Page 119 of The Devil's Advocate

‘Please, let me go !’ cried his father.

‘Pray, father. Pray for forgiveness,’ was the Pastor’s response as he watched the man die.

It was hot that day. Just like today – the Seventh Day.

The day his angels would release their fire on the land, and call men to arms in the first battle of what he believed would be a holy war. Prayers didn’t save anyone. Only action.

As the Pastor hit the sundrenched sidewalk he looked around, shielding his eyes beneath the brim of his hat. He saw a dark SUV in the distance. Too far away to tell if anyone was inside. He checked his watch and waited some more. Then a black SUV pulled up and he got inside. Denvir accelerated away as the Pastor buckled his seat belt, checking the side mirror as he did so.

The dark SUV pulled into the street behind him.

‘Is that a tail?’ asked Denvir.

‘Maybe,’ said the Pastor.

‘You want me to lose ’em?’

‘No, that won’t be necessary. I think we should let them follow. It might be useful,’ said the Pastor.

They drove through the town. Into the white, middle-class suburbs. Turned onto Peachtree Avenue and came to stop outside Francis Edwards’ address.

‘You know what to do later tonight, after I give the signal?’ asked the Pastor, handing the files he’d taken from the office to Denvir.

‘I think so. My boys are ready. I’ve got them on high alert. They’re already in their tactical armor, their dicks in their hands and their guns loaded into their trucks. All I need to do is give the word.’

‘Good. Go through the files again. Just to make sure there are no mistakes. Start with the Jews, then work your way down.’

And with that, the Pastor swung the strap of his bag over his head, adjusted his hat, and got out of the car. He walked up the path, opened Francis’s front door with his keys, went inside and shut it, firmly, behind him and snapped on a pair of gloves.

He took a laptop from his bag, set it on the coffee table in the lounge, opened it up and powered it on. Then he took the schematic of the governor’s mansion from his bag, as well as a plastic folder, and placed these items on the couch.

Making his way to the back door, he glanced once at the kitchen floor. He could still hear the noise Esther had made as she choked to death. There was a key sitting in the lock of the door. He turned it, but before he opened the door he saw a figure vault the fence at the back of the yard and quickly disappear from view as they dropped into the tall grass.

Quickly, he crouched down on the floor, then got onto his back and drew his gun. He aimed the Glock at the window at the top half of the door.

Soon as a head appeared in the window, he would put a bullet through it.

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

BLOCH

She had zoomed in, taken a few shots, but the hat kept his face in shadow. Soon as the figure went inside she threw the wheel around, turned the car and drove to the end of the block. Her cell phone in her hand, Bloch dialed her contact, read out the license plate, asked for a quick turnaround by text message and hung up.

A helicopter flew overhead. That was the second chopper she’d seen today.

The houses backed onto a line of trees that ran between this development and the next one over. Bloch made her way through the trees until she found the fence at the rear of the Edwards property. It was five feet high and sturdy. She took a run up, vaulted the fence into the yard. The lawn had not been cut in a while. There were a few benches here and there, a tool shed and a paved area at the back door with patio furniture. She kept low and quiet as she approached the back door, which she guessed led into the kitchen. No sign of anyone through the lounge window.

She reached the back door in a crouch.

Maggie in her right hand.

Her left extended above her head, reaching for the door handle.

She stopped. Wondered if she should chance a look through the glass pane that made up the top half of the door.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t know what she was walking into. Maybe the man in the panama hat was armed. She would be quick. One glance.

Standard no-knock entry procedure for police. If you could get a quick look through a window, gather some intel on the layout of people inside – that’s gold.