tortured souls who were engaged in providing his essential services such as green bean soup making, furnace stoking, sewer maintenance, and the like. In addition, devils could work within any of the large hornocratic offices that keep Hell operating: for example, human surveillance, internal security, and torture pit operations.

Devils with a more independent, entrepreneurial approach to afterlife had plenty of opportunities. The retail industry was a popular, albeit challenging career choice since shoplifting and employee theft plagued most merchants. Still, as the mortal phrase goes, - _The devil's in the retails_ \- many devils did choose to earn their tormentts by selling food, office supplies, torture instruments, break-in tools, and the like to consumers. Other devils chose to offer personal services for a fee. High on the list were personal bodyguards, commercial spies, computer hackers, scale polishing, and customized soul-torturers.

Inventors who developed new ways to torture humans were the most successful entrepreneurs. Once a new tormenting idea was patented, the owner would receive a small percentage of the tormentts earned by any company, devil, or demon using it to torture humans. However, fierce competition for new, more malicious torment products made earnings from most patents transitory at best.

By far the largest numbers of devils worked in the torture sindustry businesses that were resident on Earth. Companies ranged in size from small-crap to large-crap. Their functions also ranged. Most companies inflicted their services on humans directly. These companies employed large armies of commission-based demons to torment humans in any of the major Earth-based torment Sindustries that included:

• Religious services: fostering of bigotry and intolerance, abuse of power and position, crusades and other religious wars.

• Government and politics: inflicting torture through taxes, shoddy governmental service, unnecessary wastage, pork barreling, bureaucratic red tape, and gerrymandering.

• Direct crime: encouraging criminal behaviour, racketeering, gangs, and organized crime.

• Wars: small and large scale conflicts among Earth's nations.

• Health: inflicting torture through disease, pestilence, injuries, life-threatening illnesses, excessive processing by food conglomerates, and diet programs.

• Indirect crime: fostering environments in which crime can flourish such as: poverty, bigotry, racial supremacy, persecution, violence in media and computer games, legal system corruption, and arms suppliers.

Most companies developed and marketed non-lethal wares since they could garner more revenue from repeated sales over the life of a human. (Tobacco, for example.) However, a good after-living could be earned from developing and selling products that were immediately lethal on a global basis. Most notable in this category were the arms dealers and the religious warmongers.

Most sindustry companies earned enough tormentts to pay their employees comfortable wages provided that they worked diligently at developing or marketing their products. However, human vulnerability to any torment product does diminish over time and so there were always companies whose sales were flagging at any point in time. Competition was intense and companies were always searching for ways to increase their bottom lines.

Satan ensured there were never enough tormentts circulating through Hell's economy for devils to became complacent. Over centuries, devils could gradually lose the urge to be truly evil. However, the hunger for riches never seemed to be sated, so Satan developed a way for tormentts to circulate through a constant cycle of wealth creation and loss. He called it Hell's Occult Stock Exchange, and like mortals on Earth, devils that used a stock market to become rich regularly got HOSEd.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 29

The beginning of Hank's mind message to all Wilizy certainly got their attention. _CHARLIE IS ALIVE!_ The reality of how difficult it would be rescue him came quickly enough in the rest of his announcement.

_We don't know where Stook is, but Sheila has confided in Mac that a Sacramento deputy sheriff has been taking pictures of her regularly standing next to the sheriff. The Sacramento sheriff tells her that she will live only so long as Charlie does what he's told to do. Furthermore, any action on her part to escape or to tell anybody about Charlie will result in his immediate death. We assume that Charlie is shown the pictures and is told the same thing._

_Sheila confided in Mac only after Mac swore that any rescue that we might attempt for her would not jeopardize Charlie's life. This means that our dual operations to rescue Sheila and to find Charlie are now intertwined. We hope to conclude both operations simultaneously by the end of March. We have some very strong leads._

_I have talked to a number of Wilizy and they have agreed to assume operational responsibilities as follows: Melissa will be our strategist. With Mac confined in the Death Valley prison until the end of March, Jock will be Battle Commander when we need him. Lylah will coordinate all the research duties and product developments that Melissa will need. TG will handle all drone placements and recovery. William will head up the science team._

_We will need TiTr and current time researchers as well as battlefield Warriors. Please indicate to Lylah what your availability is during the month of March and what kind of operation you wish to be part of: research or battlefield. It's OK if you are unable to participate._

_Our command center will continue to be the Wilizy/Europe but we are moving it so that it will be hovering over Sacramento California. Those Wilizy working with the cadets will continue to provide instruction and battle simulation in Montana. Our medical services staff will remain in Montana for the time being._

### # # # # # # # #

Mac would remain part of the operational planning, but how much she could help was restricted. She and Melissa identified two research operations that they wanted to conclude before they could plan a response.

First up was obvious. Find Charlie. Sheila gave a solid description of both the Sacramento sheriff and his deputy. She knew what they were because the sheriff made no effort to hide the Sacramento sheriff's badge on his shirt. She didn't know his name because the deputy always called him by his rank. The deputy's last name was Molino as was evident from his badge, nametag, and from what the Sheriff always called him. The Sheriff did not have a nametag.

Passage of time in a prison is difficult for prisoners to gauge. Sheila only knew for certain that the sheriff showed up three days after she had arrived in the prison. Both men would be easy to find. Melissa expected the sheriff to lead them to Charlie quickly enough. In consultation with Mac, Lylah assigned Hank and Yolanda to be the TiTr team for this assignment. She would have given the positions to Cowboy and Lucas, but both were needed at the cadet camp.

The second research operation for the month was to find the woman who had pretended to be Sheila and had deposited supposed bribe money into the Rocky Mountain bank account belonging to Stook's campaign. The prosecutor had identified in the trial the exact dates that Sheila had supposedly deposited those bribes. One young Wilizy had lobbied hard for a research position, so Lylah asked Granny to be in charge and take Liset under her wing. Kashmira had cancelled all of her March performances so they added her to the team so that she'd get lots of operational experiences.

Until they found out where Charlie was being held, and under what circumstances, Melissa put all broader strategic planning on hold.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 30

"And now, Hell's favorite Saturday morning TV show, _Hijinks in the Monastery._ "

Rat was staring intently at his big screen. While the portly priest (Fatty Friar) distracted the abbot's attention by dropping a high voltage power line into the baptismal pool, his partner in hi-jinks (Chip Monk) led the giggling line of scantily-clad nuns into the basement of the monastery. Rat looked to be settled in for the long haul, so Arthur lit out for the SSEC building where he spent most of the day rummaging through computer files, filing cabinets, and the tapes of recent executive meetings. By late afternoon, Arthur had grasped what Rat was planning and why.

When the demons in BC had first been blocked from torturing mortals, Rat had taken that opportunity to shut down the BC portion of Hell's stock market. He used the time to conduct a thorough review of all operations. The findings had been shocking. When the BC results were extrapolated to the stock market as a whole, Rat found increasingly severe and insidious onslaughts on the integrity of his stock market. So much harm had now accumulated that Rat feared a complete meltdown in investor confidence would ensue if the extent of the chicanery became known. After all, why would devils invest their tormentts in a market that was riddled with corruption that fattened the horny-packs of CEOs, board members, auditors, and analysts - all at the expense of the individual investor? Just because that was how stock markets operated on Earth didn't mean that they should operate that way in Hell. After all, Hell had standards.

The stock market's salvation was merely a make-work technology project that Rat had assigned to Firewall Freddie to keep him busy during the market's closure. Rat had ordered Firewall to upgrade the physical security of the market's computers by installing more powerful sensors in their angel detectors. With Rat's permission, Firewall had decided to try a new sensor in an Earth-based hornographic camera. To his surprise, the camera was able to see a blur of what Firewall called a mortal's purity/evil aura.

After a month, Firewall could project visible, multi-color arcs of a human's purity/evil aura onto a hornograph. The colors ranged throughout the full spectrum - each color identifying a type of sin that the human had committed. Rat saw this new technology as a way to determine sindustry profits. He wanted to quantify the intensity of the purity/evil arcs. A quick comparison of a human's quarterly before and after aura values would reveal the impact of any torment on that human. This was a calculation that a computer could do in a fraction of a second. Rat intended this software to automate the calculation of company revenues for the entire torture sindustry. This way, the SSEC could determine accurate torment revenue figures at the end of each quarter. Honest revenue data would keep investor trust solid.

But Firewall Freddie had pushed back and refused to develop the software unless he received credit for its development. Since the benefits of this software could be applied sindustry wide, a Firewall Freddie patent could bring him limitless wealth. Rat argued that Firewall was working for the SSEC at the time and therefore, any profits that might be produced from his software would belong to the SSEC. Such profits would go towards hiring more SSEC analysts who could ensure that confidence in the stock market remained high.

It was because of that argument that Rat had decided to contract out the aura quantification software's development and that was why Winnie was in Hell.

The future of Firewall's purity/evil aura arcs had been the topic of some debate at a meeting between Rat and the Director of Hell's Media Manipulation Division in the SSEC boardroom. Rat had thought that the meeting was to discuss general policies on reporting SSEC news. It wasn't.

The Director of the Media Manipulation Division had heard of the discovery of Firewall's mortal purity/evil aura arcs and argued that it would be a wonderful tool for their division and the SSEC should turn any software that was being developed over to them. "Imagine what Hell could do if we knew what evil lurked in every human! We could find particularly evil humans quickly and use them as our own diabolic tools. We could find particularly pure humans and target them for persecution until they succumbed to temptation. We could find every human's most vulnerable weakness and pound away at it until it consumed their life. Broad-based marketing appeals would no longer be necessary. This technology gives us the perfect tool for modern target-marketing approaches. You should make the software available to the Media Manipulation Division immediately."

Rat argued that SSEC had to secure the aura-revealing technology so that companies couldn't manipulate their results. "If we make this technology available to other divisions, it would be corrupted one week later. Companies will _adjust_ the software so that they are shown to have produced massive profits. This technology was found and funded by the SSEC. For the sake of Satan's stock markets, we will keep it safe within the SSEC domain."

### # # # # # # # #

Arthur's review of the minutes of the meetings convinced him that an easy solution to their own mission objectives was within sight. Winnie would develop the quantification of Firewall's purity/evil arcs but in such a way that she could produce whatever results Heaven wanted. When it was time for Hell's effectiveness with the mortals of BC to be measured, the SSEC's own aura quantification software would show that Heaven's centrally distributed subliminal thought messages were far superior.

He wasn't just dreaming - this was achievable. Like humans, devils would believe results from a computer over all other evidence. Winnie could easily build a backdoor into the software that would allow her to adjust the formulas from Heaven. Plus, she'd have access to all the purgatory.net message boards. If the mood in Hell turned suspicious, Heaven would have ample warning and could probably reverse the mood with some well-placed messages of their own. If fake news and Twitter bots could fool humans, surely they would work in Hell too.

Arthur's plan solved a serious threat to their presence in Hell. The half-hour that Rat had spent drooling over Winnie's pictures was not normal behaviour for a devil. A collection of pictures of a thousand naked mortal women, yes that was normal for a devil. A picture of one woman in clothes - no. Once Winnie's quantification software was validated, Rat wouldn't need her. At least, not as a software developer. So, Arthur had to find a way for Patsy Phew to be officially returned to Earth via a coffin without Rat's knowledge. He had some ideas on how to do that.

Arthur's meeting with Paula and Winnie went well. He outlined what the real purpose of Rat's software was and how that would benefit Hell. He described how Winnie would incorporate a feature in the software so that she could produce the results that Lillian wanted. He also informed them that once Winnie had created the software itself, she would no longer be needed in Hell. She would continue to be part of the operation but would contribute from Heaven. He didn't mention anything about the bedroom in Rat's cave, his pictures of Winnie during the interview, or how Rat would not likely agree to Miss Patsy returning to Earth. Nor did he mention the dispute between Rat and the director of the Media Manipulation Division because Winnie didn't need to know this. His top priority was getting Winnie out of Hell. He hadn't figured out yet how to do that without Rat's knowledge.

Winnie didn't argue at all. She did ask two questions though.

"How will you and Paula steer Rat to Earth?"

"You don't need to know this. That's a different operation entirely." _[Translation: I don't know.]_

"So, once I've created the quantification software Rat wants, you'll send me home?"

"Yes. We'll still be able to achieve the objectives of the mission, but reducing the size of the team in Hell will be safer for everybody."

### # # # # # # # #

With her complete access to Hell's security cameras, Winnie had her own thoughts about how to achieve the objectives of the mission. She had already seen the record of Rat sitting in his office and showing an intense interest in the picture of her sweater. She wondered why Arthur hadn't thought to tell her about that. While his attention to her clothes was very high on the creepiness scale, it was a problem with a simple solution. Hell's internal security cameras were essentially drones. She had seen how TG had programmed the drones in Operation Wasp Nest so that they'd sound a warning when either of the two snipers left their Denver apartments. With her new techie skills, it was easy for her to program the cameras watching Rat's cave and office to send a message to her computer when he left either home or office. This meant that she could leave the apartment any time she wanted and still be back in time if Rat decided to drop in. Since Firewall Freddie also had access to the apartment, she programmed the cameras in his work place and living space to send warnings as well.

Winnie also had seen the security camera's records of Rat's meeting with the director of Media Manipulation. She wondered why Arthur hadn't mentioned anything about that. Probably because she didn't need to know. After some additional searches through the security cameras, she now knew that the Media Manipulation Division was very unhappy and not likely to accept Rat's decision. She could inform Arthur of this probability, but he really didn't need to know.

With Firewall Freddie taking sides against Rat, this opened up the possibility of playing the two of them against each other. This might lead to a way to drive Rat to Earth. She had a few ideas about that, but Arthur really didn't need to know what those idea were.

Winnie was watching when Rat's dead secretary was picked up on his cave doorstep. Rat had obviously killed his secretary and was going to revive her. What was his secretary doing in Rat's cave? Why did he kill her? Could all souls be killed and then re-animated? Arthur had been there that morning. Wouldn't this information be sufficiently intriguing for Arthur to inform his team? Apparently not. They probably didn't have a need to know.

After Arthur had left the apartment, Paula confessed that she had been just as stunned as Winnie was when Arthur had announced that Winnie would be going back to Heaven. She agreed that Arthur's plan for only the two of them to operate in Hell would actually make their stay here more dangerous. Without Winnie and her access to the security camera information, they'd be operating blind. She too was concerned about not having anything meaningful to do in the operation. Winnie revealed how she would ensure that Arthur couldn't dispose of her as easily as he wanted to. Winnie was confident enough that she'd be in Hell for the full operation that she was able to convince Paula to make a quick visit to Montana.

