Death, the Devil, and the Goldfish (25 page)

Clearly, Celina wasn't sure whether to be terrified, confused, or just plain happy that someone was having as weird a day as she was.

"You're right," she said, "that does sound crazy."

At that moment, the cameras flicked on and displayed various locations around the factory. Several things caught Nigel's attention. Firstly, in a large warehouse sort of area, he saw a lot of people, technicians, and various other workers, all wrapped in duct tape or bubble wrap. Secondly, he noticed a large laboratory area cluttered with different mechanical equipment, but what was strange, aside from the amount of deranged-looking elves all over the place and the large sleigh with what looked like reindeer attached to it, there was also a large table.

The table was not unusual. It was the large man dressed as Santa Claus who lay on the table that was unusual.

The third thing that Nigel noticed was on the screen that showed the front security gate: a large truck and trailer crashed through the fence and hurtled on through the complex.

"Okay," said Nigel, "if we're going to deal with this I think we should start at the beginning."

Heinrich leaned back in his chair and stared thoughtfully at his glass of wine, which quickly turned into water and then rapidly became wine again.

"Showoff," said Death, with a grin.

"Oldest tricks are always the best," said Heinrich.

"So who's this Devil fellah again?" asked Gerald.

Heinrich took a sip and put the glass down.

"The Devil," said Heinrich, "is a sad creature. We used to be good friends. He got some pretty wild ideas about human kind."

"How wild?" asked Gerald.

"He wanted to kill them all," said Death.

"That's quite mean," said Gerald.

"Quite," agreed Heinrich. "So he was banished from Heaven and sent down to Hell, which became his domain. He tries his hardest to collect as many evil souls as possible and cause as much chaos as he can. I suppose in many ways I feel sorry for him, and it's probably why I decided to let him have a go at this contract of his."

"Contract," said Death matter-of-factly.

Heinrich smiled a broad smile. "Well, you see, he wanted to walk on Earth again, and I thought that wasn't such a horrible idea, he could probably use the fresh air, so I agreed as long as we put the terms in writing. He gets seven days up top, he can pick the body, yadayadayada. Of course, I added my own clause at the end that in the unfortunate event that the chosen body was suddenly unavailable, he'd have to go into a body of my choosing. He chose the body of a rather athletic ex-swimmer millionaire who is sitting across the table from me right now. Sadly, the millionaire got hit by a bus while performing an act of human kindness."

"That was me!" said Gerald. "I can remember something about that, there was a ball, a bus, and a swirly thing!"

"So the Devil had nowhere to go?" asked Death.

"Right, so I picked him a new body."

"The cat," said Death.

"Funny, eh?" said Heinrich.

The three of them sat in silence for a few moments and then burst into laughter, partially because of the wine, partially because the thought of the Devil trapped in a cat was quite amusing. Mostly, it was the wine.

Celina stared at Nigel with only the slightest bit of disbelief; she was actually warming to this guy and his crazy theories. "So you think that this cat, Fuzzbucket, has been possessed by the Devil and he's the one that tripped the security alarms and is . . . what?"

"I'm not sure yet," said Nigel. "Maybe you should explain these elves to me."

"Oh, well, that's all quite simple, really."

"Didn't you do the same thing to the Devil in the garden of Eden? Got him trapped in a snake or something."

Heinrich wiped the tears from his eyes, as the three of them finished another wine-induced laughing fit. "Yes, and much like that particular situation, he's making the best of it."

"Wait a minute," said Death, "why did you agree to the contract in the first place? You always have a plan of some sort. You never leave things open-ended."

"I needed a reason to bring some people together. You see, there's something else happening here, something bigger on its way, and this group of people, who our once black-and-white friend here is a part of, needed a good reason to come together. So that when this other thing happens, they'll be able to deal with it, because at that particular time, I'll be unavailable. Make sense now?"

"Clear as mud," agreed Death.

"Hiccup!" said Gerald.

"So what's Lucifer up to, then?" asked Death.

"Oh, you'll love this. He's hijacking something called the Santa Claus Project."

"And what is the Santa Claus Project?" asked Death.

"Elves?" repeated Charles Chitham with an air of disbelief.

Beatrice poured Neville a glass of water.

Neville examined the glass, looked deeply into the water, then threw it in the face of the lawyer sitting closest to him. He offered no explanation, and the lawyer was too polite and ever so slightly afraid to do anything about it.

"Yes," said Neville. "You see, a few years ago, I hit upon this stroke of genius. Due to the nature of this genius, I've had to keep it locked down, completely secure, but there's a possibility that the security has been breached and there could be legal ramifications."

"I'm extremely confused, Mr. Snell," stated Marcus Chump.

"Harumph," said Perciville Chatham. Funnily enough,
harumph
was all Perciville said these days. He was the elder of the three partners, at the ripe age of 73, and sustained a body mass to match a mature walrus. In his day, he had been one of the sharpest legal minds of Britain, his specialty being the legal argument. No one ever beat him in a debate at court, and other lawyers feared him. He was a ferocious wordsmith who thrust and parried better than anyone. He reduced hardened lawyers to tears and ripped expert witnesses to shreds. After making a lot of money, consuming hundreds of cases of red wine, and almost-raw steaks, his entire vocabulary boiled down to one word. "Harumph."

"The nature of the project is neither here nor there, and at this point I don't want to go into details, but I thought it best we be prepared for the worse," said Neville, with such simplicity that he might as well have been discussing the weather.

"That's all well and good," said Marcus Chump, "but if we are to form any sort of legal strategy, we need to know exactly what we are preparing for."

"Harumph," said Perciville Chatham.

"Well," said Neville, who was well aware of the possible flaws with the elves, "if I came to you and told you that there was a possibility that a certain scientific project may have gone horribly wrong, with the potential injury or death of employees working on the project, and a national threat to everyone's well-being projected as an unlikely, but latent, result of said project, how would you
legally
proceed?"

The lawyers murmured among themselves, a
harumph
was heard somewhere in the middle, and then Charles Chitham spoke. "As your legal advisory team, we recommend that you remain here at the law offices for the time being, and we will begin arranging the most deviously ingenious legal argument ever concocted."

The sound of cash flow rang through the partners' heads.

"Excellent," said Neville. He leaned over to Beatrice who listened obediently. "Keep calling Majestic, I want to know what's going on in there. And call the mansion; tell them to get the Ukrainian Mountain Goat ready for delivery."

"Hmmm," said Death, "that's actually an impressive plan, much better than his last one involving those circus performers and the bowl of porridge."

"He's getting cunning in his old age. I didn't really expect him to be able to pull it all together, but he is the Prince of Darkness, after all."

"So he's trapped in that cat for an entire week?" asked Death.

"For at least another five days, according to the contract. Although you know the rules of possession still apply."

"Hang on a minish," said Gerald, who was trying to get his head around the red wine, "if his plan is to do this Shanta Clawsh thingy, how come Death here had to quit his job, wash that all 'bout?"

"Simple distraction," said Heinrich. "The Devil knew what would happen if there was no longer an Angel of Death. If everyone suddenly stopped dying, it would throw the world into an uproar, which it has, and no one would notice the Devil quietly entering into the world, which they haven't."

"Wait, there has to be—"said Death.

"I know you have lots of questions, and I promise I'll answer them in due time, but for now, the minutes pass us by, and you two really need to get going. There's a cab waiting for you both outside."

"Can I have my job back?" asked Death, pleading ever so slightly.

Heinrich's eyes twinkled like an ageless star.

"Not just yet," he smiled.