An English Angel in New York
While Orli uncomfortably looked towards the door, Jason had a few moments to ponder her responses, as Karen calls up the detective agency, and got a secretary.
While Karen was making calls Jason walks over to Lynne. Putting a hand on her arm he said "Don't go away mad. We need each other too much right now to be angry at each other. I know you want to help Denis, and heal Karen as well, but I think we have to conserve a little here and try to do things in the right order. Karen has the most to lose here. If she is not healed or if Denis comes to harm she will be affected the most. But if Denis were in imminent danger she would know it, and her wound does not appear to be something that can't wait the night. Until I can find out more about the weapon I wouldn't even know how to go about trying to heal her wound. Until we know more about Azazel's plans and Sonja's plight, I don't think we should do too much with Denis."
Jason sighed "Maybe we are wrong, and the danger is much closer at hand. I sure hope not though. We just have way too much to deal with right now. Hopefully we can find some help...."
Lynne looked at him. "I'm not mad. I understand that you have priorities to think about, and that you have an insight into destiny which I don't. I think that you are both right and I am wrong. I just wanted to get a breath of air and clear my head a bit." Lynne glanced at the cherubim and folds her arms, keeping her voice down so as not to disturb Karen's phone conversations.
"There's no point in me offering to talk to Nat because as soon as he recognises me he'll be off like the clappers," she added, twitching uncomfortably at Jason's touch on her increasingly travel-worn jacket. "It isn't an unusual reaction -- I didn't want to mention that earlier but its still true. And its no-one's fault but my own if I'm finding all of this a bit difficult. I can stay here if you prefer -- I hadn't meant to put you to any trouble. Or discomfort anyone by anything I might have to say."
"I'm afraid the point of this 'Ethereal Skies' business still eludes me, though." Her pretty lips twisted in a frown. "I realise that sudden hunches and synchronicity are a destiny kind of way to approach things so if you all think it is important I will do what I can but still... " She hesitated, drawing on memories. "I've heard that phrase before though. Is it from a quote or something?"
She sighed, and gaves the door a kind of wistful look.
"I guess we are just looking for help wherever we can find it. All of the normal places we would go for help seem to be empty so we are trying to find whoever we can." Jason shrugged.
"Why don't you take your walk, we are only a few blocks from Times Square. It should be bustling with people at this time of night. We can take care of things here. Maybe you can win some moeny at 'three card monty'." He smiled broadly.
Her face softened a bit. "Thanks. I was ... pretty much planning to find some people," she admitted."I won't be long. Just need to... get my head together."
Lynne gaves Jason a quick, grateful smile and patted his arm, light as a feather before she turned. She raised an eyebrow at Karen and mouthed the words, 'If the carrot doesn't work, use the stick. Good luck!' And got a smile of aknowledgement.
Then she slipped out of the apartment, betraying something of an eagerness to chill out amongst the mortals she loved.
New York City is a good place to watch people. New York City after 12pm is a fascinating place to watch people. A taxi raced past, filled with half inebriated youths and the one whom was getting married on the morrow hanging out the window telling the world... A bus passed and one old man looked longingly out the back, city lights probably bringing back memories of his first wife, who he still held closest to his heart... Two girls out way too late played hookey from their homes and spoke of boys at their school in a doorstep, nervous and excited...
She passed a 24hr laundrimat, and went in to put on her jacket. Looking at the rate of the machine's working, she had 25 minutes before she has to move it to the tumble drier. She popped back out onto the street, the few people in the laundrimat either suffering insomnia or working there, and each bored in their own little ways.
Finding a convenient telephone booth, she watched people walk past as she waited for it to be free.
"... seven on five to two on the ninth... yes but ... all right, seven to three..."
She stares down the occupant (Steals from her boss at work to suppliment gambling habit, three men she maintains relationships with and 'borrows' money from, two married) until she becomes uncomfortable. Finally the woman finished, and stood aside and muttered she wanted the phone back because she had more calls. "Don't take too long, sweetie."
Lynne reached for the phone automatically and weighed it in a hand, letting her gaze linger on the other woman. A moment passed, almost too long really for something which should be an automatic reaction. Too long for someone who was supposed to know that no offence was so small as to be discarded. Too long. "Too long for what?" she asked mildly, seeking out the woman's eyes. "We have worlds enough, and time."
The woman rolled her eyes as if to say 'One of /those/'. "Sure we do. Sure we do. Were you planning to use that thing?"
"Yes." Lynne decided. She looked at the phone and rummaged through a pocket for the phonecard. She said kindly to the other woman, "Really you know, you should be thanking me. The odds are stacked against you anyway so the less time you spend on the phone making bets, the less money you are losing. Think of it as one of those time-is-money metaphors but in reverse." She began to dial.