### # # # # # # # #

That was Saturday in Hell. Today was Sunday. Hank and Yolanda were sitting at their dining room table in Montana and were analyzing the data from the drone that TG had installed outside the women's prison.

"The sheriff certainly visited the prison often enough."

"He wasn't there to drop off any prisoners."

"That part of Sheila's story seems accurate."

"Has TG put up the drone outside the sheriff's Sacramento office yet?"

"He's doing that today. I told him to start recording on December 1, 2089."

"That should be... wait a minute."

...

"A woman at the cadet mess hall wants to see me. Something about a message from Winnie. Are you OK here?"

"Yeah, we can't do anything more until tomorrow."

### # # # # # # # #

Yolanda used one of their planes to travel the short distance to the camp. She noticed that a white copter was sitting on one of pads. As she walked by it, she saw the copter's advertising: _Paraiso Copter Sales, Servicing and Rentals_. As she entered the mess hall, she saw Lohla standing next to a woman, perhaps in her 30s. She was quite striking but was dressed somewhat risqué for Yolanda's tastes. She and Lohla appeared to be having a pleasant conversation.

Lohla saw Yolanda, beckoned her over, made introductions, and left after giving the guest a handshake.

"Nymph is such a beautiful name. I don't believe I've ever met anybody with that as her first name."

"Nymphs were common in Greek mythology. I rather like it."

"You mentioned something about Winnie?"

"Yes. I work with Winnie and she wanted me to give you a message."

"Do you work in Greece?"

"She also warned me that you'd be asking questions that I should ignore. Nice try."

"You can't say anything because of security precautions?"

"Yes. Winnie wants you to know that the assignment that she's working on will last much longer than she had anticipated. She could be out of touch for several more months, at the minimum. This was something that she learned just yesterday."

"So, she's within one day's flight from here?"

"Nice try."

"Paraiso. Is that Portuguese?"

"Nice try again. Let me ask you a question. That young woman I was talking to. She seemed very nice."

"That was Lohla. Why don't I give you a guided tour and you can tell me more about Winnie's estimated time away from home."

They ended up in the mess hall having tea and cookies. Yolanda wanted to ask more questions about Winnie's job, but didn't know how to get by Nymph's _Nice try_ responses. Paula wanted to ask about Lylah and Lohla's marital status but couldn't find a way to work it into the conversation. Paula agreed to come back any time if she had any more messages from Winnie.

Later, when she was telling Hank about the visit and Winnie being thoughtful enough to find a way to tell them about the extension, Yolanda remembered something. "There's something about Nymph. I can't shake the feeling that I've met her before. Something about her voice, perhaps."

"That's quite the name her parents gave her. Speaking of names, the word paraiso is Spanish. It means paradise."

"Do you think Winnie might be in South America?"

_[Much further south, Yolanda.]_

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 31

Melissa was meeting with a small delegation in the hold of the Wilizy/Europe. They were sitting in chairs in a small circle. One member of the delegation was standing with a piece of paper in hand. Let's listen in.

"This is a research report on the woman who had pretended to be Sheila and had deposited supposed bribe money into the Rocky Mountain Bank on various dates. This part of the report was written by me, Liset, on Wednesday, March 6, 2090. Other members of the committee were Granny and Kashmira."

"We TiTr'd to find our quarry, (that means the person we were hunting), outside the Rocky Mountain Bank on Tuesday, August 8, 2090. She looked a lot like Sheila and that was who we thought she was at first. Granny said that she wasn't. We were waiting outside, saw her walk in, and approach a teller. We didn't want to go in because the doors weren't open for very long and we had a clear of view of the inside of the bank anyway. She handed the teller a thick brown envelope, received a receipt, and came out."

"Granny thought it would be alright if we followed her since she had walked to the bank. So we stayed way high and followed her. The culprit, ... " Liset looked up. "Granny said that I shouldn't use the word _quarry_ too much and I looked for another word in a big collection of words called a thesaurus but this was the closest I could find. Did you know that quarry could also mean a mine? She also said that I should look up at my audience as I read, so this counts as a look up."

"The culprit?" Granny murmured.

"We followed the culprit to the Ministry of Justice Building on East 8th and she went in the main doors. Granny thought it was too risky to go inside, so we waited outside because we figured she was working there and this had been her lunch hour. She came out a few minutes after 4:30, but we almost missed her. Kashmira saw a woman wearing the same clothes as our culprit and we looked closer and it was her. Her hair was a different cut and colour, and she was wearing make up that wasn't appropriate for a business setting. That part came from Granny. I'm supposed to give credit to everybody on the team, so that why I'm telling you that. This counts as another look up."

"We followed her to a four story apartment building on Washington North which was an easy walk from the Ministry of Justice building. Again, Granny didn't want to go inside. We Titr'd back early the next morning and hovered over windows that gave us a clear view of the hallways. I was watching the second floor, Granny the third floor, and Kashmira the fourth floor. Our quarry came out of the second apartment from the window on the second floor. She was wearing different clothes but it was her. This ends my part of the report. Now it's Granny's turn."

"TG and I broke into our quarry's apartment in real time while she was working. We went through everything hoping to find something that would stand up in court but that was too optimistic. The key things that we now know are: The woman's name is Lina Langevin. She's 25 years old. She has two wigs in her apartment, one of which was the light brown wig that she wore to make her look like Sheila. She really did look like Sheila. The other wig is blonde and we're not sure why she would want that. Most importantly, she banks personally at the Swiss Guards Group. Somebody else can work with the SGG to look at her bank account. That should be very interesting. It's Kashmira's turn now."

"We thought that we should try and find out what Lina Langevin does in the Justice building, so we were waiting for her in real time yesterday when she walked in. The part of the building she went to is open to the public so we didn't have any trouble going inside. We found her working at a trial that the Supreme Court was hearing. She was the court recorder. I thought that we could find out some personal things about her if Liset pretended to be writing a school report. So, we brainstormed about what we'd like to know and Liset knocked on her office door at lunchtime. Now, it's Liset's turn again."

"This is a report to ..."

"You don't need to read out the title of your report, Sweetie. Just give Melissa our findings."

"Lina Langevin has been working there for five and a half years. The recording part of the job is easy. She's saving up to travel out of Colorado, which is where she's been living her whole life. The thing that she doesn't like about the job is that it is mostly boring. The thing that she likes the most about her job is that sometimes she gets paid for doing work other than recording trials."

"Granny mind messaged me to ask her more about that, so I did. She told me that she had been paid for being a volunteer on a political campaign. That part was very exciting especially because of some cloak and dagger stuff, which she's not supposed to tell anybody. That's the end of my second report."

"Thanks Liset, I enjoyed your reports."

"I didn't believe it would be useful to watch her the other days that she deposited money," Granny added. "Clearly, she was paid to incriminate Sheila and Stook. The reason that her testimony was recorded and her face was masked in the trial was because she was a member of the court. I asked Reese to check her colours and he said that she had some bad colours and the dominant one was greed. She had no malicious or violence colours. The question that I'd like answered is where did the money come from that she deposited into Stook's campaign account."

"We're counting on Wizard and Bean to find that out," Melissa said.

### # # # # # # # #

Melissa to Mac _: We've determined that somebody named Lina Langevin deposited money into Stook's campaign account. She was dressed up to look like Sheila. She's also the one who gave evidence against Stook but she wasn't part of Sheila's trial. Can you get a reaction from Sheila on this news?_

_..._

Mac to Melissa: _Sheila says that Lina volunteered for the campaign in the second week of July and worked for the campaign intermittently. She couldn't work full time because she had another job. At no point did she handle money nor was she involved in anything that was confidential. Sheila saw her as a vacuous young woman who wasn't interested in the nuts and bolts of campaigning._

Melissa to Mac: _I don't think Langevin understands what she was involved in. She told Liset that it was exciting because of some cloak and dagger stuff._

Mac to Melissa: _She better hope that the people running that operation don't hear about her wide-open mouth._

### # # # # # # # #

_Yolanda to Lylah: Hank and I are sticking close to the Sacramento Sheriff hoping that he'll lead us to where he took Stook, but he's not leaving his office during working hours. Can you assign another team to follow his deputy around town?_

Lylah to Yolanda _: Will do. Do you have full names on these people now?_

_Yolanda to Lylah: Sheriff Fernando Rivera and Deputy Sheriff Rafael Molino._

Lylah to Yolanda _: Doc and Stu will follow the deputy. They'll be with you shortly._

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 32

Award nights were a human invention. Hell just copied it. They worked quite well actually.

I've told you already about the various Sindustries that Hell used to organize its hornocratic enterprises: religious service, direct crime, wars, health, and indirect crimes. Each of those industries held award nights once a year to recognize those devils who were the top in their field. Being recognized as such would convey power, prestige, and wealth to the leaders in each sindustry. Of course, each sindustry had its own ceremony format, but attendance by invitation only, heavy media coverage, and post-award parties were standard to all.

Rat operated in the health sindustry as you may have already concluded seeing as how he was influential in the spread of the bubonic plague. His importance in the health sindustry gave him a large table at the front of the hall on awards night and he routinely invited SSEC executives to his table so that they could witness his triumphs.

Over the centuries, Rat had accumulated a large number of disease patents. Some were for his own creations; others were gifts from Satan when Rat accepted the head position at the SSEC. When devils afterdie, their accumulated patents and wealth revert automatically to Satan. He keeps their wealth of course, but uses the patents to offer incentives and/or to convey special rewards. With all of Rat's bubonic plague devileagues deceased, Satan thought it only fitting that Rat should receive all of their accumulated patents since his job with the SSEC would prevent him from aggressively pursuing new pestilence development.

Rat's patents gave him a dominant market share in the air-borne and water-borne disease sectors. That dominance encompassed not only the disease itself, but also any air or water mechanisms used to transmit the disease. Any devil tormenting humans with these kinds of diseases usually ended up paying patent fees to Rat twice: once for the virus, and once for the distribution system. Over time, those patents had made Rat the second richest devil in all of Hell.

Rat had earned _Top Health Franchise of the Year_ for the last nine years running. This year, he expected to win his tenth. Ten years as the top health franchise should guarantee his nomination to Hell's Dream Team - the pinnacle award a devil could earn.

The reason I'm telling you this is because Saturday, March 16 was the date for this year's Health Industry Awards night. Arthur found out about it when he overheard Rat telling his secretary that he would need his formal wear pressed for that event.

### # # # # # # # #

Arthur's words

Firewall's aura revealing technology could ultimately be dangerous for Heaven. It wasn't dangerous if Hell just used it to identify recipients of the impotent centrally distributed subliminal thought suggestions. However, if his technology were used to identify human weaknesses, and if that information were then used to target-market traditional face-to-face demonic tortures to those weaknesses, it could cause untold harm to humans. For the time being, the risk was low because the technology belonged to the SSEC and Rat didn't look too inclined to share it. However, the people in the Media Manipulation Department seemed intent on pursuing it.

As part of my plan to send Winnie back to Earth safely, I had to devise a way to have some devil order a coffin and send her home in it. Firewall Freddie would be the ideal devil to send Winnie to Earth. Rat would hate him for doing that. If Rat discredited Firewall, that would solve my problem of Firewall's technology being applied to mortals. All I had to do was get both of them angry at each other and I could do that in the same way that Winnie and I had influenced demons back home. I knew where both of them worked; it would be easy to make them very hostile towards each other.

There was a fundamental problem with this, though. By discrediting Firewall, I was increasing Rat's demonstrable power. It would be even more difficult to steer him to Earth like Lillian and Joe-Joe wanted. As I pondered on this, I realized that I could weaken Rat at the same time as I discredited Firewall. I'd have two operations. One before the awards night, and the other during. By the end of both operations, the sewer surveillance cameras would record Firewall entering the apartment, exiting the apartment in his UPS uniform, transporting Miss Patsy's coffin to the exits, and returning to the apartment briefly before exiting again without his disguise.

Winnie was acting very surly. I'd keep what I was doing to myself. I was beginning to realize that women could become very emotional. I hadn't noticed this when I was in an angel body, but Joe-Joe had said that my male mortal body was fully functional, complete with a full set of organs, hormones, and beliefs. That probably explained why I was getting an accurate picture of what Winnie was like when a male was making the important decisions.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 33

_Stu to Lyla: Doc and I have something interesting going on in Sacramento. Could you spare Cowboy? We need somebody who can speak Spanish._

_Lylah to Stu: He's working with the cadets. I'll ask._

_..._

_Lylah to Stu: He'll be there tomorrow._

### # # # # # # # #

_Marie to Melissa: Sandy from the Swiss Guards Group says that some very large deposits were made into Lina Langevin's bank account last year. Those deposits were made within forty-eight hours after Langevin had made supposed bribery deposits into the Rocky Mountain Bank. Another even bigger deposit was made forty-eight hours after Stook and Sheila's trials._

_Melissa to Marie: This really implicates her._

_Marie to Melissa: Do you need to know the amounts? Sandy was hesitant to tell me._

_Melissa to Marie: The amounts don't matter. We can't take her to a formal judicial trial._

### # # # # # # # #

_Stu to Melissa and Mac: Doc and I may have some insight into why so many innocent women were in the California jail. We were following the Sacramento deputy around yesterday. Big man, big belly on him; name of Raphael Molino. Swaggers a lot around town, throws his weight around. We noticed yesterday that he was approaching white women and asking for ID and other information when, to our eyes, they were doing nothing wrong. All of the women he approached were white. If any became upset, the detective continued to ask even more questions. We thought he might be trying to provoke them but the conversation was entirely in Spanish and we couldn't understand it._

_Cowboy joined us today to translate. The deputy continued to question white women and only white women. Here are our observations from what we saw today:_

_All of the women were dressed in professional business attire._

_All were occupied in some way: shopping for clothes, going to or from work, entering restaurants, and in one case, just walking down the sidewalk. They weren't standing on a corner and trolling for clients._

_All women were alone at the time._

_Molino went through what we realized was a memorized battery of questions. For each question, he wrote a response in his interview book: Name, place of work, name of a supervisor who could vouch for her, address, marriage status, and immigrant status. All claimed that they weren't immigrants, so he asked how long their families had been in California. Some had been here for generations. One woman tried to walk away during the questioning. He pushed her up against a wall and threated to jail her for impeding a criminal investigation. She gave answers, but reluctantly._

_Cowboy said that the deputy was acting improperly according to Colorado's legal system. He definitely was profiling the people he accosted. Cowboy said that he probably was trying to provoke them. All of the women, save the one, appeared frightened. Doc has some insight now._

_There's an election in progress in Sacramento. We've seen lots of posters and people are talking about it in the streets. I'm seeing an undercurrent that is best reflected in some posters that Cowboy translated for us: KEEP CALIFORNIA PURE OR YOU'LL LOSE YOUR RIGHTS! And another: SEND THE RAPISTS AND SHIFTLESS BACK WHERE THEY CAME FROM. And another which is much more blunt. WHITE TERRORISTS ARE AMONG US. PROTECT YOUR CHILDREN. This kind of fear mongering has appeared in political campaigns that I've seen in the past. They usually were the centerpieces of a supremacist movement of some kind. But it's clear that somebody is trying to tap into some basic fear and anger for political gain in Sacramento._

_In this case, the posters are from a candidate who proclaims with pride that she's the eighth direct descendent of Pancho Villa. She must be very wealthy because her posters are everywhere. I looked this Pancho Villa up. He was sort of a politician; he was also a murderer. Of course, this woman could be claiming something that she's not, but her name on the posters is Pancha Villa. Regardless if that's who she is or not, she has people talking. The current mayor has promoted the benefits of people of different backgrounds living together. His platform includes programs to help the white population in the state escape the ghetto._

_Stu and I don't see how Stook's disappearance could be part of this political campaign. I see a lot of hate on peoples' faces and this deputy is contributing to it. The Sacramento sheriff must be aware that his deputy doesn't do anything during his shift except provoke. The election is coming up soon on Saturday, March 23. It'll be interesting to see if the citizens see through the hatred that this woman is spewing._

### # # # # # # # #

Two days later, Yolanda and Hank finally had something to report. The Sacramento sheriff and deputy coptered to the Death Valley women's prison and removed five white inmates. The sheriff had incarcerated all five and, as such, it was perfectly fine for him to shorten their sentences and release them. Except that he didn't release them. He put them in the Sacramento jail. All five were members of _The Innocents_ , which is what Mac and Nary were now calling the women with no dangerous colours.

