"I'll probably be saying Mass when you get here, then. You can talk to him in our quarters if you want, or you're welcome to use my public office on the main floor. Any idea how long it'll take?"
"That's hard to say exactly, but two hours is about average. And since you haven't said Mass yet, I'd appreciate it if you wait till I get there; I like to attend all my priests' services at least once."
"Of course." She couldn't refuse her Bishop, and since no one had commented on her bearing during Mass, her absorption was either normal or not noticeable, so it shouldn't be a problem. "Then this afternoon I can have someone help Powell get the Service formalities straightened out—payroll, uniforms, ID, all that sort of thing." She shook her head, even though he couldn't see the gesture. "Things are going too fast and working out too well, Brad. I'm living in luxury, doing valuable work I enjoy, having an incredible sex life—I ought to be overjoyed, but I'm not. It scares me."
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."