The Servants of Twilight

"That's James Bond."

"You know him, too?" Joey asked.

"Not really. But I know his brother," Charlie said.

"Yeah? I never heard of his brother. What's his name?"

"Municipal Bond," Charlie said.

"That's a weird name," Joey said, not getting the joke.

He's only six, Charlie reminded himself. Sometimes the kid behaved as if he were a few years older, and he expressed himself with clarity that you didn't expect of a preschooler.

The boy looked out the window again. For a moment he was silent as Charlie snapped two final photographs of the man at the white van, and then he said, "I don't see why we can't shoot him. He'd shoot me if he got the chance."

"Oh, I don't think he'd really go that far," Charlie said, trying to discourage the boy from frightening himself.

But with an equanimity and a steadiness of voice that, given the circumstances, were beyond his years, Joey said, "Oh, yeah.

He would. He'd shoot me if he could get away with it. He'd shoot me and cut my heart out, that's what he'd do."

Five stories below, the watcher smoothed his hair with one pale, long-fingered hand.

PART TWO: THE ATTACK

Is the end of the world a-coming?

Is that the devil they hear humming?

Are those doomsday bells aringing?

Is that the Devil they hear singing?

Or are their dark fears exaggerated?

Are these doom-criers addlepated?

Those who fear the coming of all Hells

are those who should be feared themselves.

— The Book of Counted Sorrows

A fanatic does what he thinks the Lord

would do if He knew the facts of the case.

— Finley Peter Duane

15

Wine & Dine was located in an attractive, upscale, brick-and timber shopping center, half a block from Newport Beach's yacht harbor. Even on a Monday, the shop was busy, with a steady flow of customers through the imported foods section and almost as many in the wine department. At any one time there were at least two or three people browsing in the cookware department, inspecting the pots and pans, imported ice cream machines, food processors, and other kitchen tools. During the afternoon, in addition to food and wine and small culinary implements, Christine and Val and their clerk, Tammy, sold two top-of-the-line pasta makers, an expensive set of cutlery, one Cuisinart, a beautiful copper buffet warmer with three serving compartments, and anornate copper and brass cappuccino machine that was priced at nine hundred dollars.

Although the shop had done uncannily well almost from the day they had opened the doors, and although it had actually become profitable in the third week of operation (an unheard-of situation for a new business), Christine was still surprised and delighted every day that the cash register kept ringing. Six and a half years of dependable profitability had still not made her blas6 about success.

The hustle and bustle of Wine & Dine made Monday afternoon pass a lot faster than she had thought possible when, reluctantly, she had left Joey with Charlie Harrison. The crazy old woman was in the back of her mind, of course. Several times she thought of Brandy's decapitated corpse on the back porch, and she felt weak and dry-mouthed for a few minutes. And Henry Rankin was ever-present, helping bag purchases, putting price tags on some new merchandise, assisting them wherever he could, pretending to be an employee, but surreptitiously keeping an eye on the customers, prepared to tackle one of them if Christine appeared to be threatened. Nevertheless, in spite of the bloody images of the dog that haunted her, and in spite of the

constant reminder of danger that Henry's presence provoked, the hours flitted past, and it was a relief to be kept busy.

Val Gardner was a help, too. With some misgivings, Christine had told her the situation, although she had expected Val to pester her with questions all day long and drive her half crazy by five o'clock. Val seemed to thrive on the smallest adversity, claiming to be "traumatized"