and ‘sin’: he found it rather apt, for Eldritch was in the sin business, specializing in those of a mortal nature. He was, though, more prosecutor than final arbiter, assembling details of a case, confirming the guilt of the parties involved, and then passing on what he had learned to his private executioner so that the ultimate sentence might be carried out. Eldritch understood the disjunction between the concepts of law and justice. His response was to refuse to accept this fact unconditionally: he was reluctant to wait for justice to be applied in the next world when it could just as easily be dispensed in this one, with a concomitant reduction in the amount of evil and misery contained in this realm. The possibility that he might be a party to that which he hated rarely, if ever, bothered him, and it certainly did not cross the mind of the one who wielded the blade at the final moment.
But the letter was problematical. The return address was a box number that did not exist, and the envelope contained only two sheets of paper. One was a list of names, the other an unsigned covering note which read:
I have made errors in my life, and I am afraid. I have confessed my sins, and seek to make reparation for them. I believe that the names on this list may be of interest to you and one of your clients. Please believe me when I tell you that it represents only a fraction of the information I have available to me. I know of the Believers. I know of the Army of Night. I can give your enemies into your hands, hundreds and hundreds of them. If you wish to talk further, you can contact me at the number below from November 19 for one twenty-four hour period, beginning at 00.01 a.m. on that date. Should I fail to hear back from you during this period, I will assume that I was mistaken in my approaches. You are not the only ones in a position to act upon this knowledge, and you are not the only ones with whom I have shared it.
Typed below the letter was a cell phone number. When the number was tested, it was discovered not to be in operation. It was still not in operation when November 19 arrived, and passed. This was the source of considerable frustration to Eldritch & Associates, as a cautious investigation of the individuals named on the list, most of whom had not previously come to the firm’s attention, revealed that a number were indeed compromised, and had apparently willingly colluded in their own damnation. Some accompanying documentation that followed by mail a few days later, apparently from the same sender, confirmed this view. They had sold themselves in return for influence and advancement, for favors financial and sexual, and sometimes simply for the satisfaction of secretly doing wrong. The letter had promised a treasure trove of further information once contact was made; instead, there was only silence.
The law firm of Eldritch & Associates was an operation that prized documents, as any good law firm should. It knew the value of paperwork because a thing set down on paper was difficult to erase, and the fact of its existence could not be denied. Mr Eldritch liked to say that nothing on a computer screen really existed. He distrusted anything that did not make a noise when it was dropped, but he was no Luddite: he simply prized secrecy and confidentiality, and the success of the firm’s mission was predicated on its ability to leave no trace of its actions. Dealings and communications conducted through the Internet left a trail that an idiot child could follow. Thus it was that there were no computers at Eldritch & Associates, and the firm did not accept submissions or messages by email or other electronic means.
Even the firm’s phone was rarely answered, and, when it was picked up, assistance of any kind was seldom forthcoming. A caller who contacted that venerable institution in the hope of securing advice or aid relating to difficulties with the law would usually be told that the firm was not accepting new clients at present, and rarely did the name of Eldritch figure in any but the most esoteric of cases: disputes over ancient wills in which some or all of the relevant parties had by then activated wills of their own through the workings of mortality; property dealings that