44. God Shuffled His Feet

The fingers clicked and the earthbound, including Major ‘Mame’, froze Matrix-style. Anything the Earthbound can imagine, et cetera. Against the Guidelines of course, but then it was Uriel, the director of the CBI, who’d clicked the digits. His barrel chest strained the coat of his three-button suit. He looked a little red in the face, though no Angel ever died of a cardiac arrest. Only celestial being likely to was Jesus and he was half-earthbound. Besides, all those catholic images of the sacred bleeding heart of Jesus couldn’t have done poor old Lambsie much good. Uriel wasn’t the type to point a gun. I was scared enough of the finger he was pointing,

‘You’re not J-Rod, sonny.’

‘Who else would I be?’

‘You could be a spanner in the works, a rotten apple in the barrel. Shift your shape now, Angel, or you’ll regret it.’

I figured it was a pretty empty threat. After all, only The Almighty could kill an angel. Even the second most powerful man in all the Heavens couldn’t do that. So I just said,

‘Whose works? Whose barrel?’

‘Whose idea was J-Rod in that rinky-dink plane?’ he jabbed with the finger. I jerked backwards.

‘Someone above our pay grade, Mr Director.’ I hadn’t worked for the CBI in years, but old habits died hard.

‘Abo- well it sure ain’t Gee-Oh-Dee. He’s outside in a truck, caught up with him at last. Working at a Waffle House in Reno. Kept telling everybody he was Elvis. He might be down here, but he’s no idea where here is so...’

‘That’ll be about right, it’ll be the Other One.’

A look of surprise crossed the Director’s face faster than any chicken ever crossed the road. ‘It’s you, Gabriel...’

‘There’ll never be another,’ although of course there had been, but strictly no relation. Uriel looked around for something to throw before snatching a beret from the head of one of the immobile marines and doing the moonstomp on it until the badge fell off. The finger now pointed at The Major,

‘Who’s the dame?’

‘I ain’t entirely sure. She’s either Veronica Lake or… Margarita Cansino.’

Yep, I was entirely convinced about the nature of the mission I had sent Sam Sara on back in Falls Church.

‘Who’s that, when she’s at work?’ Uriel was losing patience. I was glad I wasn’t wearing a hat.

‘Rita Hayworth.’ I said, I’ve always been foolhardy.

Uriel laid me out with a Bowery sledgehammer and I remembered that his lack of a sense of humour was one reason I’d been glad to leave the Bureau. The door opened and The Ineffable walked in, shuffling his feet. Then I passed out.