Read Raymond Benson - 2012 - Hitman: Damnation for Free Online

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                 Work
was finished for the day. Helen gathered her belongings, shut off the lights in
her mansion office, stepped out, and locked the door. She had enough time to
run to her apartment and whip up some supper before heading to the recruitment
center to interview new Church members. While she was paid for her job as one
of several personal assistants to Reverend Wilkins, Helen kept busy with other
volunteer assignments at Greenhill. For her, recruiting was the most
interesting one, for she was able to meet new people. There was always the
chance that a suitable man might walk in and join the Church of Will, someone
with whom she could become friendly—and perhaps more.
                 It
was good to keep busy. Helen had never liked to be idle—the “devil’s workshop”
and all that—but the need to keep her mind occupied was essential ever since
the stint in the hospital. It was part of the recovery process. Staying on top
of numerous tasks also kept her from dwelling on her situation. Helen rarely
admitted to herself that she was lonely, but it was always the elephant in the
room. After her parents were killed in a tragic highway accident, and her
sister had succumbed to ovarian cancer, Helen sometimes feared she was all
alone in the world. That wasn’t really true, she had
the Church and the friends she had met there. And Charlie, of
course. Reverend Charlie Wilkins. He was the light and the hope and the
inspiration that kept her going. If she hadn’t found the Church of Will … Well,
she didn’t like to think of how she might have ended up.
                 Before
she could go home, there was one other task to do. Helen walked past the other
assistants’ offices and down the long hall to
Wilkins’s private sanctuary, where the man worked and prayed. His office door
was closed and locked, but she had a key. It made her feel special that she was
the only one of his personal assistants whom he trusted with a key to his
office. Since he was away on business, one of Helen’s duties was to water the
many plants he kept inside. She was happy to do so. She felt his presence in
the place, and it made her feel good.
                 Charlie
Wilkins’s office was a copy of the White House Oval Office in design, but the
reverend had decorated it quite differently. For one thing, a wall-sized,
curved plate-glass window faced Aquia Lake. The
mansion had been erected on the northern shore, for Wilkins loved the view of
the water. He claimed it helped him meditate. The moon and stars reflected off
its surface at night, which was why he always made it a point to pray in his
office at exactly midnight whenever he was on the premises. Helen agreed it was
a beautiful, pastoral setting. The Church of Will compound couldn’t have been
built on a lovelier spot in Virginia. That was why it was called Greenhill.
                 Other
differences from the Oval Office included the abundance of greenery. Wilkins
had a green thumb and believed that all plants had souls. There were more than
a hundred potted plants in the office, and Helen took the time to water the
appropriate ones. They had different schedules—some had to be watered daily,
others only once a week or less.
                 Then
there were the many religious artifacts and artworks in the space. In fact,
they were displayed all over the mansion. An identical room directly below this
one, in the basement, supposedly stored hundreds of such treasures, but Helen
had never been in it. It was off-limits to everyone except select personnel.
                 Wilkins
embraced all of the world’s religions. The Church of Will laid no claim on any
particular one. Christians, Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, Hindus, and even
Scientologists—everyone was welcome in the Church of Will. Wilkins had cannily
taken aspects from each faith and combined