" Well, I believe Job is glad with that."

" Why do you say that?" Job asked, suspicious.

" Because you are a very prideful man. You hate to be pampered and catered to.
You’re a fighter, Cleric, and I know you hate losing wars with anything or
anyone," Christian said, not focusing on the tone of Job’s voice.

Job leaned back and watched them come closer to the Complex. The door was opened for
him by the sentry, who gave him a funny look as he got out. " Are you going to be
well on your own?" Christian asked from the driver’s seat.

Job let his gaze linger on the sentry and then turned and said, " Of course."

" I’ll take these men back, then. Remember, you can’t come to work until
next week, Father’s orders."

Job nodded and walked towards the steps, followed by Ezra, who let out a suppressed
growl. The car sped off and Job walked home.

He turned on all the lights in the flat, even the ones in the bathroom and closets. He
walked down the hall, putting his arm into a room and switching on the light. He then
walked into the living room and led Ezra by the collar to a sofa with him. He settled with
Ezra into a seat laced with pillows and reached under the cushion, feeling the hard wood.
He searched for a small peg that was unnoticeable to those who did not know it was there,
and pulled. Up came a tiny flap of board. He reached into the hole and took out a
paperback book.

It was the Bible, in all its glory. He traced the cover with his fingers and held it up
to Ezra’s nose, letting the dog sniff the lingering scent of paper and honor. Ezra
whined softly, his tongue coming out to lick the cover. " No, Ezra. You read it and
drink it, but don’t digest it," Job laughed. He winced at the stress he put on
his chest. " Genesis," he began to read aloud. " This is the creation of
the earth and man and woman. God said,

‘ Let there be light,’ and there was. He created us, Ezra, you and me and all
the people in the world. And how do we repay Him? By creating a secular community. But
we’re going to change that. You’re going to help me, okay?"

Ezra barked in response and lay on his paws, head resting on Job’s lap.

" ‘ When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and
pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate
it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then the eyes of
both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves
together and made coverings for themselves. Then the man and his wife heard the sound of
the Lord God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from the
Lord God among the trees of the garden. But the Lord God called to the man, " Where
are you?"

And he said, " Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree that
I commanded you not to eat from?"

Just thinking that maybe Job had been close enough to the Pope to kill him, made
Christian angry. That’s what we’re supposed to do, he thought bitterly,
grabbing his cloak and running out of his place.

He was near the Pope and didn’t do a thing he was supposed to. He could’ve
taken him prisoner or killed him, anything at all, but something that favored The System.

But then there was the tiny voice of doubt that fought for Job’s innocence and
said, Maybe he was surrounded by Guardians. Even with his unique kendo skill, he
would’ve fallen prisoner to The Movement. Maybe he’s bidding his time until he
can get the Pope on his own, when no one will be there to interfere with what he has
planned.

Even as he thought of how mad he should be with Job for even getting near the Pope
without letting Father know, he wanted to lie to himself and say Job knew what he was
doing. That Job had his own plans that would be messed up by the clerics or even Father.
After all, Job was independent. The only reason he had Christian as a partner was for a
nanny. They were supposed to keep each other in check; every cleric was. But Job himself
was a mastermind. He probably was playing the Pope’s trust into his hands to get him
by himself and away from the Guardians. Then, Job would bring the old fart to justice.

I hope that’s what Job has planned, he thought as he jumped into his car and
accelerated for Job’s side of the Complex. There were mixed feelings in him, he could
admit. Half of him wanted to catch Job red-handed so he could get the glory of a cleric
who was almost the Jesus to Father’s image of God. But the other half of him wanted
Job to be innocent. He wasn’t that close to Job to care body and soul for him,
but he respected the man, even though he was older than Job by maybe two years. No matter
whose side Job was on, there was nothing to erase his genius and tact brilliance. That,
and he was the best Japanese sword artist in the country. He could play fair game with a
bunch of Guardians if he had to, but the Guardians had somehow possessed the documentation
of the kendo and iaido sword art. No one knew how, because it was impossible to learn that
art anywhere other than as Prestigious cleric. Not even Japan itself had authority to
train its samurai like she had been used to before the secular order in half the nation.
There had been rumors of inside spies, but none had been caught.

Then there was the Tom/Rader Incident, Christian thought, his eyes focused on the
road, but his mind strapped to past events.

Almost three years ago, a Prestigious Cleric named Tom Metland had been accused of
being a spy and sending army advance plans to The Movement. There hadn’t been exact
documents and proof that pinned the blame on him, per se, but Father had thought the
accusation itself had been enough. His Right Cleric, by the name of Rader Smith, had been
told to get any and all proof that was against Tom. Only Christian and past and present
Clerics knew that had only been done to please the public and not make Father seem like a
merciless murderer.

Rader had appeared with folders, videos, audio cams, and witnesses full of classified
information that precisely placed Metland as the spy who had made known to The Movement
that a raid would be done at an abandoned warehouse. The Movement had been informed, and
when the clerics had gone, all they had found was a cross placed over a note that said, Maybe
next time.

