They gave themselves two hours in Hancock.
The town was compromised. Heaven had already been here, already made its statement, and wherever heaven had been once, it tended to return to check its work.
Two hours to move through what was left of the market district, acquired what they needed, and get back on the road before the afternoon light started failing.
They split without discussing it, as some things didn't need organising.
*****
The black market contact was three streets back from the main square, in the part of town where the damage was lighter and the doors were still on their hinges.
Cophey's journal had given him a name, a street, and a descriptor: reliable, high cost, doesn't ask questions if you don't make him.
The man was exactly what the descriptor suggested.
