“Showalter, do you really expect this sting operation of yours to work?” said Chief of Police Darren Smallerby. “What if Rodriguez doesn’t take the bait?”

“Don’t worry, Smallerby,” said Brock. “Christ Jesus may be the only way into the Kingdom of Heaven, but there’s more than one way to catch a dope peddler.”

Smallerby frowned.

- - -

“That’s all wrong!” shouted Officer Bixby. “You’re full of it, Brock!”

“You bet I am,” said Brock. “Full of the Holy Spirit, that is.”

- - -

“You can’t keep beating yourself up over Frank Parmonte’s death, Brock. It wasn’t your fault,” said Officer Danwick. “There’s no way you could have stopped it from happening. Just remember, he’s in Heaven now, watching over Frank Junior.”

“Actually,” said Brock, "he’s in Hell now. Frank was Catholic. "

- - -

Officer Lamke covered his eyes and gagged. “This is the most gruesome crime scene I’ve ever seen!” he exclaimed.

Brock turned away. “There’s only one hoodlum who could be capable of such a monstrous atrocity.”

“Who?” asked Lamke. “Rodriguez?”

“Satan,” said Brock.

- - -

“It seems our unlikely partnership has come to an end,” said Bruno Levi, Orthodox Jewish Bounty Hunter. “And to think, we almost had Rodriguez this time.”

Brock smiled. “Until we meet again, Christ-killer.”

They both laughed.

- - -

“Well, that one’s in the bag,” said Chief Smallerby. “Nice work, Showalter. Case closed.”

“That’s what you think, Chief,” said Brock. “But if you ask me, there are more holes in that case than the Theory of Evolution.”

Smallerby dropped his coffee mug.

- - -

“If you could go back in time and be anybody you want to be,” said Officer Lamke, “what would you choose?”

“I’d be a king in medieval times,” said Sergeant Crawdad.

“I’d want to go back to World War II, and be an ace fighter pilot,” said Lieutenant Ballywick.

“I’d like to be a citizen of Rome in the first century,” said Brock, “and be savagely martyred for my faith in Christ.”

- - -

“We’re out of bullets,” panted Jimmy. “Gasoline is leaking all over the floor, our car is gone, and twelve of Rodriguez’s men are outside that door. This is it, boss! This is the end! We’re done for!”

Brock chuckled quietly. “With God, all things are possible, Jimmy.”

- - -

The foundation of the building shook.

“Brock!” cried nightclub singer Mia Wellborn, “what was that?”

“It could be a bomb,” said Brock, “unless it’s the Rapture, in which case you’re on your own, sister.”

- - -

“Now, do you see?” asked Professor Gurmley. “Mankind did not evolve from apes or monkeys. We all had the same common ancestor. Somewhere down the line, one branch of that ancestor’s family tree evolved into monkeys, another branch evolved into apes, and yet another evolved into human beings.”

Brock narrowed his eyes. “Do you expect me to swallow this nonsense about my forefathers being chimpanzees?”

- - -

“Follow me!” shouted Brock. “They ran in here!”

“Brock, are you sure?” gasped Officer Luftrack.

“Is the Pope the Anti-Christ?”

They dashed inside.

- - -

“At last, we meet again,” Rodriguez gloated. “But this time, the advantage is mine. Any last words before you meet your maker, Mr. Showalter?”

“Jesus is Lord,” said Brock, “and whosoever believeth in Him shall have life everlasting.”

Rodriguez pulled the trigger.

- - -

“So it ends,” choked Rodriguez. “Isn’t this what you always wanted, Showalter? Leave me to die in peace.”

“No,” said Brock, kneeling before his bullet-riddled criminal mastermind archnemesis. “Not until I tell you the Good News about Jesus.”