Authors: Larry Niven
They didn’t look friendly at all, but Aimee waved cheerfully.
“Hello! Black Talon, is that you?”
The tallest demon stepped forward. “I am Black Talon, chief of the Black Talon clan. I see you, Aimee. Introduce your friends! Have you brought me new swimmers for my hot pitch?”
“No, these are all saved! God loves them!” Aimee said.
“We’ll see about that. Tell us. You!” He pointed to me. “I’ve seen you before. Frightbeard wants to talk to you about his pitchfork!”
I gulped hard. “It’s in the Bolgia of the Evil Counselors,” I told him. “I needed it.”
“He used it to enable the escape of Benito from his rightful place,” another demon said. “He has never been brought to account for that.”
This demon was odd. He was shorter than the others — still around eight feet tall — and pink in color, and I didn’t see any wings or tail. Despite the distortion of horns and fangs, the face was human. I stared.
“And that one was probably a Communist.” He pointed at Carl.
“I was not. Good God! J. Edgar Hoover?”
“Certainly. I remember you, sir. Perhaps you were not a Communist, but you had many friends who were.”
“If so, it wasn’t because they were Communists,” Carl said. “I had friends on both sides of the Iron Curtain. Science knows no frontiers! Why am I not surprised that you have become a demon?”
“Enough, Pink Talon!” Black Talon pounded his pitchfork against the cobblestones. “Aimee, who
have
you brought me?”
“None for you,” Aimee said. “Not even Allen Carpenter.”
“Carpenter, Carpentier,” Hoover said. “We have files on that one.”
“I know,” Black Talon said. “And you know this one?” He pointed at Carl.
“Well enough. A fortune teller who urged disarmament. Not important.”
Aimee pushed Eloise forward. “Another fortune teller. Oscar, here, is a race car driver.” She tooted Oscar’s horn. “Sylvia, a suicide. And I believe you have met Father Ernesto.”
“Who rides with you?” Black Talon demanded.
“Sammy, my new assistant,” Aimee said.
“How are you permitted an assistant?”
“No one told me I couldn’t have one! And I got lonesome.”
“And that one?” Black Talon pointed at Phyllis. “She is no saint! She bears the scars from both fire and the lash! She is mine!”
Phyllis cringed. Aimee smiled gently. “She was a fallen woman, Black Talon, but never a thief. God loves her!”
“Then what do you want of me?” Black Talon demanded.
“Safe passage across,” Aimee said.
“This has been willed —” I started to say.
“Has it? And you know this how?” Hoover demanded. “Sire, they have no communications with the Others. I am certain of it.”
“You urge me to great risk,” Black Talon said. “I recall the last time we defied the explicit will of the Others. It was less than pleasant.” He scratched his nose with an enormous talon. “So, Carpenter. You’ve come in the name of justice to rescue sinners from where they belong? But justice put them here.”
More demons were gathering every minute. They joined ranks, more or less according to size. When they stood in ranks it was easy to see that no two looked just alike, but it was hard to describe their differences. Some grinned at me. Others made cartoonlike faces from horror movies. The most frightening of all simply stood and stared at us. Nine feet tall, black, with horns and tails, with a pit of bubbling pitch behind them.
I said, “I think Hell’s a training ground.”
Black Talon laughed. “And you expect my charges to learn from the pitch what they could not learn in a lifetime?”
Stubbornly I said, “We’ve pulled sinners out of impossible places. I have to know that I can — that
someone
can rescue
anyone
when he’s ready.”
“Who would you pull from my pits, then? Who deserves rescue?” Black Talon turned and bellowed, “Wuss! Bring me barrators!”
A ten–foot–tall demon, all claws and teeth, cried “Da, Kamerad!” and turned and leaped into the bubbling pitch.
Other demons dodged the hot spray, laughing. Black Talon told us, “The Wuss is the only one who’ll do that.”
The Wuss emerged, waist deep, struggling to hold a wriggling double armful of souls. He waded out, his skin peeling and smoking. He shouted, “Teats!”
Black Talon plucked them one by one from the Wuss’s arms. “Lawyer. Lawyer. They grew very rich until they bankrupted the company that made silicon breast implants.” He held each aloft, then tossed the sinners over the first ranks to the space in front of the demons who lined the banks. They whimpered and tried to crawl back into the pitch where they would escape this attention, but demons blocked their path.
