The Covenant Of The Flame

by David Morrell

  'John Wayne to the rescue.'

  'Give me a break,' Craig said. 'Whatever's going on, it's not like anything I've ever come across. These people are vicious. They're organized. They're determined. And they love to play with fire. I don't know why they want to kill her… maybe something they're afraid she knows… but they've proven they'll take down as many people as they have to in order to get at her. The moment she comes out of hiding, if she asks the Alexandria police for help and word gets around, which it's bound to, she's dead. I think Tess has figured that much already. It explains why she decided to avoid the police.'

  'You're theorizing.'

  'No. Otherwise, Alexandria Homicide wouldn't have called you, wondering what I know that they don't know.'

  'Okay.' Mallory debated. 'That makes sense. But you've still got to talk to them. This isn't just a matter of one department cooperating with another. You've got to explain what you think's going on. Otherwise you're concealing information about multiple felonies, and you know what happens to people who do that. You're not a bad guy, all things considered, but that doesn't mean I like you enough to visit you in prison. Pick up that phone.'

  'No. Wait. Please. Just give me a few more minutes.'

  'What are you hoping? That she'll call you?'

  'Right. Then maybe I will have something to tell the Alexandria police. She trusts me. So maybe we can figure out a way to bring her in safely.'

  The phone rang on Tony's desk. Before Craig could stand and get to it, Tony picked it up.

  'Missing Persons… Just a minute.' Tony extended the phone toward Craig.

  'It's her?' Craig asked.

  'No. Alexandria Homicide.'

  Craig froze.

  At once another phone rang, and this time Captain Mallory picked it up. 'Missing Persons. Yeah, you bet. Right away.'

  Craig glanced from one phone to the other in bewilderment.

  'Better take it,' Mallory said. 'It's a woman, and the way she says your name, it's like she's in trouble and she needs help from God.'

  Craig lunged for the phone.

  TEN

  'Tess, is that you?'

  At the sound of Craig's voice, Tess felt her knees weaken. Jesus. At last!

  After having nervously backed the sleek, black, Porsche 911 from the spacious garage next to Mrs Caudill's mansion, she'd felt naked with fear. Her right hand had trembled as she'd changed gears, driving from the secluded, expensive neighborhood.

  She'd passed few cars, but that had only made those few cars more suspicious. There was too great a chance that the killers would have left a sentry in the area. Repeatedly she'd checked her rearview mirror. No one seemed to be following her. But when she left the exclusive neighborhood and increased speed onto a crowded four-lane thoroughfare next to which laundromats, quick-food restaurants, and video stores blighted the area, she realized that in the dense traffic she wouldn't be able to tell if a car pursued her.

  Worse, her own car – costly and ostentatious – was a liability. In her youth, she'd overheard her father's conversations on the telephone. Just make sure, he once had said. Whatever car they use, it can't be fancy. It has to blend.

  Well, this car certainly didn't blend. Passing drivers in non-luxurious vehicles assessed the Porsche with envy.

  Damn, she thought and clutched the purse beside her – the pistol within it – for reassurance. When she saw the telephone booth at the edge of the crowded parking lot of a shopping mall, she braked to a stop beside the booth, hurried from the car, fumbled a credit card from her wallet, grabbed the receiver, and again phoned Craig's office.

  'Yes,' she breathed. 'It's me. I tried to call you earlier.'

  'I thought that might have been you. Thank God, you're alive. I was so afraid…'

  'They burned… They killed my mother.'

  'I know, Tess. I'm sorry. You must be… When I see you, I'll try to… I can't make the pain go away, but I'll do my best to share it. What's important now is that you weren't killed as well.'

  'Not yet! But they'll keep hunting me! I'm terrified that I'm being followed. What am I going to do? Whoever's after me will watch the local police station. I can't go there, and if I phone the police, I'm afraid the killers will tune in to police broadcasts. I need help!'

  'Listen. Don't panic, Tess. I promise. I'll make sure you're protected. Where are you? I hear traffic in the background.'

  'I don't… I… On the outskirts of Alexandria. I'm in a phone booth near a shopping mall.'

