Agent Carter outlined her plan to the rest of the group. At risk of being recognized, Litefoot and Peggy would observe Father Crowley from the church gallery during the evening service. Ellie and Jarvis, with Jago in a cunning disguise, would get close to the priest during Communion, giving them an opportunity to plant a GPS on their target. After the service was complete, a multi pronged approach would surround and corner their prey. Assuming everything actually went to plan.
Together, they headed off towards the church for the evening service. As they drew near the church, the group split in two to minimize suspicion, as they entered and took up their positions. Peggy and Litefoot found seats in the front row of the gallery, offering them an unobstructed view of the altar, and their allies below. Jago, Jarvis and Ellie sat together in a central position in the church. Both Jarvis and Jago fidgeted nervously, feeling tense as they awaited to carry out their subterfuge. Slightly frustrated, Ellie whispered in Jago's ear.
"Calm down, both of you. You look suspicious. Give me the tracker. When we get close to him, you two will be awkward enough to distract him, allowing me to slip it on him."
"She has a point you know, Henry." Jarvis added. "I'm positively perspiring and we haven't even gotten close yet. We'll stand out a mile."
"Henry Gordon Jago is a master of disguise, my dear. I'm more than capable of fooling this man of the cloth, with my adaptable acting acumen." Boasted Jago. As if out of spite, the spirit gum that held his false beard in place loosened, and a corner of his facial hair began to peel away. Embarrassed, Jago pressed it back into place and said.
"Err, of course I didn't have access to my usual theatrical supplies, so the quality of my deception is limited. Perhaps your plan is best, Ellie."
With the peal of a bell, the congregation rose, while the priest and his altar servers emerged from the sanctuary and took their place on the altar to begin the mass. While the priest began to speak, Peggy observed every detail she could about their target. He was completely bald, approximately forty years old, and had a large red scar running along one side of his gleaming head. He had a surprisingly muscular frame, and looked like he could have made a decent career as a pugilist. His voice had a cold, hard edge, and he spoke as if he had fire in his blood.
Before long, Father Crowley had reached his sermon, and addressed his congregation.
"My flock, this Advent period is a time for reflection. It is a time of peace and goodwill, in the spirit of Jesus Christ. But we are unfortunately not living in a time of peace. In recent days, we have already borne witness to two savage attacks. Obviously, our prayers are with the victims of these atrocities, yet we do a disservice to their memory if we do not attempt to understand the motives of the criminal responsible. He has already leaked some information to the media, and his choice of target are very telling."
Litefoot leaned towards Peggy's ear to whisper.
"Media? We're you aware of any published statement?"
"No. Though I expect tomorrow's papers will be plastered with it. Doubtless he waited until just after the final print edition of the day to reveal his manifesto."
Father Crowley continued.
"This vigilante is striking against consumerist, commercial perversions of the true heart of Christmas. In this modern materialistic world, people are too preoccupied with their false idols, with material goods, with the frivolous frippery and decorative ornaments. People no longer care about the Birth of Christ, about the religious season of charity and reflection. Now it's just a secular celebration of ostentatious wealth and greed, avarice and waste. This man is waging a war on Christmas, singled handed.
I cannot condone the methods he uses, but I agree with his sentiment. We have lost our way. You have lost yours. We much come together in the Holy Spirit and reject all foul temptations. The material rewards of this live are meaningless compared to the rewards of the life beyond. Condemn this villain and his methods. Mourn the innocent victims. But take to heart his message and intent."
The crowd had a mixed reaction to this impassioned plea. Some clapped in agreement, others grumbled uneasily. Most had already zoned out and weren't paying attention. Jarvis spoke softly yo his companions.
"I say, he has certainly found a way to spread his message. The violent attacks incite the public, allowing him to step in as the voice of reason and further his own agenda."
"Dashed clever." Jago admitted. "He has a point, in a funny sort of way. Back in my day, we had more convivial Christmas carols, homemade heartfelt gift and so on. But that's no excuse for slaughter."
"Believe me, Mister J. Things change less that it might appear. No point in harking back to the good old days. In my experience, there's no such thing." Whispered Ellie.
"Odd to have one so young espouse such wisdom. You really are a delight Miss Higson. Nostalgia has a way of clouding ones perception. Ever onwards and upwards, I say." concluded Jarvis, as the mass continued. A short time later, the congregation left their seats to queue for Communion, Jarvis was the first of the three to join the queue, followed by Jago and finally Ellie. As they shuffled forward, one by one, Jarvis had to force himself to act natural. It was as if he'd suddenly realized he would momentarily be inches away from a known murderer. Jago too was uncomfortable. His face was itchy beneath his beard, which made if feel as if it were slipping away from his face. He fought the urge to keep pawing at it, simply hoping for the best. As he reached Father Crowley, Jago made a show of tripping as he turned to resume his seat. He managed to push the priest slightly as he turned, allowing Ellie to swoop in and help the priest back to his feet. As she grabbed his arm, Ellie managed to slip the tracker into a pocket of the priest's vestments.
Above them, still in their seats, Peggy and Litefoot watched the force unfold below.
"A trifle unsubtle, but effective." Mused Litefoot.
"Let us just hope our quarry doesn't flee before we spring our trap."
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