weapon, Norbert thought. There was a large padlock on the hasp.
He took out a knife and jammed it into the crack under the lid. He kicked the handle of the knife to break the hasp. He wasn't in a mood to fiddle with lock picks.
What he saw inside the chest made him laugh out loud.
Tawni came over and looked. "You got to be kidding." She snorted.
The divine weapon was a plastic water gun. It was dressed up with colorful ribbons and bits of shiny wrapping paper, but the decorations only made it more ridiculous. Wire was wrapped around the nozzle like an electromagnet, but there wasn't even a battery.
Norbert took the plastic gun back to the main room.
He held it up to the monk's face. "This is it? You're going to kill the President with this piece of garbage?"
The monk nodded. "It's very powerful, but you have to believe."
"Show me." Norbert handed over the toy.
The monk held it awkwardly.
Norbert pointed at his own chest. "Shoot me right here. If that thing can take down the Son of Satan, it should have no trouble killing a regular guy like me."
"But..."
"Do it!" Norbert yelled. "Let everybody see."
The monk pulled the trigger. A little stream of water dampened Norbert's chest.
"That's what I thought," he growled.
He grabbed the toy, threw it to the floor, and stomped on it. The cheap plastic broke easily. The monk stared at the remnants in horror.
"Belief is a dangerous thing," Norbert said. "It can blind you. It can consume you. It can make you unable to admit you're wrong."
The monk looked up at him. "You don't understand."
"Yes, I do. I chased the Antichrist for years. That quest was everything to me. Over two hundred good men lost their lives before it was over. And I was successful, too. I had my gun pointed at his skull."
"Did you shoot?"
"No," Norbert said. "I opened my eyes and saw the truth instead. I had made a terrible mistake. There was no reason for all that bloodshed."
"But we have proof!" the monk said.
"A few numerical coincidences are not proof. Garbage you find on the internet isn't proof. For God's sake, wake up! There are women and children here. Can't you see what you're doing to them?"
Norbert couldn't take it anymore. He stormed out of the home and took a deep breath of fresh air.
Tawni joined him outside. "Nice speech."
"Thanks." His blood was pounding in his temples.
"Do you think it will do any good?"
"Very little." He sighed. "I'll call Aaron and find out what our next assignment is."
Chapter Six
Smythe knocked on the front door of a white brick house. While he waited for an answer, he looked around for signs of trouble. It was a poor neighborhood in the south-west corner of Chicago. A few apartment buildings were mixed into a sea of small, single-story homes. The lots were so narrow there was hardly enough room to walk between the buildings.
The door opened a few inches. A woman with curly, blonde hair and very fair skin peered out through the crack. She was wearing a modest beige dress that went down to her ankles.
"Can I help you?" she said.
Smythe smiled. "We want to join Pure America. We were told you might be able to help us. You're some kind of local representative."
"Yes! Come in. I'm Julie."
She opened the door all the way and stepped back. Smythe and Sheryl walked into the little house. The front room was barely large enough for a couch, a coffee table, and a television. The place was clean at least. He didn't see any dust in the corners or stains on the coffee table. Clear plastic covered the couch.
"I'm Tom," Smythe said, "and this is my beautiful wife, Jessica."
"Nice to meet you both," Julie said. "I love your red hair. You must have Nordic ancestry."
"I probably do. Pure America?" He raised his eyebrows.
She hurried off. She returned a moment later with a short stack of white pamphlets. She gave several copies to both Smythe and Sheryl as if they needed more than one.
He looked at the material. He knew what to expect but it still shocked him. The
He took out a knife and jammed it into the crack under the lid. He kicked the handle of the knife to break the hasp. He wasn't in a mood to fiddle with lock picks.
What he saw inside the chest made him laugh out loud.
Tawni came over and looked. "You got to be kidding." She snorted.
The divine weapon was a plastic water gun. It was dressed up with colorful ribbons and bits of shiny wrapping paper, but the decorations only made it more ridiculous. Wire was wrapped around the nozzle like an electromagnet, but there wasn't even a battery.
Norbert took the plastic gun back to the main room.
He held it up to the monk's face. "This is it? You're going to kill the President with this piece of garbage?"
The monk nodded. "It's very powerful, but you have to believe."
"Show me." Norbert handed over the toy.
The monk held it awkwardly.
Norbert pointed at his own chest. "Shoot me right here. If that thing can take down the Son of Satan, it should have no trouble killing a regular guy like me."
"But..."
"Do it!" Norbert yelled. "Let everybody see."
The monk pulled the trigger. A little stream of water dampened Norbert's chest.
"That's what I thought," he growled.
He grabbed the toy, threw it to the floor, and stomped on it. The cheap plastic broke easily. The monk stared at the remnants in horror.
"Belief is a dangerous thing," Norbert said. "It can blind you. It can consume you. It can make you unable to admit you're wrong."
The monk looked up at him. "You don't understand."
"Yes, I do. I chased the Antichrist for years. That quest was everything to me. Over two hundred good men lost their lives before it was over. And I was successful, too. I had my gun pointed at his skull."
"Did you shoot?"
"No," Norbert said. "I opened my eyes and saw the truth instead. I had made a terrible mistake. There was no reason for all that bloodshed."
"But we have proof!" the monk said.
"A few numerical coincidences are not proof. Garbage you find on the internet isn't proof. For God's sake, wake up! There are women and children here. Can't you see what you're doing to them?"
Norbert couldn't take it anymore. He stormed out of the home and took a deep breath of fresh air.
Tawni joined him outside. "Nice speech."
"Thanks." His blood was pounding in his temples.
"Do you think it will do any good?"
"Very little." He sighed. "I'll call Aaron and find out what our next assignment is."
Chapter Six
Smythe knocked on the front door of a white brick house. While he waited for an answer, he looked around for signs of trouble. It was a poor neighborhood in the south-west corner of Chicago. A few apartment buildings were mixed into a sea of small, single-story homes. The lots were so narrow there was hardly enough room to walk between the buildings.
The door opened a few inches. A woman with curly, blonde hair and very fair skin peered out through the crack. She was wearing a modest beige dress that went down to her ankles.
"Can I help you?" she said.
Smythe smiled. "We want to join Pure America. We were told you might be able to help us. You're some kind of local representative."
"Yes! Come in. I'm Julie."
She opened the door all the way and stepped back. Smythe and Sheryl walked into the little house. The front room was barely large enough for a couch, a coffee table, and a television. The place was clean at least. He didn't see any dust in the corners or stains on the coffee table. Clear plastic covered the couch.
"I'm Tom," Smythe said, "and this is my beautiful wife, Jessica."
"Nice to meet you both," Julie said. "I love your red hair. You must have Nordic ancestry."
"I probably do. Pure America?" He raised his eyebrows.
She hurried off. She returned a moment later with a short stack of white pamphlets. She gave several copies to both Smythe and Sheryl as if they needed more than one.
He looked at the material. He knew what to expect but it still shocked him. The
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