Black Talon continued. “Client. The original clients in a class action suit aren’t supposed to be favored, but they are. Client. She wanted to be a go–go dancer. The doctors warned her she wanted too large an enhancement, but she insisted, then blamed the company that made the implants. Tame scientist. Another, a professional expert witness who put all the blame on the manufacturer. Are these familiar, Brother Carl?”
Carl said, “I don’t know any of them. That was junk science, and they knew it. There never was any sustainable evidence of harm wrought by silicon breast implants.”
Black Talon tossed the last of the cluster onto the bank. “So! My dandies! First and second ranks, go and find more! Bring our prizes to show the man who seeks justice for them!”
By now there were fifty in each rank. They turned, saluting by flipping the bird to their commander. Black Talon laughed and returned the salute by making the figs with both hands. Sylvia giggled.
The demons scattered, running along the banks or flying over the pitch. One of the runners spotted prey and darted down to the edge. He stabbed downward and came back with a human figure skewered on his pitchfork. Black Talon turned to the returning demon. “Rough Trade, what have you got?”
Rough Trade was another odd one: not coal black, but the color of an African; no tail, no wings. He held a writhing soul aloft and said, “Political figures could also be barrators, sir, if they altered judgments for wealth or favors. This one was a judge with justice for sale.”
“African, I suppose,” Oscar said.
“Haiti, I believe.” Rough Trade was offended. “I could bring you others, from all lands if you wish. Do you believe that any continent or race has a monopoly on barratry?”
“No. Sorry,” Oscar said.
“And why do you seek escape, Oscar?” Black Talon asked. “Perhaps you would like to join my troop?” He laughed. “Your friend Carpentier wrote of flying cars. I can give you that gift, and grappling hooks, harpoons. A spear gun! Think on it, Oscar.” He laughed again. “James Bond would kill for such a car!”
The demons were returning now, each with one or more prizes. “The king of torts!” one shouted.
“I object!” the captive lawyer shouted. “Hoover — Pink Talon — had it in for me! He was prejudiced!”
Pink Talon chuckled. “And with good reason, counselor. I was not called as a witness during your judgment by Minos, but I will testify at your next trial!”
Others held up their prey. “Product liability! This one enriched himself from those who did not put silly warnings on lawn mowers!”
One held up a woman. “This one sued a thousand California Vietnamese nail parlors for ten thousand dollars each. For a thousand dollars she would cancel the suit.” The demon grinned. “She so infuriated one of her victim’s sons that he shot her down like a dog. It will be interesting to see where Minos puts the boy!”
Black Talon roared with laughter. “Ah, Aimee, look who Snaggle–fang has! Your old friend Asa Keyes! Hard to recognize, isn’t he? Tell us, Mr. District Attorney, do you wish to accuse Sister Aimee before this court? Or shall I give you to her?”
The tar–covered figure writhed.
“He was paid to accuse me,” Aimee said. “He was bribed to ruin me. But the Lord delivered mine enemy into my hand. Despite all his fury I was cleared of all charges, but he was convicted of taking bribes.” She smiled. “Asa, you belong in the pitch! But God loves you. Asa, I forgive you. You are welcome to come with me.”
“He remains mine,” Black Talon said. “He is not yours to forgive. His sins are greater than you know.” He tossed the wriggling figure into the heap of others trying to escape back into the pitch. Then he laughed. “No protests, Sister Aimee?”
“Time is long, Black Talon.”
The demons brought others, none more attractive. A former secretary of the interior from the golden age of robber barons. Corrupt city councilmen, mayors, congressmen.
“And these are the ones you would rescue!” Black Talon chortled. “Come, tell us, Carpenter, which one will you save? I give you your choice. For a price, of course.”
“Price?” I asked.
“A replacement! It can even be yourself, Carpenter. Show us how strong is your faith! Show us how strongly you believe in justice!”
“Don’t be silly,” Sylvia said. “You have no obligation to these.”
“But —”
“Allen, do you imagine you are the only agent of God in this Hell?”
Black Talon demanded, “Carpenter, which of these wretches would you save?”
Souls writhed on the embankment, and beyond them, beyond the line of demons on the bank itself, the tar was pocked with eyes and noses, little else showing. Regardless of danger, this was too interesting for the souls in the pitch.
