The Last Judgment by Craig Parshall

worshiped, so that he sits as God in the temple of God, showing himself that he is God.
    For a moment, there was awkward silence between Will and Fiona.
    Will’s eyes were looking out the window, to the misty blue ribbon of mountains in the distance. But Fiona’s eyes were on her husband.
    â€œDo me a favor, darling, will you?” Fiona asked gently.
    That broke Will’s fascination with the horizon, and he looked at his wife and smiled.
    â€œSure. What is it?”
    â€œBefore you take on any more death-defying cases…before you get involved in something that might put you into the middle of another nest of terrorists…that might bring another attack against this house, or on our family…just do me a favor.”
    â€œAnything.”
    â€œTalk to your wife first. Talk to me, darling.”
    Will could see something in her face. An expression he couldn’t remember seeing before.
    â€œFiona, honey, what’s the matter?”
    She shook her head and turned away, trying to minimize her own undefined fears.
    â€œSome people call it woman’s intuition. I call it a discerning spirit. But whatever it’s called, I’ve learned to listen to it. Just be careful, will you?”
    Will stepped over to her and wrapped his arms around her from behind. He kissed her on the back of the neck and on the cheek, whispering his undying love to her.
    And Fiona believed it. And she was comforted. But there still was something else—something that could not be measured or quantified. Nothing she could point to. But a chill reality swept over the surface of her skin. A foreboding…but of what, she could not begin to guess.

8
    W ARREN M ULLBURN WAS IN THE WORKING OFFICE of his Caribbean palace. He could hear the approaching footsteps of his visitor echoing on the marble floor. Mr. Himlet, his personal assistant, had been cleared through security. Now he was knocking and entering the room.
    Himlet was a tall, square-shouldered man wearing dark horn-rimmed glasses, with a titanium briefcase and a no-nonsense look about him. And he was bearing an urgent message.
    â€œHe’s done it, sir,” Himlet said in his usual monotone voice.
    â€œDone what?” Mullburn snapped.
    â€œThe code-breaking system.”
    â€œThe encryption code?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œQuantum encryption?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œThis person has devised a way to break into a quantum encryption system?”
    â€œExactly, sir.”
    Mullburn leaned back in his chair, pondering the implications of Himlet’s message. Then he asked a question.
    â€œWhat did you say this man’s name was?”
    â€œPutrie. Orville Putrie.”
    â€œWhat kind of a name is that?” Mullburn asked sarcastically. “His parents must have wanted to torture the lad.”
    â€œI’ve got a complete curriculum vitae and background check on Mr. Putrie,” Himlet said, tapping his metal briefcase. “MIT.One of the highest entrance scores in the history of the engineering school. But he was asked to leave the school for threatening a professor. Somewhat unstable personality. Worked for a number of years as a technical operations person for a drug dealer in the barrier islands off the coast of North Carolina. He was forced to flee the authorities there—ended up in the Virgin Islands for a while, and then I met him here, on the island.”
    â€œIs he a plant?”
    â€œThere’s virtually no chance of that,” Himlet said. “I’ve triple-checked all of the possibilities of his being an informant. All the time since his disappearance from the United States, there have been some outstanding warrants for him. I believe we’ve got a tremendous amount of leverage with Mr. Putrie. But I must say that his work on quantum encryption is revolutionary…even startling, it is so brilliant.”
    â€œAt last,” Mullburn said with a smile, “I’ve