Chapter 8

“Bach, what are you going to do about Purgatory?” Lieutenant Julie Perkins asked while still in motion, after walking into my den later that Saturday afternoon.

“I was hoping to skip that altogether and ascend straight to heaven when I die.” I replied, while playing a timed puzzle game on my computer.

“You aren’t as amusing as you think. Your plane is on standby. When are we leaving for Franco?”

Completed level 651. Not bad, if I said so myself.

“Bach.” My aide asked again for my attention. Not at all pleased with my response.

“I have a date tomorrow with Lea. Besides, none of the Super groups in Europe are on site. Without backup, I won’t waste my time.”

I heard gritting teeth. “They are waiting for you to arrive before deploying.”

“So, their time is valuable but mine is not? Do you have this week’s council recommendations ready for me?”

Calming herself visibly, “Last night, I sent them to the E-mail address you requested.”

“Hmmm ... it went to spam. Let me whitelist you.” I read over the five A- or B-Rank punishment requests.

“White Lady?” sigh. “Send me the full report on her, please.”

Sensing my mood change, Julie lost most of her aggressiveness. “I thought you read these over before giving the intelligence to us?”

“No. My agency gathers all of the intelligence, I used to do what you are now doing. I trust you three to filter their findings and give me the worst A’s and B’s. The rest can be passed on to the Attorney General to handle.”

“Did something happen between you and White Lady?”

“It’s nothing. Expect to go to New York on Sunday evening. You have the rest of the weekend off.”

From her expression, I could tell what she was thinking; White Lady lived in Manhattan. I didn’t want to think of her any longer and returned to my game. Not that I cleared 652 with the way my mind spiraled into the past.

...

I met Lea at ‘Peonies on the Hill’ for brunch after her church on Sunday. Even in a light flowery silk blouse and mid length cream skirt, she insisted on eating outside on the terrace. The breeze was minimal and the sun bright, so even with the 71-degree weather she shouldn’t be too chilly. I acquiesced and followed both her and the hostess to our glass covered iron wrought table.

Considering the density of the diners, our table had to have been reserved weeks in advance. I smiled to myself at her determination while seating her first, then myself. While enjoying our respective warm beverages, she suddenly tensed up. Turning to look over my shoulder, I noticed Margret Billingsly listening to one of her compatriots chatter and leading a trio of similarly aged women, all dressed as to attend church.

Releasing my gaze from my prospective mother-in-law, I returned to a frowning girlfriend. “Relax, she might not see you.” I chuckled.

“What is she doing here? She hates this place.” Lea mumbled with worry.

Seconds later, the devil spoke, “Lea, won’t you introduce me to your friend?” demanded a suddenly irate woman who stopped at the end of our table.

“Mother!”

I stood and placed my napkin beside my knife, “Hello, Mrs. Billingsly. I am Bach.”

Taken aback. “Oh. Sorry for disturbing your meal. I hope my daughter is not bothering you, Mr. Bach.”

“Not at all. Your daughter is quite charming.” Lea, meanwhile, was frozen in her seat. I did notice that we drew the attention of all nearby.

Taking credit for her daughter’s charm, “Thank you.” Turning to the hostess who was leading them to their table, “Linda, please lead on.”

I sat down, withholding my chuckle.

“I think my mom was replaced by an alien.”

I noted that Margret took the best seat at her table to take advantage of a clear line of sight to ours.

“What makes you say that?”

“There is no baby cow right there.”

I burst out laughing. Not getting the reference but not needing to. The imagery alone was sufficient.

Lea looked over her shoulder at the table the foursome occupied, trying to figure out where the catch was.

“Lea,” I grinned.

“Did dad put her on Valium?”

“Imagine your reaction if you walked by and saw your friend Kendra eating lunch here with your grandfather.”

“Oh.”

“Your mother saw you seeking advice from the older generation.”

“You don’t look old.”

“Thanks.” This was the best lunch in ages. I couldn’t stop grinning.

“You know what I mean!” She reached over and smacked my hand, which was resting on the table.

Still grinning like a fool. “Your mother recognized me right away. Even before I stood. She instantly equated me with the man from her father’s club and the man who lives in the Castle on the Hill. Never occurring to her that I was dating you.”

“That’s mother for you. Only seeing what she wants to see.”

Settling down from her fright, we discussed what we wanted for brunch, at the same time ignoring the dragon across the terrace.

While discussing her classes after eating a very good country omelet, Lillian entered my perception, strode to our table, stole a chair from a different table and made herself comfortable at the end of our table.

I mentally applauded her actions, yet disliked the timing. It could have waited until after we finished eating.

“Boss, President Jacques called again.”

“I don’t speak French,” I repeated for the thousandth time

“You know he speaks English. Boss, you can’t avoid this forever.”

“It’s a mess of their own making.”

“Lillian, what is this about?” Seeing an opening, Lea cut in.

Smart woman. She knew who to ask. The Francos could rot for all I cared.

“Purgatory is in open revolt. Over half the guards are dead and they are days away from breaking the LID and escaping.”