more people we bring into this the more complicated everything becomes. This should remain an internal affair and—”
“If you’d done your job, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Stone snapped.
“What evidence am I looking for?” Rafael asked Stone.
“Photographic evidence,” the Texan drawled. “A camera and film.”
Malik looked at the Arab. “You don’t need to know any more than that, Araboosh.” He took the word, twisted it, and shoved it into Rafael’s face.
Rafael regarded the soldier in stony silence, not rising to the provocation.
“Do whatever you feel necessary to obtain that equipment,” Stone said to Rafael, then looked directly at Malik. “Let me down again and I’ll have you guarding illiterate drug dealers queuing for bread in Chechnya, understood?”
Malik winced but said nothing as Rafael climbed out of the vehicle. Stone waited until he was out of sight before leaning closer to Malik.
“I would prefer that the evidence is destroyed rather than recovered during this mission, along with all witnesses.”
In the darkness, Malik’s grimace twisted into a cruel smile.
M STREET SW, WASHINGTON DC
What do we got?”
Tyrell drove out of the MPD Headquarters onto Delaware Avenue, his headlights illuminating the colorful murals painted on the walls of the station claiming “We can” and “We will” as Nicola Lopez read the files she had downloaded from the Metropolitan Police Department’s servers.
“Kelvin Patterson, born 1954, Huntsville, Alabama. Married to Julie, no fewer than six kids. The guy’s an evangelical fruit loop, the type who appears on TV after every disaster and claims it was the hand of God. Last time he got major news coverage was after Hurricane Katrina, claiming the storm was God’s wrath for the American tolerance of homosexual marriages and abortions.”
“Criminal activity?”
“The guy’s as clean as a pastor could be. Earned a degree in theology from the University of Phoenix in Austin, Texas, before joining a revolution in political religious activism in the early eighties. Moved to the District and attached himself to the hard-right political parties before starting his own ministry. Was a millionaire within five years and now heads a congregation of around thirty million Americans gathered under a federation of evangelical churches across several states. He has his headquarters in the District in a purpose-built megachurch he had constructed four years ago.”
Tyrell changed lanes.
“What about these radio and TV shows that the kid mentioned?”
“Patterson does a weekly radio piece called This Bread, an ad for various faith leaders pushing the boat out for bringing God into the public sphere. Apparently, they either don’t know or don’t care that to do so would be against the Constitution. The TV show is the vehicle that made him a millionaire, with regular tithing events and requests for viewers’ money donated for charitable causes.”
“Like the hospital?”
“Among other things,” Lopez noted, scanning through the files. “It would seem that the good pastor manages to cream off a holy slice for himself. Three houses, plenty of cars. This guy’s big and he’s well connected. He’s allied to the current opposition front runner for the primaries, Senator Isaiah Black. They were college friends, apparently.” Lopez put the file down. “It’s hardly a lead, though. This guy recruits from prison populations through his charities and hospitals, but he has no direct contact with them.”
Tyrell massaged his temples with his free hand, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The car was hot but his skin felt cold to the touch and a dull nausea infected his stomach.
“There’ll be something,” he said. “We’ve got enough here to at least make some inquiries, provided I can get it past Powell.”
“There’s no way he’s gonna let you harass this guy. Everything we’ve got is circumstantial and none of it actually points to a homicide. Where are we goin’ anyway?”
“General Hospital Southeast. I’ve got an appointment with a doctor there.”
“Great.” Lopez smiled brightly. “It’s about damned time.”
“The appointment’s not for me,” Tyrell countered. “Suppose that Claretta’s recollections were all correct. This kid was pulled from the AEA’s institute and subjected to medical experiments. What the hell do you think would be the point of that?”
Lopez shrugged.
“There’s no point in killing someone just to bring ’em back. You want a mark to stay down, not get up and start wanderin’ around looking for the cops.”
“Unless there was some reason for keeping them dead,” Tyrell said quietly, “even just for a while.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
Tyrell found a space in the hospital’s parking lot before he and Lopez entered the crowded ER. Tyrell was directed to a small