The Covenant Of The Flame

'Keep telling yourself that! Where did you learn to shoot?'

'My father taught me!'

'Good man!'

'He's dead!'

'I know!' Craig yelled. 'Six years ago in Beirut! The bastards tortured him, but he never talked! I repeat, a damned good man! Be as strong as he was! Grab the phone! Dial nine-one-one!'

Tess scuttled backward, aiming her pistol toward the back door. She yanked the kitchen phone off the hook beside the refrigerator and urgently pressed numbers, listening.

No!

'Craig, the phone's dead!'

Priscilla screamed again.

'Stay low, Priscilla! Don't go near the windows!' Craig yelled.

'My husband!'

'What about him?'

'I think he's having a heart attack!'

'Get him down on the floor! Open his collar!' Tess shouted.

Another assassin appeared at the kitchen window.

Tess aimed and shot. The bullet plowed up his nostrils. His face erupted.

'Oh, my God!'

Tess bent over, vomiting.

'Tess!' Craig roared.

She fought to speak. 'I'm all right! Keep watching the front!'

Priscilla screamed again. 'Richard isn't breathing!'

'Tess!' Craig ordered. 'Get back to the hallway! Watch the front and rear while I-'

'Yes! Take care of Richard!'

Tess retreated, hunkering midway along the corridor, jerking her eyes toward each door, pistol clenched, while she felt Craig lunge Past and into the study. Still sick, wiping vomit from her lips, she heard Craig press Richard's chest and breathe forcefully into his mouth, again, then again, administering CPR.

'I can feel his heart beat!' Craig said. 'He's breathing!'

'He needs oxygen! A doctor!' Tess kept staring back and forth toward each door.

'Priscilla, your face is gray! Lie down here beside your husband! Tess, any sign of-?'

'No! Maybe we got them all!'

'We don't dare count on that! Priscilla, is there another entrance to the house?'

Priscilla murmured, 'Through the basement.'

'Where's the inside basement door?'

'The kitchen.' Priscilla sounded weaker.

'Tess!' Craig ordered.

But Tess was already on her way, darting toward the kitchen. Behind her, she heard Craig enter the hallway, watching the front.

As she reached the kitchen, Tess heard something else, however, and the sound made her spine freeze. Footsteps beyond a door to her right. She whirled to face it, saw the doorknob turning, and fired at the door. Wood splintered. She fired again and heard a moan, a body tumbling down the stairs.

She didn't know how many others might be in the basement. If there were several and they rushed through the door in a group, she might not be able to shoot all of them before one of them shot her.

The basement door was next to the stove. With strength that came from years of daily workouts, her energy intensified by fear, she shoved against the side of the stove and propped it against the basement door.

'The neighbors, Craig! They must have heard the shots! They'll call the police! All we have to do is wait and hope the police can get here before-'

Craig didn't answer.

'What's wrong?'

'You don't want to know!' Craig said.

'Tell me!'

'These big old Victorian houses were built so solidly… The walls are so thick… From outside, the shots might be too muffled for anyone to hear from another house! Besides, we can't take for granted that the neighbors are even home! And the hedge on each side conceals the gunmen!'

Tess felt sick again. 'You're right, I wish I didn't know!' She kept her weapon aimed toward the back door.

In contrast with last night, this time she'd counted how many times she'd pulled the trigger. Five. That left twelve rounds in her pistol. If the gunmen rushed the house, she might have enough to kill them all.

But how many more could there be? Six were already dead. Surely just a few, if any, were left. All the same, she desperately wished that she'd thought to dump extra rounds into her purse, that she hadn't shoved the two boxes of ammunition under the front seat of the Porsche.

'Craig, you shot twice! Your revolver holds six! Have you got any other-?'

Yet again Craig didn't answer.

Oh, Jesus, Tess thought. He's got only four rounds left, and my bullets don't fit his revolver.

'I picked up the two pistols from the men on the floor at the front. I still don't see any other men. Maybe you're right! Maybe we got them all!' Craig said.

'Last night, they burned my mother's house, hoping the fire would get me! And if it didn't, they planned to shoot me when I hurried outside!' Tess said. 'This time, why didn't they-?'

'Late afternoon, the smoke would be so obvious that a neighbor or a passing driver would call the fire department! Besides, since you got away from them last night, I think this time they want to make sure they finish the job, face-to-face, no doubts! And they want to make sure they get the photographs!'

'I mailed your office the negatives!'

'Good! Priscilla, how's Richard?'

Tess heard her murmur. 'His eyes are open. He's breathing. But…' Priscilla whimpered.

'What?'

'He can't… Richard can't seem to talk.'

Tess cringed. A stroke? No! Please, not…! I shouldn't have come here! I shouldn't have put them in danger! 'Priscilla, I'm sorry! I-'

'You didn't do this. The men who want to kill you did.'

'Still no sign of them in front!' Craig said.

'Nothing back here!' Tess crouched behind the kitchen table.

'I'm soon going to need my insulin,' Priscilla said.

'I'll get it for you!' Tess kept low, watching the back door while she inched toward the refrigerator. 'Craig, what if-? Suppose we didn't get them all!' When she opened the refrigerator, with a quick glance she saw a row of loaded syringes and grabbed one. 'Suppose a few of them are still outside!' She closed the refrigerator. 'Suppose they're afraid that a neighbor did hear the shots! They can't wait around! But they'll want to make sure I'm-!' She backed nervously toward the corridor, her left hand cradling the syringe. They might get desperate enough to try what they did last-!'

SEVENTEEN

'Night,' she began to say but flinched as an object smashed through the big kitchen window, glass flying.

The object was metal.

A canister.

It banged on the floor.

A grenade?

A gas bomb?

Tess had no way of knowing.

All she did know was that the thing was rolling toward her. She couldn't get away in time! She had to-!

She dropped the syringe, barely hearing it shatter as she lunged toward the kitchen table and heaved it over so its top landed on the canister.

At the same time, her heart pounding, the canister blasted apart, flames whooshing sideways from beneath the table top.

A fire bomb.

'Craig!'

He didn't respond.

'Craig!'

In the front of the hallway, glass fractured.

'Craig!'

'They're-!'

Something exploded. Flames reflected down the corridor.

'Priscilla, a fire extinguisher!' Craig yelled. 'Have you got a-?'

'In the pantry.' Priscilla's voice shook. 'Next to the refrigerator.'

'I'm getting it!' Tess scrambled past the fridge and yanked open a door.

Next to shelves of boxes and cans, the fire extinguisher was mounted to a clamp on a wall. She rammed her pistol under her belt, grabbed the fire extinguisher with one hand, released the clamp with the other, then pulled out the pin that secured the extinguisher's lever, and spun toward the flames gushing from beneath and eating through the overturned table.