The Covenant Of The Flame

by David Morrell

  TEN

  The chameleon removed the folded front section of the New York Times from beneath a notepad on his clipboard. He held it up so the group could see the headline – FORMER SECRETARY OF STATE DIES IN FIERY FREEWAY DISASTER – then handed the newspaper to the second man. 'When you're finished, pass it around.'

  'I've already read it. I didn't know the connection, but the moment you mentioned Brian Hamilton, I realized what you were getting at.'

  'Well,' the third man said, 'I didn't have a chance to read the paper this morning. Let me see.'

  One-by-one, the somber-faced men read the article.

  'Fire,' the sixth man said with disgust. 'They're so in love with fire.' Lips curled, he set down the paper and studied the chameleon. 'You seem to have so many answers. What about this one. Why did they kill him?'

  'I don't have answers exactly. What I do have are calculated assumptions,' the chameleon said. Tess Drake makes a sudden trip to see her mother. When she gets to the mansion in Alexandria, is it a coincidence that the former Secretary of State and current main adviser to the President just happens to be waiting there when she arrives? Not likely. I have to conclude that so important a man was summoned by the woman, that Hamilton – a friend of her dead father – was the person she primarily wanted to see and not her mother, that Tess Drake was using her late father's influence to enlist powerful help in discovering who Joseph Martin was and why he was killed.'

  The third man shrugged. 'Assumptions, as you admit. However, I grant that they're logical.'

  'And I also have to conclude that the enemy followed Tess Drake to the mansion just as our own people did,' the chameleon continued. 'When the enemy identified Hamilton's Corniche in the driveway and realized what the woman was doing, they must have decided that Hamilton's death was essential to keeping their secret. It's my belief that they wanted to prevent him from telling others what he'd learned and using his connections with the government to enlarge the scope of the investigation.'

  The fifth man traced his finger along pencil engravings on the desktop of his miniature chair. 'Possibly.'

  'You don't sound convinced.'

  'Well, your assumptions make sense to a point, but… What I have trouble with is… If the enemy went to the trouble and took the risk of assassinating Hamilton, they still wouldn't have solved their problem, at least not completely. Their secret would not yet be fully protected. To accomplish that, they'd have to be totally, absolutely thorough, and the most important person to eliminate would be…'

  The chameleon nodded. 'Precisely.'

  'You're telling me…?'

  'Yes.'

  'Dear God!' the sixth man said.

  'My thought, as well… Dear God… Last night… shortly after two…"

  ELEVEN

  Standing rigidly in her bedroom in the mansion in Alexandria, Tess cramped her fingers around the telephone as she listened to Craig's gravelly, urgent voice.

  'I want you to promise me,' Craig said. 'Swear it. Be careful!'

  'I guarantee,' Tess emphasized. 'I won't take any chances.'

  'Keep your word. And promise me this as well. Swear you'll phone me tomorrow as soon as you get copies made of the photographs. Then Fed-Ex them to me as fast as possible.'

  'I will. I promise,' Tess said.

  'Look, I don't want to sound like a jealous lover, but I'll feel a whole lot better when you get back here.'

  'Honestly,' Tess said, 'I'll be okay. Just because someone torched Joseph's apartment, it's a big leap to thinking I'm in danger.'

  'Oh, yeah?' Craig raised his voice. 'Then what about the guy in the photo shop?'

  Tess didn't answer. She reluctantly admitted to herself that she'd been feeling more and more uneasy.

  'Okay, what's your mother's address and phone number?' Craig asked and coughed. 'I think it's a good idea… I want to be able to reach you if anything else happens that you should know about.'

  Tess gave him that information.

  'Good,' Craig said. 'I repeat, I wish you'd get back here.'

  'Look, even if I were in Manhattan, what could you do, assuming you're right and I'm in danger? You can't stay with me all the time .'

  'You never know. It might come to that.'

  'Hey, don't exaggerate.' Tess quivered. 'You're scaring me.'

