19.

It was just about sundown when Debra parked on the street a couple of blocks away from the building and walked back. It had been a long day, and there was more to come. At least there was if God was with her.

She went inside, through the lobby, and on toward the elevators. She walked as one with a purpose in mind, not stopping at the desk for a pass. There were people everywhere, but no one challenged her or paid much attention to her at all. She wore a business suit and carried a leather attaché case under her arm, and she had a smile for anyone whose eye she couldn’t avoid.

This was her third visit. The first had been on Monday, two days ago, when she’d been following the pervert Regan and he had led her here. Then earlier today she’d come back for another look and to locate the stairwells and the exits. Riding up on the elevator, she kept her smile in place. She could feel her heart beating. So many people around. This was the sort of risk she hadn’t taken until now. But if she was to complete her work, and in the order Divine Wisdom itself had revealed, she might not get a better opportunity for a long time—time she couldn’t afford.

The elevator stopped, and she got off and headed down the corridor. Not so crowded here, of course, though people were still coming and going. She knew well that courage and foolishness were not the same thing, but if there was any realistic opening she would seize it. She hoped to take him with her—something she hadn’t considered with Father Kanowski—and carry out the job where she could do it properly. And if she could do that, she would leave behind a sign that she had taken him, so that the order she was following in these purgings would be ascertainable. That was crucial.

His name was in the slot on the door. She pushed it open and went inside. There was no one there. Disappointing, but God’s will—not hers—be done. She turned and went out into the corridor again, and started back toward—

“Excuse me, ma’am.” It was a woman. “Can I help you?”

Debra desperately wanted to keep going, to pretend she hadn’t heard. But that had its own risks. She stopped and, fixing her smile wider than ever, turned around.

*   *   *

Five minutes later, riding down on the crowded elevator, Debra was tempted to exit at the lobby and head straight for her car. The woman had seen her! Looked right into her face. Still … she was an old woman, and obviously not very bright. She had no idea who Debra was and couldn’t possibly identify her unless she’d already been caught … and then she would have failed anyway. She’d taken a huge chance by telling the old woman who she was looking for, but God rewarded bold courage.

Everyone else got out at the lobby and Debra rode down to “LL1.” She found the snack bar where the old woman said she would: past the main dining area, around a corner, and halfway down to the next corner. It was a small room, with a wall of plate glass separating it from the corridor. There were several round tables, and vending machines for soda, coffee, snacks, and sandwiches. And there he was, her reward for not losing her nerve.

He was the only person in the room, seated at a table near the door, drinking Diet Coke from a plastic bottle and looking down at a newspaper. About her height, she thought; a thin, delicate-looking man. When he reached for the bottle she noticed he had unusually long, slender fingers. An artist’s fingers, or a musician’s.

She stood in the doorway and looked up and down the hallway. No one else was around. “Hi there, big fella.” When he looked up he was staring right at the pistol pointed at his face, shielded from view through the window by the attaché case. “Do exactly as I tell you,” she said, “and I won’t hurt you. I promise.”