remarkable. Seventy thousand voices, all singing together, soon accompanied by the countless thousands of others outside the stadium’s walls, a chorus of worship echoing across the Houston twilight.
Matt frowned. Father Jerome’s appearance was drawing near, and they still hadn’t found any trace of Danny or of the guys who were holding him. Matt had to make some decisions. He had to go for the likeliest spots and forget about the rest. There wasn’t enough time. He scanned the dark stadium, and settled on two target areas beyond the bank of suites they were still checking out: the two banks of suites on level two. Each bank had thirty-nine suites in it, which would take time to vet. They’d have to forgo the main seating tiers and hope for the best.
The singing ended and Darby strolled out onto the stage, basking in the wild applause. Massive overhead video screens beamed a close-up of his face across the stadium.
“Greetings in Christ,” he boomed, drawing the same words back from the excited masses.
Matt and Gracie weren’t going to stick around for his speech. They slipped back through the suite and pressed on with their sweep.
They advanced slowly, checking out the rest of the floor. Half an hour later, they’d come up empty-handed. Two other megapastors had come on stage in the meantime, delivering rousing sermons to tumultuous cheers. In between their speeches, the choir sang backup to some of the biggest names in Christian rock. Matt and Gracie descended to the level three concourse and were on their way to level two when Gracie suddenly gasped and spun around and ducked into the cover of Matt’s bulk.
“What?” he asked.
She peered out, then slipped out of view behind him again. “Ogilvy,” she said. “He’s right there.”
Matt’s fists clenched. “Which one?”
“Slick guy, by the concession stand. Graying hair, rimless glasses. He’s in a light-colored suit.”
Matt scanned the crowd. The concourse was filled with wall-to-wall people. A couple of heads parted and he caught a glimpse of someone fitting Gracie’s description. “Come on,” he said in a low voice as he took Gracie’s hand and cut through the crowd behind Ogilvy. He lost him, then saw him appear again, about fifteen yards ahead, heading for the suites. The fact that Ogilvy was about five-six wasn’t helping. Matt tried to press ahead, but the crush of people was like quicksand. He saw a small opening in the crowd and nosed into it, only to slam into a couple of tall rancher types who were cutting across him on their way back from the concession stands. One of them spilled his beer all over his shirt and shoved Matt back angrily.
“Watch your step, doofus,” the man snapped. “What’s your rush?”
Matt’s arm tightened and his eyes narrowed and he was about to pounce, but Gracie held him back and subdued him with a forced smile.
“Easy, big guy.” She turned to the angry rancher and cranked her flirt look up to eleven. “No damage done, boys. What do you say we just forgive and forget and go back to enjoying the sermons. It is Christmas, right?”
Matt held back and waited for the other guy to nod. The rancher scowled, thinking about it, then grudgingly gave him a tiny bob of the head. Matt nodded back, took Gracie’s hand, and pulled her into the throng of people, but he couldn’t see Ogilvy anywhere. He craned his neck and hoisted himself on the tips of his toes and scanned around intently.
There was no sign of him.
OUT AT THE EDGE of the red lot, Rydell and Dalton watched with awe as the crowd rose into song and settled down again. Some of them had brought small 12-volt-powered TV sets with them, and clusters of people were massed around each set, listening to the sermons and responding with the occasional “Amen.”
Rydell cast his gaze across the plain of cars, then looked up at the sky. The last glints of daylight had dipped down behind the horizon. “Let’s send it up,” he said. “We can’t wait much longer.”
Dalton brought the Draganflyer out of the Lincoln and set it down on the ground. He checked the light and flicked the HD video camera under its belly to night-vision mode. He then switched the Draganflyer’s engines on, glanced around, and guided it up. It rose quickly with the silent whirr of a high-powered household cooling fan and disappeared in the night sky.
Rydell studied the area around them, trying to divine where he would put the launchers. To