Hank asked Reese to read the colours of the sheriff and his deputy. Reese said both had the colour for violence. The sheriff also had the colour that revealed he had murdered.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 34

With three days to go before the Health Sindustry Awards night, tensions between Rat and Firewall Freddie were ratcheting up.

Rat had disinvited Firewall from his table at the awards night.

Firewall had called him a _goody-two-wings_ behind his back at work.

Rat had called him a punk demon and ridiculed the way he walked around Hell in a long black overcoat and ball cap perched backwards on his horns.

Firewall had called him an impotent, bald old devil who didn't have the wherewithal to torture mortals any more. He used an anatomical word for _wherewithal._

Rat had responded by informing Firewall that he wouldn't be working on the aura revealing technology any longer and he should stay away from the consultant's apartment.

Firewall had responded by showing up to work with a thick, black studded collar tattoo around his neck with the clasp of the collar under his chin dominated by a red diamond tattoo. As of tonight, Rat was still thinking about his response.

That evening, Rat woke suddenly with the realization that Firewall could hurt him badly. He began manipulating the controls to turn off the time lock on the tunnel door. It would only take a minute to write himself a note to create a new access code to Miss Patsy's apartment. No way would Firewall Freddie enter that apartment again!

Meghan, his secretary and house guinea pig, heard the tumblers clanking in Rat's bedroom and sprang off her foam mattress. She immediately yanked the plugs to the computer and monitor that she was using. Then very quietly, she lifted the monitor off the floor by her foam pad and put it back in its usual position on the dining room table. She disconnected the cable connecting the computer to the cave's purgatory.net socket on the wall and hid it under the mattress. She'd return it to the jumble of computer paraphernalia in the upstairs office tomorrow.

Meghan was feigning sleep when Rat's bedroom door opened and a beam of red light illuminated the hallway. She heard the scrapes of his footsteps climbing the stairs to the lab. By the time he came back down, she was asleep for real.

Rat didn't know that Meghan was doing secret things behind his back. Arthur didn't know that his plan that had relied on Firewall entering the apartment and sneaking Winnie away was now doomed. Winnie who saw the password change the next morning didn't know anything about the specifics of Arthur's plans. Paula didn't know about any of these things.

Perhaps because she wasn't comfortable with the icy silence that was now evident in their team's chemistry, Paula decided to go to Earth this evening. She had been left out of Arthur's plans as much as Winnie, but she wasn't burdened with teenage hormones. Or perhaps, she was going to Earth to give it another try. _It_ being her efforts to determine which twin was married to Lucas, if either were.

Paula arrived at the cadet mess hall expecting to have to wait for Yolanda to arrive. But Yolanda was already there, saw her copter land, and was outside to greet her.

"Do you have news from Winnie?"

"Nothing other than everything is OK. I thought you might like to know that."

"Thank you. Do you sew?"

"I sewed some of my daughters' clothes when they were young."

"Come on in. You can help. We're in a big rush. The cadets are planning to put on a gymnastic show and we don't have their costumes ready. Let me introduce you to the work party."

_[That party consisted of Granny, Wanda, Momaka, Yollie, and Kashmira who wanted to learn how to sew. Paula knew everybody except Wanda and Kashmira.]_

"Where's that young blonde girl I met before. I forget her name. Does she not know how to sew?"

"That was Lohla. She's with her twin sister and helping the cadets to sharpen their performance."

"A twin sister? What's the twin's name?"

"Lylah."

"What nice names." _[Paula was trying like crazy to come up with a question that was better than 'Are either one of them married to Lucas?' But she was coming up dry. She did think of a different kind of question.] "_ Would the cadets like an audience?"

"I'm sure they would. We've run out of material for now, so I can take you to the parade field."

### # # # # # # # #

Paula found the gymnastic show quite remarkable actually, although if I am going to be honest here, her attention was focused on Lylah and Lohla. Yolanda saw that. "The cadets learned their gymnastic from the twins."

"The boys are very nimble. Is that a girl practicing the high bounces off the tramp?"

"Yes. That's my granddaughter, Maddy."

_(She's changed a lot.)_ "And they're using bows and arrows?"

"This is a military camp, but we won't let them use firearms."

"They're very accurate. And they're putting on a show?"

"Not if we can't finish the costumes. We've run out of feathers."

"What kind of feathers?"

"White feathers. Like from cranes or herons. Big white feathers."

"Most of those birds are extinct."

"Yeah. We knew that would be a problem."

"I know where there are some big white feathers."

"Really?"

"I can probably find some. I'll bring them by tomorrow night. Perhaps I could meet those twins. They look remarkably like a woman I once knew. She might be their mother."

"I can set up that meeting for you, but just so you know, their mother died a little while ago."

"How are they taking that?"

"Well. They've had a wedding so they've had other things to concentrate on."

"Oh. I love weddings. Who married who?"

"I have to get back to the sewing. I'll see you tomorrow night, I hope."

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 35

Formal wear for devils does not include tails. They bring their own.

Rat hurried through the almost deserted sewers to the Convention Centre - smoldering at being delayed. All his secretary's fault actually. She had done a good-enough job polishing his boots, cleaning and pressing his formal-dress coat and cummerbund, and blocking his top hat, but she wasted far too much time on the bow tie. Rat eventually used a pair of scissors to even the ends. Rat reached the plaza outside the entrances and slowed when he saw that a few devils were still outside the gates.

Rat had designed an outfit worthy of a Dream Team winner. Most devils wore conventional, all-black formal wear to award ceremonies - a red cummerbund a common embellishment. Tonight, Rat was flouting convention. No, not by wearing a white cummerbund. That was unthinkable! Instead, his cowboy boots, coat, cummerbund, hat, and bow tie were all in the same snakeskin pattern, a mixture of brown, black and red that would radiate under the black light that would be used in the ceremony's last award - _Franchise of the Year_. Hell would remember Rat's appearance tonight!

Rat approached the back of the pushing and shoving mass of deviltry. He held his hat in his hand to protect it from being squashed by an inadvertent elbow. The scales on his head gleamed, as did every other visible scale. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see a slovenly down-on-his-luck devil in a long, grimy green apron. He had a rusty beer keg on a decrepit dolly, a stack of red plastic glasses in one hand, and a frothy glass of beer in the other.

"Beer, Sir, while you wait?" the derelict burped.

Rat recoiled from his foul breath and intoxicated proximity. "No."

"I could put a lid on it so that you could drink it inside, Your Grace."

"I'll have beer at my table."

"Mine's cheaper, Your Eminence. Only 1-T."

"Mine is free. Beat it."

Disappointed, the beer hustler shrugged and turned to leave but caught a hoof in a crack in the pavement and stumbled. The glass of beer trembled and some of its contents sloshed onto Rat's head and started a dribbling descent toward his jeweled necklace.

Quick as a politician transferring a bribe to his re-election fund, the vendor whipped a grungy rag from a pocket in his apron and caught the offending trickle. "A thousand pardons, Your Evilness. It was only a drop or two. Stand still, and I'll re-polish those wet scales."

He was already doing just that, so Rat endured his administrations, circular motions starting at the base of his skull and working up the crown. Since all of this was happening above his eyes, Rat couldn't see the vendor alternating the ends of the polishing rag.

"Good as new, Your Shininess."

"Clumsy oaf!"

"My abject apologies again, Your Abstinence."

"I'll take the beer. Put the lid on it this time."

Neither partner to the exchange mentioned payment. Rat hobbled into the darkened auditorium as pleased with what had happened as the vagrant.

### # # # # # # # #

The ceremony was approaching its climax. Rat leaned back in the semi-darkness as the last of the 'Best New' trophies were awarded. There were categories for anything that might be harmful to human health: Best New Virus, Best New Germ, Best New Fungus, Best New Parasite, Best New Itch...

Rat hadn't been summoned to the stage yet, of course. He hadn't invented anything new for years and years. There simply wasn't enough time. Give him another two years though. Best New Perfume was a lock, as was Best New Convulsion and Best New Vomiter. He even had a chance at Most Intense Pain and Longest Unendurable Agony. These expectations helped to dispel the evening-long boredom of having to sit through the minor awards. It was good that Firewall wasn't here. Punk-devils didn't appreciate the importance of Hell's rituals. Lack of respect is what it was!

As to those rituals: All devils in the torment Sindustries received awards to recognize their ascent through the various levels of achievement. First-time devils were recognized with the _Nastiness Pin_. From there, it was a steady accumulation of nondescript pins. The lower levels were comprised of the _Bad, Unpleasant, Unkind, Obnoxious, Shameful, Wrong, Snotty, Shabby,_ and _Tch Tch_ Pins. At mid levels, devils could earn _Foul, Gross, Rotten, Slimy, Shocking, Disgusting, Rotten, Brutal, Damnable, Cursed_ , and _Beastly_ Pins. Upper levels contained the _Vicious, Reprehensible, Wicked, Malevolent, Detestable, Repulsive, Venomous, Malignant, Sinister, Atrocious, Heinous, Despicable, Contemptible, Fiendish,_ and _Loathsome_ pins. The top pin of all was the _weevil_ pin.

After working their way up the pin levels, devils would receive awards named after precious and semi-precious gems - the most coveted being those with black or red colors; the ultimate of all was the red diamond.

Some devils displayed their accumulated pins in long columns on the front of their formal wear. In time, they learned that this was quite tacky as they were actually conceding to all and sundry that they were only a _disgusting devil_ , for example. Only one or two pins were necessary. Those could be worn with pride, a sin that Hell encouraged.

However, it was quite appropriate to wear all of one's jewels. Rat had had all of his precious gem awards fashioned into a necklace - the Red Diamond award front and center. He was the only devil in the entire health sindustry to have reached that achievement level.

Punk-devils didn't understand, or appreciate, the sanctity of these awards. Instead, they embedded pins in their scales in an immature show of rebellion - the _Snotty_ pin through a nostril a typical message. They also embedded pins to augment an obscene tattoo - the van driver's _Tch Tch_ pin in the center of God's mouth in his tattoo was only one example. The ultimate lack of respect was when Firewall tattooed his body with an image of the Red Diamond award. Centuries of effort should not be ridiculed by a tattoo that some lowly devil could create. Firewall would pay for that; how he would pay was not yet determined.

Rat's reverie was interrupted by the final stretch break before the top awards were bestowed - a scheduling necessity since the ceremonies took so long to finish. In these breaks, a notorious devil would come on stage where he would recite a brief testimonial: how he had first started in his business, the biggest lesson he had learned, how wonderful Hell was, and how much he had appreciated Satan's personal help. He then would lead the audience in arcane gyrations to some loud rhythmic music that culminated in a group cheer for themselves. Rat listened to the ceremony's last testimonial, joined in with all the other formally attired devils stomping their hooves and making hand signals for Y ... M... C... A, and sat down in the middle of the group cheer. He was ready.

A clap of thunder, a flash of red light, an explosion of sulfur, and Satan materialized on the stage. His fifteen-foot body glazed in shimmering red satin, even to the spats over the top of his hooves. The audience erupted again - everybody on their hooves, stomping in unison. After several minutes of applause, Satan signaled for the group yodel that always ended such standing stompations. While the audience was settling into their seats, the media jostled for the best positions in front of the stage. Full color pictures of each of the three finalists for the Health Franchise of the Year award would be circulated throughout Hell tomorrow. The MC intoned the criteria for the award: the most tormentts earned by a health-related patent.

"IN THIRD PLACE... a drum roll... THE TORMENTING TUMOR!"

Rat clapped politely. One of the cancer guys. A perennial also-ran. As expected, no threat.

A black light swung in wild erratic arcs around the auditorium until the cancer devil had moved into the center of the stage. It shone down darkly on him while he received his applause. Satan came forward into the circle of black light, read the statistics of all the deaths and pain the lung cancer patent had caused, and handed him his award. After they posed for pictures, Satan escorted the happy devil onto the lowest step on the black velvet covered award dais.

"IN SECOND PLACE," ... a drum roll. Rat leaned back in his seat. Tobacco guy? Heart guy?

"... THE RAT."

Rat was stunned. He walked in bafflement to the steps leading to the stage. The applause was thunderous - the loudest he had ever received. Then he noticed the crowd milling around the table at the other side of the auditorium. A mass of devils was congratulating one of the new technology-based punk-devils. The cheers were for him, the crowd favorite.

Rat struggled up the stairs to the stage and stood on the mark. The black light found him and the audience froze. Then, bursts of laughter became uncontrollable caterwauling howls. Rat was bewildermented to the stage.

