It was four o'clock in the morning. John Mark Wright slumped in his chair. In front of him, on a crappy table used at a cheap hotel, sat four objects. Legal pad. Pen. Loaded nine-millimeter Glock. Half-empty glass of Hennessy cognac. Reverend John Mark Wright has everything he could ask for: a beautiful, loving wife, a small church that cherishes his spiritual leadership, and a humble, charming home...