Outside the ancient castle, a gathering of impeccably dressed men and women mingled casually. They looked like respectable members of high society, greeting one another with smiles and handshakes.
None of them knew they were being watched from a distant hillside.
"Malboro. Camel. Dunhill. Captain Morgan..."
Melinda lay prone with a pair of binoculars, quietly naming the people she spotted.
Evenson blinked.
Were all these people already on SHIELD’s watchlist? How else could Melinda casually assign them code names on sight?
Then it hit him.
Wait.
Those weren’t code names.
"Unbelievable," Melinda muttered, lowering the binoculars. "Most of the people down there are tobacco executives."
She rubbed her tired eyes, looking thoroughly perplexed.
If she hadn’t known why SHIELD was here, she might have assumed the entire tobacco industry had organized a corporate retreat.
Perhaps they were even holding a conference to discuss how to raise cigarette prices worldwide.
"Smoking is bad for your health," Evenson said solemnly.
He lit a cigarette, took a long drag, and exhaled.
"It’s basically slow suicide. And according to Christian doctrine, suicide is a sinful act."
He took another drag.
"Yet how many people actually care about the damage one cigarette does to their body? They keep smoking without thinking about it, and little by little, they fall into corruption."
Melinda slowly turned her head.
"Then why are you smoking?"
She gave him an incredulous look.
Evenson was standing there puffing away while lecturing her about the evils of smoking. It was difficult not to compare him to one of those internet philosophers who spent all day preaching morality from behind a keyboard.
Evenson took another deep drag and flicked the ash from the cigarette.
"I usually keep Dark Breath active when I smoke. With that spell, I could inhale nerve gas and walk it off."
He shrugged.
"Only amateurs from the demonic underground have to worry about lung cancer."
"Sometimes I really envy people with powers."
Melinda shot him a look before returning her attention to the castle.
"So, when we get back, are we supposed to crack down on the tobacco trade? Make the whole world smoke-free?"
She wasn’t entirely joking.
If smoking really counted as corruption and the tobacco industry was indirectly helping demons operate in the human world, then perhaps SHIELD should do something about it.
The idea of SHIELD launching a war on cigarettes was absurd, but apparently they had already crossed that bridge.
Evenson’s mouth twitched.
Absolutely not.
Smoking was one of the few luxuries he still allowed himself. If they banned cigarettes, what was he supposed to do instead?
Inhale good luck?
"There’s no need to go that far," he said. "Smoking barely qualifies as corruption. There are plenty of things far worse, and compared to them, this is practically harmless. Nobody’s going to Hell just because they smoke."
He took another drag.
"They’re doing it because they enjoy it. They’re not smoking because they want to accomplish some grand evil purpose. Besides, smoking isn’t one of the Seven Deadly Sins."
"Even so..."
Melinda turned back toward the castle.
"I think the tobacco industry deserves a closer look. They’re still giving the devil a considerable amount of money, which makes his operations in the human world easier."
Several SHIELD agents nearby visibly winced.
None of them dared glare directly at Evenson, but more than a few shot him wounded looks from the corners of their eyes.
Evenson immediately regretted opening his mouth.
Damn it.
He’d talked himself into a cigarette shortage.
"Still, the devil’s strategy is strange," Melinda said with a sigh.
"If Locke wants to establish himself in the human world, why isn’t he recruiting people with real influence? These tobacco executives have money, sure, but most of them are just wealthy businessmen. At best, they can provide financial support."
The tobacco industry could make obscene amounts of money, but there were plenty of more lucrative industries. And its political influence was nothing compared to finance, oil, or the arms trade.
Why would a demon bother controlling cigarette companies?
Was Locke trying to control every smoker on Earth?
That was ridiculous. Quitting smoking could be miserable, but she’d never heard of anyone willing to sell their soul just to get another cigarette.
"Not everyone down there can be tobacco executives," Evenson said, scratching his cheek. "There have to be some people with actual influence. Locke wouldn’t sacrifice his real objective just because he had a personal interest in cigarettes."
Melinda raised her binoculars again.
After scanning the gathering for several seconds, she spotted another group standing apart from the tobacco executives.
"There are some politicians."
She frowned.
"Nothing impressive, though. They’re all minor players. Their influence is practically nonexistent."
"Then why control them?" Evenson asked. "If Locke can manipulate them, why not go after arms dealers or financial magnates?"
"Everything in this world has a price," Evenson said, a trace of disdain entering his voice. "And supernatural power isn’t omnipotent."
Melinda glanced at him.
"Oh?"
"Think about it this way."
Evenson accepted a roasted chestnut from Clea, cracked the shell, and popped the nut into his mouth.
"Suppose Locke walked up to Tony Stark and said, ’I can give you unlimited money and surround you with beautiful women for the rest of your life.’"
He chewed thoughtfully.
"My guess is Tony would respond by blasting him with a repulsor hard enough to make him forget his own name."
For genuinely powerful people, money was just a number.
Influence was something they already possessed.
And when it came to attractive men and women, they had no trouble finding those either.
There was a certain freedom that came from already possessing everything ordinary people could be tempted with.
"What else can Locke offer them?"
"Immortality might still tempt some of them," Evenson said. "But even Mephisto couldn’t hand that out casually."
He shook his head.
"And Locke is only an avatar. He has even less to offer."
"So he can’t afford their rates."
Melinda finally understood.
The powerful demanded a fortune.
Locke couldn’t afford them.
So he had settled for people he could buy in bulk.
"Hmm?"
Melinda suddenly lowered her voice.
"Looks like there are some others."
"Who?"
"Drug traffickers."
She lowered the binoculars and gave the people below a disgusted look.
"Khun Sa from the Golden Triangle. And Guler, the Three-Eyed Drug King from South America."
Evenson’s expression turned cold.
"There is no more corrupt trade than narcotics."
His voice carried none of its earlier humor.
"Slave trafficking destroys the body. Drugs destroy the soul as well."
He looked toward the gathering below.
"That is true corruption. The devil’s poison. A forbidden substance that should never be touched. The Seven Deadly Sins rolled into one."
"I’ll report this to Director Fury," Melinda said grimly. "I’ll have him request that the committee increase the crackdown on the narcotics trade."
She hated these traffickers almost as much as Evenson did.
"But things just became considerably more complicated."
As if to prove her point, more than a dozen heavy trucks rolled toward the ruins.
Dozens of soldiers climbed out.
They weren’t wearing standardized uniforms. Their equipment looked almost haphazard, and at first glance, they barely resembled a professional military force.
But appearances were deceiving.
The smell of blood and gunpowder clung to them.
Even the mercenaries already stationed around the ruins looked like amateurs by comparison.
These men had seen real combat.
A lot of it.
"That’s Guler’s jungle drug-enforcement unit," Melinda said through clenched teeth. "He brought at least half of them."
She stared through the binoculars.
"I can’t believe he’s this loyal to Locke. He brought practically his entire personal force."
Her expression darkened.
"And he brought his family, too."
"His family?"
Evenson’s eyebrow rose.
That was dedication.
Guler hadn’t merely brought his elite troops. He’d apparently decided the whole family was going to join the party.
"Those two women."
Melinda pointed toward the ruins.
Two women stepped out of Guler’s luxury sedan.
Both wore wide-brimmed hats with veils that concealed their faces, making their identities impossible to determine from this distance.
"My guess is that they’re his relatives."
Guler?
Evenson rubbed his chin.
The name tugged at something in his memory.
Where had he heard that name before?
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