An eternity later, Satan stepped into the black light and read out the statistics earned by the common cold. Dropping to one knee, he put an arm around Rat's shoulder. "Smile, Rat. I didn't know you were into specialty tattoos. Remind me to drop by your cave next Halloween." Satan chuckled, and escorted the flustered Rat to the #2 spot on the dais.

While the #1 franchise was receiving his award for his use of nano technology to use microscopic shards of magnification lenses built into his sun screen lotion to increase the likelihood of skin cancer, Rat was looking for the stage's TV monitor. Satan brought the skin cancer guy to the dais, and the camera caught them all in the black light. Rat was resplendent in his snakeskin formal wear, concentric lime green and shocking pink circles shining brilliantly on his bald skull.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 36

While Arthur was off doing whatever it was that he said would take at least two hours, Winnie was taking advantage of his time away from the apartment to go exploring outside her apartment for the first time. She had Paula's map and an address that she wanted to see. Choosing to simply ignore all the sights of Hell, she made her way resolutely to a cave on Septic Drive. Locked and iron barred doors are no barrier to an angel who can teleport through rock in the form of a black shoulder demon.

Winnie determined that Megan was in a spare room of some kind, asleep on the floor. With no flashing light on her face panel warning her of an active security system, Winnie materialized into human form. She did her best snooping in this body.

Winnie had been fairly certain that Rat's cave held no security cameras; she had found the exterior cameras easily enough and any internal cameras would have been in the same computer folder. Thus, the interior of Rat's cave was not covered. It cried out for Winnie to explore it. Mind you, coming here was not a whim. Winnie knew that she'd have to familiarize herself with Rat's cave in order to flesh out the beginnings of a plan that was still lurking in the deep recesses of her brain. With Arthur continuing to be his obstreperous self, she'd have to learn about this cave on the sly.

Winnie started with the living room and worked her way gradually to the bedroom. She missed learning about the secret entrance to Rat's sleeping quarters. Actually those quarters were so tiny, they probably would be better described as sleeping _nickels._ _[I remind my readers that Winnie likes puns even if you don't.]_ She paused for a few minutes in the bedroom with the lime green and shocking pink concentric circles. She understood why Rat would decorate that bedroom in the same colours as her current living room. She also understood what he intended. She didn't understand why a devil would want to have sex with a mortal. That revelation would come later. Did it bother her? No. In her mortal body, she was bigger and stronger than he was. In her angelic body, she would tower over him. If necessary, she could escape through tunnel walls. Also, Joe-Joe had told her privately that he had given her angelic body the descaler weapons that she had tested out in her first foray into Heaven.

She saw Rat's upstairs hobby room with the miniature shopping center. That didn't mean anything to her. Angels and devils have hobbies. So what? She did stop for an extended period when she reached the final room, the one where Meghan was sleeping. Winnie assumed the body of a shoulder demon and flew through the open door.

It was an unfurnished room, perhaps bedroom sized but with a very high ceiling. The walls and the inside of the door were heavily padded with a thick layer of vinyl-coated blue padding. The floor was similarly padded with a small exception that I'll get to shortly. An open loft extended into the room at the top of one of the walls. Winnie flew up and looked around. It afforded a good view of the blue-clad bedroom, but why it was there was unknown for now.

Behind the loft was a chemical laboratory complete with equipment. Winnie wandered in and looked around. The only thing that she recognized was a shelf full of perfume atomizers, the brand being one that was commonly available. She returned to the loft and looked down. She had been mistaken about Meghan sleeping. It looked like she was curled up on the padding for a nap, but the muscles in right arm were working, as were her fingers. She had peeled back a small circle of padding and was trying to unlock the door of a circular wall safe that had been embedded in the floor.

That floor safe was very interesting. Winnie thought initially that the safe would hold some valuables; she wasn't yet aware of the existence of his room-sized vault. She also found it interesting that a soul would be so ambitious as to try to break into that safe. A repeated dinging from somewhere in the living room brought Meghan's head up and she carefully restored the floor padding to its normal position and stomped on it to affix it more securely. Then she exited. Winnie followed.

Meghan sat at a table, turned off the computer alarm, and began making entries into a computer spreadsheet, her hands flying over the keyboard. Winnie had seen enough computers recently and so left and with one hour remaining on her self-imposed two-hour jailbreak. She wandered around Hell before teleporting back to her apartment.

### # # # # # # # #

The third member of our heavenly trio was back on Earth delivering angel feathers to Yolanda. Joe-Joe had been quite understanding when she told him that the Wilizy family needed them. He had nodded and said, "I can see where these might come in handy." He led her into a giant storeroom of angel body parts. "Take as many feathers as you want." So she grabbed an arm full and headed to Earth.

...

"My goodness," Yolanda enthused. "These are magnificent. They look fresh; we were thinking we'd be lucky to find some moults. Where'd you find them?"

Paula had been thinking about that on the way down and so was prepared. "A friend of a friend who runs an ecological preserve trying to restore bird populations had these for me. Some swans went into distress recently and the poor birds lost these. But they're doing well now. I gotta go. Good luck with the cadets' show."

If you're wondering why Paula didn't pursue her efforts to find out more about the recent wedding, that's because she realized on the way to the camp that all she had to was ask Winnie. That's why she was in a hurry to get back. When she did pop into Winnie's apartment, marriage detecting on her mind, she found it empty.

This was worrisome. Not because it was empty. Obviously, Winnie had decided to go prowling. What was worrisome was that Arthur was doing something on his own and nobody knew what. Now Winnie was doing something on her own and nobody knew what. And even Paula was guilty of the same thing.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 37

Rat waited impatiently for the awards ceremony pictures to be taken and then squirted through the crowd like a jolt of diarrhea _[#23 on the All-time Best Disease list_.] He pushed through a side door exit and hobbled as quickly as he could to the plaza. He didn't expect to find the beer vendor still there, but perhaps the other vendors knew him.

Only the most desperate sewer-hustlers would still be flogging their wares to a society crowd with fancy parties to go to. The plaza was deserted except for one pretzel soul maker loitering on the steps. His portable torture pit containing Catholic souls who hadn't gone to church enough was emblazoned with his marketing: _When you dare enough to bend the unconfessed._

Rat heard the distant trundle of a dolly. There... down by the S&M Repair Shop ... a shape pulling a keg.

"You there... you there... I want a beer."

The tramp waited for Rat to puff his way closer. "I'm out of glasses. Shorry," he slurred and turned to trundle on.

"Wait. You spilled beer on me earlier."

"Yes Sir, but I apologized for that, wiped you off, and gave you a free beer in exchange. You can't time stamp me for an accident." A gamey belch punctuated the wheedle. He picked up the rope of the dolly.

"No, wait. I want to ask you some questions." Rat clinked a handful of tormentts together inside his coat pocket.

The vendor turned, arms folded above his belly.

"You didn't spill that beer on me by accident. Somebody paid you."

A shrug. "Perhaps."

"Who was it?"

The vendor stared at Rat's hand. Finally, Rat caught on.

"5-T isn't much. He paid me more."

Rat emptied his pockets.

"20-T in all? Wealthy weevils like you never strut out of your caves with so little. Where's your stash?" The vendor pointed at Rat's snakeskin boots. "In there, right?"

Rat's scrawny legs left lots of room for a tormentt tote in each boot. The bribe had just reached 70-T.

"He gave me 50-T to spill a little beer on you and then dry you off."

"Did he give you a cloth to wipe up the drops?"

"Yeah... smelly thing."

"Who was he? What did he look like?"

"I don't know his name. He's one of those young punk-devils. Tall. Very thin. Slouched a lot. Ball cap over his horns backwards. Long black coat."

"Tattoos? Jewelry?"

"I didn't see anything. ... Wait, he had a tattoo around his neck. Something black with something red at the front. Just like what you have around your neck, actually."

"The rag. Do you still have the rag?"

The vendor stuffed a protruding grubby triangle into his apron pocket. "Perhaps."

"I already paid you."

"To answer your questions. I've done that." He picked up the dolly's rope.

"I don't have any more change."

"Too bad. I'd like to get rid of the smelly old thing." He leaned into the hill facing him - the dolly was heavy and its wheels were not cooperating on the bumpy pavement.

"I'll pay you tomorrow."

The response was a snort followed by a grunt as the beer keg dolly started its clattering progress up the uneven cobbles of the hill.

"Your dolly is heavy. That keg is almost full."

"Free beer at all the tables for all the wealthy weevils means I didn't sell much."

"I'll buy your keg."

"You don't have any tormentts, remember." The dolly was gaining momentum.

"I'll give you a scale."

The dolly slowed. "How much?"

"20-T"

"Nah."

"40-T"

"The empty keg cost me more than that."

"50-T"

Rat was haggling with the lout's receding backside.

"75-T"

"I can earn that much by selling it stale at the next soulball game."

"How much do you want?"

"200-T!"

"That's sewer robbery! A filthy rag isn't worth 200-T." Rat was outragesizing at a keg that was approaching the crest of the hill.

"Take it or leave it," the laconic ultimatum wafted back. "I'll throw in the dolly. I can always sell the rag to the face painters if you don't want it. They'd pay top tormentts for the original tints for your skull tattoo. I saw you on TV," he added.

"Done. 200-T."

The vendor ceased his exertions, placed two rocks behind the rear wheels, and performed an off-balance hoedown. "Time Stamp: RAT has offered me 200-T in exchange for my dolly, an opened keg, whatever stale beer is still inside that keg, and a towel I use to swab up spills. I accept the offer in exchange for a scale that I can use to debit 200-T from Rat's bank account. Rat has ten seconds to cancel the sale."

Hearing no response, the vendor put the dingy cloth in Rat's hand, ripped a scale from Rat's wrist and trundled into a dark alley.

Rat was only interested in the rag, so he didn't even try to haul the heavy keg home. Actually, it wasn't very heavy. The single glass of beer that the vendor had spilled on the Rat was the only beer he had ever had. He had borrowed the keg and its dolly from the collection of empties stacked behind a nearby tavern.

The halitostic haggler spewed out a mouthful of horse-radish breath mints, stared closely at the Dumbbell soup cans full of condensed souls that served as the cobblestones in the pavement, "I see that the roads in Hell aren't paved with good intentions after all," Arthur muttered.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 38

Arriving home after the awards, Rat waited impatiently while Meghan downed two full mugs of the green-bean swill; the show was much better when she had a full stomach. They went upstairs to the loft overlooking the lab, and Rat entered the combination to unlock the door.

Rat supervised his soul carefully while she turned on the camera, made the initial entries into the record for tonight's experiment, and poured the correct dosage into the perfume dispenser from the supply bottle. Then, she went downstairs to the padded room, removed her smock, hung it against one of the wall pads, and waited for Rat's inspection.

Rat verified that she had cleaned what he called his _hobby room_ properly after its last use, had not smuggled in any foreign objects, and had not disturbed the padding on the walls. He examined her body for bruises or any other abnormalities that might skew the results. Rat's scrutiny didn't take long - the routine was well established by now. The soul's nakedness was not for pleasure; it was because of the vomit his perfume caused. Frequent washes in the green bean soup would reduce the smock's usable lifetime. Unlike the soul, smocks didn't survive for an eternity.

Rat watched her apply the poison to her body without hesitation, turn, and sit cross-legged on the floor in the center of the room. "Enjoy," he sneered and locked her in the room. He had at least five minutes to return to the loft but he rushed up the stairs nonetheless.

The camera in the loft would record the experiment, but Rat liked to view it live. Rat hurried out onto the glass decking, glanced at the clock positioned high on the wall opposite him, and then leaned over the deck railing, all of his senses focused on the body below. Two minutes to show time.

The foul smell of vomit announced the onset of the first stage. She had rolled over onto her front and he couldn't enjoy the visual effects. Soon, body vibrations became a convulsion \- this lasted a good two minutes. A period of relative calm followed. She managed to crawl to a clean spot on the floor where she knelt in a small curl, rocking back and forth. Rat listened carefully for any moans or whimpers. None.

The interval between the first two paroxysms timed out at five minutes. Better than the last trial but not good enough by any stretch of the imagination. Rat knew that the agony would be magnified many times if he could interrupt the seizures with periods of relative comfort so that the body would remain conscious longer. That would make the next attack even more difficult to endure. So far, he had not discovered the right combination of chemicals.

Tonight's experiment lasted twenty-five minutes, but Rat estimated that she had died at the twenty minute mark. He'd know better after she entered her subjective assessments of the pain levels into the lab record. Rat went to bed disappointed by her silence. He had heard nothing other than intakes of breath and sounds of vomiting. She still wasn't begging for mercy.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 39

It's early Sunday, March 17 and it's six days before the mayoral election in Sacramento. Let's listen in on some Wilizy mind messages.

Hank to Melissa and Lylah: _The Sacramento sheriff and deputy are on the move. We're headed southeast, possibly to the women's prison in Death Valley. He has the five women from that prison in the back of the copter and might be taking them back. I don't know why though. They sat in the Sacramento jail cells the whole time they were there. No interrogations. Lylah, we should get some Warriors into the skies. I have a feeling about this copter ride._

Lylah to Hank and Melissa: _Wanda and Theo will meet you at Death Valley, Hank. Both are in town for the weekend and wanted to be involved._

### # # # # # # # #

Hank to Melissa and Lylah: _We went right by Death Valley. We could be on our way to the men's prison in the Mojave. Theo and Wanda are with us now._

### # # # # # # # #

Hank to Melissa and Lylah: _We're past the men's prison and still going south. Let's move more battlefield Warriors out here._

Lylah to Hank: _Melissa is on her way._

Hank to Lylah: _What about Lucas?_

Lylah to Hank: _He's tied up with the cadets._

Hank to Lylah: _Spring him free. Make it my order if anybody balks._

Lylah to Hank: _What's the terrain like?_

Hank to Lylah: _Still harsh desert conditions._

Lylah to Hank: _Should we move the Wilizy/America into the area for food and water purposes?_

Hank to Lylah: _Good idea. Start the ship. Ask Granny to pilot. Doc should come too if he has the energy. Granny said he is still tired from the trip to Sacramento. Hold everybody else back in case this is a wasted trip, but put the entire family on alert._

### # # # # # # # #

Hank to all Wilizy: _We are in the Palo Verde Valley of the Lower Colorado River Valley region and have spotted Stook from a distance. He appears to be healthy. We are currently reconnoitering the entire Palo Verde Valley. It's the only green land for miles and miles. Keep that ship moving, Granny. We'll be setting up here. More information soon._

Lylah to all Wilizy: _I've been following Hank's GPS and can give you this information about where they are. The Palo Verde valley is on the border of California and Arizona. The Sonoran desert is nearby. This valley has a history of being an agricultural area irrigated by the lower Colorado River. It'll be ranching territory now if anybody still lives there. An old air force base is in the area that might serve as a landmark._

...

