ISSUE
The first five pages were filled with loving tributes to a fallen colleague. But starting on page six, the paper tore into Luther Brady, saying that even if he personally had nothing to do with Jamie Grant's death, he'd fostered the tactic of ruthless retaliation against any and all critics of the Dormental-ist Church, creating an atmosphere of disregard for the rights and well-being of anyone considered an enemy of his church.
And then the piece de resistance: censored photos of an unidentified man—obviously Brady on closer examination—with the two boys. The paper said that it had received these photos the day before, with a note purportedly from the man Brady was accused of killing. The photos and the note had been forwarded to the police.
Abe looked up from the paper. "You're involved in this, aren't you?"
Jack tried for a guileless look. "Who, me?"
"You think I'm going to buy that Fm-so-innocent punim? I'm not. You promised me when I found you that Beretta that you—wait a minute. Wait just a minute." He narrowed his eyes and pointed a stubby finger at Jack. "Brady's supposed victim wouldn't happen to have been shot with a nine millimeter, would he?"
"That's what I hear."
"And that nine millimeter wouldn't happen to have come from a Beretta, would it?" Abe turned his palms up as his fingers did a come-here waggle. "So tell me. Tell-me-tell-me-tell-me."
Jack told him, giving him a Reader's Digest version of Sunday night and Monday morning.
When Jack was done, Abe sat back on his stool and waved a hand at the spread-out pages of The Light. His voice was hushed.
"You did this? By yourself you brought down a global cult?"
"I wouldn't say 'brought down.' It hasn't gone away. I can't see it ever going away completely."
"But you kneecapped it."
"Yeah, but it's still got more than enough members and resources to go on burying their pillars."
All Dormentalism might be reeling and in disarray, but Brady's machinery still existed. Before too long a new insertion site would be chosen, and another Dormentalist High Council fanatic would be preparing another column… and setting up another victim.
"A moratorium they'll call. Too many eyes looking at them. And without their guiding light…"
"Yeah, he's out of the picture for good, I hope."
"If not, it won't be for lack of trying on your part. But whatever, the Dormentalist Church is—"
"Hang on," Jack said. "Turn up your radio a sec." Jack thought he'd heard Brady's name.
Abe always had a radio going and, natch, always tuned to an all-news station.
Sure enough, the newsreader was saying that the Bronx DA had announced he was seeking the death penalty in the Cordova murder case. She also mentioned that Luther Brady had been denied bond and would be transferred to Riker's Island later this morning.
"Mazel tov," Abe said, beaming. "You should tell your lady friend."
"I'll bet she knows."
But giving Herta a call wasn't such a bad idea. Jack whipped out his cell phone and dialed her number.
No answer.
Probably out shopping… but a hint of warning put him into motion. "I think I'll tell her in person."
He gave Abe a wave and headed for the door. When he hit the sidewalk he broke into a loping run toward Columbus Avenue, looking for a cab.