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should do this. Not enough security.”
    The stocky black woman shook her head. Moving away from the Arabs for privacy, she said, “Our options are limited. We need to make every effort to publish the Holy Women’s Bible , improving our odds. Any delay is dangerous, and foolhardy.”
    “This course of action is foolhardy,” Winters said.
    “You dare speak to me that way?”
    “These are trying times.”
    With fervor, Dixie Lou responded, her voice an angry whisper. “Remember the way it was for the she-apostles in ancient times. Their gospels had to be concealed from those who would destroy them, but the precious written words were found and destroyed anyway, except for the copies that were hidden by brave women. It’s like that now. We’re hiding copies of the sacred gospels until they can be widely disseminated, and our copies are in danger of discovery and destruction. Women have been given a second chance now, and there might not be another.”
    “But the transmission could be intercepted, cut off without our knowledge. We might be attacked. BOI forces are everywhere, maybe only minutes away.” She paused, looked around. “Maybe in this very room.”
    At the moment, Dixie Lou didn’t like her options. But she had to take any opportunity to transmit, no matter the risk. If the new holy book succeeded, she would ride the wave of popularity with it; but if the reverse happened, if it was ridiculed and debunked, she would go down with it.
    Glaring sidelong at the councilwoman, Dixie Lou said, “Amy would agree with me, and you know it.”
    The slender woman bristled, and her large eyes opened wide. “I don’t know that at all! If we risk an unsafe transmission, the she-apostles could be killed! Think about that , Madame Chairwoman!”
    Taking notice of the argument, Malia stared at them, a quizzical expression on her face. She was beyond earshot. Her computer beeped, and she looked back at it.
    Dixie Lou whispered, “Don’t argue with me about this, Nancy. We publish the book now , and that’s it!”
    Dixie Lou’s fingers tightened around the microcylinder. The Holy Women’s Bible —flawed though it was by the fake Gospel of Martha—could solve one of the outstanding problems. Perhaps its publication would draw the missing she-apostle out.
    But that could have potentially dangerous ramifications, she realized. Uncertainty threatened to paralyze her. For some time now the Chairwoman had tried to envision the various scenarios in detail, and had realized that certain decisions she made were not entirely logical. Instead, they were based upon visceral feelings, or upon some internal driving force . . . neither of which could be explained to the logical side of her brain . . . or to any other person.
    Her decision to falsify one of the gospels and rush publication might still be reversed. Even if Malia’s computer could connect to the Internet, Dixie Lou didn’t have to transmit. She could suppress what she had, and perhaps correct the text of the holy book later if the authentic last she-apostle ever showed up.
    She wondered if the troublesome Katherine Pangalos might have been right after all . . . her assertion that the falsified Gospel of Martha could bring the entire Holy Women’s Bible into question. One lie, as all good interrogators knew, suggested a string of them. Should Dixie Lou edit the material before transmitting it, making changes to the introduction and deleting every reference to Martha? Go with eleven gospels, not twelve? But something—the visceral feeling or an internal driving force—told her not to do this, that she should transmit as is, if she could . Too many things might go wrong if she delayed. The material might be discovered by enemies of the UWW and destroyed.
    “It’s ready,” Malia announced, a few seconds after the computer beeped loudly. “We’re online.” She sat cross-legged on a carpet, with the computer and modem in front of her. The screen was amber, and had