Hank to all Wilizy: _The population here is very sparse. A military unit of some kind is camping out near the air force base outside of a small settlement that has signs identifying it as Blythe. Some of the old buildings on that base appear to be in use. That's where we found Stook. We won't approach him until we learn more about the defenses in this military camp. I'm sensing that this rescue will end in an armed battle with this military unit. We'll need the instructors from the cadet camp on site soon. They can bunk out on the ship._

Lylah to Hank and Melissa: _There's some concern about leaving a very small staff to watch the cadets. Do you need all of the instructors?_

Hank to Lylah and Melissa: _Instructors like Cowboy, Bean, and Lucas have some of our best military minds and experience. Melissa, what do you say?_

Melissa to Hank and Lylah: _We need them all. We don't want to put inexperienced fighters in harm's way. The cadets can camp out in the Sonoran Desert for a bit, so bring them out. Put all of their current training equipment and supplies like the tramps in a jumbo. Have them carry on with their usual training. That way, you can bring Major Vincent with them. Bring Akilah too. Reese can pilot. I'll need Maddy soon. Have her sling out to this location._

_..._

Melissa to William: _Please send me a brain plug that provides mind-messages only. I need it before tomorrow morning. Be prepared for requests for some other technical equipment on short notice._

_..._

Melissa to TG and Lylah _: We need to TiTr what's been happening here. TG, please put up drones as necessary starting a month ago. Three things to look for: First, what are Stook's habits during the day? Is there a time when he is alone and we can approach him? Second, what has this military force been doing here? Third, the ranch down the valley appears to be occupied. Who's in it? Are they associated in some way to this force?_

_Lylah, we need maximum participation on this research. Put everybody except the Sling Warriors to work analyzing TG's data overnight. Keep the Sling Warriors fresh in case we go into battle tomorrow. The information on Stook is the most important right now, so make that priority #1. I want us talking to him by tomorrow morning. The other two initiatives can be a little delayed. I'll ask for those reports to be available by 10 am tomorrow._

_I have noticed that the sheriff and his deputy did not return to Sacramento. This suggests that they're waiting for something to happen, like the start of their operation whatever it is. This could be any time soon given that the men in that camp aren't actually doing anything right now._

_TG, please find where the sheriff stashed the five Innocents and consider ways that we can break into their quarters without being discovered._

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 40

Sunday, Rat woke up in his vault, mulling. Firewall had to have been involved in the humiliation of the awards night. He was the only other devil who had seen the décor in Miss Patsy's apartment. Fortunately, the beer slinger had been greedy. Rat had a description and the paint-saturated cloth. That's all he'd need to exact his own revenge. Nobody could sneak up on The Rat.

That got Rat thinking about Firewall and other young devils like him who were degrading the face of Hell with their tattoos and disrespect. They were promoting new products, new delivery techniques, new temptations, and new marketing styles - all dependent on computers. Everywhere Rat looked, devils were mindlessly embracing technology and disrespecting the tried and true, hands-on, devil-to-mortal approach. The nanotechnology cancer guy was the prime example.

Rat's #1 ranking in the health sindustry had been sacrificed for the SSEC. He could have added plenty of toxins to his top-producing product if he had had the time. But, Rat couldn't compete with medically trained devils who worked full-time at their business.

On top of that, there was the humiliating laughter. How could he attend an awards ceremony again? All they'd remember would be the circles painted on his skull. He needed something to regain their respect. The perfume was the answer! But two long years of chemical adjustments and testing remained; that was as fast as he could work on the project while holding down a full time job. Perhaps he should give up his research and get out of the health sindustry. It wasn't the same anymore.

Rat rose and went into the living room to enjoy Sunday morning TV. Instead, he found a clip of Satan congratulating the cancer guy on the TV. "Using shards of mirrors is a _shining_ example of what devils can achieve when they _reflect_ ," he said. The commentator talked about how skilled Satan was with his puns and the omnipresent panel of experts agreed whole-heartedly. One of them suggested that Satan had actually made a tri-pun - two puns on the cancer treatment with another shining reference to Rat' skull. One commentator opined that this was another shining example of what can happen when devils lose their ability to torment.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 41

"Hey Mister, could you fix my swing?"

Stook was sitting on a boulder, staring out towards the Big Maria Mountains to the north. The rest of the camp was in the mess hall. Stook didn't find it particularly enjoyable watching these men eat. He'd have his own breakfast later. He hadn't heard the whisper from in front of him.

"Hey Mister, could you fix my swing?" Louder this time.

Stook looked down. A camouflaged face looked up at him. No body, just the face.

"Maddy? .... Where's your body?"

"I'm standing in a sand hole that I dug this morning. Melissa said that you always sit on this rock in the mornings."

"Melissa?"

"Cowboy wants to talk to you. I'm supposed to tell you that we have a lot of people here and we're going to rescue you and Sheila."

"Sheila's not here."

"We know where she is. I'm supposed to ask you to take out your brain plug. Don't worry, nobody is looking out the mess hall windows."

"How can you be sure?"

"Cause our people are watching. Put your brain plug on the rock beside you."

...

A hand appeared out of the sand and passed up a sealed envelope. "This is a brain plug with an experimental communicator. It has a whisper microphone that will allow you to talk to Cowboy without anybody hearing you. Just speak in the quietest voice you can manage. To start to talk to him, say _Stook to Cowboy_. He'll answer right away. Screw in your new brain plug and try it now."

_Stook to Cowboy._

_Am I happy to see you, Charlie. The Wilizy are here in force. Sheila is safe for now. We need to know everything that you know about these people. Carry on your morning routine and you and I will talk. You're due for a walk, right?_

_How'd you know?_

_Go for your walk and talk to me. Maddy will clean up here._

### # # # # # # # #

"We're going to have a quick meeting with everybody so that you'll all know what we're facing."

This was Melissa calling the briefing meeting in the hold of the ship to order. It was just after 10 am.

"Cowboy has talked with Stook and I have a record of that conversation. I've put Stook's information together with the TiTr information that we have pulled together and will brief all of you now. I can only touch on the information that we need to form our operational plan. We are in a severe time crunch. The armed force in this valley is due to break camp tomorrow morning. Many innocent civilians in Sacramento will die after they do that. I can have a plan in place by tomorrow morning but it will be military force against military force. We'll stop them, but there's always a chance that some of us could be hurt. I remind you that our slings do not stop bullets. We're facing fifty-two armed men including the Sacramento sheriff and deputy."

"I need time to come up with a better plan, so we need to delay those men from leaving. The best way to do that is to delay the arrival of the key figure in their plans. That person is Pancha Villa, the candidate for the mayor of Sacramento. She owns the ranch down valley and her army of thugs will not be leaving this valley until she is visibly out of Sacramento. She can't be personally associated with what these men are planning to do to the citizens in that city."

"Stook has told us that she is always accompanied by a small security team of three men whenever she comes here. They have a number of copters at their disposal, so disabling one won't help. Theo and Lucas, I was hoping that the two of you could slow her down for a day. Does anybody have any idea how?"

...

The brainstorming session didn't take long. Marie said that she had a curse that would keep the Villa woman close to her bathroom for twenty-four hours. All she needed was to get close to her, preferably in visible form. Theo and Lucas said that they could arrange that.

Marie had a warning for them. "Make sure that you're not within hearing distance when I make the curse. It's hard to focus it onto only one individual."

Theo and Lucas looked a little worried about that.

"Just kidding," Marie said.

"I know what the curse is going to do," Liset exclaimed. "Can I go too?"

### # # # # # # # #

Here are the highlights of the rest of Melissa's briefing:

• Pancha Villa has a lot of money. With the help of the Sacramento sheriff, she has formed a small army of the worst dregs of the California Penal System Facility for Men in Kelso. All of those men are white.

• Through the sheriff, she arranged for fifty men to be released from prison as part of a rehabilitation program in which they would receive ranching skills. They've been here for close to three months now. At no point was her name mentioned in any discussions with prison officials. They didn't question what skills they would be learning and they haven't checked on them. They were happy enough to get rid of them.

• Stook was coerced into training the men by threats of physical harm to Sheila. The sheriff was at the women's prison dropping off a prisoner when Sheila and Stook arrived. One of the officers in the prison indicated that Stook wouldn't last long in the men's prison seeing as how he was a former sheriff. The Sacramento sheriff took Stook out of the prison the next day as part of the rehabilitation program. He showed him disturbing pictures of Sheila regularly to ensure that he cooperated fully.

• Tomorrow morning, the fifty-two men will be dropped off in groups of four or five in various locations in Sacramento with instructions to kill as many brown people as possible and as visibly as possible. They will have handguns only, as would be the case with normal street thugs. The men will be given limited ammunition so that casualties will not reach levels that could prompt a California state intercession. After their ammunition is gone, they will meet at a central pick up spot. Stook believes that men from the sheriffs' department will ambush them and take credit for saving Sacramento, but he can't prove that.

• The sheriff has been sending white women to the Women's prison on trumped up charges. They will be part of the attacks on Sacramento so that the population will see that it's not just men to be feared. The women will be wearing suicide vests and it is likely that their bodies will already be dead when the vests are exploded. Five such women are in camp now and they will die tomorrow. The others will be removed from the women's prison one at a time over the coming weeks. Sheila will be one of them.

• There is a large armory at this base that includes long guns. Since those aren't being issued to these men for this assault, Stook believes that killings will continue for weeks if not longer, but on a smaller scale and through sniping. The intent of both the suicide vests and the sniping will be to keep anger and hatred against whites high.

• The Villa woman is tapping into the brown supremacy sentiment that is common in Sacramento and in other parts of California. She has ambitions to go further. Having a strong police force that is willing to kill white gunmen and white suicide bombers will be part of her platform.

• Stook did his best to train the men badly in urban warfare, but he couldn't be too obvious. It's what he didn't do that will help us. He didn't train them to set up a defensive perimeter around the camp. We are free to operate without fear of discovery during the night. He didn't train the forces to cooperate. Also, the men will run wildly at their targets shooting as they run. He had hoped that they'd expend their ammunition faster that way and with less civilian casualties.

• Stook himself is wearing a suicide vest. He expects to be blown up just before the men leave the valley.

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 42

Rat was glaring at nine miniature metallic devils standing astride nine blood-red spattered Earths that were in a position of honour on his office credenza when the intercom buzzer sounded. He silenced it with a _this better be good news or else_ button stab. "What!"

There was a brief pause before the secretary's voice came through the speaker. "A Bank Inspector is here to see you, Sir. He knows he doesn't have an appointment, but wonders if you could find time for him, Sir."

Rat frowned, positioned his personal copy of the Wall of Shame Plaque for the Bubonic Plague so that it was facing the visitor's chair, and then told Meghan to send the inspector down.

Polished black shoes, the tip of a furled black umbrella, and a black leather covered briefcase came into view first. The devil's body was adorned with customized scales. His legs were covered in dark gray scales with vertical blue pinstripes. The image of an open suit coat was in the same pattern. He had dark blue scales where a shirt would have been. A real red tie was knotted impeccably around his neck and hung the correct distance to the black belt scales around his waist. The devil placed the brief case on the floor next to the visitor chair, took off his black bowler hat, and placed it on the corner of Rat's desk. Big, thick, red horns. The biggest Arthur had seen in the weeks he had been roaming around Hell. He teleported one floor up immediately.

Arthur had sensed the devil's power as he was descending the stairs. Although he couldn't take the risk of being in the same room with him, that didn't mean he couldn't listen to his conversation with Rat. He found an air vent in the supply room but it was covered. Arthur couldn't shift what was on top of it, so he decided to perch on top of her as a shoulder demon. Was Meghan taking a nap over an air vent?

"Do you know who I am?"

"No, but I know who sent you."

"Good enough. You know that the words I will express are not my own. I am but a messenger." Fruity, English accent. Clipped, private school tones of a crown royal sycophant. He paused briefly for Rat to comment. When none was forthcoming, the bank inspector pressed on.

"Satan offers his condolences for the loss of your tenth trophy. He would have enjoyed presenting it to you. You have served him well for many centuries, this last one especially."

Continued silence from the Rat.

"However, I am here on another matter. A serious allegation has been lodged against you. It is because of your long exemplary service that Satan instructed me to speak to you privately and in this temperate fashion. The Director of the Media Manipulation Division has charged you with _Obstruction of Sinjustice_. The allegation revolves around the discovery of a technological tool that she claims would advance Satan's war against Heaven several fold. She protests that you want to keep this aura-revealer technology for the SSEC and that you refuse, over the objections of your staff, to release it for widespread use. She provided written proof in the form of meeting minutes."

There was a long pause before Rat's reedy voice floated up - a soprano compared to the rich baritone of his visitor. "A crime has indeed been committed - one that I can bring to sinjustice immediately if you will answer one question about the document she provided as proof."

"What question?"

"One minute." The intercom had just started its first buzz when Meghan leapt off the floor and sprinted to her desk. She arrived in the middle of the second rasp. "Yes Sir?" she obsequicized calmly.

Arthur pushed himself off the ceiling where Meghan's intemperate exit had deposited him and floated back down to the vent. "What was the security code word in Firewall's data package at the last SSEC executive meeting?"

"One minute Sir, I'll look that up. ... On the third page, the beginning of his third paragraph reads. _Clearly, we must move quickly_. The minutes that the rest of the executive received said, _Obviously, we must move quickly._ Do you want the security keys for the other members, Sir?"

There was some rustling and then the visitor answered Meghan's question. "That won't be necessary."

Rat's voice followed immediately afterwards. "Prepare a standard employment termination letter, put in Firewall's name and today's date, and give the cause as _breech of security_. Make a copy for my visitor and one for our files. Attach copies of Firewall's signed secrecy oath to all packages. I'll be up shortly to sign the papers."

Meghan started bustling around the office and so missed the next part of the conversation. Arthur however was still listening in.

"Good, that should take care of everything. Thank you for bringing this to my attention." Arthur heard Rat's chair scraping as he stood up to escort his visitor to the stairs.

"I say, that's not really why I came."

Rat's chair re-scraped its way back to the front of his desk. "The SSEC funded that project. The aura-revealer technology is ours. It doesn't belong to Firewall. The media manipulation director has no legitimate grounds for challenging its ownership. Giving them access to the aura revealing technology will jeopardize its effectiveness in curing some very serious problems with my stock market."

