She touched my wrist. I could hear her breathing."Michael, please," she said. "Look at me." Her eyes were bloodshot, wet. She looked at me pleadingly....I don't enjoy this," she said. "I didn't enjoy - it." Don't enjoy it?" I was mocking her now, my voice two octaves above its usual tone."Michael!" She inhaled, and then repeated herself. "I did it - for us." She paused, looking. Then, in a different tone of voice: "Michael, there was no promotion."I looked at her. "You blew him, didn't you?"She. The TV clicked off as Charles pointed a little black box its general direction. Charles was certainly interested in the God business lately."Much as I hate the idea, he may be one of ours. If so, he's got to be reined in. Too much political involvement." The voice came from the deep chair. After a moment, Bob realized Charles was talking about the pulpit pounder.Charles turned and broke into his best 'for company' smile. Bob wondered if Jorge would have to do the job, dropping his search for. More

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