The Covenant Of The Flame

by David Morrell

  At the front of the hallway, the flames spread, their roar increasing.

  Crash! A canister hurtled through the study window. Fire gushed over the desk, the chairs, the floor.

  'Let's go, Priscilla!' Tess gripped the carpet, dragging Professor Harding toward the kitchen.

  Another canister must have landed there. To the left of the refrigerator, the room was ablaze.

  Craig wheezed, enveloped with smoke, his revolver aimed toward the kitchen door. They'll be waiting for us!' He fought to breathe.

  'The paths in the garden!' Tess said. 'If we can get there, the flowers are tall enough to hide us!'

  'But what about Priscilla and Richard? How are we going to-?'

  Tess whirled toward Priscilla, realizing that the aged woman wasn't strong enough to drag her husband to safety. The flames became more powerful. Tess winced from the heat. 'Craig, you'll have to go ahead!'

  'But I can't leave you!'

  'We'll die if we stay here! There isn't another-! Go! I'll be right behind you! Reach the garden, then cover me!'

  Craig hesitated.

  The flames roared toward them, singeing.

  'Open the door!' Tess said.

  Craig stared, then nodded. With fierce resolve, he jerked the door open and raced outside.

  For a fraction of an instant, Tess's mind played a trick. The afternoon changed to night. This house became her mother's house.

  It was happening again! They'll kill us the same as they killed my-!

  No! I've got to-!

  Tess clutched the carpet, rushing backward from the kitchen, dragging Professor Harding through the door into the haze-choked sunlight. Priscilla did her best to hurry and follow.

  Tess heard a shot. Ignoring it, she tugged Professor Harding across the back porch, bump, bump, down the steps, feeling the jolts to his body, wincing in sympathy.

  Another shot. Tess released the carpet and spun, her pistol drawn, searching for a target.

  Craig had reached the paths in the garden. He crouched behind a section of scarlet lilies, hardly visible, shooting toward the left of the house.

  But behind Craig, rising from a path beyond a farther section of lilies, a gunman appeared, aiming toward Craig.

  Tess fired. The gunman jerked.

  Tess fired again. The gunman toppled backward, arms splayed, crashing among the flowers, lily-stalks snapping.

  'Priscilla, lie down! Hug the grass!' Tess ordered.

  At once she whirled, saw a target at the right corner of the house, shot, missed! Shot again. And blood flew from his throat.

  Sweating, breathing hard, Tess hunkered, pivoting to the left, then again to the right, searching for other targets.

  Apart from the crackle of the blaze in the house, the back yard became eerily silent.

  'Hurry, Priscilla! Follow me!'

  Again Tess tugged at the carpet, at Professor Harding, hurrying backward toward Craig, toward the paths among the flowers.

  She feared that any second a bullet would blow her head apart. Breathing harsher, deeper, she reached a path, kept tugging, yanked Professor Harding behind a section of flowers, and gasped when she saw that Priscilla was only halfway across the lawn.

  A man appeared at the right of the house.

  Tess aimed.

  The man ducked behind the corner.

  'Craig!' Tess yelled.

  'I see him!'

  'Cover me!'

  Tess bolted forward, reached Priscilla, picked her up, grasping her shoulders, the back of her knees, and ran, bent over, collapsing behind the flowers, their fragrance in contrast with the stench of her fear.

  Immediately she knelt, risked exposing her face, and aimed toward the left side of the house.

  The lilies gave no protection from bullets, she knew.

  But at least they obscured her from a killer's aim.

  Sweat rolled off her brow. Her eyes stung. Her chest heaved.

  She hurriedly squinted behind her in case another gunman was hidden among the flowers.

  The man at the side of the house. Where the hell had he gone?

  'Craig! Do you see him?'

  'No!' Craig kept aiming.

  Tess noticed that he'd dropped his revolver, which he must have emptied, and now held one of the pistols that he'd picked up inside the house.

  Behind her, flowers whispered.

  Again Tess whirled, squinting, her weapon ready.

  Not quickly enough.

  A man's arm thrust from the lilies, the rest of him hidden. His powerful thumb pressed a nerve at the back of her neck.

  Agony!

  Paralysis!

  Wanting to scream, unable to, helpless, Tess watched her gun fall. Equally helpless, she felt the man squirm soundlessly from the flowers and press his weight over her onto the path. His thumb kept pressing the nerve on her neck.

  With his other hand, he raised a silenced pistol and aimed toward Craig in the next row among the flowers.

  Tess tried again to scream.

  Impossible.

  'Lieutenant!' The man dove as Craig whirled and fired.

  'Lieutenant!' the man repeated. 'I'm going to show my head! I'm going to use your friend as a shield! If you're foolish enough to think that you can kill me, if you aim at me, I'll kill her.'

  'Then I'll kill you!' Craig said.

  'But your friend is more important. Pay attention, Lieutenant. Think.'

  The only noise was the crackle of flames from the house.