What choice did I have? I shouted, “The way out is down. All the way down and out past Satan himself. Watch out for demons.”
Black Talon growled.
Another figure ran up. This one was not a demon, but he wasn’t covered with tar, either. He looked absolutely average, middle–aged, middle height, pale skin, a face you would forget in seconds. He began to harangue the demons. His voice was so soft I could not make out the words.
Black Talon looked at him menacingly. “There is one you may have, Allen Carpentier!”
“Who is it?”
“David Talbot Runmere. He was a city attorney who loved animals so much that he prosecuted citizens who killed rats. For cruelty to animals!”
“Stupidity isn’t a sin. Why’s he here?”
Black Talon scowled. “Minos put him here until he converts a dozen of my beauties to the way of kindness. When he can convince a dozen of my minions not to torment sinners, he will be released. Carpentier, he wearies us! He is not worth a dozen of my tribe, but you may have him — Carpentier, take him and you may have another as well!”
“Which other?”
“We can negotiate.”
Aimee stood in the saddle of her motorcycle. “ ‘Hear the words of the Prophet Daniel!’ ”
“ ‘And at that time shall Michael stand up, the great prince which standeth for the children of thy people: and there shall be a time of trouble, such as never was since there was a nation
even
to that same time. And at that time thy people shall be delivered, every one that shall be found written in the book.’ ”
“ ‘And many of them that sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame
and
everlasting contempt.’ ”
“ ‘And they that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righ teousness, as the stars for ever and ever.’ ”
“ ‘Hear me, sinners! The Love of God has no bounds! If you are deserving, your salvation shall come to you! And if you deserve not salvation, then shall you have everlasting contempt!’ Black Talon, cease your temptations. You shall not prevail against my flock!”
Black Talon gave her a sour look. “Eloquent,” he said. “My beauties, look sharp! They will try the harder to escape now. See that none do!”
He was still shouting when three tar–covered figures burst from the tar on the opposite bank. They scrambled to the top of the dike and ran across to throw themselves down into the next Bolgia. Black Talon screamed in rage. “I told you! Now keep watch!” He turned to me. “Of course they are not the first. I know of dozens who left here only to find places below. You have not succeeded, Carpenter.”
“Sure looked like he did to me!” Phyllis said. Aimee added, “Hallelujah!”
Another sinner tried to make a run for it, but a winged demon was waiting. He speared him with his pitchfork and brought him to Black Talon.
“Good work, Oiled Lightning! It wouldn’t do to let this one escape! Lyndon, here, never worked in his life except in public service, and died worth billions and billions! Tell me, Carpenter, would you have me release him? Who will you give me in exchange?”
“I’ll take him and Runmere,” I shouted.
“I am greatly tempted,” Black Talon said.
Aimee sat back on her motorcycle. “Oscar, be ready to turn and run,” she said in a low voice. “Soon as I lead off, follow, fast.”
Black Talon was still boasting. “But not this one, Carpentier. He is a prize. You knew this one, Pink Talon! Your boss, he was. I believe you could have sent him to prison. Wasn’t that your job?”
“It was my duty to keep the nation safe,” Pink Talon — Hoover — said. “And to do that I had to keep my position. What good would it do to replace one crooked politician with another? Look who followed him when he did leave office! Barrators, the lot of them. I did my duty! I left this one in his place so long as he left me in mine!”
“So that’s how you got here,” I said. “You were only doing your duty —”
Pink Talon looked at me suspiciously. “Sire! They’re planning something! There are too many of us here, we’ve left places unguarded!”
Aimee’s motorcycle roared to life. “Now, Oscar,” she shouted. “And fast!”
She made a powered skid turn and was away back over the bridge. Oscar had to turn hard, then back up, but he wasn’t far behind her. Carl desperately clutched the right fender, Eloise on the left. I looked in the rearview mirror. The demons behind us were shouting curses. Ernesto and Phyllis were hanging on to the luggage carrier. “We’re all aboard,” I said.
Oscar slowed as he came off the bridge, then turned hard right to follow Aimee. She was well ahead of us. “What do you think she has in mind?” Oscar’s radio asked. “Do we trust her?”
“She is worthy!” Eloise shouted.
“And how would you know that?” Carl asked.