“They are. But they’re up on the northern edge. From the bell-tower of that church, I bet you could shoot half the houses on the west side of Oxford Street, along with the backs of all the shops on Augusta.”
“How are we going to get the church to go along with it. Christ, what are they, Ukrainian Orthodox?”
“Greek Orthodox,” Kurt said. “Yeah, they’re pretty conservative.”
“So?”
“So, I need a smooth-talking, upstanding cit to go and put the case to the pastor. Priest. Bishop. Whatever.”
“Groan,” Alex said.
“Oh, come on, you’re good at it.”
“If I get time,” he said. He looked into his coffee for a moment. “I’m going to go home,” he said.
“Home?”
“To the mountain,” he said. “Home,” he said. “To my father,” he said.