Tess indeed had read about it, and now that she was close enough, she was able to distinguish the characteristics of the animals, their muscular flanks, their broad humped backs, their long curved horns projecting from thickly boned foreheads.
Bulls.
They were so much a part of Spain's culture that Tess didn't make further connection right away. But then she suddenly noticed one particular bull that had been separated from the others.
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.
'Se¤or Gerrard! Buenas tardes! Mucho gusto! C¢mo est 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, Se¤or 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 Jos‚ 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 Jos‚ 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, Se¤or Fulano.'
'Please, I'm Jos‚.'
'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.
The ceiling amazed her: dark, polished, foot-square beams joined perfectly, anchored into the stone walls, supported by pillars and occasional transverse beams. She'd never been in a building that felt more solid.
'This way,' Fulano said graciously. He led them across the room, up three more slabs of cool stone, turned left in a muffled corridor, and walked with them up a staircase that was made from the same thick beams that formed the ceiling. The echo of their footsteps was absorbed by the substantial wood and stone below and around them.
The second level was equally amazing, a high, large, open area with a floor and ceiling of massive beams and another long, sturdy, antique table. More tapestries. Wooden throne-like chairs along the walls. Between each chair, a door.
'This is your room,' Fulano told Tess, 'and this is yours,' he said to Craig.
The doors were widely separated.
'Fine,' Craig said. 'But not to be indelicate, Tess and I are.'
'Yes?' Fulano asked, puzzled.
'Together.'
'You're telling me that you've.?' Fulano raised his eyebrows.
'Reached an arrangement.'
'Yes,' Fulano said. 'By all means. Forgive my manners. This room,' he told Craig and Tess, 'is yours. You've had a long journey. You'll no doubt want to rest. But at eight o'clock, please join us in the dining room. It's down the staircase, then left along the corridor. We have a surprise for you.'
'I'm eager to see it. We'll clean up and join you at eight,' Craig said.
'Bueno.'
NINE
Tess and Craig entered the room, which was lofty and wide, with antique Spanish cabinets, open doors at the window, and an oversized bed. Its tall headboard matched the rich, dark beams of the floor and ceiling.
Craig locked the door.
Tess gripped his arms. 'Thank God, you-!'
Craig forcefully put a finger on her lips. 'I bet the view from this room is magnificent. Those flowers. Did you notice them on the balcony? Why don't we take a look?'
It wasn't as if she had a choice. Craig's hand pressed against her back and urged her toward the balcony.
Past the open doors, leaning against the wrought-iron railing, they had a view of the cobblestone road and the outbuildings, beyond which there were fields - bulls in some, horses in others - then the forest, then the towering mountains. A scented breeze widened Tess's nostrils, but that pleasure was irrelevant.
'I'm sure the room is bugged,' Craig murmured. 'But I don't think the microphones can hear us on the balcony. Did you notice the sentries?'
'Yes.'
The white bull?'
'Especially.'
'We're screwed,' Craig said. 'Father Baldwin's plan is a disaster.'
'Maybe not. He could still-'
'You're dreaming,' Craig said. 'We're on our own. I don't understand why Gerrard and Fulano haven't killed us yet, but from now on, we forget about Father Baldwin and depend on ourselves.'
'Gerrard and Fulano must have a reason for letting us live.'
'So far.'
With a tremble, Tess agreed. 'So far. Something else is going on. Maybe the surprise Fulano mentioned.'
'Whatever it is, it's not in our favor.'
'So what do we do?' Tess asked. Try to run?'
'With those sentries? God damn that Father Baldwin,' Craig said. 'He didn't want to help us. He used us. We'd have been safer if we'd never listened to him.'
'That was yesterday. We have to deal with now.'
'All right,' Craig said. 'For the moment, we have to go with the flow. When it's dark, maybe we'll find a chance to escape. Through the woods. Into the mountains. At night, when everyone's asleep, I think we can climb down from this balcony. If anyone tries to stop us I'll do my best to distract them. In that case, you go on without me.'
'No way,' Tess said. 'It's both of us or none.'
'Tess.' Craig gently gripped her cheeks, lowered his mouth, and kissed her. 'They'll hunt us. There's no point in both of us dying. If it comes to a choice, I'd rather that you escaped instead of me.'
