“Hell, I hadn’t been to church since my Grandfather took us to the funeral of my parents. I had heard all of this before. But I had never done anything I was ashamed of. I had been a good boy. Now I was not ashamed of anything I did, even murder. Hell was an expression to me, but I knew deep down I was headed there. “How could that old dying woman forgive me? My bloodied hand stained with the life of her husband had struck her down. “What was the Love of God that could make her forgive me? “The preacher then spoke to me about Paul who even in jail and being lashed sang praises to God! He had not been delivered, indeed he had become a martyr as had most of the disciples, I remember that from my childhood agony of sitting through intolerably long and boring preachings. Paul had held the coats of those who stoned innocent followers of the Way as he cheered them on. Yet he met the living Christ who forgave Him and taught him that He was the promised Messiah foretold in the ancient scriptures that Paul knew by heart. Christ as he hung on the cross forgave the blasphemous soldiers who had beat him so badly he was barely recognizable as a man. “She had forgiven me as her blood dripped from my knife. “I did know better, I just had ceased to care. I was out for me, damn anyone in my way. “But I knew I was bad. I remember looking into my loving mother’s eyes as she tucked me into bed and said what a good boy I was. My father had praised me in front of my neighbor, bragging about how someday I would make him proud. I look inward and I cried because I had let them down. I had become one of those they had warned me not to mix company with. I had lost sight of my parent’s moral fiber when I had lost them. “I had been given a rotten ordeal, but I don’t think my father would have sunk as low as I. I did feel guilt although I had tried to cover it with rationalizing that I had been shafted. It was only fair that I looked out for myself I had begrudgingly told myself. Then I looked at what I had just done, was it fair that my anger had killed the woman? “I then realized my sin was that I ignored God’s Law, the one I had learned as a child unwilling suffering through the church classes. I do not know why God allowed my parents to die as they had, I certainly cannot fathom why my Grandfather, brother and sisters had to die as they did. But my responsibility was to live a good life, even if it would have been a materially poor life. If I had struggled to eek out a meager living, I should have done it the right way an honorable way no matter how lowly it might have been. My beloved father had taught me that. My way benefited me at the expense of those I used and terrorized. “I need the forgiveness of my sins, I did not expect to be loved for what I was. But I was told by that preacher that night that God had loved me so much He had given His own Son as sacrifice to fulfill broken Law, so that even men such as I could be forgiven. I had to accept my need for a Savior, and I had to believe that God’s promise was true, even if I could not comprehend why and how. “I know my former mates have come to kill me. It is a just end to my miserable life. I could not continue as I had, my conscience could not permit it. You see I found my conscience or rather the Spirit of God has come into me to give me His conscience, for that night I asked God’s forgiveness, and I would only rely on His promise to count His son’s death as payment for my atrocities. I became an adopted son when I accepted His offer of forgiveness. The Spirit of God told me one of my executioners needed His forgiveness and love. I would be allowed to tell him my story. We all live a short life and there is a reckoning we must all face. We all go into eternity. But where will we go, to eternal damnation or eternal family?” Not unexpected, but certainly without warning, multiple shots crash through the office window and struck Alain Relais in the head and back. I grabbed my gun, which the compliant Alain Relais had set next to me on the desk within arm’s reach. I knew he was dead as one of the bullets exited his forehead. I shot the falling corpse, as my cohorts burst into the room. I put two more shots into the corpse as it lay on the floor. I know it seemed cold-blooded, but this would seal my spot in the M Agency, for I had committed murder, not just an accomplice as the first time in stealing the meteor. Alain Relais was dead, and I could use his corpse to cement my association and commitment to the M Agency. There would be no doubts about my standing when I was reported on by Roberto. In fact, Roberto broke into a smirk and said, “You are ours. Leave the body for reporters to detail in ghastly headlines. It will send a message. It is stark warning to the rest of us that we tolerate no failure.” We picked up Jean and headed back to Paris. We were told to go into hiding and report back in one week if we knew the coast was clear or sooner if called for. The ride back was maddening. It wasn’t the murder that struck so deep into my conscience; it was the dying testimony of our victim. Roberto was unaware of my one sided conversation with Alain Relais. He took a swig out of a cheap bottle of brandy, laughed to the rest of the gang and said to me patronizingly, “It gets easier each time you pull the trigger or use the knife or sap. You did fine, Jack, except for letting him get the drop on you. But I saw you repay that disservice with a few extra shots!” And he broke out laughing.