‘… Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle, be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil—’

Lilith Robinson opens her azure-blue eyes. She is no longer in the nexus. She is lying on the cot, naked, her slender wrists and ankles bound by plastic cords.

Quenton stands over her, Bible in one hand, cross in the other, his white minister’s outfit lathered in sweat as he verbally assaults the girl with more fire and brimstone.

‘… we pray the God of Peace will crush Satan beneath our feet, so that he may no longer retain men captive and do injury to the Church. Offer our prayers to the Most High, that without delay they may draw His mercy down upon us—’

Brandy is at the back window, mimicking Quenton behind his back.

Lilith giggles.

The minister’s eyes widen. He slaps the girl across the face, then sprinkles her with Holy Water. ‘Take hold of the Dragon, the old serpent, which is the Devil and Satan. Bind him and cast him into the bottomless pit, that he may no longer seduce the nations!’

Lilith closes her eyes, her body trembling.

10

OCTOBER 11, 2020: MABUS ESTATE, THE HAMPTONS, NEW YORK

It is America’s hottest summer playground, a coastal resort occupied by palatial beach homes owned by the rich and famous.

Peter Mabus stands in his bathrobe on the deserted stretch of private beach, staring at the pounding ocean of autumn as a gray dawn breaks over the eastern horizon. The last few years have taken their toll on the once robust entrepreneur. Following the landslide loss to Ennis Chaney in the presidential election, his wife of thirty years filed divorce papers after catching him in a hotel suite with two of his secretaries. Chaney’s new anti-fossil-fuel initiatives are costing him tens of millions of dollars, and his religious-based political party is under investigation for tax evasion.

‘Hey, Dad!’

Mabus sees his son, Lucien, waving from the boardwalk. ‘Someone here to see you.’

Mabus signals for his guest to approach.

Solomon Adashek makes his way over the private boardwalk and past the tall sea grass to the beach. ‘Good morning.’

‘I see nothing good about it. I hired you to do a job, Mr. Adashek. Why hasn’t the job been finished?’

‘You hired me to terminate the most closely guarded figure in the world. These things take time. However, my operative is now in position to complete the task at hand.’

‘When will it happen?’

‘Today. Our friend should be dead in time for the noonday news.’

The White House, Washington, DC 9:02 a.m.

Ennis Chaney looks up from behind his desk, swallowing the rest of his pickled egg lunch as his secretary escorts the rabbi and a woman with bright orange-red hair into the Oval Office.

‘Rabbi Steinberg. Nice to see you again. Been what … a year?’

‘Two. We were together at the twins’ fifth birthday party.’