The Trinity Game

sooner.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Turning into quite the debacle, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, Your Eminence.”
    “I think His Holiness needs to be informed.”
    Father Nick nodded. “I’ll report to his office at your command.”
    “No,” said Cardinal Allodi. “You’ll report to me, and I will take it to His Holiness. His Holiness does not need to be burdened with unnecessary detail.”
    “Yes, Your Eminence.”
    “And you need to fix this.”
    “I will.”

Atlanta, Georgia…
    H artsfield-Jackson airport was buzzing with excited chatter, and it seemed the only topic of conversation was Tim Trinity. Daniel picked up snatches of it as he made his way through the crowds toward the trains to the main terminal building.
    “This is just so
thrilling,
I can hardly breathe.”
    “They say he’s taken over the whole top floor of the Westin, hiding out like Howard Hughes. You can’t get near the place.”
    “When I saw the news, I just packed a bag and booked a flight. Didn’t even say good-bye to the wife.”
    “Hear the latest? He predicted next Sunday’s Lotto numbers! Isn’t that awesome?”
    “Dangerous, I’d say. Just a matter of time before Big Brother puts a bullet in his head.”
    “I think we’re in the end times.”
    “I sure hope so. If the rapture don’t come, I’m gonna have to fly home and explain myself.”
    Daniel stopped at a newsstand, picked up the
Atlanta Journal-Constitution
. The bold headline read:
    TENSIONS RISE AS TRINITY
FOLLOWERS PUT CITY IN GRIDLOCK
    On the train to the main terminal, he scanned the accompanying story. The city was devolving into chaos. He was still caught up in the paper as he left the train, didn’t notice them until they were flanking him on either side, with military precision.
    Two very large men in dark blue suits and sunglasses. One black, one white, both bald-headed and clean-shaven. Guns bulging beneath their jackets.
    Shit.
    Daniel scanned the crowd for movement patterns, looking for an opening to emerge. But he knew it was impossible. Even if he got a couple good shots in and bolted though the crowd, he wouldn’t get far. They couldn’t fire on him in this crowd, but the place was jammed, and they’d be all over him before he could get to the door.
    The black guy said, “Father Byrne. We’ve been sent to pick you up.”
    “Nick didn’t waste any time.”
    “Who? No, we’re from Reverend Trinity. He thought you could use some help getting into the city.”
    “How did he even know I was coming back to Atlanta?”
    “I have no idea, you’ll have to ask him. He just told us what flight you were on.”
    “Nothing personal, guys, but why should I believe you?”
    The white guy grinned. “He said you were the suspicious type. Said to remind you of the time Judas got hit by a car. Said to tell you what he said to you at the time was wrong. Whatever that means.”
    Judas…
    When Daniel was nine, during the summer they stayed put in New Orleans, Trinity finally agreed to get a dog. They went downto the shelter on Japonica Street and adopted a scruffy little mutt that Trinity named Judas. He chose the name, he said, because every dog he’d had as a kid had run away, and he figured it was just a matter of time before this mutt did the same.
    But Judas didn’t run away, and both Daniel and Trinity fell in love with him. Daniel took Judas to Audubon Park every day, and Trinity came along on weekends. Judas loved to splash around in the big fountain, biting at the water. It always made them howl with laughter.
    Trinity also got a huge kick out of calling the dog’s name in public.
    Judas didn’t run away, but on a rainy Saturday morning in early August, he crawled under the backyard fence and chased a cat across the road, just as a car came around the corner. Daniel ran to stop him, but it was too late.
    Judas died in Daniel’s arms.
    They buried the dog in the backyard, and Trinity made a little wooden cross as a headstone.
    “I know it hurts, son, and I’m sorry,” he said, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “But you better know now, it’s the way of life. Everything you love goes away in the end.”
    He said to tell you what he said to you at the time was wrong.
    The white guy said, “Satisfied?”
    Daniel nodded.
    The black guy gestured at his partner. “This is Chris. I’m Samson.” They shook hands. “Car’s waiting, let’s go.”

    Chris drove the big limo into Atlanta, staying off the highway, cruising along