Brotherhood of the Rose

by David Morrell

  Saul mimicked Eliot's every movement. A hand to the chin. A scratch on the eyebrow. An exasperated sigh. It took ten minutes. Eliot suddenly threw down his napkin, stalking toward the lobby, followed by Castor and Pollux. Was it something he ate? Saul asked the empty room.

  He came down to the lobby, puzzled, having been informed that he had a visitor. The rest home permitted them, provided credentials were in order and a search revealed no weapons. But he couldn't imagine who would want to see him. Eliot, he suspected, was retaliating.

  When he saw who it was, however, he felt his stomach shrink. He stopped, amazed. Erika? How did-?"

  Wearing a tan skirt and yellow tanktop, she crossed the lobby, smiling, hugging him. Thank God, you're alive.

  Her arms around him, he had trouble breathing. Time stopped. I can't believe you're here, he said. Trembling, confused, he leaned back. Orlik... How... He's dead. She looked disturbed. Before he was killed, he let me escape. He told me where you'd gone. I'll explain it later. She frowned at his face, her voice concerned. What's happened to you? These flashburns? He gingerly touched his cheeks, then glanced around the lobby, echoing her words. "I'll explain it later." He smiled in anticipation of describing what he'd done.

  But she shook her head, frowning harder. "Not just the burns."

  "Then what?"

  "Your eyes. I don't know how to describe... They're... "Go on. Say it."

  "Old."

  He flinched, feeling as if he'd touched an electric current. Disturbed, he had a sudden need to change the topic. "Let's go." He tried to sound casual. "I'll show you the grounds."

  The sun was powerful. His head throbbed as they walked on a white stone path beside a fountain, the mountains encircling them.

  But he couldn't forget what she'd said. "I haven't been sleeping well."

  She faced him abruptly, worried. "Your cheeks. They're-"

  "What about them?"

  "Haggard. Look at you. You've lost weight. You're pale. Are you feeling all right?"

  "I've---2' "What?"

  "Almost beaten him. I've nearly won." His eyes flashed, and yet were black.

  She stared at him, appalled. "There's a hearing tomorrow," he said. "To decide if we should be told to leave. As soon as he's off the grounds---" She interrupted emphatically, "It isn't worth what it's doing to you. You've changed. For God's sake, leave. I've got a car. We could----' "Not when it's almost over."

  "It'll never be over. Listen to me., I know I told you to get revenge. But I was wrong."

  "You couldn't be if it feels this good. "But you'll lose."

  "Not if I stay alive."

  "No matter what. This isn't professional anymore. It's personal. You're not emotionally equipped for that. You'll suffer the rest of your life."

  "For avenging my brother?"

  "For killing your father. Your conditioning's too strong."

  "That's what he's counting on. But I'm beating him." His voice had the sharp edge of hate.

  And Erika suddenly knew she had to get out of here. The place felt like death. It was wrong. She'd never felt such revulsion.

  Her only hope was to tempt him to go with her. She'd planned to stay the night, but she sensed she had only the afternoon.

  They told each other what had happened since they'd been together last. They returned to the lodge, went up to Saul's room, and slowly undressed each other. She didn't care about the sex. She wanted to lure him, to save his soul.

  But even as they embraced, covering each other with nakedness, Saul shuddered in alarm. He knew it wasn't possible, but it seemed Chris lay beside him, dead eyes reproving him.

  Guilt wracked his mind. I shouldn't be here. I have to be hunting Eliot.

  But loneliness insisted. Joining with Erika, he suddenly realized not two but three of them thrashed on the bed. Not only he and Erika, but Chris as well. "Love you!" he exclaimed. "Oh, God!"

  And Erika, knowing something terrible had happened, also knew she'd lost him.

  "You won't even stay for dinner?" She glanced at the lodge, revolted. "I have to go."

  "I hoped you could----2' "Help you? No, it's wrong. This place is--Come with me." He shook his head. "I haven't finished."