  'Christ, you can't stay there.' Craig coughed. 'Is there any place you can hide until I get to Alexandria?'

  She trembled and tried to think.

  Tess?'

  'I can't involve my former friends. They might get killed. I thought of a movie theater, but with so many people around, in the dark, I wouldn't feel safe. Maybe the library. Maybe a museum. But they're so public I wouldn't feel safe there either.'

  'Just a minute. I have to put you on hold. Don't hang up. I'll be right back.'

  'No, wait!'

  'Tess, it's important. Stay right there.'

  She heard a click. Then the line was silent, except for the longdistance static.

  Her hands shook.

  Hurry! Please!

  Furtive, she stared around at the crowded parking lot, at ominous strangers getting out of cars.

  Two men stood next to a van and squinted in her direction.

  Tess shoved her hand in her purse, grasping the pistol.

  The two men rounded the van, about to flank her, but unexpectedly changed direction and walked toward the shopping mall.

  Tess exhaled, realizing that they'd simply been admiring the Porsche.

  Craig, hurry!

  At once his voice was back on the line. 'Tess?'

  'What have you been doing?' Her voice quavered.

  'Look, I'm sorry. I didn't think that would take so long. I needed some information. I'll be on a Trump shuttle that's supposed to land at Washington National Airport at two-oh-seven. How did you get to that shopping mall? Have you got a car?'

  'Yes.'

  'What kind? I need to recognize it.'

  'A Porsche nine-eleven. Black.'

  'I have to give you credit. Even if you're scared, you travel in class.'

  'Craig, spare me the humor.'

  'I'm only trying to keep up your spirits. Okay, if it's business you want, pay attention. There's a Marriott hotel in Crystal City near the airport. As soon as I arrive, I'll grab a taxi and watch for your car at the hotel's entrance. At the latest, I ought to be there by two-thirty.'

  'But that'll be three hours from now!'

  'I've already figured that. Drive to Washington. Take a tour of the Capitol Building. With so many guards there, no one would dare try to get at you. Just be careful when you leave and return to your car.'

  'Be careful? Since last night, being careful is all I've been trying to do.'

  'Well, try even harder. And in the meantime, I'll contact the Alexandria police. I'll tell them what's going on.'

  'No! If this gets on their radio…!'

  'Tess, you've got to trust me. I'll talk to their chief. I'll make sure he keeps a lid on this. I won't tell him where you are or where we're going to meet. All I want is to organize a team to take you to a place that's secure.'

  'There isn't such a place!'

  'Believe me, there is. A house. A hotel room. A farm. Whatever, wherever, I guarantee you'll be smothered with guards. Just keep control! Please. A few more hours, and this'll be over.'

  'No! You're wrong!'

  'I don't…'

  'They'll always be waiting. They'll never give up. This won't ever end!'

  'It will if we can find out why they want to kill you. Once their secret's out – whatever it is – they won't have a reason to stop you from talking.'

  'If we can find out what they're so afraid I know. If. If! If!'

  'I'm telling you, keep control.'

  'But it doesn't stop just with me!' Tess said.
'I'm not the only one in danger!'

  'I don't understand. Nobody else is…'

  'Wrong! Don't forget! Craig, you were with me. You heard me talk about Joseph! You went with me to Joseph's apartment! You saw what was in his bedroom! If the killer's followed both of us, to protect their secret they might come after you!'

  Craig didn't answer for a moment. 'So let the sons of bitches try.' He coughed again. The Marriott near the airport. Two-thirty. Drive past it until you see me. I'll recognize your car.'

  'You make me feel…"

  'This isn't the time to be evasive.'

  'Confident. I'll be as clever as my father. I'll be there.'

  ELEVEN

  She hung up the phone, studied the strangers in the parking lot, felt vulnerable, and hurried to get into the Porsche.

  Drive to Washington, Craig had said. Take a tour of the Capitol Building. But the idea of being in so public a place, even in the presence of guards, made her nervous. There had to be a less dangerous alternative.

