Angels of Wrath Read Online Free PDF Page A

days before this became public.”
     
    “I don’t understand what you mean.”
     
    “The government of Israel is withholding public confirmation of your brother’s identity for forty-eight hours,” said Thera. “Just so that everything can be checked out. Our government is prepared to acquiesce.”
     
    “Why?”
     
    “As I said, a few days to look into this quietly would be most useful.”
     
    “Are you saying my brother wasn’t a random victim?”
     
    “I’m not saying that, no. It looks as if he was, but there are questions. The Israelis would like to be sure, and so would we.” The Israelis were withholding Thatch’s name, though at the FBI and CIA’s request.
     
    “Was my brother doing something illegal?”
     
    “Do you think he was?” asked Thera.
     
    “I don’t. But it sounds to me as if you do.”
     
    Thera had reached the point in her script where she had to make a judgment call: what exactly to tell the sister. She could just shrug and pass this off as routine. Or she could gamble that Coldwell might know something that might be useful to the FBI.
     
    Which way to go?
     
    “Have you ever heard of the Church of Seven Angels?” asked Thera.
     
    “What is it? A church? A born-again church?”
     
    “It is a church, but it’s not Christian,” said Thera, studying the emotionless face across from her. “They’re not Christian at all. They consider themselves . . . apart.”
     
    Thera struggled for the right word. The church members believed that they were part of a “post-Christian vanguard” in the same position to Christians as Christians were to Jews.
     
    “Your brother flew several times a year to New Mexico to attend services,” said Thera. “It seems that he may have gone to Jerusalem on their behalf.”
     
    “On some sort of tour?”
     
    “No. Business.”
     
    “For a church? Were they his clients?”
     
    Thera sidestepped the question. “You wouldn’t happen to know why he decided to go to Jerusalem, would you?”
     
    “No.”
     
    “Did he talk about going?”
     
    “We really haven’t been that close.”
     
    “Did Benjamin know anyone in Jerusalem? Or Cairo?”
     
    “I couldn’t tell you. Maybe from the Rotary Club. He’s an accountant.”
     
    “Like yourself?” said Thera.
     
    Coldwell smiled ever so slightly. “Maybe it’s in the genes.”
     
    ~ * ~
     
    O
    utside, Thera walked past the local FBI agent’s Crown Victoria and pulled out her satellite phone to talk to Corrigan.
     
    “I think we’re good,” she told him. “She’s not going to talk to the media.”
     
    “You sure?”
     
    “I didn’t ask her to sign a contract, Jack. It’s a gut call. The FBI tapped her phone; they’ll let us know if something is up.”
     
    “Tapped the phone? Is that necessary?”
     
    “Not my call, Jack. This is the FBI’s case. They want to make the arrests as soon as they can.”
     
    “What are you doing now?” Corrigan asked.
     
    “I’ll go back to New Mexico. I might as well be there for the arrests.”
     
    “I thought they didn’t have much of a case.”
     
    “They don’t. But that’s never stopped the FBI before.”
     
    ~ * ~
     
    W
    hen the intruders were gone, Judy Coldwell went back to the dining room and cleaned off the table. She took the cups and saucers inside to the kitchen, placing them carefully in the dishwasher. She did the same with the silverware. She measured the detergent carefully as she always did, using a spoon. As the prewash cycle began, she went to the dining room and removed the cloth from the table, taking them down the hall to the laundry room. Life required a certain meticulous order; tasks great and small were best performed immediately.
     
    Only when that was done did she open the drawer to retrieve the tiny medal lion, the lone token of her brother she possessed in the world. It looked like a twelve-sided dime nestled amid the silver corn cob holders. Coldwell took it out and pressed it