David Morrell - The Covenant Of The Flame

'Wait. I know how to save myself!' Tess interrupted.

'Oh?' The stranger sounded skeptical.

'There's an easy solution!'

'Really?' Now the stranger sounded perplexed. 'If so, I haven't thought of it.'

'All I have to do is tell everyone I meet. The police. Reporters. TV crews. Whoever. I mean everyone . About what's happened. About Joseph. About my mother. About the heretics and why they want to kill me. If their motive is to shut me up, after I've finished blabbing, they won't have a reason to shut me up. Because I'll have already told what they didn't want me to say! Don't worry. I promised. I'll leave you out of this. But your enemy-!'

'And yours,' the stranger said.

'Right,' Tess agreed, 'and mine . The bastards who killed my mother won't have a reason to keep hunting me. They'll be exposed. They'll be hunted. They'll have to go into hiding!'

'Tess' – the stranger bowed his head in despair – 'you still haven't understood.'

'But the logic's so convincing!'

'No,' the stranger said. 'In the first place, the vermin would want to get even. They'd do their best to kill you on principle, to punish you for the trouble you caused. In the second place, do you realize how outrageous you'd sound? The police, the reporters, the TV crews, they'd think you were deluded. In the third place, the information you'd reveal wouldn't make a difference. Suppose – against all odds – that the authorities managed to repress their doubts and actually, amazingly, believed you. What then? If we , with centuries of experience in hunting the vermin, still haven't tracked down and killed every one of them, what chance do you think the police would have? You've missed the point. Oh, yes, indeed. I'm very much afraid that you've missed the essential point.'

'Which is?' Tess demanded, furious.

'You.'

' What's so special about …?'

' You , Tess. Think about who you are! Think about your background! Think about your dead father!'

'What does he have to do with-?'

'Influence, Tess. I'm talking about influence . Suppose you did tell policemen, reporters, and… No matter. Whoever. When they didn't believe you, what would you do? Give up? Say "I did my best" and hide in fear that you'd still be attacked?'

'Of course not!'

'I ask you again! What would you do?'

'Keep trying. Keep struggling to avenge my mother's death and Joseph's death.'

'Exactly,' the stranger said. 'You'd use your influence. You'd demand that the friends of your dead, martyred father pay their debts of gratitude. You'd insist - at the highest levels of government – that those friends of your father cooperate. And they would, Tess. I believe they would. To satisfy you. To ease their guilty consciences for having sent your father to his death in Beirut for the sake of an illegal arms deal that would have tilted the balance in the Lebanese civil war and given the Christians power over the Moslems. But I told you – and I remind you – that the vermin have risen to the highest levels of government. We don't know who they are. We haven't been able to identify them. But believe this. Count on it. Your survival depends on it. As you keep insisting, you'll eventually encounter your enemy. You won't know it. You won't be able to identify them . But they'll know you . And they'll do their best to have you executed before you accidentally expose their network and possibly them .'

Tess shuddered. 'It never occurred to me. I never thought…'

'I hate to say this,' Craig murmured. 'He's right.'

'Of course,' the stranger said. 'So now you have your choices. Leave. Keep your pledge of silence, except for what you already knew about the vermin. Or cooperate with us. Follow my directions. Help us discover the vermin at the highest level. Then permit us to do our duty and - '

'Killing. I'm so sick of killing.'

'I guarantee you wouldn't like the alternative,' the stranger said. 'The options are before you. Think carefully. Consider your future. Then make your choice.'

'There isn't a choice.'

'Be specific,' the stranger said.

'The way you put it, I'm forced to do what you want.'

'Exactly.'

'But are you certain I'll be protected?'

'On my honor,' the stranger said.

'I certainly hope you value your honor.'

'More than the vermin, Tess. And remember, we have an advantage.'

'What?

'The one true Lord is on our side.'

'I wish I shared your confidence.'

Tess spun, an abrupt sound jolting her nerves, the rectory's door being opened.

But a man who'd been standing guard didn't seem concerned.

Another enforcer entered, the man who'd driven the Porsche back to Mrs Caudill. 'Nice old lady,' he said. 'She even told her butler to drive me back to Washington. I got out fifteen blocks from here so he wouldn't know about the rectory.' He handed a paper bag to Tess. 'Before I returned the car, I searched it, in case you left anything that might attract suspicion. I found these under the Porsche's front seat.'

Despondent, Tess peered inside the bag, although she knew what she'd find – the two boxes of ammunition.

'Thanks.' Her shoulders sagged. The way things are going…' Her voice cracked in despair. 'It looks like I'll be needing these.'

Two cars pulled up outside. The engines stopped. Doors were opened, then shut.

On edge, Tess warily studied the guard at the entrance to the rectory, who peered through its window, held his weapon at his side, and didn't seem concerned.

Footsteps approached. A moment later, four neutral-faced, trim, lithe men came into the vestibule. Two of the men Tess recognized, the driver and the paramedic who'd taken Priscilla and Professor Harding to the clinic.

The other two men she hadn't seen before. Presumably one had driven the UPS truck, the other the gray sedan, following, then veering from the row of vehicles as the group neared the rectory.

'You disposed of the truck and the car?' the stranger asked.

The latter two men nodded.

'In a parking lot at a shopping mall,' one of them said. 'Counterfeit license plates. Fake registration. No fingerprints. We even left the keys. With luck, both vehicles will soon be stolen.'

'Good. And surveillance? I take for granted - '

'We detected none. Our substitute car hadn't been tampered with. A clean exchange.'

'And what about…?'

'The funeral of our associates? It's being arranged. I regret, however, that we won't be able to attend.'

'As do I. But our prayers go with them.' The stranger lowered his head. After a solemn brief silence, he made the Sign of the Cross, exhaled, then turned to the driver and paramedic from the van. 'I'm sure Tess will want to know.'

'You bet I want to know. The clinic. What did the doctor say about Priscilla and Professor Harding?'

The first man made a reassuring gesture. The woman was given insulin. After she ate, she became alert.'

'And Professor Harding?'

The second man frowned. 'The diagnosis is a minor stroke. He's been given medication. Before we left, he managed to speak.'

'What did he…?'

'Three words. To his wife. With effort.'

'And what were…?'

'"I love you."'

Tess felt her throat cramp. 'My fault. It's all my…'

'No,' the stranger said. 'It's the vermin's fault.'

'You can't know how much I want to believe that. But if I hadn't gone to them for information, Professor Harding wouldn't have…' Tess glared. That's what it keeps coming down to, doesn't it? Fewer and fewer choices. Then only one. To cooperate.'