She kissed him gently in return. 'You weren't exaggerating when you told Fulano that we'd reached an arrangement. We've just never really discussed it. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.'
She tugged his arm.
Craig resisted. 'What are you.?'
'Going back inside. And from now on, we talk like lovers, or else the people listening to the microphones will be suspicious. In Washington, you called me "babe". You said that was what your father called your mother. Well, babe, let's complete what we planned to start. If we're going to die, let's." She suddenly hugged him, sobbing. This is all the time we have. Gerrard and Fulano expect us at eight. Let's use that time. I very much want a bath, and I very much want you to join me.'
She began to unbutton his shirt. She kissed his nipples, her warm tears trickling down his chest.
'You're sure?' Craig asked.
'I don't plan to die without making love to you. Touch my breasts. Oh, Jesus, Craig, I'm so scared.'
'I know. I'm frightened, too.'
'I don't want to die. I. Yes! That feels so good. I'm so scared, Craig! Lower. Touch me lower.'
Tess had mentioned taking a bath together. Now they headed in that direction, pausing frequently to kiss, to remove each other's top, but they never got past the bed. Unsteady, light-headed from passion, Tess tumbled with Craig across it, pressing her body onto him. Their kisses became more urgent, their hands more insistent. Moaning, squirming, they continued to undress each other, Tess pulling down his zipper, Craig undoing her belt.
She reached through the open zipper, finding Craig's swollen penis. As she pulled it free, Craig arched his back, shuddered, and cupped her breasts, their nipples rising, hardening. She kicked off her jeans, Craig licking her breasts, then her stomach, shifting lower, pulling down her underwear, kissing her thighs. She yanked off the last of his own clothes and twisted, turning, Craig now on top of her, both of them pressing against each other, exploring every portion of each other's skin. Their tongues met, thrusting. She tasted him, her vagina tingling, warm and wet with greater arousal. She thrust her tongue deeper into his mouth, wanting to enter him, to be one with him, and when Craig finally entered her, Tess didn't care about the microphones, the strangers listening. She wailed in hot flooding ecstasy. It went on and on, one climax after another, and as Craig's penis lengthened unbelievably, his semen erupting within her, she wailed again, this time in unison with him. They lay back, their bodies filmed with sweat.
She struggled to catch her breath. Her heartbeat thundered, then gradually stopped racing. Neither spoke for several minutes.
They kissed again, this time slowly, tenderly. Craig gently stroked her breasts. Fifteen minutes later, they amazed each other by making love a second time. At last, in exhaustion, their apprehension returning, they did what they'd planned at the start. In a tub that was unexpectedly large, they shared a warm soothing bath.
TEN
The time they'd been given was gone.
'Are you ready?' Craig asked.
'No. But if you can think of an alternative, I'd like to hear it.'
'I'm sorry. I can't.'
Then let's do this with style.'
'I love you.'
'And I love. Kiss me. Yes, that's so much better.'
When Tess and Craig unlocked and opened the door, they found the two Secret Service agents seated across from them, watching, waiting. Without a word, the agents followed them downstairs, to the left along the muffled corridor, and into a spacious dining room. There, Gerrard and Fulano sat at another antique table. When they smiled and stood in greeting, Tess noticed that Fulano had changed from his work clothes into slacks and a sport coat.
She and Craig had received fresh clothes as well, a servant having arrived ten minutes before they were expected to leave their room. Craig's outfit was similar to Fulano's.
Her own, howev
er, had not been to her liking. Granted, the garments were attractive: a blue scarf, a matching silk blouse, a red cotton skirt, and soft leather sandals that fit as comfortably as slippers.
But Tess had never liked wearing skirts, especially this one which came down to her ankles, interfering with her stride, and the sandals meant that she'd been forced to take off her sneakers and more important the homing device in one of the heels. She'd put the sneakers into her ample burlap purse, but she couldn't help suspecting that the outfit Fulano had chosen for her was intended to make it difficult for her to take the opportunity, when night came, of running with Craig toward the forest and attempting to escape across the mountains. Again she felt vulnerable, helpless.
David Morrell - Covenant Of The Flame Page 44