Cortin leaned forward, not trying to hide her interest. "It will, Charles. Tell me about it."
Powell frowned. "It's supposed to be on the main convent of the Blue Sisters—you know the one, just south of Carthage Mountain?"
"I don't, but I can find someone who does. Go on."
"It's supposed to be on their main feast day—that'd be the Annunciation, the 25th. But they're afraid the Service'll find out somehow, so if you post troops—even watchers—they won't show."
Cortin scowled. The Blue Sisters—formally, the Order of Succor of the Compassionate Mother, Piety's order—were dedicated to caring for the seriously ill or wounded, especially Service troopers. So perhaps they were a natural target—and they definitely needed protection. "The most important part is keeping the Sisters and their patients safe, even if it means the Brothers escaping. I personally hope that can be done without alerting them, but—" she shrugged, "once I pass the information along, I'm out of it unless they pick up some prisoners. Do you know if one of the Shannons will be involved?"
"I'm afraid not—that I don't know, I mean. But I'd think one would; it's the kind the Raidmaster would want to lead, either in person or by proxy."
"Good enough; I'll report it as a possible, then." She smiled at the young man. "I'm afraid I'm not as good at this type of questioning as I should be, Charles; I'd like to call in a friend for it. Will you talk to him as well as you have been to me?"
"Of course, if that's what you want."
"Good." Cortin went to her desk and picked up the black phone, asked Brady to come escort a guest, then turned her attention back to Powell. "You've been a lot of help already, Charles, and I'm sure you'll be a lot more—but have you given any thought to what you'll do when you've given us all the information you have?"
The young man shrugged. "A little, but it depended on someone believing me. Like I said, I'd like to go to work for you, if I could."