The woman startled, and then frowned as shock and a defence reaction kicked in. She made to grab the angel by the arm, and they made eye contact again. "You have some chutzpah," she said angrily. "Who the hell sent you? What the hell business is it of yours?"
Lynne sighed deeply but knew that God will forgive her for the amateur dramatics. She looked the other woman straight in the eye until the silence became uncomfortable. "I'm having a bad day and it's been a bad month," she informed the woman quietly. "So. I'll give you a tip here. You're right. I was sent and I've been watching you for awhile. When I haven't been watching, other people have. I work for a PI. Your boss is looking for evidence that you are ripping off the till to give him grounds for dismissal and we have photographic evidence of some of the other guys you have been conning as well. We could be looking at a straight 10 years in jail when the police get hold of this -- and frankly, its one of the better paid cases we have done in awhile, as it has dragged out so long. Perhaps I should be thanking you." She paused, "And would you mind unhanding me as I do have a call to make."
'It isn't a lie' she reassured herself. 'There is always at least One who is watching.'
The familiar surge of anger in the woman's eyes shifted to fear and then back again. "Oh no. No way! I have rights," but she wasn't sure. "It's not as if I'm not going to pay it all back! I've been unlucky." She glanced around, but no-one else seemed to find the conversation remarkable, or to be listening.
"I'm afraid the time for paying back is already passed," Lynne said to her, still soft. "You do know that."
The woman's hand tightened on her arm painfully and then she spun away, tears rising to her eyes. "I could pay it back! Mr. Gross won't even miss it. I've.just.been.unlucky. What the hell do you know about any of it? Just one lucky night, thats all I need."
The angel watched her leave with heavy eyes. "It need not go to prosecution," she said. "But the gambling must stop. The stealing must stop."
She pressed her lips together and looked within for composure as the woman disappeared into the crowd. For a moment she weighed up the plausibility of locating who the woman's employer , since there was a name to go on, and informing them of the embezzlement. Perhaps in a month from now, if the world is still standing, she decided that she would follow this up. For now, the woman had had one warning and it would be only fair to give her the opportunity to attempt to change her actions, now that she knew she was watched.
Lynne looked at her watch absently, and realized it is about 4am in LA, and puts off calling the fire department there for a few hours. Orli certainly did know a few journalists however. Picking up the phone, she dialed David Anderson, part time writer for NME in London.
"... 'lo?"
"David, it's Lynne. I'm calling from New York."
"... H'lo! Well, you get around, don't you. I recon I should have taken up 'News for Screws' instead of my current gigs... pity I don't have your flair for finding the dirt. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Lynne brightened as the sound of a friendly voice drove her other concerns into the background. "Nah, you'd never have made it as a digger," she laughed. "Sometimes we even have to get out of bed before noon! Actually I saw an interview in the NME the other week and I wanted to talk to you about the band. 'Ethereal Skies'? Ring any bells?"
Pause. "Ho, yeah. Tried for about a month to get an interview with those guys, but they stonewalled me. They are really big in the altie charts all over the place, and most music reporters would give their right arm and leg to get the exclusive. Very fanatical following."
"What did you want to know? And how come it has come up? I didn't think you were into the music stuff, with all the work you churn out... Say, been meaning to ask, how come you have never gone in for one of the more reputable rags? I am sure someone with your rep could do much better than you are getting..."
Lynne answered him. "You mean I could sit around doing lunch and writing features for the broadsheets? I guess," she says, wedging the phone against the side of her face as she extracts a notepad and pen from a pocket. "So could you though. You know as well as I do that it just comes down to contacts really. You getting a bit tired of the hip and trendy scene? I could always put in a word if I hear of anything coming up, you know..."
He chuckled. "Nah. Still got a few years in me before I have to grow up. Too much fun playing in the rock industry... I guess I never grew out of my desire to be in rock and roll, and this is the closest I could get." Lynne could actually hear him smiling. "Anyway, you were saying...?"
"The thing I really like about this rag is the coverage. None of the broadsheets have a readership on this scale -- I like the mental image of working class England waking up to my immortal prose, y'know? And carte blanche to go for the jugular. The Sundays won't do that. Also there are much worse editors on Fleet Street, but you know that already."
"Don't I." he muttered.
"This 'Ethereal Skies' business is just a long shot really on something else I was looking into. A really vague connection. So what can you tell me? Have they been big for long? Who writes the lyrics? How many people in the band? Where are they now? And.. " she grinned into the telephone, balancing the pen neatly between thumb and forefinger, "If my charming but persistent harrassment techniques pay off, shall I try to get you an interview with them?"