  "It doesn't matter if you kill him. Don't you see?

  He's already won. He's destroyed you." Tears rolled down her cheeks. She kissed him. "I lost you ten years ago. Now I've lost you again."

  She shook her head sadly. "I'll miss you."

  "In a week, I'll have what I want. I can join you."

  "No." "You're telling me not to come?"

  "I want you to. But you won't."

  "I don't understand."

  "I know." She kissed him again. "That's the trouble." Getting in her car, she rubbed her tearswollen eyes. "In case I'm wrong, the embassy can tell you where to find me."

  "There's a p ace ow in reece, e sast. e sea s so blue-"

  Her throat made an anguished noise. "I bet. And the waves roll in, and the swimming's-Don't I wish. Guess what?" She raised her chin; it trembled. "I've been thinking about resigning. See you, love. Take care." She started the car and drove down the lane.

  Unsettled, he watched till her car disappeared in the trees, heading toward the valley road. Something felt empty in him. His brain reeled, disoriented, as if an outside influence had intruded on a perfect closed system. What's happening to me'?

  Confused, he turned to walk up the steps to the lodge, suddenly understanding what she'd tried to tell him. I stayed. Till the old man's punished, I'll neverjoin her. , - But by then it'll be too late. She offered herself, and instead I chose my father.

  How can she accept me after that? Remembering his uneasy feeling about the rest home, he suddenly wondered if he'd damned himself. He also leapt from the steps to run to a car and... What? Chase after her? Tell her I'm going with her? Thoughts of Eliot intruded. Paralyzed on the steps, he peered again toward the road between the trees. Pressure built in him. Anguish tore his soul. His will tilted one way, then the other. What to do? Whom to choose? Chris seemed to stand before him, his sad eyes narrowed in accusation.

  Paralysis changed to resolve.

  Don paced, gesturing angrily toward the swimming pool beyond the wall-sized window in his office. Though the day was hot and bright, the pool was empty. "All the stunts you've been pulling, you've made the guests so nervous they don't want to leave their rooms. The restaurant's deserted. The grounds-hell, I could send out naked dancing girls, and nobody'd be there to notice. Rumors of your... disagreement, shall we say? have got around. The smart money outside says stay away from here, pick the rest home in Hong Kong or Switzerland. Talk about trouble. The bunch of you are it."

  The trouble he referred to was composed of Eliot, Castor, Pollux, and Saul. They sat-Eliot and his escorts separated ,from Saul, watched by guards-as Don continued. "So here's the situation. The rules of the sanction force a rest home to accept an operative in need, provided he pays the necessary fees. But the rules don't force a director to put up with disruptive guests. I've contacted my superior and explained the problems here. I've been in touch with the supervising board. I've requested a hearing and received a judgment. The Abelard rules say if a director has sufficient cause-and Christ, do I have sufficient cause!-he can instruct a guest to pack his bags." Don pointed at the door "And leave."

  Eliot straightened angrily. "And have this man try to kill me the instant I leave the grounds?"

  "Did I say I'd let him try to kill you?

  We're not animals. The board's prepared to compromise. You paid for services you didn't receive, so here's a check refunding the balance of your fees. It's only fair. You devoted your life to the profession. You deserve a chance. So what we're giving you is twenty-four hours. That's plenty of time for a man of your experience. You could disappear forever, given your contacts. Take all night. Relax. Tomorrow morning, though, at eight o'clockthat's checkout time. I want you out of here. And one day later, Grisman has to leave as well. Maybe then the other gues
ts can enjoy themselves again."

  Twisting in his chair, Eliot fumed at Saul. Who merely grinned and shrugged.

  The sun dipped relentlessly toward the mountains, casting a ruddy glow through the window of Eliot's room. "It doesn't make a difference," Eliot blurted hoarsely into his phone. "I don't care how many men it takes or what it costs. I want this valley bottled up tomorrow. I want him killed as soon as he leaves the rest home. No, you're not listening. Not the team who tried to stop him from getting in here. What's the matter with you? I'm sick of losers. I said I want the best." His knuckles ached from his tight grip on the phone. He scowled. "What do you mean there's nobody better than Grisman? I am. Do what you're told."

