The Acolyte Read Online Free

Exeter stepped up to the dais; Hollis sat to his left.
    “This is a general debriefing on the department’s ongoing investigations, prioritized according to threat,” Exeter began. “Top priority: a 254—homicide/suicide bombing—last week in Matthew’s Square, during the Up with God minstrel show. Death toll stands at seventeen. Our sketch artist has produced an updated rendering of the jihadist, provided by a survivor who recently regained consciousness.”
    The bomber was the classic Islamic fanatic: cheeks sharp as busted saucers, vulpine nose, eyes dark and unfeeling as rocks. Approx. 5’10”, 145 lbs. I was amazed his frame could handle the 100-plus pounds of explosives he must have been packing.
    Rage rippled through the bullpen as the composite circulated. Garvey spat on his copy and ground it under his heel.
    “The CSI division has been working to determine the makeup of the bomb. Preliminary data based on blast radius indicate a fertilizer-based explosive with a manual incendiary igniter, possibly a road flare. This is based on CSI’s on-the-scene eyeball data.”
    Before the Republic, CSI was an acronym for Crime Scene Investigation; it presently stood for Christian Sciences Investigation. Forensics was now outlawed as a heretical discipline: it proved the existence of dinosaurs and the like. The Christian Scientists hunted around with magnifying glasses, making deductions.
    “You cannot purchase ammonium-nitrate based fertilizer without providing a Republic ID,” Exeter reminded us. “Any transaction should be recorded at the store. Every home and garden store in the city will need to be canvassed.”
    A collective groan from the rank and file.
    Exeter acknowledged the obvious. “Needle in a haystack, gentlemen. Lieutenants Toppenger and Paulsen are in charge of canvassing; officers are to work in two-man teams and report their findings to the stationhouse. Every man shall make this his primary focus until such time that a significant lead develops—”
    Hollis cleared his throat and trained his slightly amused gaze upon Exeter. The Chief returned Hollis’s stare, adjusted the bridge of his black-framed glasses, and turned back to the men.
    “—at which point it will be remanded to the Faith Crimes unit, who, as protocol dictates, will head up the investigation. But they’re going to need our assistance. Shake every tree at your disposal: every rat, every heathen lowlife. Interrogation rooms will be available all hours. Pakitown, Little Baghdad, and Kiketown scum. Rule nothing out.”
    Exeter asked Hollis if he had anything to add.
    “No, you’ve summed things up very well . . . chief.”
    Everyone could hear the lower-case c in Hollis’s chief .
    Exeter said: “Dismissed, then, gentlemen. And Prophet’s blessings.”
    Plainclothesmen filed out. Exeter leaned across the dais, regarding Hollis coolly; Hollis was tipped back in his chair, just about rubbing the shine off his rosary beads. Body language told the tale. Exeter: never upstage me in front of the men again. Hollis: your tin-badge sheriff’s act doesn’t scare me.
    Hollis held up his hand. “Acolyte Murtag—a word with you.”

    “Exeter is a damned fool,” Hollis said once we were settled back in his office. “Canvassing the city with a charcoal sketch of a fanatic—a fanatic who’s already blown himself to bits, I don’t need to remind you—asking, ‘Did this swarthy bastard purchase bomb-making material at your shop?’”
    He pulled a bottle of wine from his desk drawer and poured measures into water-spotted glasses.
    “Did you know Exeter used to be an Episcopalian? I’d as soon blow my brains out as follow an Episcopalian into battle. And slippery : Exeter’s the only man I know who could enter a revolving door behind you and step out ahead of you. Mind him, lad. You mind him, hear?”
    I sipped Hollis’s wine, so acidic it stung my gums.
    “Dispatch sent word. Acolyte Doe won’t be in today.”
    I looked up