The Trinity Game

before?”
    “Plenty times.”
    “No,” Daniel put compassion in his smile, “you haven’t,” he drew the bills from the wallet, “and you don’t want to start now.” He pointed at the cross hanging from the kid’s neck. “You really want my blood on your hands? Carry that with you for the rest of your life? Answer for that, when your time comes?” He slipped the empty wallet back into his pocket. “Give me the gun, and you can have the money.”
    The kid bit his lower lip, shook his head. “I give you the gun, you shoot me, take your money back.”
    “Fair enough.”
Keep the head nodding and the tone soothing and the message positive:
“Here’s a solution. Take the bullets out, and
then
hand me the gun, and that will make you happy.” Of course, he could pistol-whip the boy into submission with the empty gun easily enough if he wanted to, but he didn’t want to, and he figured the kid could see the truth of his intentions. Just as he was betting that he could read the kid. “Two hundred, American. Just give me the gun and it’s yours.”
Always be closing.
    The boy thought for a few seconds, then flipped the cylinder open and dumped the bullets into his left hand and shoved them into his jeans. He held the gun out and said, “Same time.”
    They executed the trade by simultaneous snatch, and the kid ran away. Daniel took the gun to the back of the alley. If he gave it to the police, it would be back on the streets before nightfall. He cocked the hammer, used a rock to break off the firing pin, smashed the hammer until it bent and wouldn’t snap back into place, and tossed the now useless weapon into a trashcan.
    A voice behind him said, “You really are a sucker.”
    Daniel knew that voice. He turned around. “How long were you watching?”
    Father Conrad Winter pulled at his clerical collar, letting a little air in, and grinned. “Long enough.”
    “Thanks for the help.”
    “Any time.” The priest pulled at his collar again, wiped a handkerchief over his forehead, pushing back his damp blond hair. “Hot as a bitch out here, let’s find some shade.”

C onrad Winter snapped his fingers at a waiter, and the waiter put a two-hose hookah on the table, went away, and came back with a copper pot of sweet Turkish coffee.
    Daniel didn’t want this meeting but Conrad’s position as head of the Office of World Outreach was of equal rank to Daniel’s boss, Father Nick. Refusing to meet was not an option. At least the café was cool, with open walls all around, massive ceiling fans turning above. He reached for the hookah, picked up one of the hoses, and puffed. The hookah burbled, and his mouth filled with the taste of coconut. He blew out the smoke.
    “What brings you to Lagos, Father Conrad?”
    “The case you’re working on.”
    “I’ve got six open files, three more on deck. I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.”
    Conrad sipped some coffee. “What is it with you, anyway?” He gestured at his collar. “It’s a powerful symbol, makes you a
minor god
to these people. Why not wear yours?”
    The last thing Daniel needed was people putting on more of a show for him than they did already. But he wasn’t about to take the bait. “Too hot,” he said.
    “Tell you one thing,” Conrad puffed on the hookah, “that kid never would’ve pulled a gun on a priest.” He blew out a white cloud. “I’m curious. How much did you give him?”
    Daniel shrugged.
    “And how much does a gun cost on the street? Forty, fifty bucks?”
    Another shrug.
    “So what did you achieve? He’ll just buy another gun, with cash to spare.”
    And the kid probably would. But what the hell. Daniel had resolved the situation without hurting the kid or getting shot, and as a bonus, he’d taken one gun off the street.
    And maybe he’d given the kid something to think about.
    Maybe.
    He puffed on the hookah. He said, “Which case?”
    “The girl.”
    “Which girl?” He knew perfectly well which girl, but he wasn’t giving anything away for free.
    By way of explanation, Conrad held his hands out, displaying his palms. “South of Abuja. We need this one.”
    So Conrad had access to Daniel’s e-mails. Only way he could’ve known his personal persuasion was necessary. Another fun-filled day of Vatican office politics.
    “The investigation was fair,” said Daniel. “The girl is not a miracle.”
    “A lot at stake here, Golden Boy.”
    “Especially for the girl.”
    Conrad shot back the