Meghan bustled back into the storeroom and loosened a power cord to the printer. "Oops. The printer's down," she mumbled.

"I've read your arguments. You believe that **Satan's** stock market is in danger?"

"Satan's stock market," Rat amended. "Yes, we are in a crisis. There has been massive fraud. Trust could be permanently destroyed. Stockholder rights have been abused. The integrity of the system has been compromised."

Meghan slid the top paper partially out of a paper tray and re-inserted the tray. "Oops, the copier is broken," she mumbled and dove belly first to the vent. Arthur saw her coming and performed an olé move with an imaginary red cape.

"How tall are you, Rat?" The complete change in subject flummoxed Rat. The question was repeated. "How tall are you, Rat?"

"5 feet, 6 and 1/4 inches."

"How tall are you without your boots."

"5 feet, 1/4 of an inch. What does this have to do with the stock market?"

"Tell me the relationship between a devil's height and his success in tormenting mortals."

"The taller the devil, the more torture he has imposed." Rat's tone was cold, very cold.

"And the converse?"

"I've been busy managing the SSEC. I haven't had enough time to torture mortals too. That's why I lost that tenth award. I sacrificed my height for the SSEC."

"You could always take some vacation time on Earth."

"It's too dangerous."

"Nonsense. You face no danger. Angels don't conduct vendettas. That would turn them into devils, don't you know."

"The other eight..."

"Coincidence, my dear fellow, sheer coincidence. So, they took a trip to Earth before their uh... _fatal error in judgement here in Hell_. Most senior devils travel to Earth regularly, don't you know."

"An angel is hunting us down. Perhaps that angel has turned devilish but Heaven is condoning it."

"Just like you have turned angelic, Rat? But you can't expect Satan to condone that."

Rat paused, digesting the unfair charge. "I haven't turned angelic! I'm in the process of creating an unbelievably cruel and painful poison. Moreover, my work with the SSEC encourages devils across Hell to increase their own evil plans. All I'm trying to do is prevent that incentive from being destroyed by fraud. Honest accounting, strict enforcement of rules plus heavy fines will eliminate ..."

"Tell me old chappie, why would Satan care what happens to his stock market?"

"Investors will lose all their wealth."

"So, they'll work all the harder to regain it."

"But... the stock market might collapse."

"If so, where will rich devils have to put their tormentts, Rat?"

Dead silence... then, "The Bank of Hell."

"I say, look at what you've become, Rat. You used to be one of the worst. You share a plaque on the Wall of Shame, Rat, but now you speak openly about wanting to have honesty in Hell; you want rules to be enforced; you talk about integrity, trust, and the rights of shareholders."

Dead silence.

"Those are obscene concepts, Rat."

Dead silence became rigor mortis.

"Rat, you're still basically evil at heart. But, you've been distracted. You've forgotten how to be a real devil. Think of the millions of mortals that you killed when you were young. Look at you now, Rat. If you were any shorter, you'd need a booster seat."

Actually, Rat did use a booster seat. He just had it well camouflaged.

"Go to Earth, Rat. Get personal with your torture. If mortals die in anguish when you're around, your evil will start growing again. Don't forget the women. Uh, I hate to bring this up old chappie, but you can still, uh... perform, can't you Rat? If not, there are some marvelous aids these days. One of your competitors is getting close to a patent on a Viagra powder disguised as a nutritional supplement. He's drawing up his marketing plans right now."

The humiliation Rat had felt at the awards ceremony returned. "I don't need any drug. Just because I'm short... "

Rat's protestations were ignored. "Of course, your competitor could impose his torture more effectively if he could market the supplement to males with a tendency for violence towards women, wouldn't he? Unfortunately, Hell doesn't have a technological tool that could help him identify such males."

A low voice.... "I'll release the aura-revealer software."

"Yes, you will. Years ago, you would have been the first to find the potential evil in that sex drug, Rat. You would have added it to some liquid though."

"Water, perhaps a sports drink, energy booster of some kind, beer, ..."

"What a buttock-slapping good idea. I say, tell you what I'm going to do for you, old chappie. Your competitor's patent hasn't been filed yet. Time Stamp: This is to certify that The Rat has outlined his plans to me for camouflaging Viagra and all other such sexual performance-enhancing drugs within water and any other fluids that male humans might imbibe. This conversation serves as an initial application for a patent for which I grant approval provided that the formal documents are submitted within a week of this time. End Time Stamp." _[Narrator: In case you're wondering, it IS possible to perform a hoedown from a sitting position_ ]

The pinstripe-suited dandy continued. "This should increase your royalties no end. Enough to compensate you for the loss of your SSEC salary, don't you know."

A pause.

"I'll resign tomorrow."

"Make it now. Satan will be sad to hear of your decision, but he'll understand how you want to devote yourself to regaining your dominant position in the health sindustry."

"I appreciate..."

"Yes, well, I'm sure. I say, Rat. I'm glad to have acted as your consultant for your new product. I hope I'll be able to persuade the necessary devils to erase portions of this surveillance tape and misplace some files submitted by your competitor."

Rat knew a shake down when he saw it. He had been on the other end often enough. He rose and engaged in some country dancing. "Time Stamp: I, Rat Buboni, hereby engage ... "

"Lord Percy."

"Lord Percy as a consultant in... "

"Image Modification Services."

"Image modification services for a one time contract in the amount of..."

Five fingers were flashed.

"Five hun... no, 5000-T, payable immediately. End Date Stamp."

Meghan's hand found the copier's paper tray and fixed the jam - her ear still over the vent.

"This will be your first foray into the sexual arena, isn't it Rat? I think you'll enjoy it."

The printer began to power up - the noise masking the voices drifting up through the vent. Meghan leaned closer; so did Arthur.

"Rat, Satan wanted me to encourage you to travel to Earth more often. Either that, or move the contents of your vault into his bank."

"At current interest rates?"

"Better that than losing the whole thing. They'll be coming after you as soon as you announce your resignation, don't you know."

"Now that I'm unemployed, I plan to spend a lot of time working in my cave. If they can break into the vault, they can have what's there."

"Working on your poison?"

"That, plus I'm going to start a new business - a family business. I've always wanted to be the patriarch of a retail chain."

"Splendid. You'll be going to Earth to spawn your children. You'll see. There's no danger for you on Earth."

"Well, actually, I don't have to go to Earth."

Two eyebrow scales clicked open and Rat divulged smugly. "I've brought Earth to me."

Two eavesdropping heads rose simultaneously. Two brains jumped to somewhat similar conclusions. Meghan now knew what that bedroom was for. Arthur now knew when Rat would be coming for Winnie. His mind working frantically, Arthur teleported to Winnie's apartment while the bank inspector was climbing the spiral staircase. "You're leaving Hell today," he announced to Winnie. "Start packing!"

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 43

Tuesday was the last day for the Wilizy to finish planning and prepare for the conflict with the prison dregs currently inhabiting Mojave Desert. Here's a sampling of the messages that started or ended with Melissa.

Lucas to Melissa: _Pancha Villa is definitely out of action today._

Melissa to Lucas: _How'd you do it?_

Lucas to Melissa: _We pulled all the security guards away from a meet-and-greet with a smoke bomb. They weren't trained very well._

Melissa to Lucas: _Did Marie meet her face to face?_

Lucas to Melissa: _More than face-to-face._

Melissa to Lucas: _How so?_

Lucas to Melissa: _Marie was in her western clothes but toned down. Having Liset with her worked great. Both Marie and Liset became positively giddy when Villa walked in front of them and stopped. Marie kissed Villa on both cheeks before she could dodge away._

Melissa to Lucas: T _hat's not something I would enjoy even without the curse._

Lucas to Melissa: _Back when Marie first joined us, the hair on my arms used to stand up when she touched me. That doesn't happen any more._

Melissa to Lucas: _I've had that experience too. Perhaps I'm over it._

Lucas to Melissa: _Probably not. I'm not over it and I am a voodoo prince. Shango at your service._

Melissa to Lucas: _Well Shango, get back here and start working with your cadets. This will be their golden opportunity to shine._

Lucas to Melissa: _Was that a pun?_

Melissa to Lucas: _Yup. Get your voodoo rear in gear._

### # # # # # # # #

TG to Melissa: _The wooden shed where they stashed The Invisibles is an old storeroom complete with empty shelves. They've put five cots into the room. There's an overhead light and a grimy window that faces the tarmac. The door into the shed had no lock, so they've rammed a big old metal dumpster against the door. It's too heavy for the women inside to push their way out. It's easy enough to shift from the outside._

_Marie and I snuck in last night while the women were sleeping and Marie put them into a deep sleep so that I could look at the vests. They're very simple. All they are a wad of plastic explosive, a detonating cap, and a transmitter that can receive a radio signal that will explode the vest. It was easy enough to neutralize the bomb. We did that when the women were asleep so that they'll still have fear in their faces when they're outside. Getting to Stook during the night was impossible with so many men sleeping in close quarters. Reaching him during the day is possible when he's alone, but I'll need Maddy to hide in a sand hole again._

Melissa to TG: _Can she neutralize the bomb?_

TG to Melissa: _Yes. She'll have two things to do: open the lid on the explosive device and clip one wire. These people didn't know anything about explosives. I'll lead Maddy through the steps from an invisible position behind her._

Melissa to TG: _The convicts are all demented. The sheriff is the only one who has any kind of battle experience. All they know how to do is kill. I'll send Maddy to you. Stook is due for another walk this afternoon._

TG to Melissa: _I have the time and place picked out._

Melissa to Maddy: _You'll be neutralizing Stook's suicide vest this afternoon. TG will walk you through it._

Maddy to Melissa: _Do I get to hide in the sand again?_

Melissa to Maddy: _You bet. Take your trowel._

### # # # # # # # #

Melissa to all Wilizy: _Lylah has to prepare a biological-based weapon for us and cannot serve as battlefield commander any longer. Any queries about tomorrow should be sent to Jock who is now up to speed and will be acting in that position tomorrow._

### # # # # # # # #

Melissa to Bean: _We'll want you to serve as battlefield medic tomorrow. Keep a close eye on the cadets; some of them looked rocky in practice this morning._

Bean to Melissa: _We chose the best ten; the rest of them will stay in the desert camp. I know who to watch. Should I be visible or invisible?_

Melissa to Bean: _Invisible. Go to visible if it's necessary to prevent serious injury._

### # # # # # # # #

William to Melissa: _We have the explosive devices ready for testing._

Melissa to William: _I'll send Maddy to you. How much time will she need to become confident?_

William to Melissa: _Half an hour. Make it in the evening. We're scrambling here._

### # # # # # # # #

Melissa to Lylah: _How's it going?_

Lylah to Melissa: _This is hardly a biological-based weapon I'm developing._

Melissa to Lylah: _Do you have to wear gloves when you're handling it? Is the poison based on biology? Will it immobilize The Demented?_

Lylah to Melissa: _Yeah._

Melissa to Lylah: _So, in military speak, it's a biological-based weapon. How's it going?_

Lylah to Melissa: _Applying it to the weapons is going to be a pain. I'm trying to stiffen up its consistency so that it won't drip off._

Melissa to Lylah: _If I were making gravy, I'd add cornstarch._

Lylah to Melissa: _That actually might work. Thanks._

### # # # # # # # #

Melissa to Mac: _Operation Sheila is a go as you and I have discussed. Get Sheila started._

Mac to Melissa: _And the other Innocents still in the prison?_

Melissa to Mac: _How many are there again?_

Mac to Melissa: _Six and I'm not counting Sheila._

Melissa to Mac: _Have you established a personal relationship with them?_

Mac to Melissa: _Nary has._

Melissa to Mac: _This morning, the Warrior Executive decided to create a 'Wilizy Auxiliary membership. We have so many people now who work with us but are left out of the communications loop for security purposes. Stook is the latest example. But, we can't take the risk of giving them all access to full powered slings._

Mac to Melissa: _What's a Wilizy Auxiliary membership?_

Melissa to Mac: _An auxiliary member has access to our mind messaging communications plus we reveal to them that we have some technical powers that we can't afford to divulge to anybody. We'll give all of them a new brain plug like we did with Stook. William says it's a simple fix and the brain plug will explode if anybody obtains one and tries to break into it._

Mac to Melissa: _That will take away some of the awkwardness at camp. Everybody has been pretending that they don't know anything. Who are our new members?_

Melissa to Mac: _Akilah and Sven Ekelund, Erik Karlsson, and the platoon moms/cooks. Stook will keep his communications access after the battle. We'll give Sheila access too after we rescue her._

Mac to Melissa: _What about Major Vincent?_

Melissa to Mac: _Jock has briefed him enough so that he won't ask too many questions while we're in battle mode. He'll talk to him in more depth afterwards. With the cadets getting involved in this battle, he needs to be on board with the changes we're making to their battle skill development curriculum._

Mac to Melissa: _And the changes that you and I hope to make to that cadet camp? Will Jock talk to him about those too?_

Melissa to Mac: _Yes. I don't expect any problems on that. The issue will be whether Vincent wants to stay with us. He was terribly unhappy when he joined us._

### # # # # # # # #

Melissa to Doc and Granny: _How is Akilah reacting to working in an invisible ship?_

Doc to Melissa: _She didn't know exactly what we were doing for transport, but she's not surprised we had something unusual. I'm glad we've brought her into the auxiliary membership._

Melissa to Doc and Granny: _A reminder to maintain the emergency clinic in the ship until the battle is over. Bean is operating as medic in the field and will bring any injured cadets to you. As soon as we have the battleground under control, bring your operation to ground level and remove any signs of our weapons penetrating enemy bodies. You won't need anesthesia. Don't forget that the five Innocents in custody do have windows in their storage shed and have a view of the battlefield._

Granny to Melissa and Doc: _If they see the battle, will that be a security issue for us?_

Melissa to Granny and Doc: _It could be a help. Just don't magically appear on the battleground._

### # # # # # # # #

William to Melissa: _The lights are finally ready. We've tested them away from the battle site._

Melissa to William: _Who's handling them?_

William to Melissa: Wolf. _He's also taking care of the other special effects you wanted. All of those are working too._

### # # # # # # # #

Momaka to Melissa: _Maddy's costume is ready and it fits. It's very finicky, Melissa. We had a lot of trouble with it. We've warned her that the costume will be fine for the opening scene in the battle. After that, if she flies around, she could lose some of it. Should we tell her not to fly around?_

Melissa to Momaka: _She'll want to be part of the attack. It doesn't matter if some pieces fall off. Nobody on the ground will notice._

### # # # # # # # #

Melissa to all Wilizy: _All plans are a go for tomorrow. We will move the ship away from this valley tonight so that everybody can get a sound sleep. Cadet instructors: if a cadet needs help sleeping, call for Marie._

_Everybody should be awake and moving around by 7 am. If you wish to have some food first, do so earlier. Cadets assigned to the battle should be in their place, in uniform, by 7:15. Maddy, start dressing earlier so that you'll be in your costume by 7:15. Everybody else should be in their assigned positions and hovering invisibly above the battlefield by 7:15._

_Stook will assemble The Demented on the airfield tarmac at about 7:30 for his final instructions. Their weaponry will already be in their transports so the cadets will not be vulnerable so long as we keep them away from the transports. When Stook calls The Demented to attention, that's our signal to begin. We expect the battle to be short. All Wilizy and all the Demented should be out of the Palo Verde Valley completely by the time Pancha Villa arrives. What happened in this valley will be a mystery to her, at least for now._

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 44

"I'm what?" Winnie asked.

