Nightside 02 - Agents of Light and Darkness

It’s passed from hand to hand down the centuries, previous owners are said to include Torquemada, Rasputin, and Adolf Hitler. Though if Hitler had possessed all the mystical items rumor has gifted him with, he wouldn’t have lost the war. Anyway, the Unholy Grail is currently on the loose and up for grabs, somewhere in the Nightside.”
    I felt like whistling loudly, impressed, but I didn’t. I had a reputation to maintain. “No wonder there are angels in the Nightside.”
    “Already?” Jude leaned forward sharply. His eyes didn’t look kind any more. “Are you sure?”
    “No,” I said calmly. “So far it’s only talk. But the word is, we have visitors from Above and Below.”
    “Shit,” said Jude, startling me just a bit. You don’t expect language like that from a priest and librarian.
    “Mr. Taylor, it’s imperative you locate the Unholy Grail for us, before agents of the Lord or the Enemy become directly involved. Make no mistake, if agents of the Principalities go to war here, they could level the Nightside.”
    “If the Unholy Grail is here, I can find it,” I said, giving Jude my best confident smile. He didn’t seem impressed or reassured.
    “It won’t be easy, Mr. Taylor. Even with your famous talent. A lot of people are going to be searching for the Unholy Grail, for all manner of good and bad reasons. And in the wrong hands, its power could conceivably upset the balance between Above and Below. The Last Days could come early, and we’re not nearly ready yet.”
    “So if the angels don’t destroy the Nightside, whoever gets to the Unholy Grail first could do the job too? Wonderful. I just love working under pressure.”
    “But you’ll take the commission?”
    “I can find anything. It’s what I do. That is why you came to me, isn’t it?”
    “You came highly recommended,” said Jude. “Though for the sake of your ego, I don’t think I’ll say by whom. Now, the Unholy Grail was being kept in the House of Blue Lights, one of the hidden complexes deep under the Pentagon. But a guard somehow got past all the defenses and protections, and smuggled it out. He couldn’t hang on to it, of course, the poor fool. It had just used him to escape.”
    I remembered the man in black at St. Jude’s, and what had happened to him. The awful voice(s) had mentioned a Grail. But I didn’t say anything. I had no reason to keep things from Jude, but I still wasn’t ready to trust him entirely either. I was pretty sure he was keeping things from me.
    “If it’s here, I can find it,” I said flatly. “But I’m not so sure I should turn it over to the Vatican. Your reputation’s taken a series of knocks recently. Everything from banking to the Ratlines.”
    “The Unholy Grail would go straight from me to the Holy Father,” Jude said earnestly. “And he would ensure it would be locked away and properly contained. Until the End of Time, if necessary. If you can’t trust the Pope to do the right thing, Mr. Taylor, whom can you trust?”
    “Good question,” I said. I wasn’t convinced, and he could tell. He thought for a moment.
    “We only want to preserve the status quo, Mr. Taylor. Because Humanity isn’t ready yet for any of the alternatives. I have been authorized to offer you a quarter of a million pounds. In cash. Fifty thousand in advance.”
    He placed a stuffed envelope on the table between us. I didn’t touch it, though my fingers were itching to. A quarter of a bloody million?
    “Danger money?”
    “Quite,” said Jude. “You’ll get the rest when you place the Unholy Grail in my hands.”
    “Sounds good to me,” I said. I picked up the envelope and tucked it away, giving Jude my best confident smile. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Jude.”
    And then we both looked up as three large gentlemen loomed over us. They took up positions standing as close as they could get without actually joining us in the booth. I’d heard them coming, but hadn’t said anything because I didn’t want Jude distracted while he was talking about money. The three gentlemen glared at us both impartially. They were the best-dressed thugs I’d seen in some time, but the attitude gave them away. They might as well have been wearing I am a mafioso hit man T-shirts. They looked slick and heavy and dangerous, and each of them had a gun. All three were professionally calm, forming a semicircle to cover both me and Jude, while efficiently blocking us off from the rest of the bar. No-one could