That, everyone knew, had been the call for all-out war.

Metland had pleaded his innocence all through the trials and refused to say who he was
in league with, who his commander was, and where and when he had gotten the classified
information from. He said he wouldn’t say because he hadn’t been a spy and had
never had contact with a pilate, other than to charge and execute him.

No matter how much he had denied the charges against him, Metland was pushed down and
he was denied any way of liberating himself from the accusations and punishment he faced.
He was not allowed a representative, and he was not given the access to documents that
would prove his innocence the way Rader did and how he had been allowed to before he was
accused.

The plaintiff won, and Tom Metland was sentenced to stoning.

As Christian slowed his car in front of the Complex and looked out to see the sentry
coming to him, he thought of the possibility of Job being another Metland. He knew for a
fact, because his cleric duties allowed him to view files the public had no idea existed,
that Cleric Metland was innocent and the whole trial had been a fraud. He had been
targeted because of Rader’s jealousy of him, and Father had only gone along with it
because he didn’t want to show the public his clerics could possibly be wrong about
anything. And, he had wanted to make an example out of Metland. He had been frustrated
about the rumors of spies and even more that his army had been infiltrated and the
perpetrators had not been caught.

" Has he been out at all?"

The sentry leaned low to speak to Christian. His black eyes shined and Christian could
only see the outline of his jaw against the night sky. " No, he hasn’t. Has all
his lights on and hasn’t made a sound at all. As you asked, I got the videos of the
main entrance for the past half year." He reached into his coat and Christian’s
instinct made his hand grip the tsuka of his nodachi, his thumb against the tsuba. He
watched the sentry take out a small box. " These are video chip copies I got from the
office. I got some from as far back as two years."

Christian took them and placed them under his seat. " Not necessary, but thank
you, anyway." He motioned to the building and said, " Has the dog barked?"

" He hasn’t. But that’s nothing. That canine is as quiet as can be.
It’s as if he’s been trained to walk on tiptoes, you can never tell where he is,
even if you listen very intently. He sometimes comes out into the hall to fetch the
newspaper, and I’m making my rounds. I turn to get a big scare, I tell you, he’s
so quiet."

Christian stared thoughtfully at the building. " But canines come trained."

The sentry shrugged, not noticing the tone in Christian’s voice. " Don’t
know about that, but that dog knows a little bit more than it’s supposed to."

Christian leaned back in his seat, rubbing his jaw slowly. He stared at a window level
to Job’s flat and finally said, " Is there any other way into his home?"

He noticed the way the sentry stood back and could almost feel his discomfort, so he
said quickly, " It’s nothing bad. I just need to check on him without him
noticing. You know how possessive he is."

" Do I," the man said, laughing a little. " I had to inspect his room
once and he wasn’t home. Boy, did he yell when he got there. And the dog? Barking its
head off and snarling with those sharp teeth."

Christian raised his eyebrow. Canine dogs were a special breed, trained all through
life to remain calm and show no emotion, no affection towards human nature. Even when they
attacked, they never revealed any canine instinct and did their job with a plain face.
They were not pets, they were living robots, not prone to be as extravagantly
demonstrative and cautionary as Ezra was with Job.

This sent a red flag swinging in Christian’s brain. But he only stared at the
sentry and said nothing of what was going on in his mind. But he needed to know. He looked
up.

" Do you know if the dog is constantly with him, everywhere he goes?"

" Oh, of course." The man frowned. " But I thought, him being a Prestige
Cleric, that the dog was supposed to be with him. For protection."

" Oh, yes," Christian said, quickly. " And is he doing his job
well?"

" The dog?"

" Yes."

" Oh, Hell yeah! That dog would soon bite your leg off than let you near his
master. Pretty fine dog, I say."

" I say, too," Christian murmured. He glanced once more at the window.

" About getting in without him knowing? Yeah. You can go through the fire exit and
get into one of his windows. He may or may not see you. Or the dog. Whichever is
fiercest."

" And this window is where?"

" By back." The sentry motioned to the side of the building. " Go around
and you’ll see it."

Christian got out, the car locking immediately when his hand stopped touching it. He
had his hands on his waist and stood looking around. He finally turned to the man. "
If I go around and check how he is, will you make sure no one comes and gets me
caught?"

The man straightened, as if this were the most important job he had ever been given.
" Oh, sure. Go ahead."

Christian nodded to him and then walked off to the back of the Complex. His dress shoes
treaded the dirt softly and he made not a sound. He walked slowly and made his way towards
the back. There were a few trees lining the back of the building and the space between
them was narrow. He had to watch where he was going and stick to the wall, his hands
running over the rough wall.

He looked up and saw the window up above, high above. He stopped below it and thought
of how to get up there. He slipped out his nodachi and stuck the boshi all the way to the
mune-machi straight into the ground. He planted both hands on the wall in front of him and
stepped up with one foot on the hilt of the nodachi. He balanced himself on top of the
hilt, his other leg swinging about him to get balance. He stretched slowly as far as he
could, his fingers reaching for the sill of the window. His arm felt it would come out of
his socket, but he felt his middle finger touch the sill. With a fatal boost, he sprung
himself up and grabbed the sill tightly.