"You're leaving Hell now. I'm sending you back home."

"You're what?"

"I'm sending you back home. It's too dangerous for you here."

"Why is it too dangerous?"

"I've been provoking a fight between Rat and Firewall as a way of discrediting Firewall and his aura revealing technology. They're very angry at each other now and Rat is ..."

"Why didn't you tell me what you were doing? I could have helped."

"It was too dangerous. Rat is firing Firewall and that means that Firewall won't have access to this apartment any longer. That means that I can't use Firewall to send you home in a coffin. If we act now, before Firewall finds out that he's been fired, my plan will work. "

"Your plan won't work any way. Rat changed the lock on the apartment and Firewall has no access."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know you were making a plan to throw me out of Hell. That was quite interesting when the bank inspector fired Rat."

"How did you know about that?"

"I have eyes in Rat's office. His former office I guess."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I had to have something to do, so I figured out how the hornocratic security camera filing system worked. I can have eyes and ears anywhere I want."

By this time, Paula had entered the apartment and was sitting in her human body on the sofa watching the exchange between them. Had they been playing tennis, the speed of the ball crossing over the net would have been going faster and faster. Paula's neck was going to be stiff soon.

"Why didn't you tell me this?"

"You were too busy being a dictator."

"What else haven't you told me?"

"I went out and wandered around Hell last night. Paula was out somewhere. You were out somewhere. I had some free time so I wandered around. Why shouldn't I? You guys were all doing something on your own."

"That's way too dangerous. Rat could have dropped by."

"He was out for the evening. Dressed up fancy too. Firewall was in a tattoo shop and wouldn't be coming around. He's only been here the once. Besides, I've set up a warning system with the security cameras so that any time Rat or Firewall begins to approach the apartment, I'll receive an alert. So, I went out. Why shouldn't I. Was I supposed to beg for your permission first?"

"I thought we agreed that you would be staying here."

"We didn't agree. You tried to tell me it was too dangerous, but if it's not too dangerous for you, then it's not too dangerous for me. Besides, it's not dangerous at all."

"Hell is too dangerous for you. That's why I'm sending you home."

"How is Hell too dangerous for me but not for you?"

"Because Rat has designs on you."

"Are you talking about that bedroom in his cave that he had decorated in those garish pink and lime green colours?"

"How could you know about that?"

"I saw the bedroom when I scouted out Rat's cave. I would have known about that earlier if you had told me. But you were obviously keeping it a secret."

"You were inside Rat's cave? That's way, way too dangerous!"

"Why? You've obviously been in it. I'll ask this again. Why is being in Hell too dangerous for me, but not for you?"

"Because Rat wants to have sex with you."

"Wanting to have sex with me and having sex with me are two different things. In my angel body, I'm bigger than him and I'm stronger than him."

"I'm better able to handle him."

"Why?"

"Because I'm male and I am stronger than you."

It would be at about this time that Paula thought, _Oh, Oh._

"You're stronger than me? We have the same angelic body."

"I'm emotionally stronger than you."

"How can you say that? Are you saying that men are stronger than women because women are too emotional?"

"Yes. Remember you cried when we were in Nanaimo. I had to hold you."

"You HAD to hold me?"

"You asked me to. So that you could cry."

"Crying is a weakness in your mind?"

"Sure. Because females are weak as a gender, males are there to protect females. That's the way nature designed it."

_[Paula would have had her head in her hands by now.]_

"Is that why you froze me out of this operation? Because I'm too weak? Is that why you're sending me home? To protect me?"

"Yes. I thought you'd appreciate me protecting you. Why are you being so difficult? I'm doing you a favour."

"By treating me as an incompetent, weepy, emotional wreak of a woman?"

"I'm taking you out of danger. For your own good."

"By putting me into that coffin that somebody somehow will send back to Earth."

"Yes. We still have time to make my plan work."

"How were you planning to put me into that coffin?"

"You'd climb in."

"Because you're going to order me to climb in?"

"Yes. I'm in charge."

"News flash. I'm not climbing into that coffin. I have the right to remain in Hell."

...

"How are you going to put me into that coffin, Arthur?"

Arthur rose, Winnie remained sitting. He approached.

"Don't you dare touch me with that hand, Arthur!"

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 45

The morning of Wednesday March 20 dawned bright and clear in the Palo Verde Valley. Having an overcast sky might have ruined Melissa's plans, but it's always bright and clear in the Sonoran desert area. Still, it was a risk that Melissa had to plan for, and if you know Melissa at all by now, you'll know that she had contingency plans in place.

The battle went as planned which was quite a feat actually, given that Melissa had developed the plan in one day. With the exception of the cadets, who had one day to practice their part in the plan, everybody else was going in cold. As you would expect, Jock didn't have any difficulty stepping in as battle commander. I'll skip giving you a command-by-command description of the battle this time. Instead, I'll describe the battle from the perspective of The Demented who had front row seats, so to speak.

The Demented weren't actually sitting; they were standing at ease on the tarmac of the old air force base. None of them was feeling all that well this morning. Few had eaten breakfast, which was understandable because they had barely slept the night before. A terrible moaning wind had wound through the valley. They'd just start to fall asleep, and then the wind would start all over again. It was a disturbing wind in some ways because it provoked scary sensations. Threatening even. It was like a nightmare that kept coming back and coming back. So, as they stood there, waiting for their instructor to call them to attention and give his final briefing, The Demented were part asleep, and part unsettled. Nobody would admit to being scared, of course.

The Wilizy had slept well because they hadn't slept in that valley. Weather conditions for that part of the valley had been accurately forecast as _windy and scary_ , and the ship had moved well away from Blythe. Also far away were the cadets who had remained camping in the desert. Kashmira was the only Wilizy who hadn't slept much, but she was raring to go this morning. Kashmira was always energized after putting on a performance.

After the moaning scare-provoking wind had ceased, other sounds had taken their place early that morning: sounds of men marching and drums beating reverberated in the skies. There was also a musical rendition of a men's choir singing _Onward Christian Soldiers, Marching Off to War._ The Demented didn't understand who these soldiers might be, but they understood the _marching off to war_ part. The scariest part of the early morning's noises was the sound of the bagpipes that accompanied the men's choir. In olden times, Scottish forces were led into battle by bagpipes that were considered weapons of war _[true],_ perhaps because the sound was so horrible that men would run from the battle ground to avoid losing their hearing. _[Not true. The bagpipers were the ones who had lost their hearing.]_ Wolf wasn't going to lose any sleep over the screeches and squeals. He had put the tape on a timer and was sound asleep at the time.

So, back to this morning's tarmac scene we go. The Demented were still on the tarmac, at ease, but with nerves already frayed. Stook called them to attention and then the marching music started up again, only this time The Demented could see a bright, very shiny, presence in the sky. As they watched and listened, that shiny brightness advanced towards them and the music became louder. _[I remind my readers of Melissa's comment the previous day that this was the cadets' opportunity to shine.]_

The music stopped while The Demented squinted into the brightness. That brightness widened and as it did, eleven individual sparks of light could be seen floating in the sky and slowly coming closer. The lights were actually humanoid figures dressed in battle garb with sunlight shining off their white chest plates. Some helmets could be discerned, and as the figures approached, The Demented could see long white feathers attached to those helmets. The figures held weapons of some kind, the exact nature unknown at this time. What held The Demented's attention though was the fact that these figures were floating in the air.

A figure rose above the others. Same shining breast plate, but no helmet. The Demented could see long blonde curly hair. A girl? Her body was floating but as she moved closer, they could see two wings of white feathers moving gently in the breeze. _[Dreamer was flying invisibly behind Maddy, moving the wings back and forth in a flying motion. The costume makers couldn't get the wing structure working properly no matter what they tried. They resorted to making two thin wire wing structures that were covered with feathers. The wing structures were fastened to a hinge on Maddy's back armour plate. The feathers on those wings would blow off if Maddy made a strong movement in any direction._ ]

The Demented watched as the assumed leader of the army in the sky raised a long pole of some kind. Flames emerged out of its end and those flames were followed by a ball of fire that sped off into the distance. Seconds later, the ranch house near the base exploded into flames that climbed into the sky.

_My readers have probably recognized that there's some similarity to what the Wilizy were doing in this battle and what they did in the Philippines in Wheelchair Moccasins, book #10. The cadets are flying with William's jet packs. Maddy used Granny's flaming walking stick to create the idea of a missile launch. William launched the real missile from immediately behind Maddy. They never considered arming the cadets with light sabres. Instead, the cadets would use their bows._

An amplified bass voice brought everybody's attention to the flying figure that had just blown a ranch into smithereens. Again, her weapon issued a long flame into the air. And at that, the army of feathered air floaters soared high into the air and then dived at The Demented who were still in parade formation on the tarmac. The sound of a bugler issuing the traditional command to 'charge' echoed in the skies. The Demented broke and ran. Soon the sky was raining with ..... poisoned darts.

_The idea of using a bugle call to sound the attack was not unanimous. Wolf had found it on a sound track somewhere. He argued that everybody knew what that call meant. Granny argued that this call had nothing to do with guardian angels. The idea of the guardian angel theme had been there ever since the cadet camp had been created. The idea for the camp was Lucas'. He had the vision of an army of angels bringing justice to whomever deserved it. His guardian angel theme had been inspired by his not yet born daughter (Azure) who has appeared from time to time in these books. You'll have to remain patient. She won't be born for a while yet._

_The Wilizy left the decision in Lucas' hands, and he chose the bugle. After all, if guardian angels actually existed, who could say that they didn't use that same bugle charge to go into action? Winnie could have contributed some inside information to that discussion, but she wasn't there. Lucas liked the bugle call. He and Theo had imitated it when they fought each other. The bugle charge became the final warning signal that Lucas' future army of jet-packed, light sabre wielding human guardian angels would use from now on. They'd keep the nighttime intimidation tactics too._

_Doc and Lohla came up with the idea of the raining darts. The Wilizy didn't want to kill these people, as they were simply expendable pawns that a politician was using for her own gain. But they also didn't want The Demented getting to their weapons in the transports. Poisonous bow-powered darts that caused almost instantaneous unconsciousness was the answer. Lylah created the poison from a Novocain base solidified by corn starch. This anesthetic of Novocain meant that there was no pain when the dart struck. They were awake, and then they were unconscious from the poison._

_The battle itself raged for about five minutes. The cadets were very skilled with their bow and arrow weapons. The darts were shorter and lighter, but all they had to do was hit The Demented anywhere on the body and the poison would do the rest. If any of the fleeing Demented made it into terrain that blocked angelic dives, a Wilizy Warrior pinned him to the ground with a gravity beam and called a cadet over to dart him._

_After The Demented were grounded and medical staff had removed all of the darts, the Wilizy bundled and bound the men up like stacks of firewood and dropped them as such that night in front of the Kelso prison. They were still very much unconscious and guaranteed to be that way for another twelve hours. Included within the firewood were the sheriff and deputy of Sacramento, minus their uniforms, their badges and their office keys._

_The firewood numbers were going to be problematic. Fifty prisoners had been released on a work rehabilitation furlough. Fifty-two were returned. This disparity in numbers bothered the warden for about six hours. By that time, thanks to some members of the prison population, the numbers of live convicts returning from the rehabilitation furlough were back to fifty. Whoever had predicted that lawmen would not survive twenty-four hours in that prison was entirely correct. A certain two bodies disappeared, never to be found. The warden put the confusion about fifty-two bodies arriving at the prison down to a miscount. As to Stook's failure to return to the prison, the warden assumed that his previous history had been discovered while he was on work furlough. Being killed while on work furlough was Sacramento's responsibility and was not the same thing as escaping. He never reported it to his superiors._

Back to the Table of Contents

# Chapter 46: Epilog

The morning after the battle in Blythe, a black copter emblazoned with the shield of the Sherriff's Department of Laramie Wyoming landed on the copter pad in front of the California Penal System Facility for Women in Stovepipe Wells in Death Valley National Park. As it landed, a searchlight illuminated the copter and the pad. Two people stepped out of the copter and approached the entrance to the prison. The door opened as they approached and closed tightly after they were through.

"Picking up two prisoners for Laramie, Wyoming," Bean announced as she approached the counter. "Here are my credentials." She passed over her badge that clearly indicated that she was a member of that sheriff's department.

"We received your email," the officer in charge on duty remarked. "I remember you. Who's this? She's obviously not with the Laramie's Sheriff's Department." The officer had concluded correctly. Not only was Bean's companion not in uniform, but she was also far too old to serve in such a capacity.

"I'm the ex-wife of the soon to be ex-Mayor of Laramie. I found out that my tomcatting husband had been cheating on me and he had imprisoned two women to cover that up. I'm here to un-prison them. They don't belong here."

"I was told that we didn't need any papers," Bean added.

"No. Laramie put them in and Laramie can take them out whenever they want. Did you know that there's no refund even though they're getting out early?"

"I knew. My ex is going to pay, and I'm not just talking about the costs of putting innocent women in prison."

"I'll bring them down," the officer said and pressed a button on the large board in front of her.

Marie was at the counter looking closely at the buttons. She was there for another reason too.

"Burrlaba burrlaba," she muttered. _[Or something to that effect.]_

"Oh my goodness. I have to leave my station. Your prisoners are on the fourth floor. Don't let any prisoners escape. I'll be back." The officer made a mad dash for what was probably a staff washroom given the nature of Marie's curse of the week.

