He slapped her hard and she spiraled down to the ground. She couldn't get her hands up for protection. Her head hit first. She lay for a moment, stunned, the pain radiating from her eyes back into her skull. She felt a punch of nausea.

“Warren —”

“Gabriel,” Hathaway said, as cheerfully as if he'd just picked her up at a church social. He stepped out of the bedroom to collect the bag and the explosive. As he walked back, sipping his iced tea, he said to her, “You can call me Gabriel.”

Rune whispered, “The Sword of Jesus... There really is a Sword of Jesus...”

“And we're very upset that people think we were just the creation of some psychotic murderer. We have you to thank for that. You and that film of yours.”

“What do you want? What are you going to do to me?”

Hathaway began taking tools and wire and small boxes out of his canvas bag. “You have to understand I don't feel we can eliminate sin and evil. There've always been whores, there's always been sin. But there have also been those who fight against it, even if they have to sacrifice their own life.” He looked at her carefully and when he spoke, the reasonable tone in his voice was somehow as terrifying as Tommy Savorne's craziness had been. “We're like advertising in a way. We get the message across. What people do with that message is up to them.”

Rune said, “You weren't a witness at all. The first bomb — you planted it.”

"As I was leaving the theater, a man stopped me. He called me 'brother.' He had a kind face. I thought I could help him, I could get him to repent and accept Jesus. Even if we both died in the blast he'd be entering the Kingdom of God. That would have been such a marvelous thing.

Unfortunately, what he was looking for wasn't salvation at all but twenty dollars for a blow job. As I turned to leave the bomb went off. It removed most of his head but what was left of his body saved my life. That's ironic, I suppose. God works in strange and wonderful ways."

And the injuries on his face — part of that was the tear gas.

Rune realized too that he'd lied about the man in the red windbreaker being older — to shift suspicion away from himself. And he'd worn the hat to cover up his bald head.

Hathaway continued. “I saw you outside the theater. Saw you with the camera. I thought you were one of those sinners. I was going to kill you. But then I thought maybe we could use you.” He nodded around the room. “And I guess I was right.”

“What are you going to do with me?”

“Make you a living testament to the will of God.”

“Why me? I don't make those movies.”

“You were doing this film about a pornographic actress. You're idealizing her —”