'It seems the reverends Bowman and Claiborne have been slugging it out over ministerial boundaries for some time. The Holiness movement isn't what it once was, and the parsons are forced to compete for folowers from a dwindling pool. This takes showmanship.'

'Could we back up? We're talking snakes here, right?' Ryan asked.

I nodded.

'What do snakes have to do with holiness?'

This time I did not ignore Ryan's question.

'Holiness folowers interpret the Bible literaly, and cite specific passages that mandate the handling of snakes.'

'What passages?' Ryan's voice dripped with scorn.

'"In my name shal they cast out devils; they shal speak with new tongues. They shal take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shal not hurt them." The Gospel of Mark, chapter sixteen, verses seventeen and eighteen.'

Ryan and I stared at McMahon.

'"Behold I give unto you the power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over al the power of the enemy; and nothing by any means shal hurt you." Luke, chapter ten, verse nineteen,' McMahon continued.

'How do you know that?' Ryan said.

'We al carry baggage.'

'I thought you trained in engineering.'

'I did.'

Ryan circled back to the reptiles.

'Are the snakes tamed in some way? Are they accustomed to being handled, or have their fangs been puled, or their venom milked?'

'Apparently not,' McMahon said. 'They use diamondbacks and water moccasins caught in the hils. Quite a few handlers have died.'

'Isn't it ilegal?'

'Yes,' said McMahon. 'But in North Carolina snake handling is merely a misdemeanor, and rarely enforced.'

Cynthia arrived with our meals, left. Ryan and I shook salt and pepper. McMahon covered everything on his plate with gravy.

'Go on Tempe,' he said.

'I'l try to reconstruct this as best I can.'

I tested a green bean. It was perfect, sweet and greasy after hours of cooking with sugar and bacon fat. God bless Dixie. I had several more.

'Though he denied it in his interview with the NTSB, Bowman was outside his house that day. And he was launching things into the sky.'

I halted for a bite of pot roast. It was equal to the beans.

'But not rockets.'

The men waited while I forked another piece of meat, swalowed. Chewing was hardly necessary.

'This is realy good.'

'What was he launching?'

'Doves.'

Ryan's fork stopped in midair.

'As in birds?'

I nodded. 'It seems the reverend relies on special effects to keep the faithful interested.'

'Sleight of hand?'

'He prefers to think of it as theater for the Lord. Anyway, he says he was experimenting the afternoon Air TransSouth 228 went down.'

Ryan urged me on with a gesture of his fork.