  As she drove from the shopping mall, Tess checked her rearview mirror to see if she was being followed. Several cars left behind her. With a deep breath, she again touched her purse, feeling the reassuring bulk of the pistol inside.

  Abruptly the pistol made her recall the men she'd killed last night, and the memory sickened her. But anger and fear were stronger. She hadn't counted how many times she'd fired. In this morning's confusion, she'd failed to remove the pistol's magazine to see how many rounds were left. Her father would definitely not have approved. The gun might be empty, for all she knew.

  I've got to be able to defend myself!

  A quick glance toward the side of the road made her notice a cluster of stores. One store in particular caught her attention.

  She steered sharply toward it, parked in front, and hurriedly entered the building, slowing when she closed the door, doing her best to look calm.

  'Yes, ma'am?' the muscular, sporting-goods clerk asked. Behind the counter, he cast his eyes up and down, assessing her face and figure, smiling – almost leering – with approval. 'How can I help you?'

  'I need two boxes of ammunition for a SIG-Sauer nine millimeter pistol.'

  'You must have plans for some heavy shooting.' He made the remark sound suggestive.

  'The instructor in my target-practice course insists that we buy our own ammunition.'

  'Well, I can promise, if you were in my class, I'd give you the ammunition and the lessons for free.' The clerk raised his eyebrows.

  'In that case, I guess it's too bad you're not in my class,' Tess said.

  The clerk was too absorbed by her braless breasts beneath her thin blouse to detect her muted irony.

  While he turned his back to get the two boxes of ammunition, Tess reached in her purse to pull out her wallet, taking care that the clerk wouldn't see the handgun.

  In the process, her fingers brushed the packet of photographs. As if she'd been jolted by an exposed electrical wire, she remembered that Craig had insisted last night that she have copies made and Fed-Exed to his office. But everything was different now! She didn't have time to obey Craig's orders, and for damned sure, she wouldn't feel safe waiting for the copies to be developed! She had to keep moving!

  'Would you mind? Have you got an envelope?' she asked the clerk. 'Can I buy a stamp from you? I'd really appreciate it.'

  'For such a pretty lady, why not?'

  Thanks. I'll make a point of coming back.'

  'Believe me, you'd be welcome. There's a range past that door. We could do some, what you might call, private shooting.'

  Tess struggled to tolerate his banter, her mind in a turmoil. 'And I bet your aim's on target.'

  'Never had complaints.'

  Give me a break! Tess inwardly screamed. She managed not to cringe, paid for the ammunition, then took the envelope and the stamp. The negatives! she thought. I'll mail Craig the negatives. At least, they'll be protected.

  At once the thought of the photographs – and the vivid recollection of the grotesque sculpture in Joseph's bedroom – made Tess's stomach burn with the forceful realization of where she had to go next.

  It certainly wasn't the Capitol Building.

  TWELVE

  Craig slammed down the phone.

  Captain Mallory, startled by the furious determination on Craig's face, jerked up his arms. 'Well, now I've heard everything. A lieutenant giving orders to a police chief.'

  'Hey, it worked, didn't it? The Alexandria department's cooperating.'

  'If you want to call it that. Even over here, I heard him shouting. When he gets his hands on you…'

  'Tell me about it. What did you expect? I didn't have a choice. I couldn't… I didn't dare… give him specifics about my rendezvous with Tess. The killers are too well organized. If even one patrol car talks about the Marriott hotel on its radio and if their transmissions are being monitored, Tess'll be shot when she arrives.'

  'But apparently you got the Alexandria chief to prepare a safe house. I have to admit I'm impressed. There's just one problem, Craig.'

  'Only one? I see so many, I-'

  'Yeah, a problem. I haven't given you permission to leave. You don't run this division. You're way beyond your authority.'

  'I told you, I'm going!'

  'Even if I suspend you?'

  'Do what you have to! Fire me for all I care!'

  'You stubborn…!'

  'I don't have time to argue! All I do have time for is to grab a taxi and get to LaGuardia before that plane takes off!'

  'In noon-hour traffic? Lots of luck finding a cab.'

  Then I'll take a patrol car!'

