“This is all of the candidates?” I heard him ask his advisors, sotto voce.
His gaze swept me dismissively, no more interested than had I been a speck of lint on his finely tailored collar. I took no offence; clients who have underestimated and tried to double cross me in the past have regretted it, albeit very briefly.
“This is most irregular.” An acolyte was addressing me directly now.
“We don’t usually employ… women for this sort of engagement, and it seems odd that our usual cadre of mercenar… excuse me, Imperial volunteers is suddenly reduced to one we’ve never encountered before. I don’t suppose that you had anything to do with this situation?”
I noted the sharpness of his tone and shrugged, which clearly irritated him, but I didn’t care. He didn’t have any other choices.
“I’d like to see,” I said, “how you could possibly come to that conclusion. You’ll have done your due diligence I assume, and my movements are well known. You’ll find I haven’t been anywhere near any of your preferred contractors in the last six weeks.”
In truth, I’d carefully ensured that any others who might be willing to do this job had been unavoidably delayed, or side-tracked by sudden crises that they couldn’t ignore. This man could insinuate all he liked; he had no actual evidence to back up his speculation.
I’d also put some thought into the way I presented myself today; dulled obsidian torso armour over combat fatigues, a heavily modified sidearm hanging loosely in a hip holster in clear contravention of their “no weapons” policy, and my usually neatly tied auburn hair hanging loose. Those who knew how to read the signs would have been as wary of me as if I were a coiled serpent ready to strike, but this lot were too wrapped up in their own self-importance to take much notice.
“Most irregular,” he repeated, still suspicious, then shook himself. “Of course, you know the job, the rates, the conditions? No extraction. No liability can be traced to the Church of Humanity. We maintain full plausible deniability. Officially we don’t employ men… individuals who offer your services.”
“Naturally,” I inclined my head.
He sighed. “Then leave here and return with indisputable proof of The Relic’s existence. Satan must not triumph.
“If this first step goes well,” and here I heard the aporetic tone, “we may find further commissions for you.”
Audience almost over, the doors to the chamber swung open slowly behind me, and finally, the Cardinal spoke from his throne. “Go forth, Hero of the Church, and may God go with you.”
The guards at the doors were looking away, otherwise they’d have seen my eyes flash briefly red as I strode out, and a smile curl my lips. I hadn’t seen God since He’d got that smug, pompous cretin Mikey to cast me out all those millennia ago, and I doubted He’d fancy teaming up with me to hunt down the Ark of the Covenant…
