“I think you’d better listen to him,” said Sid in his sweet-sounding voice. I tried to catch one last glance at that garbage contract, but the little creep was too quick for me, shutting the folder and hiding it deep inside the nearest filing cabinet.
There wasn’t a lot more I could do at this stage. Even without the Devil’s threats, I knew it was time to leave Hell. There was nothing left to find here. I had a feeling that all the remaining answers lay back up in Heaven. And besides, I didn’t think I could handle too many more of the little surprises Hell had to offer.
Leaving Sid to his beloved manila folders, I left the castle and hurried back through the garbage-strewn, vomit-ridden streets of Hell. As I walked, I agonised over whether I should pay one last visit to Jessie. Eventually, I decided against it. Tearful good-byes were not my scene. Anyway, what was I supposed to say to her? Hey Angel, I hope you have the mime of your life?
The sun, or whatever passed for the source of light down here, was just beginning to set when I finally found the right alley. As I left the main street, I couldn’t help noticing three musicians standing on the corner. They were playing as if their life depended upon it, but none of the passersby seemed to care. The little hat that lay at their feet was bulging full of nothing. This sight more than anything made me realise how glad I was to be leaving Hell. Jessie was right. It was a cruel place.
Climbing up the ladder back into Heaven was about as fun as arm wrestling a grizzly bear while wearing a blindfold, but somehow I forced myself onwards and upwards. As I got closer to the top, I couldn’t help feeling energised by the healing air of Heaven. However, I also couldn’t help noticing something else that was more than a little unnerving.
My hands, clutching tightly to the rungs above, were beginning to collect dirt and grime. Given the pristine nature of Heaven, it was clear where this grit must have come from. Apparently I wasn’t the only person who had used this passage in recent days. Someone else had been climbing up the ladder from Hell into Heaven.
At last, I dragged myself out of the hole and collapsed panting on the floor of the small room at the top. After allowing myself some vitally needed recovery time, I pushed away the grate and climbed out. I was back in Heaven.
At least I assumed I was in Heaven. The street I was standing in was filthy.
Chapter 14
I WALKED AWAY FROM THE GRATE and inspected my surroundings. It was definitely Heaven. I recognised the two houses on either side of me. But the whole streetscape couldn’t have looked more different. There was rubbish everywhere. It was piled up all over the street and swirling around in the air. The garbage collection strike was clearly beginning to have an impact.
The rubbish wasn’t the only thing that was different about Heaven. There was also a change in the people around me—a quickness to their step and a worried look on their faces. The tranquility that had previously been the hallmark of this place was disappearing as quickly as the green lawns were disappearing beneath mounds of trash.
I walked back down the street, dodging the pieces of flying garbage, the rubbish piles that were as deep as quicksand, and the hordes of seemingly lost schoolchildren. I didn’t like this new Heaven. The chaos and confusion on the street made me feel like I’d never left Hell. I had to find out more about whoever had taken over the garbage collection and thrown things into such disarray. And my feet were leading me in one direction only.
It was early evening and probably not long before closing time when I arrived at The Loaf and the Fishes, but the little bar was full of anxious patrons. At least one of them was happy to see me.
“Jimmy Clarenden, step this way,” cried the voice of Alby Stark above the bewildered murmurings of the crowd.
I pushed through and eventually made my way over to the grinning journalist.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” he said. “I believe you have something for me.”
“Only if you have something for me.”
“Just everything you needed to know, if that’s what you mean.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” I looked around. There were far too many people crammed up against the bar. “I think we should take this outside. These things would be better said in private.”
We squeezed back towards the door. Outside the bar, Alby led me down a little side lane, away from the madness of the street.
“Okay,” I said. “What have you got to tell me?”
“I’ve got answers to all your questions. I’ve poked my nose into places it shouldn’t be seen in, and I’ve dug down to the bottom of the deepest holes in Heaven, but I’ve found the answers.”
“If I wanted dramatics I would have gone to the theatre. Just tell me what you know.”
“Okay,” he said. “Now the first thing you wanted to know is who is responsible for collecting the garbage in Heaven. It’s actually collected by teams from . . . down below!”
Alby paused, clearly expecting some sort of reaction to his revelation. When I didn’t respond, he went on anyway. “They come up every night and clean up the whole place. Though I have to say,” he added as he kicked away a couple of pages of newspaper that had wrapped around his feet, “that with the job they’re doing at the moment, I think I deserve my money back.”
“I’ll decide what you deserve,” I said. “This isn’t news to me. Have you got anything else?”
“Oh?” For a moment, Alby was taken aback, but it didn’t stop him for long. “Actually I do. Something huge. All of the teams are organised by one central agency that is involved with not only garbage collection but also all operations for the maintenance of Heaven, including sewage, electricity generation, and window cleaning. This agency is one hundred percent owned and operated by . . . the Devil!”
“All old news.”
This time, the look of dismay on Alby’s face couldn’t be hidden. “You’re lying,” he cried. “You can’t possibly have known all this.”
“I know about this and plenty more. Now, have you got anything fresh for me or are you just wasting my time?” I began to walk back along the alley.
“No, wait,” Alby called. “Perhaps you’d like to know who signed the contract from Heaven’s side?”
I stopped and turned around. “There’s a contract?”
“There most certainly is. Iron-clad. No exemptions.”
“Then perhaps I would like to know.”
“So I do have some useful information after all.” Alby was speaking as slowly as he could, clearly enjoying the power his secret knowledge gave him. “The signatory for Heaven is in fact none other than . . . ”
“Yes.”
“ . . . none other than . . . ”
“If you don’t tell me now, I’ll fill you so full of soda water you’ll explode.”
“ . . . none other than God’s own son.”
“Jesus?” I said.
“No, the other one. What’s his name, Percival?”
I froze in my tracks. If Alby had been holding a feather, he could have knocked me down with it. Inside my head, I could hear the click as another piece of the puzzle slid into place. The Devil had signed an iron-clad contract to provide a garbage collection service to Heaven. If anyone else wanted to take over that service, they would have been faced with a considerable problem. But if the signatory to that contract on Heaven’s behalf should suddenly disappear, maybe convincing the Devil to break that contract and sell the garbage collection business wouldn’t be quite so difficult. Could this be the real explanation for Phil’s disappearance?
Immersed in thought, I started towards the street. An enraged voice quickly pulled me short.
“Where do you think you’re going, Clarenden? I gave you what you wanted. Now give me what you promised me.”