  Eliot slammed down the phone and turned to Castor. Pollux was out in the hall, where guards sent by Don kept Eliot and his escorts under house arrest. "You confirmed the reservations?"

  Castor nodded. "Air Canada out of Vancouver bound for Australia. Seven o'clock tomorrow evening."

  "That ought to give us plenty of time."

  Castor raised his shoulders. "Maybe not. Romulus knows he'll never be able to find you if he's twenty-four hours behind. The chances are he'll try to break out of here before then."

  "Certainly he will. I'm counting on it. He'll want to chase me as soon as possible... and that's my advantage."

  Castor frowned. "I don't see how."

  "What I told that idiot on the phone is true. Nobody's better than Romulus. Except myself. And the two of you. I supervised his training. I can out-guess him. The mistake I made from the start was delegating other men to do my work."

  "But you ordered a team to seal off the valley."

  Eliot nodded. "Romulus expects me to do that. If I didn't provide a distraction, he'd sense the greater trap. Of course the team might get lucky and kill him." He pursed his wrinkled lips, musing. "I doubt it, though. The wilderness is his home. if he leaves the way he came in, even a thousand men couldn't watch every outlet through the mountains," Castor brightened. "In that case, though, we'd be protected. Going through the mountains takes time. He'd still be far behind us. He couldn't catch up."

  "And that's why he'll choose another way."

  Castor's bright look darkened, his frown returning. "But what way is that? And how can we stop him?"

  "Pretend you're him. It's not too hard to predict what he'll do. Logically he's got only one choice."

  "It might be logical to you, but- " Eliot explained, and Castor nodded, confident again, impressed.

  The sun was three-quarters down. Shadows lengthened across the valley, at first almost purple, then gray, soon black ringed with mist.

  Saul didn't notice. He kept his room dark, sitting cross legged on the floor, clearing his mind, preparing himself. He knew the door to his room was being watched by guards outside to prevent him from making a move against Eliot while the old man was still inside the rest home. He assumed that Eliot and his escorts were under surveillance as well.

  It didn't matter. Despite his need, he couldn't risk killing Eliot here. Since arriving, his primary intention had been to achieve revenge and yet survive to enjoy the satisfaction of knowing he'd repaid his debt of honor to Chris.

  His brother. Anger flashed inside him. He concentrated to subdue it. Now that his goal was close, he had to purge himself of distraction, to reach the purity of a samurai, to prove himself the professional Eliot had taught him to be.

  As he meditated, arriving at a core of perfect resolution and stillness, consolidating his thoughts, instincts and skills, he silently repeated a mantra, over and over.

  Again and again. He sensed his brother's spirit merging with him.

  Chris. Chris. Chris. Chris. Chris.

  The morning was bleak. Clouds hung low, the air damp and chilly with the threat of rain. A dark blue Chevy station wagon-no chrome, no whitewalls, nothing to draw attention to it-waited on the gravel driveway before the lodge.

  Two servants filled the back with suitcases and garment bags, then shut the hatch and waited at a distance.

  Precisely at eight, the door to the lodge came open. Eliot, Castor, and Pollux, flanked by guards, stepped out on the porch. Don walked directly behind them.

  Eliot wore his uniform-his black suit and vest, his homburg. He paused when he saw the car, then turned to the right, squinting sullenly at Saul, who stood at the end of the porch, flanked by other guards.

  A gloomy mist began to fall. Eliot's nostrils widened with contempt. The tense moment lengthened.

  Turning abruptly, the old man gripped the rail and eased himself down the steps. Castor opened a back door for him, closed it as soon as his father was settled, then got in the front with Pollux and turned the ignition key. The motor engaged at once, sounding like a large V-8.