  'No!'

  'What?'

  'Wrong! You won't take a patrol car.'

  'Don't get in my-!'

  'Tony will. He'll drive you to the airport.'

  Craig blinked in surprise. 'Did you just say…?'

  'Get moving, Craig. Watch your ass. And if the Alexandria chief gives you trouble, tell him to phone me.'

  'I can't believe… I don't know how to…'

  'Thank me? By getting back here alive. By doing some work for a change. Tony, if traffic's really lousy, use the siren.'

  THIRTEEN

  As the patrol car squealed from One Police Plaza, two men watched intensely from a perfect duplicate of a telephone-company van parked down the street. Each had a ring in his pocket, a gleaming ruby overlaid with a golden insignia of an intersecting sword and cross.

  In the van's front seat, the first man – a stern surveillance expert – compared the blurred, passing faces in the cruiser to a photograph in his hand. 'I think it's him!'

  'You think"? We have to be sure.' In the back, the second man continued to monitor earphones.

  'I am sure.'

  'But you said you think, and that's not good enough. I wish we'd been able to put a tap on the phones in the Missing Persons office. Wait. I'm getting something.' The second man adjusted his earphones. 'My, my. The police dispatcher's telling all patrol cars to run interference and make sure that cruiser… its numbers match… reaches LaGuardia in time for a one o'clock Trump shuttle to Washington National Airport.'

  'Is that good enough for you?'

  'Yeah,' the technician said. 'Definitely good enough. Make the call.'

  The man in the front seat picked up a cellular phone and pressed numbers. 'The catcher has left the plate. We think he's so upset about his girl friend's health that he needs to see her in the Washington ballpark.' He gave the details of the flight.

  On the phone, the chameleon's voice responded. 'But what about the opposition?'

  'So far no show. Maybe they don't want to play right now.'

  'Not possible. Not when we're in the finals. You can bet their team's in the area. Keep checking for talent scouts. We'll check the Washington ballpark. But don't forget. The opposite team has a habit of showing up when we least expect them.'

  FOURTEEN

  Heart pounding, Tess scrambled into the Porsche outside
the sporting-goods shop and peered urgently around, afraid that a car would suddenly park beside her, that men would lunge out, shooting. She yanked the handgun from her purse, maintaining sufficient presence of mind to keep the weapon low, out of sight from anyone outside the car. Frantic, she pressed the button that released the pistol's magazine and discovered that there were only two rounds left in the magazine, plus one in the firing chamber.

  Jesus. Quickly she jerked the cardboard lid off one of the boxes of ammunition she'd bought and shoved fourteen more rounds into the magazine, filling it. In theory, the weapon held only sixteen rounds, but with the round that was already in the firing chamber ('one up the spout,' her father had liked to call it), the handgun's capacity now was seventeen.

  The moment Tess slid the magazine back into the pistol's handle, snapping it into place, she felt as if a tight band around her chest had been relaxed. At least now she'd be able to defend herself. She hoped.

  I have to get out of here.

  She crammed the handgun into her purse, shoved the boxes of ammunition under the driver's seat, twisted the ignition key, stomped the accelerator, and urged the Porsche into a break in traffic on the busy thoroughfare.

  The envelope! While in the sporting-goods store, Tess had printed an address on the envelope, licked the stamp that the clerk had sold her, and stuck the stamp on to the envelope. Now, as she drove, she fumbled with one hand to remove the packet of photographs from her purse, open the flap, and slide the negatives into the envelope.

  Ahead, to the right. Tess felt her breathing quicken when she saw a post-office truck at a dropbox outside a mini-mall. She swerved off the road, braked quickly beside the truck, licked and sealed the envelope, then leaned out the Porsche's window, handing the envelope to the mailman as he carried a bulging bag from the dropbox toward the truck.

  'Late delivery.' Tess managed a smile. 'I hope you don't mind.'

  'Makes no difference to me. Love your car.'

  'Thanks.'

  'How does it handle?'

  'Watch.' Tess rammed the gearshift into first, tromped the gas pedal, and squealed away.