  'Good. At last. I'm finally getting my point across.' The lieutenant's voice dropped, the long-distance static crackling. 'And anyway…' He sounded nervous. 'Would it really be so bad if I was with you all the time?'

  'What?' Tess frowned. 'I'm not sure what you mean.'

  'I told you yesterday on the way to Joseph's apartment. This started out as police business. Now it belongs to Homicide, not Missing Persons. But I still want to stay involved. Because of you.'

  Tess frowned harder.

  'No response?' Craig asked.

  'I'm trying to sort this out. Are you saying what I think you're saying?'

  'As far as I'm concerned, this isn't business anymore. I want to get to know you.'

  'But…'

  'Whatever it is, say it, Tess.'

  'You're ten years older than me.'

  'So what? You've got a prejudice? You don't like mature men, dependable men, guys like me who've been there and back and around some and don't have any illusions or expectations and don't make problems?'

  'It's not exactly that. I mean…' Tess squirmed. 'It's just… Well, I never thought about…'

  'Well, do me a favor and give it some thought. I don't want to be pushy. I know a lot's been happening, not the least of which is you've lost your friend, and I'm sorry for that, and I repeat, I don't want to make problems for you. I'm patient. But hey, I bathe every day.'

  Tess couldn't help it. She laughed.

  'Good,' Craig said. 'I like that. I like to hear you laugh. So think about it, would you? Or at any rate, keep it in the back of your mind? No big deal. No pressure. But maybe… damn it, I'm so… maybe, when this is over, we can talk about it.'

  'Sure.' Tess swallowed. 'If… When… I promise, when this is over, we'll talk about it.'

  'That's all I'm asking. You don't sound enthusiastic, but that's okay – I appreciate your patience. This next part, however, is business. I don't care how busy you are – just make sure you call me tomorrow when you send me the copies of those photographs.'

  'Word of honor,' Tess said. 'Good night.'

  'Good night,' Craig responded. 'And by the way, I don't gamble. I seldom drink. And I'm kind to animals, children, the poor, the infirm, not to mention the aged. Think about it.' The lieutenant broke the connection.

  Tess listened to the emptiness of the long-distance static, breathed out in confusion, trembled, and' set the phone on its receptacle.

  For several moments, she didn't move.

  Oh, Christ!

  She hadn't counted on this. She'd been vaguely aware of the lieutenant's attraction to her, but she'd ignored it. There'd been too many other things to concern her.

  But now that the subject was in the open, Tess didn't know how to respond. Craig was pleasant enough, and indeed he was good looking in a rugged sort of way. For sure, he'd taken pains to be kind and helpful. And she'd definitely appreciated his company in trying circumstances.

  But did she feel attracted to him? Physically? Sexually? Certainly it didn't match the powerful, overwhelming identification she'd experienced with Joseph the first time she'd met him.

  Tess recalled the theory in The Dove's Neck Ring that love at first sight was actually love at second sight.

  Because the souls of the lovers had known each other in a previous existence and now recognized each other in this reborn earthly form.

  Damn it, Tess thought, what am I going to do? I don't want to embarrass or insult the lieutenant. But after all, Craig is older than me. At the same time…

  … Tess paced…

  … I do feel something for him.

  And maybe being comfortable with a man is better than suffering a sickening blaze
of passion.

  She remembered that The Dove's Neck Ring had referred to physical – as opposed to spiritual – passion as an infirmity, a type of illness.

  What am I going to do?

  Tess felt guilty. She'd been distant and perhaps even rude to Craig when he'd raised the subject of his attraction to her at the end of their conversation.

  Her guiltiness troubled her. I can't let the subject hang in the air, she thought. Too many other things to worry about. I have to get this settled.

  She picked up the phone.

  To call the lieutenant.

  To explain to him what she'd just been thinking.

  To be totally honest and with kindness confess her uncertainty.

  But when she held the phone to her ear, she frowned.

  There wasn't a dial tone.

  Impatient, she jabbed down the disconnect button, raised it, and listened again.

  Still no dial tone.

  More impatient, she tapped the disconnect button several times.

  Nothing.

