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slowly put the bug in his ear over a few visits. Looks like I’ll be doing some shooting and boxing in Detroit over the next few months. It was settled. This part of the picture was becoming a bit clearer. What about the rest of the team?
    Chuck knew picking the rest of the team would prove more difficult. There’s always Zack Batt...nah. He’s been too reckless lately. Can’t stay out of trouble. Chuck wrestled over the thought of using one of his most complicated covert mercenaries. Zack was a piece of work and he and Gallagher had a very close but tenuous relationship. If his head is on even slightly more straight than when I first recruited him, he’d probably adapt perfectly to this mission. Chuck was still unsure.He resolved to re-visit the idea later.He decided to hammer out the strategy for the op first, then finalize the team.
    But that would have to wait. He had a conference call in three minutes. He scribbled the word TRINITY at the top of his page of notes. He then ripped the piece of yellow paper off of the pad and carefully folded it into a square and placed it in his pocket. I think I got something here. He walked away from his desk and opened his office door. He needed to take a quick leak before the call started. He stood at the urinal losing water weight with one thing on his mind—how to get McIntyre back on the job.

CHAPTER FOUR
    FIRST BAPTIST CHURCH OF DETROIT, DETROIT, MICHIGAN
    S ometimes Blaze didn’t know who appeared to be more afraid of him—the terrorists that had the pleasure of meeting his fury in the heat of an operation, or average citizens who gazed upon his appearance as if he was a terrorist himself. It was around eighty-five degrees in mid May and it was beginning to feel slightly humid. It was one of those rare Midwest weather days when spring flirted with summer earlier than June. This was an anomaly that Blaze could deal with. He had changed into camouflage cargo pants and a tight black tee shirt before leaving the gym. He had completed a tougher than usual morning workout, complete with TRX training and an intense kettle bell regimen. Given the unexpected warmth of the day, he now wished he had been wearing camo shorts instead.
    He parked his worn 2010 Cadillac CTS sedan across two parking spots in an obnoxious and diagonal fashion. He opened the door of his cherished vehicle with a slow push of his hand. As he stepped out of the sedan, he took the final puff of his Perdomo Patriarch cigar. He tossed the stogie onto the hot tar of the church parking lot asphalt. He watched it bounce and twirl for a second or two. The cigar then met its fate under the heel of his black combat boot. As he hurried toward the church building, he used the lower part of his tee shirt to wipe the sweat from his face and neck. Despite a good shower, it was typical for Blaze to expect some residual perspiration within an hour after a good workout. This usually happened as a result of his motor having been just revved up and still running with high voltage. He was still as lean of a machine as he ever was. This particular day, the extreme vascularity in his arms made his physique pop.
    Blaze admired the ethereal look of the ornate stained glass designs on the church’s front doors as he opened the one to his right. He loved the imagery of the angels. He had a habit of visualizing the reality of attending angels that he sensed had helped him through many hairy battles in the desert. Angels that watched over him during many lonely nights in dark places where he sat awake waiting to strike an enemy. Soon after he entered the church, he caught the horrified face of the new church secretary. It wasn’t everyday that a tattooed, muscle-bound secret soldier wearing combat boots waltzed in.
    In Detroit, such an intrusion could very well invoke a legitimate sense of fear and imminent danger. That being said, the church never locked the door. Pastor Liam wouldn’t hear of it. He