“I believe you. But there are, well, drugs that can affect the emotions directly.”

“I know that. But still She stood and smoothed down her dress, touched a finger to the brooch. “Instead of listening to me blathering on let’s take a look at this recording.”

“You’ve done a great job. Thank you.”

The twins had seen us in the Street and had the door open as we came down the hail. I heard Sybil telling them about the experience, basically just what she had told me. But she was much more in control of herself now and beginning to get angry at being got to in some way. By the time she had finished her story I had the piece of electronic jewelry clamped into the activation module. The screen lit up with a view of the church moving closer.

The pictures were silent and so were we as we watched her meet the other two women. They talked, then turned to face Slakey when he entered. He was certainly in his Father Marablis mode, brown cassock and unctuous gestures; I was rather glad I couldn’t hear what he was saying.

“Up to this point I remember everything,” Sybil said. “He is telling us—about the joys to come and, see his hand, collecting a—few extra checks for the pleasure of our outing. There, that part is done. Here we go.”

Slakey must have said something for they all turned and walked after him. The screen went black. “Is the recorder broken?” Bolivar asked.

“I doubt it.” I fast—forwarded the machine and the image reappeared.

“We are back in the room,” Sybil said. “Without a record of what I saw. I’m so sorry.” “Don’t be.” I ran a quick analytical probe. “You did everything that you could. So did the recorder. It worked fine—but there just is no record. I don’t know why or how this happened. The electronics appear to have been operating but they, well, just didn’t record anything.” I scowled at the machine. “And I do not believe in miracles.”

“No one’s thinking about miracles,” James said. “We’re thinking technology. Whatever field of force or electronic pervasion created the Heaven trip, well, could it have interfered with the recording?” “Pretty obviously,” I said.

“I have an idea,” Bolivar said. “This was a good try—but it just did not work out. Next step. We need a long look around that place. You will remember that there was some kind of machinery that was blown up in the first church. I would like to see if there are any of the same kind of gadgets here…”

“No,” I said. “Why not?”

“I don’t mean no let’s not do it. I mean no you don’t do it. Because I do this particular job.” I raised my hand to quiet their protests. “I say that not because I am older and wiser, which is true, but because I have had much more experience at this sort of thing Bolivar, I wouldn’t think of making high—profit high risk investments if you were there to do it for me. After watching that last karate tournament I wouldn’t dare face up to your brother in an even fight. It has always been the age of the specialist. Do any of you believe that you can do an unseen breaking and entering and searching job better than I can?” Silence was my only answer. “Thank you,” I said—with some warmth. “But you will all have to help. This is the plan.”

We had that night and part of the next day to make our preparations. It was going to be a joint effort. The church service for the Seekers of the Way was due to begin at noon. We met for a final rehearsal an hour earlier.

“You first, Sybil,” I said.

“I go in with the others. Talk, act naturally and keep my eyes open. If everything goes as it usually does, then I have only one thing to do. I know that the outer door is always locked before the service begins. So when Father Marablis begins his sermon, I squeeze this.” She held up a tiny wafer of plastic.

“That is a one—shot communicator,” I said. “The battery shorts through the chip, which sends a millisecond—long signal before it burns out. It is undetectable both before and after use. I’ll be waiting nearby. As soon as I get the signal I go in through the front door.” I held up a modified lockpick. “Sybil took a close look at the lock—which is a make called Bulldog—Bowser. I know it well and it is very easy to open. James, you’re next…”

“I’ll be driving the delivery van, a rental with new identification numbers and fake signs. When Dad goes through the door I drive around and park in front of the church. Bolivar.” “I’m inside the van with passive tracking equipment, magnetometer and heat detectors. I should be able to follow people moving inside. I also have a warning alarm receiver.” I nodded. “Which I can activate in one of four ways in case of emergency. Bite hard on my back tooth, tap one toe quickly two times or pull off the top button of my shirt.”

“That’s only three,” Sybil said. “The fourth I have no control over. It will be activated if my heart stops. Should the alarm go off, the boys break their way in with all guns firing~ Any remarks or questions?”

“Stun grenades and blackout gas as well as the guns,” James said.

That was it. We had some tall and nonalcoholic drinks and discussed the Vulkann weather. After a time Sybil looked at her watch, stood and went out. We followed.

I waited Out of sight around the corner, apparently looking at the gaudy items in a tourist shop window while I patted, one by one, the various lumps in my clothes; weapons, detectors, tools, alarms, that sort of thing. I had no idea of what I would find inside the church so I had visited a number of electronic stores and stacked up on everything I could or might possibly need.

The phone taped behind my ear clicked sharply. I turned about, strolled around the corner and up the two steps to the church door. My left hand on the knob concealed the rapid twisting of the lockpick with my right. It was as fast as turning a key; I do have some experience at this sort of thing. The door opened and I went through without breaking pace. Closed and relocked it behind me. I was in a dimly lit vestibule with draperies covering the far side. I parted them a hairsbreadth and looked through. Father Slakey—Marablis was behind a high lectern and in full throat, unctuous vapidities washed over the attentive audience below.

“…doubt shall be taken from you and will be replaced by reassurance. It is written in the Book of Books that the path to salvation leads through the Land of Good Deeds. Good deeds and love must be your guiding stars, the beckoning fingers of the hereafter. A hereafter that lies ahead of you, restful and satisfying, calm and filled with the effervescence that passeth all understanding.”

Very good. Not really very good, but really very bad. But good for me. For as long as he burbled on I could penetrate his holy of holies. The staircase was behind the door on the left, as Sybil had told me. She had no idea where it led; that was for me to find out. I went through and closed the door silently behind me, bit down gently on the microlight I held between my teeth. Dusty stairs wound upwards. I climbed them, walking with my feet close to the wail to prevent them from creaking. There was another door at the head of the stairs that opened into a large room, dimly illuminated by a single window.

I was over the main hail and could hear the rumble of the sermon dimly through the floor. I walked silently between the boxes and stacked chairs to a door on the far wall. This was to the rear of the building and should be over the mysterious antechamber that might very well be the entrance to Heaven. This was also roughly the same location as that of the electronic equipment that had been destroyed in the Temple of Eternal Truth. As I opened the door the rumble of the voice on the floor below stopped.

So did I. One foot still raised, Then I relaxed and stepped forward when the organ music began and the women began to sing. A spiral stairway led down. I took it, slowly and silently. Stopped before what I hoped was the last door.