Her face twisted with frustration and fear. After a moment’s pause to consider his intent, she locked with his eyes and inched his way with a menacing slink.

“You,” she started, “don’t know anything about me. Or where I’m going.”

His damned lecherous smirk returned, despite her attempts to gain an upper hand. “Sure I do,” he replied. “I mean, certainly that’s your real name on this passport. You’re just a nice Christian girl who went to church to pray and got hassled by some creepy guy. Right?”

His words oozed sarcasm, and her flight instincts surged. Between the flaring nostrils and the pupil dilation, or even the heavier breathing, he must have noticed.

“No,” he went on. “You were there for the same reason I was. The church is corrupted far worse than most people realize. Some people even think it’s time to force the clergy’s hand and make radical changes.”

All of her muscles froze in place. “You weren’t praying,” he leered. “You were weeping for a church that never was. And you were spying.”