“So you’re going to tell me the name and location of this Phineas Priest guy.”

“I can’t.”

“Then I’ll send this file to all your suck-ass white power brothers.”

Schmidt reared up snarling in his chair and for an instant Strait thought he was going to attempt another go at him. But then he wilted. His whole body went flaccid in the chair and his head fell in defeat.

“Jaker,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“It’s his nickname. It’s short for Jew Killer.”

“Lovely.”

“His real name is Ernst Lahm.”

“Ernst Lahm?”

“Yeah.”

Strait dropped back in his chair. “Wait.”

“What?”

“That name sounds familiar.” He searched back through his memory. Then, with a shock that made him dizzy, he remembered. “I know him.”

“No fucking way you know him. This guy’s a ghost.”

“He threw an apple at me.”

Schmidt stared incredulously at Strait.

“Seriously. I went to the courthouse to give a deposition against some members of The New Confederation. This guy shoved through the crowd and threw an apple at me. Screamed I was going to hell. They asked me if I’d press charges against him but I declined. That was his name, though.”

“Sounds like Jaker.”

“Why an apple?”

“In his broke brain, probably some kind of symbol. Like the apple from the Bible.”

“The one in the Garden of Eden?”

“That’s the one. The apple of temptation.”