The nodachi went away from his foot and he was dangling a little over it, swinging
dangerously over it. He looked down and just as quickly looked up to get his other hand
clenched onto the sill. He puffed, beads of sweat appearing over his upper lip. His face
was reddening a little as he clutched the sill hard and pulled himself up, legs walking on
the wall for support.

Christian hugged the sill with his elbows and pulled himself up. He hung there,
sweating and puffing, trying to keep quiet. He could see into a room. It was plain and
gray, with very few furniture and even less decorations. The door was open and he could
hear a soft voice drifting in from somewhere. He couldn’t hear enough to be sure it
was Job.

With one elbow clamped tightly on the sill, Christian raised his other hand to push the
window open. He struggled but got it open enough to raise his leg and push the rest open
with his foot. He then climbed in, lower body first and stepped quietly into the room. He
stopped moving, listening for anything. He glanced down and regretted having left his
nodachi. He listened.

" . . . for us to feel loved by him. He’s supposed to have breathed life into
us, and we must serve him. He has our loyalty and love at heart; there’s just some
people who don’t know it or don’t accept it," Job’s voice said,
drifting in through the slightly open door.

Christian didn’t know what to think of it. Was he talking about God? Was what he
was saying coming from a man who was now Catholic?

It can’t be. Job’s supposed to have a surprise attack waiting for the Old
Man. Job’s the best cleric. He has to be on our side. Because what if he
weren’t? What if Father were right, and old men have brainwashed Job, our best
cleric?

He shook his head to remind himself Job would not sacrifice honors and prestige for a
cause he must know was outnumbered.

He watched the killing canine stalk to him, as if he were its prey. The rare sea blue
eyes narrowed on him and he could hear the dog snort. He bent his knees a little and
hissed to Ezra, " Go away, I command you. Sit by the door."

Ezra’s ears pricked a little and he stopped stalking toward Christian. Christian
expected the canine to respond to a direct order he had been trained to follow since he
had been a pup. But, instead, he once more made his way to him, growling deep in his
throat and gnashing his teeth at Christian.

" Ezra?" Job called. " Come here. I have to read this to you and
we’ll make you remember. Where are you?"

Christian could hear that Job sounded as far as he had before, but all the same, he
didn’t want to be found out. He stood straight and said in a commanding whisper,
" Go to him."

Ezra paused in his walk and seemed to not care about the order he had been given, but
Job called again, " Come on, Ezra. You better not be laying on my favorite chair,
okay! You get hairs on it."

Ezra turned at the sound of his master’s voice and stepped out into the hallway.
Before Christian could sigh with relief, Ezra planted his haunches on the hall floor and
looked off into the living room.

" What are you doing?" Job asked, from the living room. " Come here. Did
you find something?"

Christian turned quickly as soon as Ezra turned toward him as if to say, " Yeah. I
found your cleric buddy, fuckin’ spy." He saw the dog stand out of the corner of
his eyes, but he was over the sill and throwing himself out of the window. He landed on
both knees below. Pulling his nodachi out of the ground, he sped off, Ezra’s growls
resounding in his ears.

" Did you see him? Is he alright?"

Christian slowed to a stop next to his car, where the sentry still was. His breathing
was a little fast. Not because of the exercise. That he had been trained to endure. It was
the exhilaration he had gotten from the idea of being chased by a canine. He steadied
himself by holding onto the car and he heard the hum as the car scanned his hand print.
Then there was a click and the door opened for him. He got in and closed the door.

" Thanks for keeping an eye out for me. Yeah, he’s fine. Either way, can you
keep an eye on him? He’s not supposed to go to work until a week, and I don’t
want him to do anything serious."

" Yeah. I saw his chest when he was getting out of the car. Pretty big scar
he’s gonna have, huh?"

Christian forced a smile. " A bigger one if he doesn’t stay put."

" I’ll keep an eye on him, don’t worry."

Christian nodded his thanks and sped off, on the direction of the Vault.

Job watched the way Ezra raised his hinds a little from the ground. Then the stiffness
in his neck relaxed. Job took it as a cue and stood up from the chair where he had been.
He walked slowly toward the room where Ezra was seated out of. His footsteps echoed loudly
in his ears, but his heart beat slowed instead of rising. He was calm. He had been through
intense training, and, for that one thing, he was thankful to Father for. All he had
learned under a man he hated, he would find useful against him.

He passed Ezra and ran his hand over the soft hair of the dog’s head. Then he
walked into the doorway of the room.

As he had expected, Ezra’s body movements had been relaxed as soon as the person
who had been inside had left. And there was no doubt a person had been there. His
sharp eyes saw the small streak of mud on the carpet and the cuff mark on the sill of the
window. He barely used this room at all, but he knew when things changed.

He turned to Ezra. " It was him, huh?"

Ezra walked over to where the man had been and sniffed the area, circling a small area.
His tail straightened and he sat down, looking up at Job as if to say, " Hell, yeah,
the son of a bitch."