The Everborn - Nicholas Grabowsky [69]
He’d hoped that Matt hadn’t radioed ahead a description of Max in an effort to stunt his plans, but he was prepared for such obstacles. If Matt had done this, it would be right to assume that he’d also radio ahead a description of BoLeve, along with enough orders and warnings to make the shit hit the fan...and to make it impossible for Max to get to BoLeve first.
But there was a slight chance...ever so slight a chance...that McGregor would handle things on his own, was on his way to meet up with Max alone, that he understood what this was all about…that he understood the way Max wanted him to understand…and he’d allow the law to enter the picture as soon as they both wanted it to.
Max was riding on that chance.
He prayed to God for that chance.
He reached the corner, gazed across the street and towards the church and he thought, what better place is there to pray for that chance...?
***
Contemplating...speculating...observing.
A lot like his ages-past security job, to watch and observe. This time, for a short while, then, from the street corner.
But that was a little over an hour ago and after toying with his own mental chemistry, he found himself and his convenient quick-change of clothes stepping across the street, down the sidewalk, and in through the double entrance doors. He found himself relieved to have gotten past a pair of officers as he made his way inward, found himself then beside a couple of colorfully-mohawked juveniles who moments later lost interest and abandoned his company for the outside. He set his gaze beyond a sea of peopled pews and metal folding chairs to the front pulpit and beyond. He clutched his Ethics book/Bible and remained calm.
And he scanned the congregation for any familiar sign of BoLeve.
The congregation was praying.
There was a black gentleman in a yellow sports jacket clutching a microphone before the pulpit, head bowed, leading the prayer.
The prayer was for Pastor Bradshaw, and particularly for his daughter Alice.
The word had gotten out.
There were a handful of seats strung along the choir loft outskirts and a prominent seat closest to the pulpit remained empty. Max couldn’t recall any fragment of what Bradshaw looked like; perhaps he’d never even seen the pastor before at all, although he was familiar with his well-publicized ministry. It didn’t look like the pastor was there. And likewise neither was BoLeve.
He glanced at his watch. It was 11:15 a.m.
He would wait awhile, as time permitted. Either he would find BoLeve, or find the ill-fortuned pastor.
Unless Matt found him first.
***
When Max ran into Jacob Bradshaw no more than several minutes later while snooping around the sides of the church building, not knowing who he was, he asked him, “Excuse me, I’m looking for Pastor Bradshaw. Is he inside?”
He had every intention of actually snooping around inside, situating himself next to those in prayer and politely asking if he or she could point out the beloved pastor, but he thought he’d check around outside first. Regardless of his own beliefs, he always held a respect for those in prayer. So far, whatever conspicuously dressed law official there was hadn’t paid him so much as a glance, and the squad cars outside had dwindled in number to only one.
That was a good thing, even with the change of Max’s attire, for if Matt had alerted anyone, Matt would’ve remembered that Max on occasion