Bean left for the copter and Marie positioned herself behind the officer's counter and began a mental conversation with Mac:

_We're here, Mac. Where's Sheila?_

_In the infirmary. It's on the ground level and it has an exterior lock on it._

_I found it. The door should be unlocked now. The officer clicked a button before she left. Are you and Nary free to roam?_

_Yes. We'll meet Bean at the infirmary door._

Bean returned from the copter carrying what looked like a rolled up carpet, except that the carpet was a couple of rolled up blankets with the words _Property of Laramie Sheriff's Department_ showing. The two bare feet protruding out of the ends of the blankets also suggested that it wasn't a rolled up carpet after all.

_Bean is on her way now. You have three minutes to make the switch._

_Shouldn't be a problem._

Nary was holding the infirmary door open when Bean arrived. Mac was kneeling at the side of Sheila's bed removing her restraints. Sheila and Bean nodded at each other. There wasn't time to do much else. But they could talk while they worked.

"You were in restraints?" Bean asked.

"I have become a terrible nuisance. They warned me what they'd do, but I couldn't help myself."

"Nuisance how?"

"I cut my hair and dyed it without permission. I complained to everybody that I had been sent here by mistake. I wasn't a criminal. I didn't know why I was here. My name wasn't Sheila Enderby. My name was Lina Langevin. I demanded to talk to the warden. There had a huge mistake. That kind of nuisance."

By now, Sheila was standing up and watching as Mac and Bean set the sort-of-carpet onto the bed, un-rolled it and began securing the sleep-cursed body to the bed.

"Meet Lina Langevin," Bean said.

"She really does look like me."

"Now that you've died your hair, yeah." Bean began explaining how they were going to escape. "Sheila, you're impersonating Mac. Put this blonde wig on and wrap yourself in a blanket. You don't look anything like Mac so cover your face as much as possible. Don't look at the officer downstairs. Nary, you need to be inside a blanket too to explain why Sheila is. Mac, Marie will open the exterior door so that you can leave invisibly. We'll meet you inside the copter."

_You have one minute to get down here._

_We're on our way, Marie. You can lock the infirmary door now._

_..._

"Thanks," the officer said as she returned to the station. "What's with the blankets around the prisoners?"

"Broken door at the back of the copter. It'll be a little cool on the way to Laramie," Bean answered. "Do we need to sign any forms?"

"No, but I have to sign you out to make it official. Prison policy." Fortunately, the Wilizy knew all about the prison's policies.

### # # # # # # # #

To look forward into the future a bit, the Sheila Enderby that was restrained in the infirmary continued to act crazy, insisting that she was Lina Langevin and didn't belong in this prison. They even had to _cooler_ her down, but that didn't work. Lina kept insisting that she was innocent. What did work was the warden's description of what prison life would be like for her in the other building if she didn't stop pretending to be crazy. Lina wisely decided to accept her fate.

### # # # # # # # #

The afternoon after the battle in Blythe, a white copter emblazoned with the shield of the Sacramento Sherriff's Department landed on the copter pad in front of the California Penal System Facility for Women. Two people stepped out of the copter and approached the entrance to the prison. The door opened as they approached and closed tightly after they were through.

"Sacramento Sherriff's Department," the tall one said and handed over his sheriff's badge for verification.

"I don't recognize you," one of the officers behind the counter said. Being daytime when traffic in and out could be heavier, two officers were always on duty. "Where's Sheriff Rivera?"

"He joined a private security firm associated with the Pancha Villa people. He told me the pay was better."

"I heard about her. Is she going to be elected?"

"Probably. Could even go further."

"Law and order politicians are good for us."

"How so?"

"More criminals means more jobs for us. More jobs means the pay has to go up in order to attract new officers. The company owning these prisons makes more money from more prisoners. More prisoners may mean more prisons have to be built. That's good for everybody."

"Everybody except the prisoners."

"If you can't do the time, don't do the crime. Where'd Sacramento find you?"

"Brought me out of retirement."

"Thought so. No offense, but you're kind of old."

"No offense taken," Stook said. "I am too old for this job. Fortunately, it's only a temporary contract."

"Your deputy doesn't look like a lawman."

"He's not. Deputy Molina also chose to join the Villa security people. We've been struggling to keep the city calm and everybody in the department has been enlisted to help. Stu here works in the accounting department. We put a uniform and badge on him and he'll work outside his office for a couple of days until we can get back to normal."

"I noticed the uniform didn't fit."

"Appreciate you being careful."

_[Stook fit easily into Deputy Molina's uniform, but Sheriff Rivera was quite short. Stu was the only Wilizy that could squeeze into his uniform and I do mean squeeze. Stu's focus during the meeting? Take shallow breaths. Stook had come prepared to answer the questions.]_

"We're here to withdraw six prisoners early. I have their Sacramento arrest records and the receipts you gave us when Sheriff Rivera brought them to you. _[Now you know why the Wilizy wanted office keys in addition to badges and uniforms.]_ We understand that you don't provide refunds but Ms. Villa wanted to start her mayoralty with some signs of tolerance to the white community. The other five prisoners that you have released to the sheriff already will be given full pardons. These six will too."

The officer looked at the receipts and handed them over to his partner. "Bring them down," he instructed his colleague.

### # # # # # # # #

Meanwhile in the California Penal System Facility for Men, the prison's medical staff had completed their physical examinations of the fifty returned convicts. By this time, the Novocain had worn off and was no longer in their system. The medical staff did find a puncture wound in each man. They also discovered some crusted white powder around those puncture wounds. They told the warden that they had no idea what that powder was. The convicts weren't saying anything. They had woken up disorientated and couldn't explain what had happened to them.

The warden called a staff meeting to ask for help explaining what might have happened to the convicts. Nobody had anything to contribute with the exception of the head cook. "I don't know how they got that way, but I can tell you about that crusted white powder around their punctures. It's corn starch." When questioned about what corn starch was, he could only comment as follows. "It's used in making gravy. I don't think it has any other use."

Some of the guards volunteered to put some pressure on the lesser lights in the candelabra that constituted The Demented. This put those convicts in a difficult situation. They could tell the truth, as follows: "A bunch of bright lights flying in the sky attacked us. We panicked and tried to escape but the lights chased us. They wore helmets with white feathers. We woke up back in prison and we don't remember anything else."

Or, they could admit that they had shot gravy into their veins and hadn't realized that they had overdosed until they found themselves back in prison.

Guess which story they told.

The severe danger of overdosing on this unexpected new poisonous drug was such that the warden felt he should warn the other warden, so he sent him the follow message: **Lock up your corn starch!** Now you know why this book has such a strange title.

[You may be wondering what's going to happen with Paula, Arthur, and Winnie who are self destructing in Hell. The next novel will be published in the first months of 2020.]

Back to the Table of Contents

# Books in the Wilizy series

As of November 2019, there were twenty books in the Wilizy series. Check below to see if you've missed any.

**Book #1: I Got'cha**

If you think being a teenager in today's world is tough, try being one in 2081. In Alberta's It's Only Fair society, your brain-band will zap you just for chewing with your mouth open. One boy pried his brain-band off to see what living with emotions would be like. Being chased by the entire Alberta army was bad enough. It became worse when another 15 year old kid offered to help him escape.

**Book #2: The Get-Even Bird**

Will and Izzy are forced to flee from Zzyk's army. After months away from Alberta, they fly their sailing ship into B.C. thinking that they would be safe there. Bad mistake! Izzy is captured. All Will has to do to save her life is turn himself in for a free brain-band fitting appointment. That's what happens when you wear a Zorro costume to a dance.

**Book #3: Assassination Day**

A DPS technician offers to defect if the Wilizy will rescue his daughter from _The Citadel_ – some super smart military people who are friends with Zzyk. Izzy thinks that their new recruit is an assassin, but Yollie insists that he's a decent man. Can assassins be decent men? It will take a hair-raising experience to find out.

**Book #4: Hoist the Jolly Lucas**

It's bad enough that Zzyk pins the blame for two assassinations on Izzy and launches a full out assault on their home compound. But then, another enemy takes advantage of a security lapse to get revenge for a war that happened 20 years ago. The Wilizy are left reeling with two key members kidnapped and stashed where they can't be found, let alone rescued. For the family to survive, everybody must enter the battle. The story is as much about the past as it is about the present.

**Book #5: Teenage Mutant Ninja Torpedoes** (Yes, this is a Wilizy book.)

Mac disappears and doesn't want to be found. Will and Wolf use time-travel to search for her and discover secrets she wouldn't want them to know. The Alaskans attack when Will is finding out what happens to a submarine's air when it is lying helpless on the ocean floor. Between the Alaskans' impenetrable fortress and their bubblegum weapons, life is going to get a little sticky for the Wilizy.

**Book #6: Bob, the Invisible Dragon**

Raging hormones as well as Raging Gardeners play key roles when young Wilizy warriors are attacked and the Wilizy's scientific marvels offer no protection. The youngsters' future will rely on a different kind of warrior protecting them. Warning: events at the end of the story will move quickly. They certainly won't _drag on_.

**Book #7: Nary, Nary, Quite Contrary**

Theo and Lucas move to Toronto to live on their own. Both meet girls but neither is brave enough to introduce his new friend to the family. They wouldn't have the time anyway, what with villains trying to assassinate them and Voodoo royalty greeting them as though they were Voodoo gods. At the end of the story, Lucas receives a surprise Boxing Day gift that leaves him speechless.

**Book #8: Maddy's a Baddy**

Maddy had escaped from Big Momma only to find herself all alone in the cold and begging for food in Eastern Canada. While she's trying to return to her home in Seattle, the Wilizy have their own problems. Everybody in the family is intent on bringing the judge to justice for what he did to Lucas. It would have been so easy for them to rescue Maddy, but they didn't know anything about her.

**Book #9: Bite Me!**

Spurred on by Marie's desire to eat a meal with her former slave masters, the Wilizy plan to put Safe Haven ranches out of business. In the process, they encounter two foreign assassins intent on abducting Maddy. Theo and Nary become closer but a red-eyed chaperone does not approve. The Wilizy's war with Safe Haven starts with a bang but ends with a whimper.

**Book #10: Wheelchair Moccasins!**

A 13 year old girl pretends to turn to prostitution to gain her freedom from her crime boss father. In Wilizy family news, Winnie agrees not to meddle in Mathias' love life. No, the world isn't ending, so long as you don't have a green vegetable for your name. Best advice ever? If somebody wearing moccasins and sitting in a wheelchair offers to sing you to sleep... run!

**Book #11: Trial by Nick**

After the Scandinavians attack their home base, Winnie develops an idea for defeating Crown Prince Wilhelm that is a dramatic departure from their normal military battles. In their personal lives, the Toronto teenagers have to become schnobs to keep their basketball futures alive, Lucas and Lylah begin dating, and two of EmmaGee's personalities leave her body.

**Book #12. Tickled Pink**

A man uses his unlimited wealth and power to assault women without fear of legal consequences. If they object, he'll humiliate them publicly and ruin their lives. If they don't stand up to him, their lives as they knew them will be over. But how do you fight a man who is above the law? Here's how. The Raging Gardeners help the women while Winnie attacks him where he isn't looking.

**Book #13: Second Base**

Granny and Doc enjoy a spirited life in their new Australian house while Bean has to adjust to her mother joining her in the Wilizy cadet camp. She meets a charming man with country pumpkin witticisms whose entire life is dedicated to becoming a cold blooded killer. Meanwhile, Safe Haven's impenetrable offices aren't as safe as they thought they were.

**Book #14: Old Stone Face**

Bean moves to Toronto with her sheriff who takes a job as a private detective. Before long, he's trying to bring a mad scientist to justice - the same man that Winnie is after. With both the Wilizy and a countrified sheriff after the same man, you'd think he'd be easy to catch. Too bad there are no laws about a mad scientist killing twenty-one babies.

**Book #15: Remember the Halocracy**

Reese finds Annika - his first, and only, girl friend. For reasons that nobody fully understands, he sort of kidnaps her but she willingly accompanies him to the far side of globe. Reese figures out later that she could be trying to seduce him when in fact, she's actually going to try to kill him.

**Book #16: Coffee Can Kill Ya!**

Convincing Paula's brother to give her a proper share of her parents' estate had seemed so easy. Turned out that it wasn't so easy after all. In the Wilizy's defense, murdering extra-terrestrials that tried to kidnap a corpse created unique challenges. To their credit, the Wilizy dealt with those. But, how do you deal with something that you can't see and don't even know exists?

**Book #17: Nice Birthday Party, Governor.**

Plot twists abound as the Wilizy take on the Colorado government and the NORAD military simultaneously. Maddy quits the cadet corp to run a secret operation that ends in a one-on-one battle. Melissa breaks Reese out of jail and Cowboy shows his dramatic talents, which do not include stripping. Winnie directs two dramatic productions but only one of these involves wearing respectable clothes.

**Book #18: The Tale of the Scorpion's Tail**

The Wilizy have to neutralize NORAD's nuclear missiles while defeating their air force without causing any casualties. A special weapon (guided bird poop) will be needed. Meanwhile, Heaven's guardian angels are under attack from within. The key to success? Rescuing a gerbil imprisoned in an escape-proof cage. "Molly Moonblossom" and "Nympho Maniac" play key roles. One of these actors is Winnie.

**Book #19: Brunhilda, the Steamroller.**

Billy Bump resurfaces and plans Maddy's death. Winnie accepts a secret mission but runs afoul of Yolanda, who is sure that she has a boyfriend. Yolanda's vision that Winnie will be attacked comes true. Demonic infiltrators into Heaven escape detection when the steamroller named Brunhilda prosecutes Arthur and finds him guilty. This time, he won't be going back to guardian angel school.

**Book #20: Lock Up Your Corn Starch!**

While Paula, Winnie and Arthur are on a perilous mission for Heaven, the Wilizy family is trying to rescue Charlie and Sheila from prison. Wilizy forces battle demented escaped convicts intent on slaughtering innocent victims to help a brown supremacist politician win an election. If you're intent on going to Hell when you die, be sure to read this book for a preview of what's waiting for you.

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# About the Author

David J. Wighton is a retired educator who enjoys writing youth novels when he's not on a basketball court coaching middle-school girls. The books in his Wilizy series peek at how people lived after the word's governments collapsed in the chaos that followed the catastrophic rise in ocean levels and the disappearance of the world's last deposits of oil.

Wighton's novels have strong teenage characters driving the plot and facing challenges that, in many respects, are no different from what teenagers face today. His novels are intended to entertain and readers will find adventure, romance, suspense, humour, a strong focus on family, plus a touch of whimsy. Wighton also writes to provoke a little thought about life in today's societies and what the future might bring. Teachers may find the series useful in the classroom and the novels are priced with that intent in mind.

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