Chapter 4 - The Sanctuary Ambush
The drive toward St. Jude’s Sanctuary was a race against a clock that was mercilessly running out. The historic stone church sat on the boundary between the downtown theater district and the decaying waterfront, serving as a refuge for the city’s forgotten and impoverished. Sister Teresa Delgado had been the night director at Bellweather before the inferno. She had personally carried three children out of the blaze, and she had spent the last decade caring for the survivors.
"Mercer won't use suppressed weapons in a public cathedral," Edgar said, his eyes scanning the rear-view mirror as they entered the church square. "Too many witnesses. He’ll make it look like a tragic accident or a drug-related robbery."
"Sister Teresa doesn't lock the sanctuary doors at night," Nell said softly. "She keeps them open for anyone seeking shelter from the cold. She’s completely defenseless."
Edgar parked the utility truck two blocks away, cutting the lights. They approached on foot through the shadow of the cathedral’s towering buttresses.
The heavy oak doors of the sanctuary were cracked open. A faint, flickering glow of votive candles spilled onto the stone stairs. As Edgar climbed the steps, he noticed fresh scuff marks on the threshold and the unmistakable scent of petroleum.
"Accelerant," Edgar whispered, his hand instantly going to his holster. "They’re going to burn the building down with her inside. Exactly like Bellweather."
Inside, the vast vaulted nave was suffocatingly quiet. Rows of dark wooden pews stretched toward an ornate marble altar bathed in candlelight. Near the communion rail, an elderly woman in a simple gray habit was kneeling, her head bowed in quiet prayer.
Standing ten yards behind her were three men in utility coveralls, unspooling plastic fuel lines along the center aisle. Standing by the pulpit was Captain Danner himself, holding a brass lighter.
"You should have taken the retirement package in Arizona, Sister," Danner said, his voice echoing coldly off the vaulted ceiling. "Edgar Yarborough is cleaning up loose ends tonight. He can't have old nuns giving tearful interviews when the grand jury convenes next week."
Sister Teresa didn't raise her head. Her rosary beads clicked softly between her weathered fingers. "The lord knows who brought the fire, Captain Danner. And the lord knows who is carrying it tonight. Mr. Yarborough didn't send you. You brought this darkness on your own soul."
"Believe whatever helps you burn easier," Danner sneered, thumbing the flint on his lighter.
A shot rang out.
The lighter shattered in Danner’s hand, sending brass fragments and sparks flying across the altar steps. Danner roared in pain, clutching his bloody palm as he scrambled behind the marble lectern.
"Drop the fuel cans, or the next round takes your throat!" Edgar’s voice boomed through the cathedral like thunder, dripping with aristocratic menace.
The two mercenaries holding the fuel lines hesitated, shocked to see their employer standing at the back of the nave, flanked by his unassuming secretary.
"Mr. Yarborough?" one of the men stammered, freezing in place. "Captain Mercer said you were already dead at the casino!"
"Mercer lied to you," Edgar said, striding down the center aisle with lethal calm, his gun leveled at the lead mercenary’s chest. "You’ve worked for the Yarborough family for seven years, Miller. Drop that can right now, or I swear upon my father’s grave you won't survive long enough to spend Mercer’s dirty offshore cash."
Miller swallowed hard, looked at Edgar’s cold, unwavering eyes, and let the heavy plastic container drop to the stone floor. He raised his hands and backed away toward the choir loft.
"Kill them, you idiot!" Danner screamed from behind the lectern, drawing a sidearm with his uninjured left hand and blindly firing three shots down the aisle.
The heavy slugs splintered the oak pews near Edgar’s hip. Nell darted to the side, dropping behind the marble baptismal font. She fired two precise shots at the base of the lectern, chipping the stone and forcing Danner to jerk back into cover.
Edgar closed the distance in four long strides, vaulting over the altar rail and slamming his heavy frame into Danner before the captain could re-aim. They crashed against the altar steps. Edgar drove a brutal elbow into Danner’s ribs, disarming him with a violent twist of his wrist. He pressed the barrel of his Colt directly beneath Danner’s chin, his eyes burning with icy fury.
May you like
"Who gave the order for the 11:40 strike on Nell?" Edgar growled, cocking the hammer.
Danner coughed, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. He glared at Edgar with venomous defiance. "You're already too late, Yarborough. Mercer’s primary hit team didn't come here. They went to your penthouse. They’re taking the vault right now. And your precious secretary’s little transport network? Mercer tapped her phone fifteen minutes ago. Every safehouse on her list is burning!"
