I let her simmer for a minute while I pull the cork on the wine bottle and pour the last of the first bottle into her glass. "How did it get punted our way?"

"Chatter and crosstalk." She drains her glass and shoves it towards me. "These aren't your regular god-botherers, they've got form." (A history of criminal activity, in other words.) "The Dustbin and the Donut are both keeping tabs on them. They tipped off the Dutch AIVD, which is good, but then they forgot to include us in the loop, which was anything but good. What finally pulled us in was when the AIVD Watch Team who were keeping an eye on the hundred kilograms of sodium chlorate and the primer cords they'd stockpiled noticed the church supplies catalog and the white goats. The Free Church of the Universal Kingdom—"

"The Free Church of the what?"

Mo takes a big mouthful of wine. "The Free Church of the Universal Kingdom. Officially they're pre-millennial dispensationalists with a couple of extra twists, subtype: utterly barking and conflicted; oh hell. According to their party line Jesus was just there to set a good example, and we all have the ability to save ourselves. Who will be saved is predestined from the beginning of time, it's their job to bring the Church militant to everybody on the planet by fire and the sword, and, er, it gets complicated real fast, in ever diminishing epicycles of crazy. I swear, the doctrinal differences between some of these schismatic churches are fractal . . . Anyway, the key insight you need to bear in mind is, they're anti-birth control. Very anti-birth control, with overtones of accelerating the Second Coming by bringing more souls to Earth until Jesus can't ignore their suffering anymore—is this ringing any bells yet?"

"You're telling me they're CASE NIGHTMARE GREEN groupies?"

Mo nods vigorously. "They're mesmerized. What they believe doesn't make sense in terms of traditional Christian theology, never mind real-world logic. That's because the outer church is just a cover for something even weirder. The members we were monitoring were laboring under a really horrid glamour, level four or higher—I'm not sure."

I shudder. I knew someone with a level three glamour about her once. Men would die for a chance to bed her if she crooked her little finger at them—often literally. The theological equivalent . . . I don't want to think about it. "So. Amsterdam, then . . . ?" I prompt her.

"Four of them were already there. Another three flew in the week before; that's why the full-dress incident watch was started. AIVD thought it was preparation for an abortion clinic bombing campaign at first. But then the pastor bought a couple of white goats and the penny dropped and they threw it at Franz and his friends, who asked us to chip in."

"Goats—"