The remains of a lectern, with four steps leading up to it, stood in the center, before a large archway that was burned black.

“Go stand in that,” LeFleur suggested, “and I’ll take a picture.”

Dobby shrugged. “Nah, that’s OK.”

“Go on. When else will you be here?”

Dobby hesitated, then shuffled his boots along the ashen ground to the steps. LeFleur waited. Beads of sweat formed on his hairline. The lectern itself was inside a round enclosure, waist high, with a railing all around. One way in, one way out.

When Dobby reached the top, he rested his arms on the dirty edges. Had he been a priest, he’d have been ready for a sermon.

“Lemme grab my camera,” LeFleur said. He reached slowly around his side, took a breath, then pulled his gun from its holster. With both hands holding it steady, he aimed the barrel straight at Dobby, whose eyes widened in shock.

“Now,” LeFleur said. “What did you do to the Galaxy?”

Eleven

Land

“What are you talking about?” Dobby yelled. “Why are you doing this?”

LeFleur’s arms were shaking. He kept the gun aimed straight ahead.

“You’re responsible for all of them,” he said.

“All of who?”

“The people on the Galaxy. You killed them all. You brought a mine onto the boat, and somehow you detonated it. Now you’re going to tell me how you did it, and how you escaped.”

Dobby’s face contorted so severely that LeFleur was sure it was an act.

“I don’t understand you, man!” Dobby said. “Come on. Please. Put the gun down! Where are you getting this from?”

“Are you denying it?”

“Denying what?”

“Are you denying it?”

“Yes. Yes! I’m denying it! Jesus, come on. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Tell me!”

LeFleur blew out a mouthful of air. He freed one hand from the gun and reached for the briefcase he’d carried into the church. He produced the tattered notebook and held it out as Dobby stared.

“I found it in the raft,” LeFleur said. “It’s all there.”

* * *

For the next three hours, as Dobby crouched inside the lectern, LeFleur sat on a pew and read the pages of that notebook out loud, holding the gun in his lap. Periodically, he checked Dobby’s face for a response. At the start, he seemed incredulous, but as LeFleur continued, Dobby’s shoulders slumped and his head dropped lower.