Looked at from her point of view, Bradford could understand that. But since he'd helped with much of the maneuvering that had gotten her into the first two situations--that the third had worked out so well had been by God's mercy, not human skill--he didn't share her apprehension. But he also couldn't reveal any more of that maneuvering than she already knew about, so he tried to reassure her instead. "I don't see anything to worry about, Joan. Think back--everything that's happened to you since the attack has been perfectly reasonable, given your talent as an Inquisitor and Their Majesties' determination to put down the terrorists. If you weren't High King's Inquisitor, someone else would be--someone less talented. As for the speed, well," he let his smile show in his voice, "from what I hear, you were the one in a hurry to qualify as an Inquisitor and get to work--and I know you didn't waste any time getting your team together." "I can't argue that," Cortin said. She had pushed hard to learn, and learned faster than she'd expected even with that amount of work. "Motivation does work wonders--but it still bothers me." "We'll talk about it more this afternoon, then, if you're not at a point in an interrogation where you can't take a break for an hour or so." "I should be able to manage; the one I'm working on seemed to be coming along nicely when I left him last night, and I doubt it'll take me more than a couple of hours to finish him." Bradford was both astonished and pleased. Except for Powell, he'd chosen these subjects himself, as being particularly resistant. Either he'd been wrong about one, or she had an even more accurate sense for individual weaknesses than he'd realized. "I'd have expected at least two days of concentrated effort for any one of them--what did you do?" "Thought aloud for his benefit, then left him alone under a twelve-hour dose of eroticine. Not very original, but effective." "That's what counts." Bradford shook his head, glad she couldn't see the chagrin on his face. "Sometimes simple methods are the most effective." And the hardest to spot special vulnerability to, he reminded himself. "I'll be at the chapel in about fifteen minutes--talk to you more this afternoon." "Right." Cortin hung up, turned to the two waiting. "He mentioned a chapel--where is it?" "On the main floor," Pritchett told her. "Dedicated to St. Eleanor, of course." The patron saint of Enforcement, yes, since there were no Inquisitor saints. "Good--I'd hoped for a chapel, but I hadn't really expected one." "I'll show you where it is." Pritchett grinned. "I go to Mass every day, when I can--glad I didn't miss it today." "Can I go too?" Powell asked hesitantly. "I've been once, so I can't take Communion, but . . ." "Certainly!" Cortin exclaimed. "Whenever you want, as long as it doesn't interfere with your duties. Shall we go, gentlemen?"