  'Lieutenant,' the man commanded, his grip still paralyzing Tess, his weight still upon her. 'You're about to see the head of your friend.'

  Furious, Tess felt the man twist his grip on her neck and force her to raise her head while he kept his own head behind hers.

  Craig made a tentative motion with his pistol.

  'Lieutenant, don't do it,' the man said, calmly aiming his weapon. 'You're compromised. You can't possibly hit me. I don't intend to kill either of you. I assure you I'm a friend. But if you persist and attack me, I'll do what's necessary. Listen to reason. My team just saved your life.'

  'What are you talking about?'

  'We shot the remaining attackers. There isn't time to explain. I need your help.'

  In the distance, sirens wailed.

  'The authorities are on their way,' the man said, maintaining his calm, although his tone was paradoxically emphatic. 'We have to get out of here. I could have killed you. I didn't. That's a sign of good faith. Here's another sign of good faith.' The man shoved his pistol beneath his belt. He released his thumb from the nerve on Tess's throat.

  The sirens wailed closer.

  Abruptly Tess found she could move. Angry, she squirmed beneath the man's weight.

  He stood.

  She rolled away, her throat in pain, and fought to recontrol her muscles, lurching clumsily to her knees.

  'I apologize,' the man said.

  In the background, flames roared in the house. Smoke spewed.

  'Who are you?' Tess rubbed her throat.

  The man wore a dark sportcoat and slacks. He was in his early forties, solidly built, his hair a neutral brown, his face indistinctive, not handsome, not repulsive, the sort of common face she would never notice in a crowd.

  'Your savior. Be grateful. And I repeat, I don't have time to explain. Those sirens. Will you cooperate?'

  Tess darted an uncertain glance toward Craig.

  'Sure.' Craig stared. 'Provided you give me your weapon.'

  The stranger exhaled. 'All right, if that's what it takes.' He removed his pistol from his belt, engaged its safety mechanism, and extended it to Craig, who shoved it into a pocket of his suitcoat.

  'What the hell, screw it.' Craig lowered his own weapon.

  'Good. Very good,' the stranger said. 'Hurry.' He gestured, and almost by magic, equally neutral-faced, solidly built men emerged from the flowers and the side of the house, holding weapons.

  There's a van in front.' The stranger cocked his head, assessing the in
tensity of the sirens. 'Let's go.'

  'Priscilla and Professor Harding,' Tess said.

  'We'll take them with us, of course.'

  Again the stranger gestured. Two men raced from the flowers, lifting Priscilla and Professor Harding.

  'She needs insulin,' Tess said, 'and her husband may have had a stroke.'

  'It'll all be taken care of. You have my word.' The stranger pressed a hand against Tess's back. 'Move.'

  As the sirens wailed closer, the group surged toward the right of the house.

  Smoke wafted out of the study's window, obscuring Tess's gaze.

  Then the smoke cleared, and she saw two bodies. She flinched and stared away, the front yard before her, trees and shrubs, a van looming.

  'The Porsche!' Tess said. 'I got it a from a friend! She can't be involved!'

  'Give me the key!'

  Tess groped in her purse and threw it.

  The stranger caught the key, tossed it to another man, and ordered him, 'Follow us!'

  Tess and Craig scrambled into the van. Other men hurried inside with Priscilla and Richard, slamming the van's side hatch shut. A driver stomped the accelerator, squealing away from the curb.

  Behind the van, the Porsche sped to follow. The two vehicles rounded a corner, disappearing from the street, just as Tess, bewildered, heard the approaching sirens wail toward the burning house, nearing it from a different direction.

  'So, all right,' Craig said, hoarse. 'You claim you saved our lives. So we got away. So what do you want from us?'

  The stranger peered backward from the passenger seat. 'Very simple.' He scowled. 'Your help. To eliminate the vermin.'

  'What?'

  'This isn't the time or place to discuss it,' the stranger said. 'Arrangements have to be made. Your friends need medical attention, and several of our associates have been-'

  'Hold it,' Tess said, glancing toward the rear window. 'We're being followed. Behind the Porsche.'

  'That UPS truck and the gray sedan?' The stranger nodded. 'They belong – or used to belong – to several of our associates. The vermin executed those two squads before attacking the house.'

  'Executed?' Craig demanded.

  The stranger ignored the interruption. 'We found the vehicles, the corpses inside them, a block apart as we arrived. The evidence indicates that nerve gas was used. Members of my own team now drive those vehicles. Security and honor insist. We must not abandon our dead. The corpses of our brave departed require the proper rites, honorable burial in consecrated ground. Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine.'

  'Et lux perpetua luceat eis,' the other men added, somber, reverential.

  Tess shook her head, confused, astonished. At first, she thought she was hearing gibberish. Then, abruptly, the realization startling her, she blurted, 'You're praying! In Latin?'

  The stranger squinted. 'Do you understand what it means?'

  '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 u
nnecessary,' 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.