“The Church is trying to get us information about local security at Chichén Itzá. Meet me at St. Mary of the Angels.” I handed him the change scrounged from my pockets. “Tell them Harry Dresden said you were no Stevie D. We’ll leave from there.” “You . . .” He shook his head a little. “You got the Church to help you?” “Hell, man. I got a Knight of the Cross driving me around.”
