The Covenant Of The Flame

'No.' Tess fought to speak. 'I'm a Catholic, but…'

The stranger sighed. 'Of course. You wouldn't be able to translate. You're too young to know what the mass sounded like before Vatican Two ordered it changed from Latin into the vernacular. "Grant them eternal rest, Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them." It's from the mass for the dead.'

Even more startled, Tess suddenly realized something else. 'My God, whatever you are, you're also…!'

'Also what?' The stranger studied her.

'Priests!'

'Well,' the stranger said, 'that gives us something else to discuss.'

EIGHTEEN

The grimy-windowed rectory, behind a boarded-up Gothic church on the outskirts of Washington, had a weed-grown parking lot. The UPS truck and the gray sedan had long since veered away. Only the van and the Porsche remained.

As the stranger stepped from the van, joining Tess and Craig who left the side hatch, he explained, 'This is one of many churches that the Vatican's dwindling finances have forced the Curia to sell. Not to worry. We're safe here. Did you notice the sign in front?'

'F and S Realty,' Tess said.

'You're very observant. It's our own corporation. We're negotiating the sale ourselves. Eliminating the middle man, so to speak.'

'Unless it's a middle woman,' Tess said.

'By all means,' the stranger said. 'I did not intend to be sexist. For now, however, we still control this church and the rectory. The neighbors will assume you're potential buyers. No one who lives in this area will bother us.'

'Except… Unless…' Tess glanced around nervously.

'You mean, the vermin? None of your attackers survived to follow. The others don't know about this place. I repeat, we're safe here.'

'You keep calling them "vermin",' Craig said.

'A precise description.'

'Where did the UPS truck and the gray sedan go?' Tess asked.

'I assumed you understood from my earlier remarks. Our departed associates require a mass for the dead. It's being arranged.'

'And burial in consecrated ground,' Tess said.

'Yes. For the good of their souls… The Porsche. Where does it belong?'

Tess gave the address. So much had happened, she felt as if days instead of hours had passed since she'd left the comfort of Mrs Caudill's home. 'I'd be grateful if the authorities couldn't trace the car to her.'

'I guarantee that,' the stranger said. 'As long as you remember what you just promised.'

'Promised?'

That you'll be grateful.'

Tess squirmed.

The stranger approached and spoke to the Porsche's driver. With a nod, the man backed the sportscar expertly from the lot and drove away.

'And,' Tess said, 'my friends.'

'Richard? Priscilla? Like you, Tess, I'm concerned about them,' the stranger said.

'You know my name?'

'More than that. I know virtually everything about you. Including your relationship with Lieutenant Craig. My briefing was thorough. The men in the van have paramedical training. They're monitoring the heartbeat and respiration of your friends. Richard and Priscilla are stable. But they do need further help. So my driver and a paramedic will deliver them to a doctor at a private clinic that we control. The authorities won't be able to question your friends until the doctor, who works for us, has taught them how and what to answer. In the meantime, Priscilla and Richard will be well taken care of.'

'Thank you,' Tess breathed.

'I don't need thanks. What I insist on is what you promised – gratitude,' the stranger said. He motioned toward the driver in the van, who steered from the lot and headed toward the clinic.

'Gratitude?' Craig rested his hand on the stranger's weapon, which he'd shoved in a pocket of his suitcoat.

Three of the neutral-faced men gripped pistols and flanked him.

'Yes,' Craig said. 'Of course. By all means. What am I thinking of? Gratitude!'

'So why don't we go inside the rectory,' the stranger said, 'and discuss how glad you are to be alive? And discuss our mutual problem? And discuss the vermin?'

'The vermin.' Tess jerked up her arms, assaulted by insanity. 'Damn. You bet. The vermin. We certainly have to discuss the-'

'You're verging on lack of control,' the stranger said. 'I urge you, don't lose it.'

'Listen, I've kept control through hell,' Tess said. 'I've seen my mother die. I've been chased and shot at. I've shot in return. I've killed. Do you honestly think that you and these three men scare me? I'm an expert in keeping control, no matter how terrified I…!'

'Tess, I say it again – you don't need to be afraid. We're here to help you, not threaten you. As long as Lieutenant Craig keeps his hand away from the weapon I graciously surrendered to him.'

'Well, your generosity is obviously a problem,' Craig said. 'Here. Watch my hand. I'll move it slowly. Carefully. Fingertips only. No threat, right? Here. Satisfied? Take it. The way things are, with these men beside and behind me, it's useless to me anyhow.'

Craig handed the weapon to him.

'Dramatic but unnecessary,' the stranger said. 'Especially since I can see the bulge of another weapon under your belt, concealed by your suitcoat. No problem. You don't know it, but we're working together.'

'Oh, yes, of course,' Craig said.

'I understand your skepticism. All right, then,' the stranger said. 'We'll enter the rectory. We'll exchange opinions. I'll tell you about the vermin, and you'll tell me if you're prepared to help.'

'What I need is help,' Tess said.

'Wrong! To save your life, what you need to do is cooperate, to help exterminate the vermin.'

NINETEEN

The rectory smelled of must. In the gloomy vestibule, cracked-leather chairs were positioned at random, a dust-covered desk the center of focus. Cob-webbed religious pictures hung on oak-Paneled walls in need of polishing.

Tess felt exhausted, the aftereffect of adrenaline. 'Before we begin…"

'Whatever you need,' the stranger said.

'The bathroom.'

'Of course. To the right. Down that hallway. The first door on the left. I'm sure you'll want to clean the traces of vomit from your chin and your blouse.'

Tess raised a hand, embarrassed.

'No need to be self-conscious. On occasion, during violence, I've vomited as well.'

'How encouraging,' Tess said grimly. She proceeded toward the restroom, entered weakly, and locked the door. Only as she opened her belt, did she notice that unaware she must have picked up her handgun after the stranger had released his paralyzing grip in the garden.

The weapon nearly fell from her loosened belt. She grabbed it, set it next to her on the sink, pulled down her jeans, and settled onto the seat. Her nostrils quivered. Her urine stank from fear. Disgusted, she rose, rebuckled her pants, and rinsed her face, doing her best to swab the stains from her blouse.

At once, she grabbed the gun. All along, the stranger must have noticed it beneath her belt. He could have taken it anytime.

But he'd let her keep it.

Why?

A sign.

A gesture.

Of cooperation.

Of reassurance.

All right, she thought and zipped up her jeans, returning the gun beneath her belt. I'm getting the message.

Feel safe.

But don't be aggressive.

She flushed the toilet, unlocked the washroom door, and walked with feigned confidence down the hallway toward the vestibule.

TWENTY

In the dim light through the murky windows, Tess glanced at Craig, who sat on one of the cracked-leather chairs. He sipped from a glass of water.

So did the other men. Several bottles and glasses had been placed on the desk.

When the stranger handed her a glass, Tess suddenly realized how dry and thick her tongue felt. She hurriedly drank, barely tasting the cool pure liquid. She couldn't remember when she'd been this thirsty.