He made an indeterminate snort. "I dunno. You might have problems. The only real way to get to this band is not through the usual chanels. Their agent lets no one, including the Dark Lord himself speak with them, so I get the impression that you would actually have to know a member of the band to get an interview. Not likely, huh?" Pause.
"Oh ye of little faith!" Lynne interjected.
"Anyway. No, they sprung onto the charts with their first album last year, and it just exploded all over the place. All members of the band have individual projects, and some notoriety, except one, so I suppose they brought a bit of following each to the final result. Their membership is a bit fluid, but I think on their current tour there were four people."
"Last I heard they were playing a gig in Darwin, Australia, day after tomorrow. At some kind of music festival. Apparently they cancelled their last gig at the last minute, and that was ... Saturday night." Snort. "Would you beleive that the Luxemburg mags actually praised them for cancelling at the last minute and refunding money? I will never get this scene... They are going to disappear again after this next gig, perhaps recording a new album or just playing underground in weird places with little warning, which was their previous style."
"Well, let me see. The lead singer is a bit of a whacko. He is apparently into all kinds of ancient dead religions, and writes most of their lyrics. Some of their work has been compared to prayers to dead gods and the like. I spoke with someone who went to their Versai concert a week and a half ago, and they said it was the experience of a life time. Anyway, the lead singer was up on Drug charges in the US about seven or eight years ago, and went through rehab. Then he disappeared for about two years, and after that, he started to form the band."
"The curent members are..." Rifling through list of papers. "Only listed by first names on their album... but here we go. Lead singer, Saul. I know his last name is Apostle. Then, umm Rudy the drummer, used to be in a thrash metal band; Tyler, the base player, bit of an unknown; And Kyle on keyboards and miscelaneous other bits and peices. He was in a hard core industrial group that split up a few years ago and was lead singer. Whatever it was that attracted him to these guys, he is a bit of a catch. He probably had the biggest following himself."
"Does that help any?"
Lynne riffled through her neatly scribbled notes, oblivious to the outside world now. "That's great," she says into the telephone. "So you say that three of these men had some individual reputation before the band formed but the fourth was an unknown? That would be .. ahh.. Tyler? And that this .. Saul Apostle writes the lyrics?"
David answered. �Hm-hm. Spot on. Saul has claimed in one interview that he had a religious experience that changed his life after his rehab, during his missing years, and he came back with a mission." Pause. "Well, anyway, his lyric writing improved no end after that what ever it was. Their stuff is quite interresting, if you like moody self important psycho rock."
The names meant nothing to her but there was something that had her nerves jangling. She willed the brief jotted words to track down what it was. Songs that are compared to prayers to dead Gods. The name 'Ethereal Skies'. The angel's mouth tightened into a thin line as she considers the possibility that what Karathiel had assumed to be a celestial might turn out to be some ethereal presence, and not one that cared greatly about keeping itself a secret. Lynne derived some mild amusement by wondering if it recognised Uriel's signature in the dawn disturbance. No wonder they were planning on going underground after the next concert. If they hadn't caused the silence in the first place.
"Thanks a million," she said finally. "If there is ever anything I can do for you, don't hesitate to give me a bell, and if I can get the expenses cleared for a trip to Darwin maybe you'll even get your interview! Take care..."
"Yeah, you too... Hey, look, I have the agent's name and number over here, and the number of the guy that is managing the Australian leg of the tour... Hang on, if you are going to go down there yourself, you might as well have them." ruffle, ruffle. "Hrm. The English agent is Peter Rice, phone (gives it) and the Australian guy is... er... Adam ... Brunner I think it is, phone (also give this one), a Darwin number. And good luck yourself if you head down there. Count on heafty commission if you do get the scoop. Which, if you are on the case, I have few doubts you will get. Damn your luck... OK, I don't mean that." chuckle. "Damn your hard work eternally yeilding results better than I could dream of on a good day... And take care now."
Lynne thanked him greatly, and hung up.
As she replaced the phone, Lynne glanced around for the woman she had spoken to before, without any real expectation of finding her face again. She wondered to herself why she said she was planning on going to Darwin. There were long shots and then there were ... even longer shots. She wandered back towards the laundromat, picking up a paper on the way and watched her jacket spin in the drier, letting people play out the threads of their lives around her. She started to do the crossword in the newspaper but gives up after a brief but concerted attempt. She flicked through her notes of the phone conversation again.
When she made her way back towards Jason's apartment, it was with a renewed vigour in her footsteps. Some people could sleep or sit around in philosophical conversation, for others there was always work.
The building steps were clean and smooth as she sprung up them. Karen was lost in the internet, obviously thinking of other things, and Jason lost in books. Orli plonked herself on a couch in front of the television, thinking things through, and absently flicked through chanels.