I didn’t get a chance to ponder my worries further than this, however. As I made my way back to where Fede and Rafael were sitting, I saw that Vargas was starting to stir. The effects of the gamma scopolamine would linger for some time, but his facial muscles seemed to be loosening. Rafael had already tied Vargas’ outstretched hands and feet to the armrests of the seats next to him. When the last of the paralysis wore off, he’d be completely restrained. Now Rafael was just getting ready to thrust a gag into Vargas’ mouth. But even as he wadded up the cloth, the priest began to croak out words in a faint voice. My heart leapt, thinking that he was casting a spell. But then my cyberear picked up the faint whisper of his voice: