David Morrell - The Covenant Of The Flame

The man nodded. 'You know the limitations.'

Tess sighed. 'Eric, I hope you've got an open mind.'

'After several years as the Bureau's director, not much surprises me anymore. Go ahead. Try me.'

'In twelve forty-four…'

It took a half hour. Chatham listened, astonished, never interrupting. In the end, he once more used the penlight to study the photograph of the bas-relief statue. 'And that's all of it. There's nothing more.'

'Not quite,' the man in the front said. 'But it's all you need to know.'

'I assume the rest of it concerns you and your involvement in this,' Chatham said.

'Don't assume anything. What you already know is enough to put you in danger. Further knowledge would put you at an even greater risk. What do you intend to do?'

'To be honest, if I hadn't seen these photographs… if Tess herself hadn't been the one who told me about this…'

'It's true, Eric. Every word of it.' Tess stared emphatically into his eyes.

'But something this outrageous… Obviously I have to verify it.'

'Then you'll begin an investigation?'

'Absolutely.'

'I hope, discreetly,' the man in front said. 'Do it yourself. Trust no one. The vermin hide where you least suspect them. Remember what happened to Brian Hamilton. If you're not cautious, you'll be their next victim.'

'Give me credit. I wasn't always a bureaucrat,' Chatham said proudly. 'For thirteen years, before I became an executive, I was a damned fine agent. I haven't forgotten how to conduct an investigation without drawing attention to myself.'

'Then do it,' the man in front said. 'Prove how skilled you are.'

'How can I get in touch with you? How do I report what I've learned?'

'No problem. We'll get in touch with you .'

'And expertly, I'm sure. But I don't know why I should trust you,' Chatham said.

'Because of Remington Drake, Melinda Drake, Brian Hamilton, and Tess.'

'By all means, because of Tess, because of the living.'

'We'll need Madden's phone number.'

'Here. This card has his private number.' Chatham frowned. 'But I still can't adjust to the implications. If you're right, if this isn't a delusion, then Madden and Gerrard, the CIA's covert-op deputy director and the president's next-in-line, might be part of this.'

'As I told you, the vermin hide where you least suspect them.' The man in front glanced through the windshield. 'Ah, I see that our timing is perfect. The minute we complete our business, we arrive outside your home. By the way, your car has been moved from the parking lot at the Lincoln Memorial. You'll find it outside your garage.'

'And I'll take a guess that the man who delivered it resembled me.'

'Precisely. He strolled toward the back of your house and disappeared.'

' I wish you worked for me,' Chatham said.

'Be satisfied we're working with you.'

As the van stopped, the man who'd escorted Chatham from the Lincoln Memorial slid open the side hatch, got out, and gestured for the Bureau's director to leave.

'Well, I can't say I've enjoyed the ride,' Chatham said, 'but it certainly has been informative, no matter how disturbing it was.'

'What we hoped you'd feel is not so much disturbed as…' The man in front hesitated.

'Frightened?'

'Yes.'

'Then,' Chatham said, 'you've definitely achieved your intention.'

As the van pulled away from the shadowy curb, as Tess, Craig and the members of Father Baldwin's team watched Chatham walk past his car in the driveway and enter his large, attractive house, Father Baldwin asked, 'Is he one of them?'

That's hard to know,' Craig said. 'I looked at him closely. He doesn't have gray eyes.'

'That means nothing,' Father Baldwin said. 'Only some of the vermin retain that characteristic. What's more, they sometimes use tinted contact lenses to disguise the color of their irises.'

'I watched Chatham closely as well,' Tess said. 'He responded the way he should have to what I told him. He was believable.'

'Of course,' Father Baldwin said. 'A true professional is always believable. I take that for granted. So I don't know whether to trust him. That's why, in his absence, his phone has been tapped, his home has been bugged, and so has his office. He brags that his security measures are checked every morning, but his precautions are hardly adequate against our own techniques. From this moment, every word that he says will be monitored. He'll be followed by the finest surveillance. And if he makes the wrong phone call, if he sees the wrong person, if he says the wrong words, we'll know that he's one of the vermin.'

'But I don't think he is,' Tess said.

That remains to be determined,' Father Baldwin said. 'What also remains to be determined is the status of Kenneth Madden and Alan Gerrard. We keep moving upward. Perhaps those next-to-the highest officials in the CIA and the White House are as well-intentioned as you want to believe that Chatham is. But the vermin give off an odor, and my nostrils feel assaulted. The odor is very strong. Make the call.'

'To Madden?'

'Yes. Follow the the schedule you were given. Proceed up the bureaucratic level. We'll find the vermin eventually.'

'All I want is to stay alive,' Tess said. 'I'm not sure I want to keep taking the risk of…'

'Remember, they'll kill you unless you give us the chance to exterminate them .'

'But if I make the call and I go through the CIA, through Madden and then to the Executive Branch to Gerrard, I'll still be in danger,' Tess said.

'Craig and I will be with you, though,' Father Baldwin said. 'And keep in mind, the shoes that both of you were given have homing devices in the heels along with microphones. My operatives will always know where you are and whether you're in danger.'

'Small comfort if I'm being killed while your men try to get to me.'

'Tess, without us, your death is certain. With us, you and Lieutenant Craig will have a chance to enjoy the rest of your lives together.'

'That's good enough for me,' Craig said. 'Come on, Tess. We can't give up. As long as we're being hunted, let's fight the bastards, and if we fail, at least we'll have done our best. There's no other choice.'

'But I'm so scared.'

'I know. For what it's worth, so am I.'

Craig hugged her.

'Make that phone call,' Father Baldwin said. To Madden. And after that, to…'

Andrews Air Force Base. Maryland.

One a.m. Nearly blinded by spotlights, Tess and Craig stopped their hastily rented car at the heavily guarded entrance to the tall, chain-link, barbed- wire-topped fence of the military airport.

A broad-shouldered, wary sentry responded immediately, not needing to check the list of names on his clipboard when Tess and Craig identified themselves. 'By all means, you're expected. I.D.,' he demanded, adding with stern courtesy, 'please.'

Tess and Craig showed their driver's licenses.

The sentry examined the documents, compared their faces with the photographs on the licenses, and gave them directions toward the base's VIP wing.

While Tess drove beneath the entrance's rising barrier, she and Craig heard the roar of a jet taking off beyond rows of institutional-looking buildings from which other spotlights blazed.

'Father Baldwin lied,' Tess said. 'He promised he'd be with us.'

'What option did he have?' Craig spread his hands. 'Baldwin couldn't come with us, not when Madden told you to meet the vice president here at Andrews. You and I have worked together long enough that I won't attract suspicion. But if we bring a stranger, an unexpected third party, it'll look like a setup. We couldn't explain Father Baldwin's presence. He'd never survive a background check. And if Gerrard is your enemy, we'd make him realize we suspected him. We'd be placing ourselves in a trap.'