4:58 p.m. Portland, Oregon

Dr. Alonzo Manuel flipped on the hall light. Dropped his briefcase. “Anybody home?”
The rest of the two-story Tudor house was dark.

He paused. Saw the note taped to the hallway entrance: We’re at the pool. Love, Maria. Shucking his overcoat and loafers, he padded into the large living room.

Outside, a hooded figure nicknamed White Fox waited. Though crouched behind a hedge for over an hour, he felt little fatigue or cold. The soothing lyrics and melody of Our Children drifted through his mind.

The Apostle's gentle lullaby had become his mantra. He whispered the chorus, "Our children are safe, really nothing else matters at all." He couldn't have come up with a better theme song for his work.

A smile played across his lips as he raised a gas-operated assault rifle. One life to save many.

In the living room, Manuel poured himself two fingers, thanked Jack Daniel and tossed the amber liquid down his throat. Not a bad choice for the last thing he tasted. He strolled over to the bay windows. Tugged open the drapes.

The three shots were rapid, their piercing echoes resembling the thunk of Manuel’s glass tumbler as it struck the polished oak floor.

One more for the righteous.