  The line was dead.

  But the line had been working a minute ago. Why would-?

  Tess trembled, a chill surging through her. Earlier, she'd felt a chill as well, caused by the mansion's air-conditioning system.

  Now the whisper of air from the vent contributed to her chill, but not because the air was cool. Nostrils widening, she stepped toward the vent low on the wall hidden by a chair beside her bureau.

  Pulse rushing, she stooped, moved the chair away, and sniffed the stream of air.

  A vague acrid smell made her shiver.

  Smoke? Is that-?

  Her throat felt stung.

  It can't be smoke!

  But the smell intensified, and with the next deep breath that flared her nostrils, she coughed.

  Panic squeezed her chest. As she gasped, she straightened in terror, seeing a thin wisp of gray drift out of the vent.

  Fire!

  For a moment, her body refused to move.

  Abruptly a spring seemed to snap within her, and she charged toward the bedside phone to dial 911. Instantly, her stomach dropping deeper, faster, she remembered that the phone had been dead the last time she'd tried it. Frantic, she tried it again. Still no dial tone! Jesus. She grabbed the cotton pullover that she'd taken off earlier and desperately put it back on. Then she clutched The Dove's Neck Ring along with the photographs and crammed them into her purse.

  With a final look toward the air-conditioning vent from which an increasing wisp of gray drifted out and made her cough harder, she darted toward the bedroom door, yanked it open, and lunged out.

  TWELVE

  The hallway was dark. Someone, presumably the butler, had turned off the lights after Tess and her mother had gone to their rooms. Even the staircase to her left and the vestibule below it were shrouded in darkness. Only the glow from the lamp on her bedside table allowed her to see. She rushed to the right along the murky hallway and reached the door to her mother's room.

  Urgent, she shoved it open and groped to flick at the lightswitch. The overhead chandelier blazed. She stared. Her mother, who lay in a canopied bed similar to Tess's, wore eyeshades, even though the draperies were closed. As a consequence, she didn't respond to the sudden gleaming light.

  Tess coughed even harder. This room, too, was hazy from smoke wafting out of the air-conditioning vent. 'Mother!' She hurried toward the bed. Her mother was snoring. 'Mother!' Tess shook her.

  'Uh…' Her mother turned onto her side.

  Tess shook her repeatedly. 'Mother! Wake up!'

  'Uh…' Her mother stopped snoring. 'I… What…?' Lethargic, she pawed at her eyeshades and clumsily raised them to her forehead, squinting through sleep-puffed eyes. Tess? Why are you…? What's the…?'

  'You have to get out of bed! Hurry!'

  'What's that…?' Her mother coughed.'… haze! It smells like…'

  'Smoke! The house is on fire! Hurry, mother! You have to get out of bed!'

  Shock jolted her mother fully awake. 'Fire? She fumbled at the sheets and squirmed to raise herself. 'Quickly! Call the Fire Department!'

  'I can't!'

  'What?'

  'I tried! The phone isn't working!' Tess said.

  'It's got to be working.' Her mother reached for the bedside phone.

  'No! I'm telling you, mother! The phone isn't…! Damn it, come on! We have to leave!'

  Her mother strained to overcome her grogginess and raise herself. She wore a frilly, rose-colored nightdress. It had bunched around her knees, but as she lurched to her feet, its hem dropped toward her ankles. She pivoted in confusion, mustered strength, and shuffled toward a closet. 'Help me get dressed.'

  There isn't time!' Tess grabbed her arm. 'We have to get out of here!' The room was thick with haze now. Both women coughed. 'For God's sake, mother, let's go!'

  With a hand on her mother's back, Tess urged her toward the bedroom's open door.

  But only when they reached the shadowy hallway did Tess stiffen with complete understanding. Dread flooded through her.

  Jesus, she thought.

  First the phone stops working?

  Then the mansion's on fire?

  It isn't a coincidence! It's not accidental!

  They did this!

  They think I know too much! They want to kill me!

  Craig's right! Why didn't I listen?

