"They relax the mind and soothe the spirit. The name of this little riddle is Revenge. You'll find the first son of the old sod in the lap of luxury, atop his silver tower where the river runs dark below and water falls from a great height. He begged for his life, and then for his death. Never repenting his great sin, he is already damned."

"Why did you kill him?"

"Because this is the task I was born for,"

"God told you that you were born to kill?" Eve pushed for trace again, fought with frustration. "How'd He let you know? Did He call you up on your 'link, send a fax? Maybe He met you in a bar?"

"You won't doubt me." The sound of breathing grew louder, strained, shaky. "You think because you're a woman in a position of authority that I'm less? You won't doubt me for much longer. I contacted you, Lieutenant. Remember this is in my charge. Woman may guide and comfort man, but man was created to protect, defend, to avenge."

"God tell you that too? I guess that proves He's a man after all. Mostly ego."

"You'll tremble before Him, before me."

"Yeah, right." Hoping his video was clear, Eve examined her nails. "I'm already shaking."

"My work is holy. It is terrible and divine. From Proverbs, Lieutenant, twenty-eight seventeen: 'If a man is burdened with the blood of another, let him be a fugitive until death; let no one help him.' This one's days as a fugitive are done – and no one helped him."

"If you killed him, what does that make you?"

"The wrath of God. You have twenty-four hours to prove you're worthy. Don't disappoint me."

"I won't disappoint you, asshole," Eve muttered as the transmission ended. "Anything, Peabody?"

"Nothing. He jammed the tracers good and proper. They can't give us so much as on or off planet."

"He's on planet," she muttered and sat. "He wants to be close enough to watch."

"Could be a crank."