David Morrell - The Covenant Of The Flame

'So now…?' Chatham asked.

'We wait. But not for long. You heard me say "two minutes". I misjudged, however. We're ahead of schedule.' The escort pointed.

A van sped off the Arlington Memorial Bridge, veered from the myriad glinting headlights, and stopped at the gravel shoulder. A side hatch slid quickly open.

'After you,' the neutral-faced man indicated.

Chatham clambered in, uneasy.

Other neutral-faced men nodded in greeting, their attempt at reassurance negated by their weapons.

As Chatham sat between two of them – no choice, the only place available – his escort followed, hunkered on the floor, and slammed the hatch shut. The van's engine roared. The vehicle skidded from the shoulder, gaining traction, squealing back into traffic.

In the passenger seat in front, a man spoke into a cellular phone. 'He wasn't followed? Good. You know where to meet us.' He set down the phone and turned. 'Welcome, Mr Chatham. Thanks for cooperating.'

'But was all of this really necessary?'

The stranger merely stared at him, as if the answer was self-evident.

'Who are you?' Chatham asked.

'Tess explained that earlier. We're friends.'

'I'll believe that when I see her. How soon will it be until we get to where she is?'

The man in front looked amused. 'Sooner than you think.'

Chatham frowned, not understanding.

At once, surprised, he did understand when he heard a familiar voice.

'I'm right behind you, Eric.'

Chatham spun, his surprise increasing.

Tess, who'd been crouched out of sight in the rear compartment, rose to sit on a wooden crate. A burly, rugged-faced man in a dark blue sportshirt, its cuffs folded up, appeared beside her.

Tess grinned, although to Chatham the expression seemed forced, and that made him nervous.

'It's been a long time. Good to see you, Eric.'

Chatham scowled, ignoring the pleasantry. 'But I thought… on the Phone, you said that these men would take me to where you were hiding.'

'I'm sorry I had to mislead you. In case your phone was tapped and you were under surveillance at the memorial. The way we arranged your pickup, we don't think this van can be followed. But if it is, the enemy will think it's leading them to me. They won't suspect I'm inside. They won't attack it.'

'Attack it? And you thought my phone might be tapped?' Chatham shook his head, baffled. 'My phone's checked every morning. Who could possibly tap it, or for that matter, who'd dare to take the risk of attacking this van while I was in it?'

'The heretics.'

Again, that disturbing word.

'They didn't hesitate to kill Brian Hamilton,' Tess said.

Chatham was too shocked to answer.

' He was important. So why would they hesitate to kill the director of the FBI? To get at me,' Tess said, 'to achieve their goal, to stop me from revealing their secret, they'll do anything.'

'What are you talking about? Secrets? Heretics?'

Tess handed him several photographs and a penlight.

More baffled, Chatham used the light to examine the photographs, all the while conscious that the neutral-faced men watched him intensely.

One of the images made Chatham grimace. 'A man on a bull, slicing its throat?'

'A sculpture.'

'Where did - ?'

'You've never seen anything like it before?' Tess asked.

'No! Of course, not! My God, I'd certainly remember something this grotesque.'

The neutral-faced men kept staring at him.

'Tess, I showed good faith. I came alone. I did everything you asked. Now, for heaven's sake, tell me what this is all about.'

The man in front interrupted. 'How did you know that Tess and Lieutenant Craig were supposed to contact the Alexandria police?'

'I didn't,' Chatham said.

'That doesn't make sense,' Chatham heard behind him.

Chatham whirled reflexively to face the rugged-looking man next to Tess.

'You phoned Chief Farley,' the man said. 'Why?'

Chatham felt disoriented, having glanced forward, then back, from the neutral-faced man in front to the rugged-faced man in the rear. 'Are you Lieutenant Craig?'

'Answer my question.' The burly man's voice was gravelly. 'If you didn't know that Tess and I were supposed to contact Chief Farley, why did you phone him?'

'Because I promised I would.'

Tess leaned suddenly near, her strong fingers clutching Chatham 's arm. 'Promised who?'

'Kenneth Madden.'

' Madden?'The man in front spoke abruptly. 'From the CIA?'

Chatham spun in the forward direction, his mind reeling, even more disoriented. 'Yes, the Deputy Director of Covert Operations.'

'What's he got to do with - ? Why would Madden ask you to phone the Alexandria police?'

'Because the CIA doesn't have domestic jurisdiction. It was easier and it raised less questions if the Bureau got in touch with the local police.'

' Why ?' the rugged man next to Tess demanded.

'It comes down to pride. The local police don't like us to get involved if the crime's not the kind that automatically makes it our business. But the Alexandria police would have liked it even less if the CIA tried to get involved. That for sure would have caused hard feelings, not to mention a lot of angry phone calls. The point is' – Chatham jerked his gaze from the rugged man in back toward Tess beside him – 'you don't understand how much your father's friends are concerned about you. They're shocked about your mother's death. They're afraid that you're in danger. So they used the system. They asked me to contact the Alexandria police, the logical law-enforcement officials you'd ask for protection. But your father's friends want to give you greater protection.'

'By "friends," you mean the CIA and Kenneth Madden.' From the front seat, the neutral-faced man's stern voice made Chatham whirl again.

'That's right,' Chatham said. 'For Tess. For the sake of her father's memory. But what you still don't understand is that the urge to protect her goes far beyond the Bureau and the Agency. Much, much higher.'

'Where?'

'To the White House.'

Tess spoke, and Chatham whirled yet again.

'You're telling me' – Tess squeezed Chatham 's arm more.severely -'that the president himself knows I'm in danger and wants to protect me?'

'No. The vice president.'

'Alan Gerrard?' The burly man next to Tess looked puzzled.

'Hey, I know what the columnists write about him,' Chatham said. 'But at least he cares. He told Madden to get in touch with me, and Madden in turn asked me to phone Chief Farley. I'm never happy working with the Agency. Their mandate is foreign, ours is here at home, and it's important to keep those jurisdictions separate. But when I get an order from the vice president, as long as I'm not being asked to break the law, I do my best to comply. The basic message is, I'm supposed to have Tess call Madden.'

'And Madden claims he'll protect her?' the man in front asked.

'No, Madden's just a relay. It's the vice president who wants to protect her. And that means, I assume, that he intends to use the Secret Service.'

Tess shook her head. 'Why would he take such an interest in me?'

'I told you, because of your father. Like so many government officials, Gerrard felt close to your father, and Gerrard wants the government to pay back its debt to your father – for his bravery and his refusal to talk under torture – by making sure you're protected.'

As the van crossed back toward Virginia, its occupants silently considered what Chatham had just explained. Headlights flashed past in the opposite lanes.

Chatham broke the silence. 'Who are these heretics you keep mentioning?'

Tess glanced toward the man in front, her eyebrows raised as if asking permission.