David Morrell - The Covenant Of The Flame

'And your work? How is your little magazine doing?'

'It isn't little, mother. And I think it's doing some good.'

'Well, that's what we want.' Tess's mother fidgeted on the sofa. 'It's about the environment? Something about pollution?'

Tess nodded. 'And the problem's getting worse.'

'Well, of course, at my age, I won't live long enough to – Never mind. The important thing is that you're happy.'

'Yes, mother. 'Despite her confused emotions… about Joseph's death, about the man whose description resembled him, the man who'd attempted to steal the photographs she'd taken of Joseph's bedroom… Tess managed a genuine smile. She imitated her mother's habit of emphasis. 'I am happy.'

'Well.' Her mother smoothed her dress. 'In that case.' She straightened her necklace. 'I suppose that's all that matters.' But she didn't looked convinced.

Tess felt self-conscious as her mother assessed her sneakers, jeans, and short-sleeved cotton pullover. 'I know, mother. You wish I'd dress like…'

'A lady . At the moment, you appear to have come from an athletic event. At the very least, you could have worn a brassiere.'

'I feel more comfortable this way, mother. Especially when it's so humid.'

'Humid? Precisely. Your pullover's so damp that I can see your… I'll never forgive myself for allowing you to go to Georgetown University instead of one of the Seven Sisters .'

Tess bristled. 'It wasn't you who let me go. It was father.'

Tess's mother shook her head. 'That's an ancient topic. We've discussed it far too often. I'm sorry I raised it. Since we see each other so seldom, let's do our best to be agreeable.'

'That's all I want, mother.'

'Very well, then, it's settled. We'll be agreeable.' Tess's mother smoothed her dress again. 'I know you told me not to have dinner prepared, but I took the liberty of having Edna prepare some liver pate. You always enjoyed that, as I recall.'

'Very much,' Tess lied.

'And some tea , of course. I think we could all use some tea.'

As her mother picked up and daintily jingled a tiny silver bell, Tess peered around again. 'Speaking of all of us, I asked Brian Hamilton to meet me here.' Tess frowned. 'I think that's his Corniche in the driveway, but I don't-'

The door to the drawing room slid open. Tess swung her head sharply. A maid stepped in. She wore a uniform, complete with a bonnet, and carried a silver tray of toast and pate, placing them on a thirty-thousand-dollar antique table.

Someone else appeared, a man who wore a tuxedo and carried another silver tray upon which were tea cups and a two-hundred-year-old Japanese teapot. 'I apologize for taking so long on the phone, Melinda. I hope you don't mind. I thought I'd make myself useful and help Edna bring in the things.'

'Mind? Of course not. I'm sure Edna appreciates the courtesy, and no guest of mine can ever do anything wrong.'

The man set his tray beside the toast and pate on the table, then turned to Tess, and smiled. He was in his early sixties, but for all that, he was straight-backed, trim, solid, with thick, dark, superbly cut hair, and a rectangular, ruggedly handsome face. He photographed extremely well. In newspapers, the captions beneath the photographs usually emphasized his numerous medals from Vietnam and his legendary career as a maverick general in the Marines. His smile exaggerated the crinkles around his eyes and made him look more rugged. His voice was husky but with the smooth cadence of a TV announcer. 'How are you, Tess?' He held out his manicured, muscular hand.

Reluctantly Tess shook it. His grip was firm. 'I've been better, Brian. At the moment, I've got a problem.'

'So I gathered on the phone.' Brian turned toward the maid, then raised his eyebrows toward Tess's mother. 'But before we discuss…'

Tess's mother got the hint. That'll be fine, Edna. We can pour the tea ourselves.'

'As you like, ma'am.' Edna curtsied and left the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

'There,' Tess's mother said. 'Now I'm sure you wouldn't mind doing the honors, Brian.'

'Of course.' He picked up the teapot.

'No, wait,' Tess said. 'Before we… I'm really not…'

They frowned at her.

'… thirsty or hungry. I grabbed a pretzel in the airport.'

' Pretzel ?' Tess's mother looked horrified.

'I'd like to get to the point,' Tess said. 'And Brian, since you're wearing your tuxedo, I assume that means you either just came from – or still plan to go to – the reception for the Soviet ambassador. I also assume that means you're anxious either to return or arrive there, so I won't keep you any longer than necessary. Believe me, I don't want to waste your time.' She tried not to sound sarcastic.

'Tess, you could never waste my time.' Brian set down the teapot, came around the table, and faced her. 'I told you on the phone, for the sake of old times… and your father… I want to do everything I can to help.'

'Exactly. My father.'

'We were friends,' Brian said.

'But that didn't stop you from sending him to Beirut.'

'Now honestly,' her mother said, 'if this conversation is going to be unpleasant , I don't intend to sit here and - '

'That's a good idea, mother. Why don't you leave? Brian and I have things to talk about.'

'No, Melinda, you stay right where you are. It's time we cleared the air,' Brian said. 'For all of us.' He sat beside Tess's mother and clasped her hand.

At once, for the first time, Tess had the suspicion that they might be having an affair. Her father's best friend? The man who'd sent that best friend to his death? Could that monster possibly be screwing his best friend's wife? The thought of the two of them in bed together made Tess so queasy that she wished she hadn't eaten the pretzel on the way from the airport.

'Okay, the three of us,' Tess said. 'That's fine with me. Just so long as I get what I want.'

'Your father was a committed diplomat,' Brian said. 'He went to that insanity in Beirut because he thought he could make a difference, help settle the violence among the Christians, the Moslems, and all their splinter groups. In his heart, he believed he could actually stop the killing.'

'You sound like you're making a speech,' Tess said.

Brian shrugged. 'An occupational hazard.'

'In fact, that bromide you just gave me, I think I read those same words in the Washington Post at the time of my father's death.'

'Possibly.' Brian looked despondent. 'Unfortunately, on occasion, because I'm asked so many questions, I'm forced to repeat myself.'

'But what you didn't tell the Post was that my father was sent to Beirut to negotiate an arms agreement with the side you wanted to win – the Christians. And you also didn't tell the Post that your security was so damned sloppy that the Moslems found out and kidnapped my father to stop him from completing the arms deal.'

'Now, Tess, that's all speculation.'

'Don't treat me like a fool. The Moslems wanted my father to confess about US interference on the side of the Christians. But my father wouldn't confess no matter what they did to him, no matter how much they tortured him. So they beat him, they starved him, and when he still wouldn't talk, they slit his throat and dumped him into a gutter. As an example to America not to interfere.'

'Tess, that's your interpretation. Weapons had nothing to do with it. He was there as a well-intentioned negotiator, pure and simple.'

' Nothing about what you bastards do is pure and simple.'

Tess's mother flinched. 'I refuse to tolerate vulgar language in - '