  It was her mother's turn to insist on moving forward. 'Hurry!' She shoved at Tess. 'What's the matter! Why did you stop?'

  Dear God, Tess thought, what if they're in the building?

  Smoke detectors wailed. In the bedrooms. In the corridor. In the vestibule, the kitchen, and other locations downstairs. Their combined unnerving shriek made Tess want to clamp her hands across her ears.

  But her panicked mind alerted her. No! They wouldn't just start a fire and run! They'd want to make sure I…!

  What if they're in the house?

  They'll try to stop us from getting out! They'll want our deaths to seem like an accident!

  But if they have to, if we try to escape…!

  They'll kill us before the fire does!

  Tess, why are you stopping?' Her mother frowned, at the same time pressing the sleeve of her nightdress against her mouth, breathing stridently through it. 'What's wrong! The smoke's worse! We'll suffocate if we don't-!'

  'Mother?' As Tess's premonition worsened, a fierce startling thought controlled her. 'Whatever happened to father's handgun? Do you still have it?'

  'I don't understand. Why would you-?'

  Tess whirled toward her mother. 'Just pay attention. After father died, did you keep it? Do you still have his handgun?'

  Her mother coughed. 'Why does it matter? We have to-'

  'The handgun, mother! What did you do with it?"

  'Nothing. I left it where he always put it, the same as I left his other things.' Even after six years, renewed grief strained her mother's already fear-strained features. 'You know I couldn't bring myself to part with anything he owned.'

  Smoke swirled behind them. To the left, in the vestibule below the staircase, the darkness was interrupted by a flicker as if from a hesitant strobelight.

  The fire!

  Tess cringed. She gripped her mother's shoulders. 'In the other bedroom?'

  'Yes. That room's exactly the way it was the day your father said good-bye to me and went to Beirut.'

  Tess fervently kissed her mother's cheek. 'God bless you! Hurry! Follow me!'

  'But we need to…! I still don't understand!'

  'I don't have time to explain! All you need to understand is I love you, mother! And I'm trying to save your life!'

  'Well!' Her mother strained to breathe. 'That's good enough for me.'

  With a terrified glance toward the flickering flames in the vestibule, Tess jerked her mother's hand and urged her toward the right along the hallway. 'Just pray, and do everything I tell you.'

  She reached a farther door to her right and banged it op
en. In the darkness, she fumbled along the inside wall to find the lights witch.

  'Before you… There's something I'd better tell you,' her mother said.

  'Not now!'

  But as Tess flicked the switch and the overhead light gleamed, Tess knew what her mother had wanted to explain. She blinked in astonishment.

  This bedroom was the one that her father had used when he came home late at night after emergency meetings at the State Department, so he wouldn't disturb Tess's mother when he undressed to go to sleep.

  But now the bedroom resembled the dilapidated interior of Miss Havisham's house in Great Expectations. Six years of dust covered everything, the carpet, the bed, the end tables, the lamps, the phone, the bureau. Cobwebs clung to the corners and dangled from the ceiling, making Tess flinch as if she were about to enter a nest of spiders. The rapid movement of the door she'd shoved open had caused dust to swirl, the cobwebs to sway, creating a haze that was emphasized by the smoke spewing out of the air-conditioning vent.

  'Mother!'

  'I tried to tell you.'

  Horrified, Tess rushed ahead, each frantic footstep raising dust.

  She swung her arms, clearing the cobwebs, repelled by their stickiness.

  'I left everything the way it was.' Her mother struggled after her, coughing. 'The day I learned that your father was dead, I took one final look at this room, closed the door, and never came in here again. I told the servants to keep that door closed.'

  With increasing revulsion, Tess noticed that even her father's slippers, layered with dust, remained beside the bed. She was too distraught to ask her mother what on earth had made her turn this room not into a shrine but a crypt. But the smoke was denser. All she had time to care about was…

  She yanked open the top drawer of a table next to the bed, fearing that her father might have taken his pistol with him when he went to Beirut. But exhaling sharply, she saw that the handgun was where he always kept it.