77

            The front gates of the church campus were so massive and ornate Anthony felt as if they were entering a beachfront luxury resort.  Opened wide enough to permit four lanes of traffic, the gates were at least ten-feet high, painted snow-white, with intricate gold and silver scrollwork of angels and doves.  A gigantic electronic billboard in front flashed the time and the temperature, and featured a digitized image of a smiling Bishop Prince, with a slogan that proclaimed: Serving God’s Kingdom.

            Serving God’s kingdom?  It made Anthony sick.

            About a hundred yards past the gates, the road diverged into six lanes: three going in, three going out.  Large yellow signs hung above each entryway, bringing to mind a toll-road plaza.  They were marked “Staff,” “Members,” and “Visitors.”  Each entrance included a guard booth manned by broad-shouldered men clad in white tracksuits and aviator sunglasses.

            “No one can simply drive on in, huh?” Anthony said.

            “You got it.”  Valdez nosed the Explorer into the Staff lane and produced a laminated photo ID card from her jacket.        

            “When I came here for my friend’s wedding, they slapped a visitor sticker on my car,” Lisa said.  “They made me give my name and city of residence, too.”

            “All visitors are logged,” Valdez said.

            “What if you object to giving your personal info?” Anthony asked.

            “Then you don’t get in,” Valdez said. 

            “Damn, is it a church, or a base?” Mike asked. 

            Valdez lowered the window and showed her ID to a guard.  He nodded curtly, said, “May God bless you,” in an artificially cheerful voice, and the white gate arm lifted.       

            There was a Welcome Center ahead, an Art Deco style brick building with lots of windows, fronted by a huge water fountain.  A colorful sign at the main intersection bore arrows pointing the way to various destinations such as the Sanctuary, Kingdom Market, Medical Center, and Kingdom Academy.

            “Where to?” Valdez asked.

            “Just drive around,” Anthony said.

            Grumbling, she hung a right.

            The property was meticulously landscaped, with lush trees, abundant beds of flowers, and swaths of trimmed grass that reminded Anthony of the putting greens on a golf course.  The assortment of brick buildings—housing such amenities as the medical clinic, fitness center, and post office—looked brand new.

            Armor of God soldiers were out in full force, too.  They whisked across the wide sidewalks on Segways, their ivory cycling helmets matching their uniforms, weapons bristling from their utility belts.  Others cruised in black Dodge Chargers with “NKC Security” splashed on the door in bold white letters.

            But there were also signs of ordinary life in progress.  Many people were out walking or riding bicycles.  A group of teenagers played touch-football in a field, a woman jogged on a paved path with her dog alongside her, and families were having picnics in a park area.      

            “I hate what Bishop Prince stands for,” Anthony said, “but on the flip side, so many of the people living here look perfectly happy.”

            “It’s ‘cause they don’t know what goes on behind the curtain,” Valdez said with a nonchalant shrug.  “Most of these people don’t wanna know the price they pay to live like this.”

            “Ignorance is bliss,” Lisa said.  “Give us bread and circuses, and we’ll support anything.”

            “I wonder what they’ll do when they find out the real deal,” Mike said.

            “They’ll get over it,” Valdez said.  “People adapt.  They always do.  Till the next crackpot comes along, then they’ll be standing in line to be brainwashed again.”

            Anthony winked at Lisa.  “I think we’ve finally met someone who’s more cynical than I am.”

            “That’s what I was thinking,” Lisa said.

            “I call it as I see it, guys,” Valdez said. 

            She braked at a four-way intersection.  A shuttle bus filled to capacity rumbled past, an electronic signboard above the windshield announcing that it was bound for the Kingdom Megaplex.  Anthony saw a gold geodesic dome on the horizon, which he knew from his online tour was part of the church’s main sanctuary.

            On their right, in the hazy distance, the bishop’s mansion floated like a heavenly castle in the hills.

            “Got any idea where we need to go yet?” Valdez said. 

            “Make a right,” Anthony said as he stared at the mansion, thoughts churning. 

            Valdez followed his gaze.  “The bishop’s estate?”

