The minister stood and walked to the window. Hell, she is big, Hellboy thought. Six-two if she's an inch.
"I've heard about you, Miss Sherman," she said. "I don't trust you. You killed your family."
Hellboy raised his eyebrows and glanced at Liz, sensing the heat of rage simmering beneath her surface veneer of calm anger.
The minister turned to Hellboy. "And I don't trust you either."
"And what's my special reason?" he asked, voice as cold as an Arctic night.
"You're from hell."
The room fell silent. The minister and her bodyguard stood behind the desk, waiting for Hellboy and Liz to leave. Hellboy stared at the minister. A clock ticked, and somewhere ice chinked in a glass. She never offered us a drink, Hellboy thought.
He stood. The bodyguard moved slightly, bracing himself, hand already disappearing inside his jacket. Hellboy smiled at him, and the guy's face paled. "Ma'am," he said, "I understand your doubt, and I'm used to not being trusted. But if you don't get your head out of your butt, very soon you'll all know what hell is like." He strode from the room, feeling Liz burning with anger behind him.
* * *
They met Jim outside. He was leaning against a wall smoking, watching the cars crawling past in the never-ending London gridlock.
"No joy?" Jim asked.
"What do you think?" Hellboy said. He lit a cigarette and stood next to Jim.
"People just can't get beyond the norm," Jim said. "They see the surface of things, and if that's acceptable, they have no inclination to go deeper. Too much trouble. Too much thinking involved. And too much fear."
"Fear of the unknown?"
Jim shrugged, then shook his head. "Fear of knowing too much," he said. "Most people want a simple life. Look, over there. See that bus stop? Young woman waiting there, short skirt, leather boots, presenting a nice image?"
"Yeah," Hellboy said. "Cute." He glanced at Liz, and she rolled her eyes.
"There's a ghost standing behind her," Jim said. "Just standing there. No expression on its face. Arms down by its sides. It's looking at her, as though it can make itself felt if it really concentrates. Probably someone from her past, family or friend, but she'll never see it, never give it peace. She doesn't know how. Most people don't, and it's because they're scared of knowing too much. They'll happily buy a tabloid newspaper and think that's it, that's the news, that's what's happening. This celebrity's marrying that one, and all is good in the world tonight."
"I can't see a ghost," Hellboy said. He looked hard, glancing left and right to give his peripheral vision a chance. But she was just a young woman waiting for a bus.
"Maybe you're too optimistic," Jim said.
"I see it," Liz said. "The instant you told me it was there, I saw it."
Jim smiled sadly. "Then you're someone not scared of knowledge."
Hellboy threw down his cigarette and crushed it out. "Jim, we need your help. We have to get close to the Anderson Hotel, and we need to be able to move fast when the time comes."
"What do you think will happen now?"
"War," Liz said. "Fast and bloody. Blake is ready to start a war for what he believes in, and it's obvious from Miss Minister up there that she's ready to lose."
"We have to spend more time here," Jim said. "We have to try harder to make her understand."
"We go in there again, and they'll throw us in the deepest dungeons they can find," Hellboy said. "At least, they'll try. And whether they believe what we're telling them or not, the time will come very soon when their forces are forced to face what we're warning them about. Forewarned is forearmed, but at least we know they have some protection down there."
"We need to be ready to go after Blake," Liz said.
"Exactly." Hellboy rearranged his coat over his shoulders and delved into the pockets for another cigarette. Stumps. That's all he had. One day he'd have to buy some new ones. "And that's why you need to find us a helicopter, Jim."
Jim Sugg raised his eyebrows.