She took advantage of the break to use the red phone and pass along the
additional information she'd gotten--not to His Majesty directly this
time; the one who answered didn't sound at all familiar, and promised
to pass it along as soon as His Majesty was free. Then she waited,
with growing impatience, for Bradford to finish with her subject.

What, in God's Most Holy Name, was going on in there? Surely it
couldn't take this long to confess even a Brother's obviously-lengthy
list of sins, then receive absolution and Extreme Unction!

When Bradford finally emerged, he was smiling. "He's all yours, Joan.
Nice job you did, getting the information and saving a soul--that
doesn't happen often. Of course, not many Inquisitors have the help of
a blazing Angel of Death, either."

"Mike told him my code name; the demon drops and his own imagination
did the rest." Cortin's mouth quirked. "I would've preferred a more
conventional interrogation, but I have to admit he had good reason to
be afraid of drugs. And I'll keep 'Azrael's' promise; he'll die as
quickly and easily as I can manage, even though by rights he ought to
suffer as much as his victims did."

"I think you can safely trust God to take care of that," Bradford said
drily. "I can't tell you what he confessed, of course, but I can tell
you I'm positive he'll be spending a long time in Purgatory."

Cortin grinned. "I'm sure he deserves every year of it." All that was
left was killing him, so she got out of her coveralls, put her tunic
back on, settled her gunbelt into place, and re-entered the third-stage
room. Bradford had freed the prisoner; he was kneeling facing away
from her, toward the room's crucifix, his attitude making it obvious he
was praying. Cortin frowned, then nodded to herself, silently drawing
her pistol. There were far worse ways to die than quickly, while
speaking to God, and while he deserved one of those, she had promised
otherwise. She took careful aim and shot him in the back of the head.

That, she thought immediately, had been far kinder to him than it had
to her! She'd forgotten just how loud a heavy-caliber handgun could be
in a confined area, and her ears were ringing painfully. It also made
quite a mess at this close a range; blood and brains splattered most of
the wall he'd been facing, including the crucifix. The clean-up crew
could handle the wall and body, but she felt like taking care of the
crucifix herself; careful