            “I want to see it up close.  I’m curious.”

            “Curious, my ass,” Valdez said, but she made a sharp right turn.

            The road was divided by a grass median lined with red crepe myrtles, flowers waving in the breeze.  They cruised past the Kingdom Academy, which accommodated grades kindergarten through twelve, a baseball field, a football stadium, and a preschool center, Kingdom Kids.  Like the other buildings, all of the facilities appeared new, and were as well-designed as schools one might find in a moneyed suburb, the better to influence the children, fertile young servant minds, to feel proud of their education.         

            “The bishop lives near the schools,” Anthony said.           

            “He visits them weekly,” Valdez said.  “Lets him keep tabs on the angels-in-waiting.”

            “Disgusting,” Lisa said.        

            Once beyond the schools, woodlands bordered the road on both sides, dense with oak, elm, maple, pine.  The street converged to two lanes, growing steeper as it wound through the hills, and the sidewalks vanished, too.

            There was no traffic.  But after about a quarter of a mile, the forest began to thin, and there was a rightward bend in the road marked by a twenty-foot-high column of stacked stone.  A sign in front of the rock warned: PRIVATE PROPERTY - NO TRESPASSING. 

            Valdez brought the SUV to a stop before they emerged from the canopy of trees.

            “This is as far as we go,” she said.  “Around that bend is the gate to his mansion.”

            “Guards?” Anthony asked.               

            Her gaze lacerated him.  “Why do you want to know?”    

            “Indulge me, please,” Anthony said.

            “At least two at the gate,” she said.  “If the bishop is home, there’ll be another three inside the house.  His personal security detail.”

            “Anyone else in there?” Mike asked.  “Like a maid or butler or something?”

            “He’s got a house staff, but they’re ordinary civilians, harmless.”

            “So five goons,” Anthony said.  “Not great odds, but not impossible to handle.”

            “We can take ‘em,” Mike said. 

            Anthony bent to unzip his duffel bag at his feet.  He removed two handguns, his Glock and his Colt revolver, to complement the Beretta he already wore in his waistband holster, and he fished out extra ammo, too. 

            “Whoa, you guys aren’t going in there,” Valdez said.  She took out her cell phone.  “I’m calling my team—and we’re going in with our search warrant.” 

            “You wait for your search warrant—we don’t need one.” Anthony finished holstering his guns and pocketing the extra ammo in his pouch.  He turned to Lisa in the backseat.  “We’ll be right back, sweetheart.  Keep the engine warm.”

            “Be careful,” Lisa said.  She clasped one of his hands, her eyes glistening with a mixture of worry and cautious hope.  “I’ll be waiting for you.”

            “Ready?” Anthony asked Mike.  Mike had two guns slotted in his shoulder holsters, body armor protecting his chest, and a waist pouch that held plenty of ammo.  

            “Let’s do it,” Mike said. 

            They climbed out of the truck. 

            “Both of you assholes, stand down!”  Valdez charged out of the SUV, phone pressed to her ear.  “I’m not gonna let you screw up my investigation!”

            Ignoring her, they marched in step along the side of the road.  Anthony inhaled deeply of the pine-scented air.  Calmness had settled over him like a coat—his heart beat at a moderate rate, his muscles were loose and relaxed, and the guns on his person felt like natural extensions of his own body.     

            “Hey!” Valdez shouted.        

            “She’s plenty pissed,” Mike said to Anthony.  “Makes her even hotter.”

            “I wouldn’t say that to her right now if I were you,” Anthony said.  “She might beat your ass like a pinata around the road.”

            Cursing in English and Spanish, Valdez caught up to them.

            “Look, my team’s on their way,” she said.  “ETA sixteen minutes.”

            “Great,” Anthony said.  “They’ll be just in time to clean up after us.”

            “Jesus, Thorne.”  Her cheeks bloomed red.  “Why are you so goddamn stubborn?”

            “You must’ve been talking to my wife.  She asks me that every day.”

            “Fine.”  She planted her fists on her waist, squinted as she surveyed the road ahead.  “If you two clowns are determined to go in there, then you better let me help you.”