Magnificent, it grazed alone in a field, and any doubts Tess had about whether Gerrard could be trusted, any lingering hopes that Gerrard was not her enemy, were instantly dispelled. Her mind envisioned the photograph in her purse, the image of Mithras slicing the throat of a bull. A white bull. Just like the bull that grazed alone in the field. A bull that was white.
The last of her ambivalence about Gerrard was resolved. Terror possessed her, made all the worse because as her heart pounded and her breathing quickened, she didn't dare let Gerrard notice her abrupt panicked understanding. It was clear now. Absolutely certain. Except for Craig, everyone in this helicopter was a threat, including the two Secret Service agents – she had to assume – because Gerrard must have had a reason to choose these two agents from all the others. She cursed herself for having allowed herself to be swayed last night by Gerrard's charisma and the environmental concerns that they shared. She shouldn't have permitted herself to be tempted to believe that he meant her no harm. She should never have spoken so vehemently against the heretics when he tried to convince her that the heretics' motives possibly justified desperate measures, that the moral issues were complicated. Gerrard had been trying to make a bargain with her, to test and perhaps convert her, but she'd been so emotionally involved in the conversation that she hadn't grasped its true purpose. His attempt to appeal to her logic having failed, he now had only one remaining course of action – to kill her.
Her terror increasing, Tess felt her stomach heave as the helicopter set down, the wind from its rotors bending grass. The roar of the engines diminished to a whine and finally silence. Gerrard escorted Tess outside. Hugh Kelly and the two Secret Service agents stayed near Craig.
What do they think we're going to do? Tess thought. Run?
To where? We'd never reach the trees. The time to run or at least to back off was when we were still at Andrews Air Force Base.
But the plan to determine if Gerrard was one of the heretics had seemed so necessary that she'd obeyed Father Baldwin's instructions, and now it was too late to try to get away from Gerrard. She and Craig were stuck here, and their single chance was to try to make a deal.
Tess mentally shook her head. No, there was another chance – that Father Baldwin and his men would manage to follow the signal from the homing device in her shoe and find her. Again she prayed.
Pay attention, she told herself. Concentrate. Be aware of everything.
The air smelled sweet. She savored the fragrance of meadow grass and mountain flowers. As well, the air was amazingly clear, the sky an impressive pure blue. She couldn't remember the last time she hadn't breathed smog. But these impressions were fleeting. What she noticed most was that this circular valley was enclosed by peaks, with only one entrance, the gorge through which the helicopter had approached.
We're trapped, she thought in dismay. All the same, she refused to give up hope. Damn it, there must be something that Craig and I can do to protect ourselves.
At once Gerrard spoke. 'My friend has been waiting. He's eager to meet you.'
Tess swung. A half-dozen laborers had been leaning against a wooden fence, examining a group of bulls. Now one of them stepped away and quickly reached the helicopter. He wore dusty boots and sweat-stained work clothes, a red bandanna around his neck. But no matter his common outfit, his bearing was unmistakably aristocratic. A tall man, heavy but in no way fat. His arms, legs, shoulders, and chest looked solid, well-exercised. His face was rectangular, tawny, with the texture of leather, strong more than handsome, his broad forehead reminding Tess of the bulls. She judged him to be in his late forties and shifted her gaze to his thick, dark, sheeny hair. His eyes – they were brown, Tess made a point of noticing – glinted when he reached his visitors. His smile gleamed.
'¡Señor Gerrard! ¡Buenas tardes! ¡Mucho gusto! Cómo está usted?'
'Muy bien. Gracias,' Gerrard said. 'Y usted?
'¡Excelente!'
The two men embraced, slapping each other's back.
When they separated, the stranger abruptly changed to English, his voice deep and resonant, a politician's voice. 'You've stayed away much too long. You know you're always welcome here.'
'I'll try to visit more often,' Gerrard said.
'I look forward to it.' The stranger ignored the two Secret Service agents and faced Hugh Kelly. Smiling warmly, he shook his hand. 'It's a pleasure to see you again, Señor Kelly.'
'The pleasure is mine.'
'Bueno. Bueno. And Alan, these are your friends?'
'Forgive me for being rude,' Gerrard said. Tess, Lieutenant Craig, this is José Fulano. He has a title and a formal version of name that's extremely long, but when we're not at the conference table, we like to keep things unofficial. I phoned José while we flew to Madrid and told him you'd be coming here with me.'
Fulano shook their hands with delight. 'To borrow your American expression, any friends of Alan are friends of mine. You're very welcome. My home is at your disposal. Mi casa, su casa. Whatever you need, please don't hesitate to ask.'
Sure, Tess thought. What do I need? Like, how the hell do I get out of here? But she pretended not to be terrified and gave him her most pleasant smile. 'We appreciate your hospitality, Señor Fulano.'
'Please, I'm José.'
'Your home is magnificent,' Craig said. 'I've never seen a more beautiful setting.'
Fulano turned and joined them in their admiration of his property. 'I spend too much time in Madrid. If I were sane, I'd never leave here.' He sighed. 'But as Alan understands too well, the pressures of responsibility don't give us much time to enjoy the truly important things, the beauties of life.' Fulano glanced at Tess. 'When Alan phoned me from Air Force Two, he explained that you're an environmentalist. You'll be pleased to learn that there isn't any pollution here.'
'I realized that when we got off the helicopter. I feel like I'm breathing pure oxygen.'
Fulano smiled. 'You must be exhausted from your journey. You'll want to rest, to bathe. I'll show you to your rooms. I'm sure you'd also appreciate a change of clothes.'
Thank you,' Tess said.
'De nada.' Fulano guided them proudly past an outbuilding toward the castle.
A cobblestone road, bordered by grass, led toward it. Close, the building looked less tall than from the air, perhaps six stories, but its width and depth remained considerable. The rocks that made up its walls were huge. Most of the shutters were open, revealing tall spacious windows. On the upper floors, each window had a balcony with pots of colorful blooming flowers and a wrought-iron railing, the bars of which were bent into ornate shapes. Two thick stone slabs formed steps toward a huge, arched, double door made of rich, dark wood.
Fulano pushed one heavy side open and gestured for Tess and Craig to enter ahead of him. More fearful, Tess complied, but not before she noticed armed sentries at each corner of the building.
Although they pretended to study the road and the fields, what they really cared about, with surreptitious glances, were she and Craig.
The moment Tess crossed the threshhold, her first impression was of sweat cooling on her brow. Evidently the temperature outside had been warmer than she'd realized. The stone of both the walls and the floor made the interior at least ten degrees lower.
Her second impression was of shadows. After the bright sun, she needed several moments for her eyes to adjust. A long, sturdy, antique, wooden table occupied the middle of the entry room. Complex tapestries depicting woodlands and mountains hung on two walls. Another tapestry portrayed a bullfight, the matador thrusting his sword. An ancient suit of armor stood in the far left corner.