  The station wagon pulled away, its tires crunching on the gravel. Saul narrowed his vision till all he saw was the window of the Chevy's hatch. Intense, he focused on the back of Eliot's head, on the silhouette of the homburg.

  But the old man never looked back at him. The Chevy moved faster, shrinking, its roar diminishing. Soon its dark blue merged with the green of the forest.

  Watching it disappear, Saul bristled, his heartbeat thunderous.

  Haughty, Don came over. "Long time to wait, huh? Twenty four hours. Bet you're tempted to run to the motor pool and steal a car to chase after him."

  Saul stared at the road between the trees. "Or the chopper in back," Don said. "Bet you can barely hold back from making a try for it, huh? It sure is tempting, isn't it?"

  Saul's eyes were black as he turned to Don. "Go on and try," Don said. "That's why I let you out of your room this morning. So you could watch the old man drive away and maybe lose your cool. Do it. Fall apart. Make a break and try to chase him. You've been a pain in my ass since you got here. I'd love to see you shot to pieces for disobeying the board's directive."

  Still Saul didn't answer but instead slipped past him, calmly heading toward the door to the lodge. "No?" Don asked behind him. "Don't feel like making trouble today? My, my. Well, that's a change."

  The guards flanked Saul as he opened the door. "In that case, pal, go back to your room and stay there." Don's voice snapped. "Twenty-four hours. That's the agreement. Tomorrow morning, you can chase him all you want." He rose to his fullest height. "Provided you can find him," Saul glanced indifferently at him and walked inside. He'd thought it through with care last night, analyzing various plans... When everything was considered, there'd really been only one choice.

  Don rubbed his eyes. It had to be he was seeing things. This couldn't be happening. With eyeblink speed, Grisman did something with his elbows as he walked inside. At once the guards behind him tumbled back, collapsing against each other, toppling. As they did, the door to the lodge slammed shut. The lock shot home. "What the-?

  Jesus!" Pushing away from each other, scrambling to their feet, the guards cursed, rushing to the door, jerking at it, pounding angrily.

  Don in turn felt frozen, disbelieving, dismayed. It wasn',1, possible. He'd felt so confident when he taunted Grisman he'd have bet his bonus that the goddamn troublemaker had finally been put in his place.

  Oh, fuck, no. It couldn't be, Grisman was actually doing it, making a break. "The motor pool!" Don shouted. "The chopper pad! Stop pounding at that goddamn door, you assholes! Head him off!"

  Already Don was racing down the steps. He twisted hysterically to the left and lunged toward the side of the lodge.

  It hadn't been complicated. Once Saul had decided on the only logical tactic, he'd simply imagined various scenarios, looked ahead, and predicted when he'd have the best opportunity to implement his plan. At the first likely moment, he acted. On the porch, in the open, in the presence of Don and many guards, with Eliot barely off the grounds, who'd have expected Saul to make trouble that soon? Certainly not Don and the guards. Their confidence had been his advantage.

  By the time the guards had recovered enough to lunge at the bolted door, Saul was sprinting through th
e lobby. No guests were in view, but several staff members froze openmouthed in surprise. To the left, at the fuzzy corner of his vision, Saul detected a hurried gesture as the desk clerk lunged for a phone. Behind him, Saul heard muffled pounding as the guards tried to break through the door. He raced toward a hallway beside the staircase, sensing motion to his right: a guard coming out of the restaurant, seeing Saul, hearing the shouts, understanding, and drawing a pistol.

  The roar of shots was amplified by the polished walls of the lobby. Bullets walloped against the banister on the staircase, flinging splinters. But already Saul had reached the protection of the corridor. Charging harder, he veered toward a door at the end, in an alcove behind the staircase, yanking it open just as a guard on the other side reached for the knob. The man must have heard the shots and hurried to investigate, But he wasn't prepared for the heel of Saul's palm slamming against his rib cage. As the man groaned, falling, Saul tugged an Uzi from his grasp and swung to spray the hallway behind him. The guard out there dove frantically for cover.